(Prologue – The Gold Road, Near King's Landing: 11/14/298 AC) Gerros
"So, the Prince's words were true as always," Gerros coughed, as he lifted the Queen's head by her golden hair. His words were still somewhat slurred after his copious amounts of drink over the days before, courtesy of the bandits along the mountain pass, but even inebriated he still understood the gravity of the situation he found himself in. "What would the Prince have of me, Norae?" he questioned, releasing the handful of hair clenched within his fist and causing the Queen's head to smack back into the straw-riddled stone floor. A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the sight, yet he still found himself somewhat annoyed at his sudden relocation.
"You are to find a safe place for them, Gerros. Before you leave them for the Westerlands. The Prince commands it," the pale lady from the capital hissed.
Norae's companions, the little boy Lucin, and the three large men wearing faceless masks, awaited outside the small shack in which they currently held meeting. Joining the woman's group, were his 'family;' Vella, Vorila, Jorys, Arelos, and Tira. All of them had been hand-picked by the Prince for their loyalty to the faith, the Fire Nation, and above all, himself. Even though they had known nothing of each other, save that the Lord's chosen had selected them, they had quickly grown to rely on one another and eventually share their pasts. His two eldest 'daughters,' Vella and Vorila, were sisters, fair-skinned and beautiful, who had found faith during their enslavement by Pirates on the Stepstones. Many things they had claimed to have seen in the flames, things that he could scarcely understand, yet somehow the Prince always did. The two young men he called 'sons,' Jorys and Arelos, had bodies scarred by conflict and claimed to be former guardians of the Red Stone Temple of Selhorys. Both had chanced upon the Pirate nest the Prince had taken during the war, and had pledged their fealty when he had emerge from the ruins amidst salt and smoke. Although plain-faced and quiet, the duo bore a deadly skill with daggers, and understood bloodshed more than even he did. Strangest of all, however, was the youngest of his 'brood,' Tira. A child of fire and six-years of age, she held the gift and proved to be the most interesting of the lot. Despite her youth and small stature, Tira was remarkably astute and extremely dangerous when cornered, as she had proven during their 'negotiations' with the brigands in the mountains. Who her parents were, and how the Prince had recruited her from Dragonstone, he knew not, for she had not told them. Between them all, were twelve horses, five were his, taken from the outlaws, while the remaining seven were Norae's. Four of the seven were hitched to a wagon full of wheat, while the other three had been for the woman's guards.
"Of course he does," he replied sarcastically. The drink seeped into his words, as he waltzed over to the smallest of the four motionless bodies thrown at his feet, within the run down hovel of rotted wood and chipped stone.
"Must you constantly be drunk, you fat fool?" Norae's comely face scrunched into ugliness as she derided him, and he couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected change. "How is it that you walk so much, and still maintain your girth?"
"Calm your tits, woman," he raised placating hands. "We both serve the same savior, in our own ways. Besides," Gerros rattled the nearly empty bottle of wine in his hands, and patted his stomach, "this was a gift from some new friends of the Prince. It wouldn't be right to spurn such a gift in his name, now would it? Also, I don't judge you for your terrible sense of fashion, now do I? So why make this personal?" he chuckled at the brown rags the woman wore, which may have well been a potato sack. "By the way, what happened to your pretty little red dresses? I quite enjoyed those."
"Hmph," his fellow worshipper grunted, crossing her arms and mashing her middling breasts together beneath the rags, which gave them a certain 'fullness' he found quite alluring. "I was to travel inconspicuously."
"Yes," he pointed to her neck, "that large ruby choker most certainly will help you maintain a discreet appearance. As will those two particularly hefty gems attached to your chest…"
Catching his wayward eyes, Gerros frowned as Norae's eyes narrowed and she drew her cloak over her appealing bosom. "Enough of your stares, lecher. If we could perhaps get back to the duties assigned to us? I am due back at the capital in two days, and the Fire Lord's sleepless dogs are scouring the countryside looking for this whore and her incest spawn, and that creature besides. I've heard she's already sent messages calling for the banners of the Crownland lords, with what I would imagine to be additional commands to search their lands for her quarry."
"Well, she's certainly wasted no time in securing her position," he rumbled.
