The light haired woman gave him a sharp smile, her dark eyes twinkling with something that made Arthur shudder. His grip tightened on the knife he held at his back. Wenda the White Fawn they called her and she was an outlaw through and through despite her pretty face.
At first glance one would even be tempted to name her a lady of good birth. Until she opened her mouth, that was. Arthur met her gaze, holding it challengingly. She did not flinch, not did she looked away. Her eyes fixed him, both admiring and desirous. It was not something Arthur lacked experience with to be sure.
He'd heard tales of her, of course. Most noblemen of Westeros had, truth be told. She was famous for branding her victims. Somehow though, they had escaped such a treatment. Arthur thought it had to do more with Lyanna then with them. But still, one did not look a gift horse in the mouth. It was enough for him that the woman sat a safe distance away. Eyes could not hurt and her looking was not dangerous in itself.
"I think she likes you," Ned commented, rather cheek in tongue, despite their precarious situation. "She keeps staring our way."
"Let her," Arthur said softly. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. She was a foul creature to be sure, despite the mask she hid behind. Still, like all women, she must, if truly attracted to him, be susceptible to swaying.
"Look there," Ned distracted him. "That knight had Lyanna again."
The Smiling Knight, as he was called, did indeed have Lyanna. He pulled on the chain attacked to her shackle as if she were a pet to follow him about. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to stave the anger that surged through him. Another odious creature, that fellow, and insane too,
There was talk among the men that he had at some point been a trusted knight of a great lord, though no one named any names, and that he'd taken his liege's wife, after some daughter, to bed. Caught by the man, he'd somehow managed to escape justice and fled into the night.
His heart, however, had remained in his master's keep, with the wife or daughter. He had thus returned to steal away the woman only to discover that his absence hadn't been mourned as he thought it would be. The lady to whom he'd given his heart had found herself another knight to keep her company. Driven half mad by rage and jealousy he had apparently butchered the woman and her lover and lay in waiting for the lord to return from wherever he'd gone.
When the lord did return, he found the corpses of his wife and her lover strewn on the bed as they'd been caught, in an amorous embrace. But the crazed knight would not be satisfied with just those two victims. He allowed the lord but a few moments to admire his work before jumping on him and slicing his steel through the man's head, splitting the skull in two.
According to some, he still kept the skull as a trophy, though Arthur would be much surprised if that were true. Insane as the man was, he had yet to see a skull dangling in his presence. It was likely only rumour that claimed any such existed.
His eyes narrowed as the knight sat upon a thick log and placed Lyanna on his knee. "What in the name of the Seven is he doing?" Lyanna had, of course, flushed red at the treatment, though she remained still. Arthur could not be sure what the man had done to her, but it was clear that she feared him.
"I think he's combing her hair," Ned answered just as bewildered as Arthur himself felt.
Indeed, the man was holding a comb which he used to presumably untangle the knots in Lyanna's hair. Arthur did not know if he ought to laugh or to somehow escape his binding and drive the knife he held through the repulsive creature's neck. The second option at least would have provided him with entertainment. Still, he chose to remain as he was. After all, the satisfaction would be all the greater when free of any obstacles he would cut off the man's head from his shoulders.
"My poor sister," Ned whispered when the knight roughly shoved her off to grab at his sword and chase one of Toyne's men into a cluster of trees. Whatever he'd said were to be his last words. When the knight returned, his sword was stained with blood, gore dripping from the steel onto the grass.
He took Lyanna's hand and made her grab the blade. Arthur could only see a dark red stain forming on the front of her gown as blood dripped down. He could not tell if the blood was hers, should she have sliced her hand open on the edge of the sword, or the man's who'd just perished. What was clear, however, was that she looked ready to cast her accounts.
It was no way to treat a highborn lady. It was no way to treat anyone really. But then the knight picked her up in his arms, as easy as one would claim a ragdoll and sat back down, holding her to him. There was something about the way he treated her that put Arthur on edge. He was protecting her up until a point, that much was clear, but not knowing his motives made him suspicious, and more than that quite dangerous.
"Patience," Arthur found himself saying. "We must wait for the right moment. They are bound to let their guard down at some point or another."
"We are too few," Ned reminded him. Most of the men were in no condition to fight.
"Which is why we are still waiting. Let them give us an opportunity." A short silence followed those words.
"And if they do not?" his conversation partner insisted. "What shall we do then?"
"Then we make an opportunity," he answered. It was truly all they could do given the situation they found themselves in.
Arthur sighed and leaned his head back against the tree they'd been bound to. Another feast would serve them well enough but he did not know what chance there was of that happening. And the King's forces and ransom were still one day away. It was not that long a time but with these men, even a day mattered.
Wenda came towards them carrying a small bowl in one hand and some bread in the other. The guards looked at her with knowing smiles to which she replied with a curse that had Arthur's ears ringing. He was, however, curious at her approach.
The White Fawn sat down before them, but entirely ignoring Ned, she focused her attention on Arthur. "That lady of yours is perhaps the most annoying captive we've ever had the grace of entertaining," she spoke at length. "If she were not worth so many coin I'd have slit her throat by now."
