They'd told her to come quickly. Ser Gilbert's scouts had captured a party of soldiers several miles north of Storm's End and were bringing them for questioning. They'd been part way through her hair when they'd told her, so she'd quickly undone the ties holding it up and ran her brush through it so that it hung freely to her shoulders. Snatching up a simple necklace and earrings, she made her way to the castle walls.
Ser Gilbert was waiting for her. He bowed at the gatehouse as she approached and she nodded back. "Are they here?" She asked.
"No, my lady," he said, pointing out towards the north west.
Her father had led the army away, but the land was still scarred from it's passing. There were furrows in the dirt from latrine trenches and tents. The green grass was trampled and kicked up from thousands of marching feet and galloping horses. The picket lines now looked like leafless branches on a great earthen tree. A few sentries walked them, but the garrison was too small to risk having hundreds of men outside, guarding those outer defences. She saw a section of the palisade had collapsed and no one had bothered to put it back up again. Perhaps when the army returned. No, when the army returned, the defences would be torn down, the wood used to rebuild the realm, because the war would be won. Her father would be king, her brother would be prince and justice would be returned.
She followed Gilbert's finger to where a small group were approaching from the north west. "Do you have any information about them?" Shireen asked.
"There are twenty four of them," Gilbert said. "I don't know who they are exactly, but they surrendered immediately."
"They didn't fight at all?"
"No, princess."
Shireen nodded, stroking her chin. She should meet them here, admit them to the castle. No wait! She wasn't the daughter of the lord, she was the Castellan, she represented her father. So… "Very well, ser Gilbert, when they arrive, disarm them and bring them before me in the great hall."
"As you wish, princess."
Shireen returned to her rooms to finish getting ready. She wasn't supposed to be meeting anyone from outside today, so had picked a simple dress. That wouldn't do now. These were soldiers, she was a woman. She had to show them that she was in command. Her dressers pulled out a green and white dress and teamed it with a brilliant chain that draped over her shoulders and matched bracelets. Her hair was brought up and pinned at the back of her head and her lips faintly glossed.
She spun in front of the mirror. "Is it good?"
"Beautiful, princess."
That would do, she wanted authority, strength, she was a leader here. But leaders weren't late, she would be there waiting for the captives, and if she couldn't look strong, then beautiful would suffice.
She took her seat in the great hall of Storm's End. To her left was Richard, his sword at his waist, his eyes fixed on the door. To her right was the maester Jurne in grey robes, sat at a small desk to record the events. Six of ser Gilbert's guards lined the hall, hands on swords, tense, prepared. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "You'll manage this," Richard whispered. She reached out and brushed his fingers with hers, giving them a quick squeeze in reply, before bringing it back and resting them on the arms of her great chair of carved obsidian.
The door opened and ser Gilbert entered. He took a few steps before bowing low. "Princess Shireen. I present to you the captives caught to the north."
"Bring them before me," she said loudly.
The men were marched before her, surrounded by Gilbert's men who kept their hands on their weapons at all times. The men knelt before her. Most were in cloth and leather, levied men. Three of them, she noted, had hooks on their belts for quivers. There were two men in mail, one older, one much younger, and stood out from the rest like silver in the mud. Neither wore any identifying heraldry, nor did she recognise them. She addressed the older of the two men in mail. "I assume you speak for these men?"
He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but paused, his eyes flicking to ser Gilbert and Richard, even the maester. "Yes, my lady," he said.
Richard took one step forward. "You will address princess Shireen by her title," he declared firmly, "or not at all."
The man's eyes widened. "Yes, forgive me, princess. I speak for these men."
"And who are you?" She asked.
This time his gaze didn't waver. "I am ser Jon of Haverslock, I was sworn to Lord Ambrose."
"And these men come from his house?"
"No princess," he said. "My squire and I are the only ones from Lord Ambrose's men. We joined these others on the way south."
Shireen glanced over the other men. "So where are they from?"
"They had decided to leave the Lannister army as we did. They were scouting south when they abandoned them. We met up on the road south, and they agreed to come with us to swear ourselves to King Stannis."
"King Stannis is not here," she replied. "He is away making war to reclaim his birthright. I am his voice in this castle, and so you may pledge to me in his name. If I deem you worthy."
She leant forward, pressing her fingertips together. Now she had to be careful. If she pushed too hard, demanded too much, then no one would desert the Lannister cause to come to their side, and even more people would have to die to win the war. But if she didn't push at all and just welcomed them with open arms, then it would be all too easy for spies, assassins and false traitors to be seeded in her father's armies. "My father made his claim on the Iron Throne over a year ago," he told her. Twice you have followed lords against him. Lord Arthur sided with my uncle Renly when he had no right to the throne, and then, when Renly was murdered, he sided with the Lannisters. Twice then, he had stood against my father, with you at his side. I want to believe that you have come to us freely, to swear allegiance to the true king. But with that record, I cannot take your word on good faith alone." She sat back, never letting her gaze waver from ser Jon's.
