A/N: JoeDanger: Well it wasn't a secret wedding. Guests were invited, gifts given and Pentos had to prepare for a Dothraki host to handle outside it's walls, given Dragonstone's position on the shipping lanes, and the fact that from there he isn't solely relying on Varys to gather information, he could easily have found out about the wedding.
On another note, here is the last OC. So far it's been pretty introductory, but from next chapter we start getting our first major deviations from the Canon not counting things like Domeric's survival that happened before the story began, so things should be kicking off in earnest. See you then everyone.
Hammer on wood, tents rustling in the dust and wind, steel and stone, the sounds of a camp being erected would only permeate the air for a short while. Loren knew that the Golden Company would be done before long, set up with watches, trenches and spiked moats. The tents were set out in a perfect checkerboard, laid out efficiently and perfectly. It would be up to him to set up the outriders and scouts, that was his duty in the Golden Company, had been for over a year. He had four hundred outriders at his command, and in the past year, he had become quite adept at commanding them, he knew just how to make them ride, how far apart they should be from each other, how many should be in a group depending on where they were and their level of conflict. Right now the company war marching to battle in the service of Myr against and alliance of Lys and Tyrosh. Combined the two of them had coffers that far outstripped those of Myr, but still, despite the received offers, the Golden Company would not change sides. This meant that they would be outnumbered, which meant he had more responsibility in the coming battles. But before then, he had to report to the Captain-General's tent, deliver the first reports he had received from the first of his scouts about the size of the opposing forces.
He swung his heavy golden cloak, inlaid with silken threads around his shoulder, fastening it with his lion broach at his left shoulder. He pulled a red silk scarf across his face to block out the sand of the disputed lands from his lungs. Next he fastened his sword belt to his waist. It was a deep red with rubies, emeralds and sapphires set into it. The hilt of his blade had a lion head pommel, as was befitting his house, and was golden. His armour, red, with golden tinting on the trims, was hanging on his armour stand, his scouts would alert him in time for his squire to armour him. "Tyland," he called out to said squire, a twelve year old boy from the branch family of House Lannister that ruled Lannisport. The boy, with short blond hair, sprang to attention. "Keep the tent clear until I return, no one enters." Tyland nodded, and Loren left the tent.
The air was hard and the wind strong, but not so much that he struggled too hard to move. Tents that were half erected were struggling to free themselves from the grasps of the men who held them, whilst men on lookout duty were covering their eyes to block out the dust and sand. Loren simply bent his head and made his way to the command tent, the largest and the one in the middle of the encampment. He nodded to the guards who pulled back the tent flap, letting him inside. It was only Harry Strickland, the Captain-General, Black Balaq, the commander of the archers, Tristan Rivers and the spymaster, Lysono Maar.
"Loren Golden-hair," Tristan exclaimed, smiling. Loren did not smile back, only nodded. He smiled when it was useful to him to do so, otherwise, he saw no need of it.
Harry instead simply asked him, "what news from the scouts?"The Captain General was more a treasurer than a warrior, though still a soldier in truth. Loren had served a year under the last Captain Myles Toyne, they called the man Blackheat, though his heart was a shining vein of gold compared to Lord Tywin Lannister's. Toyne hadn't trusted him though. Even here in the east, the shadow of Lord Tywin hung over him like a pall of darkness, clawing him back into it's shadow whenever he strove to escape it. I could travel to Yi-Ti and still be under that cloud, he'd thought at the time. Captain Strickland was different though. That man had granted him command of the outriders within a month of assuming command of the whole company. For that he would always have Loren's respect.
"The Lyseni forces have made camp on the shore of a small lake, which they are happily fishing bare," Loren told them, pointing to the location on the map. "They appear to be led by a skilled and diligent man, for his outriders screen my own from getting close enough to estimate numbers."
"Numbers are no concern," Harry said, "we can defeat these forces, it will not be an issue."
"There are also no signs of the men from Tyrosh," Loren told them, "my men rode out ten miles and saw no hint that they would be coming this way."
"Because they won't," Lysono Maar said in his soft voice that, like the rest of his body, a whore would envy. "The Tyroshi and Lyseni agreed to an alliance to defeat us, but the Tyroshi have abandoned the agreement, and now march along the coast to Myr itself, leaving the Lyseni alone to face us."
Loren nodded, the plan was sound, "and then we turn back and force march to intercept the Tyroshi before they reach the walls of Myr."
Harry nodded, "exactly," he said.
"Very well then," Loren asked, "what is the battle plan?"
"Not this time Golden-Hair," Tristan Rivers said. "We rotate commands remember, it is your turn to watch the camp and the rearguard whilst the rest of us fight the Lyseni." Ah yes, it was his turn wasn't it. That way the Company didn't rely on one person in one battle position. True the outriders were his, and the archers Blak Balaq's, but he had commanded the left, right, centre and vanguard in his time in the company, and now he'd have the rearguard. That way the company could weather the loss of any one commander.
"Aye," Black Balaq nodded his agreement, his fingers itching near his large bow. "Don't worry, it will be Tristan when we attack the Tyroshi forces." Loren did allow a small smile to grace his features at that. Hard luck, friend.