"Would you have?" Arthur goaded her. "From where I stand she seems obedient enough." And poor Lyanna was, for some reason.
"And that is the problem," Wenda said, placing the bowl down and dipping bread in it. It was some sort of soup, Arthur realised. They hadn't been fed much but a couple of bites of bread each, to keep them from wasting away rather than to keep them strong. Arthur stared suspiciously at the food she presented him with. "I've not poisoned it," she promised.
As if to demonstrate she bit into it, chewed and swallowed. She wanted something from him and Arthur could not tell what it was. "Why are you speaking to me?" he demanded.
"You are in no position to make demands," she pointed out. She looked over her shoulder at the guards. They'd stopped paying attention to the prisoners and were instead laying a game of dice. "That lady of yours, she is a fool. She thinks to protect everyone by following every order thrown her way. He'll grow bored with her obedience soon enough."
"He? The Smiling Knight?" His question was answered with a nod.
"Perhaps that not even Toyne might be able to stop him once one of his moods is upon him." Once more she smiled, a cruel stretch of lips. "I'm sure you've heard some of the stories whispered about him. I'll tell you this. Even if none of them is true, they should not be discounted." She stood up and kicked the bow of soup with her foot.
The hot liquid spread on the grass, dampening it. "Understand this, however you are, he thinks she belongs to him." And with those words, Wenda turned around and was gone before Arthur could ask her anything else.
Ned, who had been silent the whole time, though Arthur was certain he'd been listening, let out a long sigh. "Are you certain we cannot slit their throats as they sleep?"
"There's too many of them and much too few of us." Of course he would like nothing better than to do just that and be done with it, yet such a move would put Lyanna at risk. Had she been held anywhere near them, they might have had a chance of running away. As it was, they'd have to cross more than half the camp to reach the small hut where she spent her nights.
And even there she was not alone. If the Smiling Knight didn't have her trailing after him, then Wenda kept her near and made sure she did not take a step more than what Toyne had allowed her. The only time they hadn't kept such a careful watch of her was when they'd feasted. One could only hope they'd be counting on their success and drinking once more. Mayhap addled in the brain they'd be easier targets to deal with. Arthur dearly wished that the gods would see fit to intervene. But as that was truly not possible, they would have to find something themselves.
"She might have been lying," Ned ventured.
Arthur gave him a hard stare. "Even if she was, that does not mean we are in any less danger."
"Then we had best keep our eyes open and wait for that opportunity you've spoken of," the younger man shrugged.
On that they agreed. Arthur tested the ropes that bound his hands. He'd been cutting a little of them at a time, bound as they were behind his back. It was not quite as easy a task to accomplish when one's eyes could not witness the process, yet he had managed it well enough.
Dusk was quickly drawing upon them. Before long fires were lit and men gathered around them, eating and drinking noisily. Arthur looked for Lyanna, but she was not to be seen. The knight was sitting on his log, his customary seat some would claim, but there was not sight of her. Wenda was sitting around another campfire, bickering with stout man over something or another. Once again, Lyanna was lacking.
He'd been certain that one of them would have her. Arthur cursed softly. Ned too seemed to have noticed his sister's absence. He tensed at Arthur's side. They exchanged a short look and nodded at one another.
Watching the men eat and drink, Arthur felt new hope spring inside of him when tankards of ale were brought out and wine as well. They meant to celebrate something. Likely as not Lyanna had been left in the hut so as to not attempt anything and not be in the way of her captors. It was just as well, Arthur thought.
The only thing he lacked was a true weapon. Lyanna's knife was useful enough for cutting rope, but it was swords they had need of if they were to truly free themselves.
The feasting went on long into the dark night. By the time that most of the outlaws were falling to the ground from too much drink, by Arthur's count, it was nearly midnight. At least the men guarding them had imbibed so much that they'd fallen asleep. That would save some time, Arthur reckoned. Not that he would have hesitated to kill them himself if there was need for it.
In the end, most of the outlaws wrapped themselves in thick cloaks to ward off the chill of the night. There was not one of them who thought to keep watch for some reason. But as the mistakes of enemies were perfect opportunities, Arthur did not hesitate to free his hands from the ropes wrapped around them. He then set about liberating the men.
Without further ado, one of them silently went for a guard, snapped the man's neck and took his sword. The second guard suffered the same fate. Two swords were hardly enough, but they'd have to do for the time being.
"One of you find a horse and ride on the Kingsroad. The ransom must be of its way. Lead however brings it here." His instructions were received with a nod by a young man who then silently crept away in search of a beast to ride. "You two, take the bodies and hide them. Take their clothes as well while you're at it. The rest, find some weapons."
It was lucky that none awoke and all his men did return with weapons. Arthur instructed them back in their initial positions, short swords concealed at their backs.
"And now we wait."
