Ser Jorah rides beside me and scopes out the terrain with his spyglass. The fields around us blow to the side with the force of the wind and I tilt my head back to gaze at the night sky, the stars twinkling as if agreeing with our plan. He hums softly to himself and clicks it shut. I open my eyes and look behind me to the smoke billowing from our encampment, Viserys will be enraged when he finds out we abandoned them but I needed to get away. He is growing more belligerent by the day and his eyes have taken on a mad sheen. I pat my bag, making sure it's tied tight to my saddle and nod at Ser Jorah. He has been my one true companion during Viserys's madness and has explained that it seems to be a quality to our bloodline. He told me the tale of the mad king and as much of my family history that he knew. I squeeze my filly's sides with my thighs and she moves into a fast paced trot. I stroke my fingers over Silver's thick pleated white mane and she chuffs in pleasure. When I picked her out Viserys sneered and chastised me, saying men need to ride stallions, not dainty fillys. Little did he know, my sweet Silver can best any horse in his horrific camp. I push my heels into her and she starts running, the bells in her mane striking together, creating a soft melody. Ser Jorah pushes his horse faster, trying to keep pace with us. I take one last look behind me and resolve to make it on my own.
...
We ride all night and into the early morning, putting miles of distance between us and Viserys. My body aches from riding for so long and my stomach grumbles. We had a meager snack before we left camp, not wanting our stomach's to become upset with the jostle of riding. Ser Jorah pokes at the fire, the dried meats we brought with us warming by the small flames. I unroll my bedding and sit down on the stuffed furs. My bottom aches and I reach around to rub at the sensitive area. Ser Jorah hands me a canteen and I drink the cool water quickly, my throat parched.
"Do you think they will find us?" I hesitate to ask, not wanting Ser Jorah to think I'm wavering in my decision to leave. He pokes the fire once more before scanning the fields around us, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
"I think not, as long as we hide our presence before we leave, and we don't stay in one spot for to long." I nod and take the meat he offers me, chewing the salty strip thoughtfully. He digs into his own meal, the tearing of meat the only sounds. After I finish my meal, I wipe my hands off and take a small swig of water. I press into my bedding and rub my tired eyes. Ser Jorah is sharpening his blade and nods at me.
"Take a rest princeling, I will keep watch." Ser Jorah smiles briefly at me, his eyes warm. I've told him countless times to call me Daeron but he insists on keeping formal with my titles. I've told him I am prince of nothing but he only shakes his head and grows quiet. I roll over in my bedding and pull a strip of cloth over my eyes to block the sun. I keep one hand on the hilt of my sword and fade quickly to sleep.
...
A faint rustling pulls me from my nap and I push aside the cloth. The sun is setting over the plains and I rub the sleep from my eyes. I hear some more scuffling and my skin prickles. I grip the hilt of my sword and look over the tent Jorah must have set up. I think about calling out for him but decide against it, not wanting to give away my location. I look over the material and I see Jorah's whetstone and his sword laying by the fire. The dirt is slightly disturbed by the log he was sitting on. A rustle sounds from behind me and I whirl quickly on the balls of my feet, swiping out my sword. A scantily clad women shrieks and falls back, her hand grabbing the gash on her arm. She hisses at me and pushes away as another women advances. She swings a curved blade and I stumble backward, barely missing it as it cuts the air. I push away from the two women and I'm shoved to the side as I bring my blade up to meet the dagger thrown at me. I look over and see another women, this one with her blade to Jorah's throat. The three other woman surround me, hissing and spitting like wild shadowcats. Ser Jorah's hands are bound and a black eye is starting to blossom. His eyes urge me to run but I only dodge the blades aiming for me and swipe back when the women get to close. The woman holding Jorah snarls at me and speaks in a tongue unfamiliar to me. I study the women around me as I try to place them. They are all deeply tanned, as if they spend all their time outdoors and their thick hair is pleated with feathers and other odds and ends. They are also very scantily dressed, some barely having strips to cover their breasts. The one holding Jorah has an ivory bone in a slip knot on the top of her head and gestures for me to drop my blade. She hisses angry words at me again and presses the blade harder against Jorah's throat.