Harry cleared his throat, "all we need you to do is to make sure your outriders do their duty and protect our advance."
Loren nodded, it mattered not to him, he had fought with the company for three years, he was there to war, to be free of Casterly Rock and the shadow of the great and almighty Tywin Lannister, not to lust for blood. Had he been ten years younger he would have been upset, but no longer. "I will do just that," he told them. Harry waved his hand in dismissal, so Loren left to gather his outriders.
They did as he commanded, he told them to first ride in fours, two miles from the camp and keep all enemies away from it, whilst also reporting back to the camp. He said that they were then to split into pairs, one would continue to circle the camp, the others would move out and pick off the isolated outriders of the Lyseni forces. All of his outriders had at least two arm rings, one less than himself, so knew what they were doing, and Loren felt he could trust them to simply get on with their duty and report back to him with anything they needed. Some said that it was irresponsible of him to do so, and that he should oversee the actions of his men in person. However his father would not disagree, Lord Tywin delegated effectively, leaving men who were good at certain tasks to accomplish them with minimal oversight.
Then Loren, as he would be watching over the camp during the upcoming battle, walked the perimeter of the camp, as per usual, it was in fine shape, the Golden Company rarely needed direction when it came to this, Loren had never needed to intervene when it had been his duty to watch the camp of the company.
Once his inspection was done, Loren ordered a bath to be filled so that he may wash some of the muck off him. Once the attractive serving maid had filled his tub, smiling as she did so, Loren dismissed her and Tyland, listening to the far off sounds of the camp at night. Loren rarely got involved. He had struck up quite a friendship with some of the officers and outriders here, more than he had at Casterly Rock. He had left his wife, Alysanne, and his four children, and come here to be free of the stifling atmosphere of the Rock. He could still see his children's faces, Lelia, she would be thirteen now, Myrielle would be eleven, Joanna ten and his son Tion would be approaching his ninth name day.
He sank deeper into the hot water, imagining his laughing children. Despite the soft brown hair and light blue eyes of his wife, his children had been Lannister in appearance. Tion had the blue eyes, but apart from that, his children were all golden lions. When the water started to cool, Loren pulled himself out of the tub and dried off. He pulled a silk robe over himself and sat on the bed, the water from his short blonde hair trickling down the back of his neck. He heard footfalls running in the direction of his tent and slowly half drew his sword. However, it was only his squire. "Tyland?" Loren asked, "what are you doing here?"
"F-forgive me ser," he said, out of breath a little, "but one of the outriders, they asked me to bring you, armed and ready to ride, they have caught a party of armed travellers." Loren nodded, slightly unsure as to why they needed him, but it mattered little.
"Very well," he said, "my armour." Tyland nodded and pulled on Loren's silk undershirt before applying the full plate that he wore. He tied Loren's sword belt on him, fastening his heavy cloak to his shoulders. Unlike the one he wore when out of armour, this heavy golden cloak was too heavy for one clasp at the throat so was instead held by two fastenings, one on each shoulder. Lastly, Tyland passed him his helm. It had no visor, only a noseguard, he didn't want to impede his vision as commander of the Outriders. This left his lower face exposed, but the gorget of his armour rose from his left shoulder to block out his face from blows aimed to it. The helm had a rampant lion atop it, which was holding a spike that could become a weapon, at last resort. Loren nodded when armoured and marched from the tent to the nearest stable, where his powerful destrier was tethered, mounting it, and, when Tyland had mounted his own horse, riding out to meet his outriders as the sky was turning from orange to black.
He found the twelve of them surrounding eight riders, all in heavy armour and full helms, outfitted for war, but that was not too unusual, there was little trade in the disputed lands. He pulled his horse up as he reached them. "What seems to be the problem?" Loren asked the nearest outrider.
"This one," he man pointed his javelin to the central rider, "was asking for you by name."
"By name?" Loren spurred his horse forward and approached the indicated rider. "Who are you that you would want to speak with me?"
"Once you knew me on sight," said a voice, "I do so hope it is only the armour, nephew."
Loren's eyebrows shot up as his uncle, Kevan Lannister, removed his helm and looked at him sternly. "Uncle Kevan," Loren had never been so shocked in front of his men, "what are you doing here?"
"I have a matter to discuss with you," Kevan said, "may we accompany you to the camp?"
Loren's lips thinned, why by the gods are they here. "If you desire it," he said mockingly. He turned to his Outriders. "Take their weapons."
"Loren?" Kevan asked.
"What?" He asked. "You don't think I'm about to let you enter the camp of the Golden Company so armed. I can say nothing of your intentions or purpose here. I'd be a fool, and disregarding my duty to the Company." He turned back to his men. "As I said, take their weapons, use whatever force you need. Don't resist Uncle, it would be unfortunate for me to have to chain you up and take you back as a prisoner. Kevan didn't look eager, but was outnumbered and his Lannister pride would never let him be brought in bondage, so he agreed.