Great was the surprise of Arthur when the Prince himself rode into the enemy camp. Of course, Rhaegar had not been a fool enough to come bearing the arms of his house. Instead he stood a simple knight with a modest but fitting armour and an open helm. Those who had never seen the face of the Prince would be none the wiser.
He spotted Arthur and they exchanged a meaningful look. The party he'd come with consisted of five men, each dragging a large wooden chest after their horse. Arthur watched as Toyne stepped forth and demanded to know what they had brought.
The drink had made them somewhat lax. Even as they woken up in the morning and set about making camp, they'd not noticed the missing men or the changed guards. Perhaps it was because people came and went into the camp and their great number was due to the fact that most were peasant from nearby settlements. His plan was working out perfectly and Arthur could not be more pleased if he tried.
One of the coffers was kicked over and a wealth of coin, gold and silver poured forth. "Here is the coin. Now show us Lady Lyanna," the man at the front demanded. Arthur was not certain, but he thought he recognised Oswell Whent's voice.
"But of course," Toyne said, eyeing the bounty greedily. "Have the lady brought here," he snapped at Wenda who grimaced back at him, but broke away from the group and walked towards the hut. Arthur only then realised that the door had been barred.
Wend came dragging a resistant Lyanna behind her. Still, stronger, Wenda had little problem carrying her task to completion. "Here she is," she pushed Lyanna forward. "Look up, lady, so they may see your face."
But when Lyanna looked up, the blood chilled in Arthur's veins. Smooth pale skin had been known to grow red under due to blood rush, but the redness of Lyanna's skin could not be thus accounted for. Arthur glanced at Wenda's hand. His eyebrows knitted together. A small trickle of blood was running down her skin and a circular, slightly uneven wound was the source.
Next to him Ned choked on air. "She bit her," he whispered. It would have been amusing in any other situation. "Gods."
Gods indeed, Arthur thought when he looked at Rhaegar to see his fingers had curled tightly together. But he did nothing other than push his own coffer open and hold out some coin as proof that the King had indeed paid the price. The other followed his lead.
At the sight of so much money, Wenda came nearer to the men, holding Lyanna by the shoulder, alternatively pushing her forward and pulling her. "Come, lady, you are nearly there. A few more steps and both of us shall be free," she said loudly as a jape. Lyanna threw her head back rather like an irritated mare and did not deign to offer any other answer.
It was only when she had reached Whent that all hell broke loose. From somewhere behind a line of trees an arrow was fired. Ned sprang up from his position, baring his sword and, seeing that, the outlaws drew their own swords.
"Dayne," the Prince called out, "catch!" A heavy object was thrown his way.
Arthur was somewhat surprised but also very grateful to see Dawn. But that, he realised, left Rhaegar weaponless. The Prince, however, seemed more concerned with pulling Lyanna off of the ground than with making battle.
Oswell Whent held the first line of attack and soon a hulking man joined him. It was, without doubt, the White Bull. Arthur unsheathed Dawn and ran towards the enemy at full speed. He looked at Rhaegar from the corner of his eye and saw that the Prince had after all gained another weapon. Knowing that Lyanna would be well protected for the time being, Arthur crossed swords with the first man that he came upon on his path.
That enemy he cut down with ease and met another, then another and another. Arthur looked about to the diminishing number of the outlaw brotherhood. Some were running away, others were dead on the ground. Toyne was fighting the Bull and Whent had taken on both Wenda and a man named Ben.
Steel flashed in the sunlight. Arthur raised Dawn instinctively and another sword came crashing down upon it with much force. He staggered under the weight for a moment and the face of the Smiling Knight filled his vision. Balance became a precarious thing as his opponent became more and more insistent.
A yell from behind him alerted Arthur that another foe approached. He saw Rhaegar join the fray and cut that man down though. Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed back. The sudden shove had the knight stepping backwards.
"What a magnificent sword," he commented as his eyes came upon Dawn.
Arthur charged at his and the blades crossed again, only this time, Dawn's bite proved stronger. The knight's own word broke like a brittle twig. He could have ended the man there, but it would have been unfair and Arthur could not, despite how atrocious a monster the Smiling Knight was, be unfair in combat.
Instead he allowed his adversary the pull a fresh sword from one of the corpses. "Indeed, a good sword," he commented, testing his new weapon. "But it is not the one I want. I wish for your sword."
"Then you shall have it, ser." And onward he carried, slashing at his foe in quick succession, more so to annoy and tire him than to cause injury. The madmen's eyes glinted with enjoyment. Arthur gritted his teeth and blocked a strike that threatened to split open his abdomen.
All that he needed was an opening. He circled the knight, deftly avoiding injury. And then, as if the gods themselves planted the idea upon him, it struck Arthur that the man was not guarding his left side properly.
He brought Dawn sweeping in, feigning an attack to the head and the knight raised his sword to parry and then he abruptly changed directions. Arthur pushed forward, embedding Dawn into the man's left side and hauled it up, cutting through flesh and cloth and light armour.
The Smiling Knight fell to his knees, blood and laughter bubbling upon his lips.
Arthur raised Dawn and struck his head off.