"They are the Amazonian warrior tribe who follow the goddess of the wind. Their leader is telling you to drop your blade or she'll slit my throat." Resolve flits across Jorah's face and he stares me down, silently urging me to leave him behind. Fear twists like a rusty blade in my gut and my heart races. I smooth out my face, unwilling to show my unease to these wild women. Jorah continues to stare me down but I can't abandon him. He is no longer just my guard but has become a friend to me, a beacon of comfort in my dangerous and lonely life. I relax my stance and toss my sword to the dirt. The leader relaxes slightly, removing the point from Jorah's throat. The others surround me, pushing me to my knees and tying my hands in front of me. My silver hair is undone from my nap and it falls like a silk curtain around me, obscuring my sight. I move my neck, tossing the thick strands over my shoulder and glower at the women. The leader speaks to the others and they tie a long strip of rope to my hands and I watch as they do the same to Jorah, tying us together.
"What are they saying?" Jorah watches the interaction and turns slightly to speak to me.
"They are taking us to their encampment. Their Chieftess is there and will decide what to do with us." My stomach sinks and we sit in silence as we watch them take apart our camp, stealing our valuables and packing away our food and water. One of them moves to Silver and pokes her with her knife. I surge to my feet and snarl at them.
"Don't touch her!" I can be a biddable captive but I won't stand for them hurting Silver. The woman can't understand me but she must see something in my gaze. She moves away from Silver and spits at my feet. I sit back down beside Jorah and he huffs slightly.
"I won't let them hurt Silver." Jorah nods, he more than anyone understands the loyalty and love I have for my sweet filly. I nursed her when she was but a babe, when her mother gave up on her. I've watched her grow into the brave, strong girl she is. The sun has fully set, the stars twinkling above us, when the women pull us to our feet. They bury the remnants of our fire, hiding our site and tie the rope to their horses. They pull us behind them as we set off to their encampment. I look over my shoulder to make sure Silver isn't left and she trots dutifully behind me, the soft thud of her hooves comforting. I turn ahead and walk quietly beside Jorah.
...
After hours of walking, only stopping for briefs intervals to relieve myself and eat, we arrive at their encampment. Smoke billows from a huge fire pit in the center and tents stand tall around it. I spot more women, they stand by stalls and tents, most sharpening weapons or training while some nurse babes. I notice men mingle with the women, their chests bared, save for different colored paints. They turn to stare as we are paraded into camp and pulled to where a large group sits by the fire. The group roars with laughter and the ground trembles beneath my feet as others dance around us. The festivities stop and all eyes turn to us as the crows splits and we are led to the front. A tall women sits in the center, her thick hair in a long braid down her front. She turns toward us and my heart skips a beat. Her face is sharp, her eyes narrow. They shine with a fierceness I've never seen in a woman before and look brown in the faint light from the fires. She has a jagged scar down one side of her face and her lips are plump and pink. Her body is lean but strong, her muscles on display from the bralette covering her breasts and the leggings that are molded to her shapely legs. She wears thick sandals on her feet and even those look arousing. I trail my gaze back up her body, lingering on the plump curve of her breasts, before moving up her delicate looking throat. I can almost feel how smooth it would be under my tongue. I look up at her eyes and gasp. She stares at me, her eyes bright with what looks like hunger. Her tongue darts out and licks her plush lips and I groan quietly, my cock growing hard underneath my leathers. She straightens to her feet and glides to stand in front of us. She is even taller than I originally thought, towering slightly over my six feet. She moves so gracefully despite her size. Her skin glows in the firelight and my hands itch to touch the glistening curves. The leader who brought us here speaks quietly to her and she frowns.
"No language?" Her voice is like silky smoke. It's deep but breathy and I could easily lose myself in it. Jorah frowns and moves forward, the women surrounding us, hissing and pointing their weapons at him. He holds up his bound hands, in a placating way. He speaks in their language and the Chieftess folds her arms. She looks to the stars as if for guidance and nods her head. She snaps her fingers and speaks quickly to her guards. She catches my eyes and grins fiercely at me, reveling straight white teeth. I'm pulled away from the tantalizing sight of the Chieftess and we're pushed into a tent. A woman cuts our ties and I rub the area around my wrists, trying to soothe the irritated skin. Once we're alone I turn towards Jorah.
"What's going on?" Jorah is quiet for a moment before looking at me. Sympathy fills his eyes and he takes a deep breath.
"The Chieftess has taken a liking to you." Jorah shakes his head and rubs his face.
"She is convening with the elders and come morning, she will most likely claim you." I must be missing something. Claim me? Jorah must see my confusion because he pats my back in a comforting gesture.
"It means she plans to keep you." Keep me? Understanding dawns on me and I sag against the wall. Have I escaped one prison only to be taken to another?