His men moved in, their unshakeable discipline making them obey without question. Once the knights had surrendered their lances and swords, Loren kicked his horse into action and rode hard for the camp, he was not eager to speak with Kevan, but if he had to, would do so in the privacy of his tent.
Upon seeing that he was leading them, Kevan and his knights were not forced to dismount, and instead followed him to the stables, tied up their horses, and accompanied him to the tent he occupied. Loren invited them to sit down and called for wine from a passing serving girl of the company. "So, uncle," Loren said, sitting down himself. "To what do I owe the pleasure, of such an excursion?"
Kevan and the knights looked around the otherwise bare tent. "May we sit?"
"No."
He did not look most pleased at being denied. Not so easy is it Kevan? "I will be blunt with you, nephew," Kevan said. He watched as Loren poured himself some wine, offering them none. "Your father needs you back at Casterly Rock."
Loren was expecting something like this, you do not make social visits to the Golden Company, or the disputed lands, you come with a clear objective and leave as soon as possible. "Interesting. The great Lord Tywin of Casterly Rock needs me. It must be deadly serious, what's happened?" Loren asked, smacking his lips unnecessarily loudly.
Kevan nodded, "the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn is dead," he told him.
Loren nodded, he didn't know the man enough to judge him, but he was certainly old, and unlike his father, didn"t loom eternal. "So…" he said thinking, "father has been named Hand of the King and needs me to serve as Castellan of Casterly Rock?" He mocked. Robert would never name his father Hand of the King, and Tywin would hardly send his best servant to find one the world would rather forget.
Kevan shook his head. "That is not the case. Tywin is suspicious about the death of Jon Arryn, the man was quite robust for the sudden death that took him. The house must be prepared for what is to come."
"Hardly suspicious. Lord Arryn was old, what of it, a new Hand will be named and the world will continue as normal. I left Casterly Rock," he added. "One day I will return, but it will be on a day of my choosing. Not father's."
"Loren?" Kevan chastised.
That tone! Always that tone!"No, uncle!" Loren snarled. "You will not take that tone with me, not here, not now. This is not Casterly Rock." Choosing to leave Casterly Rock had been the most liberating choice in his life. He would return, one day, even if his father refused to accept it, Casterly Rock would be his, and he would need to be there to claim it when Lord Tywin died. But he was still looming eternal, so Loren was here, where he was judged by his skills for what they were. Lord Tywin's words may come from another, but always they come to scorn!
"What of your children, do you not miss them?"
Loren scoffed. "Of course, a thousand times more than my father misses me, I'm sure. This place is good for me, good company, good men. But it is no place for Aly... or the children. Even Lord Tywin's golden cage would be better for them." Only his wife had ever known his intentions to leave before he had done so. She'd tried to convince him to stay, but she'd not forbidden his leaving, swearing only that she'd be there when he got back.
Kevan sighed, "your father wants you to be the best."
"The best for him, not for me. I have no reason to return."
"Except for your children," Kevan pointed out.
Loren slumped back down. "How are they?"
Kevan gave a slight smile. "Overjoyed that you will be returning, all of them. Lelia has still been swimming as much as she can."
Loren laughed dryly, "I would have thought that father would have put a stop to that."
"Tyrion spends most of his time at Casterly Rock," Kevan explained, "your father is mostly pre-occupied with running his lands and making sure that Tyrion does nothing rash again."
"Ah," Loren said, that explained it. Everyone knew Tyrion was trouble. And they don't know me at all. "And the others?"
"Myrielle and Joanna both progress well in their lessons," Kevan explained. "They cannot wait to see you and have you praise their progress." Loren smiled and nodded. "Tion is doing well with his training, we believe that he will be a fine knight himself, before he becomes lord of Casterly Rock."
Loren nodded, "I am glad," he said. "When I return... when I choose to return, I will see them then."
"You'll want to see them now. They are glad you are coming only because we have told them. If you stay out here much longer you may never know them."
"I've been at the Rock all my life. Father doesn't know me. Proximity means nothing to knowledge of another."
"And they will not know you," Kevan cut across him. His father did that, whenever he didn't want to hear what another was saying.
"I send them letters," Loren reminded his uncle. "I admit it's a poor substitute, but better that than suffocate at the-" Kevan dropped a pile of papers on the table. He reached out and took one. "My letters," he whispered, they were still sealed shut with golden wax. He crumpled the paper in his soldier's fingers, the rustle of the parchment cracking and folding and crumbling delicious in the silence. "Father hasn't been letting them see the letters."
Kevan just stared at him. "If you wish to know your children, or for them to know you, you must return and serve as a Lannister."
He cursed. "Damn you father. No doubt Lord Tywin is overseeing their educations?"
"He is."
So you'd take my children as hostages for my return, your own grandchildren. Damn you to the Seven Hells father. Damn you and you plots. You try to take everything from me. You will not take them as well.
"I have a duty to the Company," he said. "We have two battles to fight first of all. Then... then I'll return with you, uncle."
"I'm glad, and I'm sure your father is as well."
Uncle Kevan should be glad he doesn't look more like father. If he did, I'd drive my fist down his throat.