"No, she has not. So when her hand finally tightens up upon these lands, what do you think happens when she catches us with these bastard lions?" she gestured to the Queen and her ilk, then looked him in the eye with far too disquieting a gaze.
"A congratulatory dinner?" he supplied.
"Yes, one involving our severed heads watching from spikes," Norae uttered in a subdued tone. "We'll just be another group of Lannister sympathizers the Fire Lord impales and displays along the Gold Road. I'm told she's already done so, with the majority that remained within the city," the woman sneered, staring at him with smoldering brown eyes.
For a tense moment he stood petrified, unsure of her words, knowing the Fire Lord capable of such a thing, but still holding the slightest of doubts with which his mind seized upon. "You lie," he answered finally.
"Haha," she tittered, breaking her stare. "I never lie. I only embellish. While the Fire Lord is unquestionably inclined to do so with her Lannister captives, especially that one, if she gets her hands on her," Norae looked towards the still form of the Lannister Queen, "she sadly imprisons them, and awaits the King's judgements. Though given his rage at the revelations, the King might not be too far away in sharing the Lady Baratheon's thoughts on the matter."
He scowled at her, 'Oh, If only I could strangle that hideous laugh out of you…'
"Oh, don't fret," she waved her palm and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure the Lord's chosen can talk you out of an execution, especially in regards to the little girl in your company. He is known for such things," Norae stood still as a statue, her hazel eyes staring straight through him with an annoying smirk at her lips.
"Willing to test that theory, are you?" Gerros asked offhandedly.
"Not for you, no," the brown-eyed woman scowled at him. "Once they are in your custody, my hands are clean of this. I have no memory of your existence after this point. Or perhaps I should correct myself? Norae will no longer exist, and therefore will have no memory of your existence. I've held many lives, Gerros, served many masters, and this will not be the last."
"So that's it then?" he pressed, not in the least amused at the woman's callous response. "Leave us in the wilderness and hope for the best? And what if it is the Lannisters who do the capturing? What then?"
"If that happens," she tapered her eyes, "then sing whatever song you like. I doubt anyone would believe the truth anyways," Norae's smile grew flat, and she turned her back to him. "But now that we are on this particular subject, I suppose I should inform you that we will be trading families. Other than the boy, he's mine, but you may take the three men. I no longer have any use for them, in my new assignment. They are quite fearsome, but most importantly they do not submit under torture. Don't waste them."
"Why did you not start with that!?" he growled, lowering his eyes at the woman's manner.
"What? Fearing for your companions? It was just a bit of fun, I wanted to see how long I could keep you going," she smiled. "Did you honestly think the Prince would imperil their lives? I'm sure you can understand why we cannot risk the Lion's getting their hands on a Spiritwalker or Red Priestess? 'We all serve the Prince in our own ways,' remember?"
"Not quite my wording, but yes. I can see why that would be a problem," Gerros felt himself deflate, for once cursing at himself for drinking a bit too much before his meeting with the woman.
"Good," Norae stared down at the four bodies, bound and gagged, upon the floor.
"Well, at least I won't be alone," he sniffed, a part of him relieved that his companions would not undergo what is likely to be a very dangerous venture.
"When you serve the Lord of Light, you are never alone," Norae sighed, then walked towards a small overturned wooden chair. She turned it upright and brushed it off with her sleeve, before sitting down. "Now, as to the Queen, the dwarf, and the boy bastards? Can we continue with them, please? This conversation grows tedious."
'Tedious for you maybe, you smiling bitch,' Gerros could feel his puckered brow across his face. "Would you mind if I asked you a question?"
"If you must," Norae groaned, then began to rub at her temple.
"Why are they not dead yet?" he probed, genuinely curious as to why it was so.
"The Prince finds them far more useful back in Tywin's hands than those of the Fire Lord's or King's own," she answered without pause. "Why he believes so, is not our concern. We only need to accomplish the task, not question the reasoning behind it. R'hllor guides his hand as it does ours."
"So it does," he replied absently, his mind already having begun drawing up numerous theories based on Azor Ahai's possible plans. 'If the Fire Lord had captured them, then the King would have ordered an immediate execution on the Queen, at the very least. So negotiations between the Old Lion and the King could have still been possible. However, the King was not there,' he tilted his head. 'Did you have a hand in that, I wonder?' Gerros continued in his ruminations, remembering the reports from the Spirit World, his 'daughter' Tira had brought to them, following the King's departure from the capital. 'If the King was not there, then the Fire Lord would have most assuredly captured them, and she would have been forced to imprison them to await trial. Anything less would have been suspect. But with such a strong hand, negotiations would have been far more likely. Lord Lannister is not stupid, he would not wage a war upon the Seven-Kingdoms if he had a way out. Losing the Queen would have likely been seen as acceptable as long as the Kingslayer was allowed to live, and the Imp was returned. Enough gold could have made it possible, and the children could have probably gone either way, unless Stark intervened. However, if the Lord of Casterly Rock had them all in his hands, then he would have no choice but to defend them against the King's inevitable response. War,' he lingered on the word. 'Is this what you truly wish?' Looking back at the woman, he thought to himself, 'If she does not understand, then the Chosen one does not intend for her to know. Still, quite the gamble, if it is indeed true, my Prince.'
"You don't sound too convinced," Norae's eyes turned to slits and he could feel her cold stare upon his face.
"I have my own reservations on this," Gerros found himself turning away from her and staring back down at the unconscious bodies lying at his feet. 'Not so clever now are you imp?' he kicked the stunted body and received no response. "But," he continued, returning the woman's gaze once more, "it will not deter me from accomplishing the mission. So where am I to leave them?"
"Just outside of Deep Den," she said simply.
"Deep Den? It's going to take me at least a fortnight to get back over there with these four in tow. That's only if I stick to the main road, it would take nearly double that to cut across through the countryside. What am I supposed to do with them for all that time? Become their friend?" he asked, knowing it would be bordering on impossible to travel inconspicuously with four prisoners, even on out of the way paths.
"Oh, don't be silly," she waved her hand dismissively, "use the essence of nightshade I've given you, to keep them asleep. Then just force feed them, give them fresh water when needed, and dunk them in the river on occasion, when they get too dirty."
"Using nightshade on children is a delicate procedure at best," he warned, unsure the youngest boy prince could handle even the smallest of doses.
"Didn't seem so delicate a procedure when we pricked him with darts," the woman shrugged, looking towards the boy.
"And why did you not save any for me to use?"
"Its easier to escape the city without question when you have nightshade hidden in bushels of wheat than lathered over darts in large crates. That, and because the Prince has the utmost confidence in your abilities. You served in the Disputed Lands as a healer, did you not?"
"Yes," Gerros felt his eye twitch.
"And you healed many?"
"Yes, thousands," he remembered all manner of wounded that had come into his tents, and left with new leases on life, only to be cut down in latter battles where he had been absent and unable to save them.
"Did you ever use nightshade to keep your charges subdued?" Norae pressed, leading him towards an end he saw coming the moment she had asked if he had served as a healer.
"Perhaps," Gerros retorted, not keen on giving her the satisfaction of an actual number.
"Then use your skills, and keep them asleep," brown-eyes twinkled annoyingly as they stared at him. Receiving no response, the woman continued speaking, "Now that we have wasted enough time reminiscing, we really should get back to fulfilling our duties." The woman rose from her seat and dusted off her potato sack of a dress. "Try to be at Deep Den before the month is out, and once you leave them? Leave the wagon and flee back to King's Landing. Rumor has it the Old Lion has started marshalling his own forces, and I don't think I need to tell you that being caught between two armies is an unhealthy prospect?"
"No," he answered flatly, watching as the woman neared the door.
"After that, find a ship bound for Storm's End, and rejoin with the Prince. Oh! And before you ask, whatever orders he may have waiting for you? I have not been made privy to," she added, before leaving the room and inviting a cool gust of air into the dilapidated home.
Outside, Gerros heard the woman shouting orders, and instantly sensed a queasy feeling snaking up from the bowels of his stomach. 'I do this for you, my love,' he remembered his wife and her auburn curls, who had perished believing in the Prince before she was cleaved in two by a Pirate's sword. A man who, in turn, saw his neck snapped like a twig in the Prince's young hands.