"I understand, princess," he said. "But I swear to you, we will fight for you, we will serve you. We will atone for serving the traitors who took your father's crown from him, and we will help him get it back."
She wanted to believe him. Oh how she wanted to. Before she would have, but now… what if they were just trying to infiltrate Storm's End. Her father had held it for a year, she wouldn't fail. She had to be sure.
"Then I will take your oath of loyalty, hear and now, from all of you, in the name of my father. I will feed you, and then you will prove yourself in deed as well as word."
Both Richard and Jurne looked at her, and Gilbert raised an eyebrow from the side. "Shortly ser Richard will depart from this castle to put an end to raiders in our territory. You will accompany him. If he is satisfied with your performance in carrying out this duty, then you will be welcomed fully into our service, with all the oaths of protection we can offer you. If not…" She hadn't thought that far, so decided not to say anything, perhaps the open ending would get her point across. "Is this agreeable to you?"
Ser Jon swallowed and nodded. "It is, princess."
She stood and approached him. "Then I will take your oath."
"I only wish you had consulted us first." Shireen wanted to sink back into the chair at the head of the council chamber and become one with the wood.
But instead, she sat strong and held ser Gilbert's gaze. "I am castellan, and I made my decision," she replied.
"Princess, Jurne said, calmly, "I must also disagree with your decision. Sending these men with ser Richard is not the best path, better to treat them kindly, get whatever information we can out of them about our enemies."
"Only then do we send them to the front, to boost our own numbers, and they should go to the King directly, not-" she held up her hand to pause Gilbert, "-waste these new arrivals on backwater skirmishes, if we show that that the King can offer them a piece of victory, we will lure even more-"
"Stop," she said. Ser Gilbert petered out. "Thank you, both of you, but I have made my decision. "I will not send these men to my father when I cannot be sure of their intentions. Besides, my father will not look kindly on men who take him for their third king in this war. I will have them prove their loyalty in the Dondarion lands." She looked at Richard, but he was looking straight ahead, not at her. "If I am satisfied, I will speak to them about what information they hold. Then I will send them to my father, with more than words as proof of their loyalty."
"Princess Shireen," Jurne said softly.
Anger flared in her chest at that. "Maester, you will not use my title as a term of endearment. You will call me princess because it is my rank, not because I am a little girl playing castle."
He sat back, chastened. "Yes, my apologies."
She nodded at him. "Good. Now I have made my decision, so see it done please."
The two of them got to their feet and bowed. "At once, princess."
When they'd left and clicked the door shut behind them, she turned to Richard. "You could have stepped in to help me," she said, sitting back into her chair and pressing a hand to her chest, where she could feel her heart hammering on her ribcage.
"You didn't need my help, princess," he replied, at last looking down at her and smiling. That always put her at ease. "You handled it very well."
"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't think they like me."
"They don't need to like you. They need to obey you. There will be plenty of time to rebuild relationships with them when the war is over if you wish. For now, accept their obedience."
She nodded. He was right, of course. This was so unlike her. Her mother got people to obey her readily, her father as well, and Lyonel was following them closely. Not her. This wasn't what she was supposed to do. No. She couldn't keep thinking like this after every interaction with one of her councillors.
Looking for a change of subject, she looked up at Richard. "Are you going to be okay with these new men?"
"Of course," Richard said, smiling down at her. "Ser Jon may be a knight, but if he turns against me, I will kill him."
"You're certain?"
"You come to judge these things as a knight," Richard said softly. "I'll keep an eye on them and let you know when I return whether they are true."
She nodded. "Are you… sure you want to go?"
He'd requested it the day after they'd decided to send men to aid the Dondarions with their raiders. He'd been at her side so long and confessed that, while he held his duty to her dear, he wished to have some taste of the war before it ended. She'd granted it, though she knew it would hurt to see him go.
"Yes," he replied simply. "If you command it, I will stay at your side, but I am the best man here to lead this host. I speak in your name, I am the best fighter left in the castle, and I know the marches."
"That's not what I asked."
"I want to go," he said. "I want to have some taste of the war before this ends. I need it."
"You need blood?"
"Not like that," Richard said, looking at her properly. "Princess, one day you will be married, married to someone who will not want me at your shoulder day in and day out. And once again, I'll have to find my own way in the world. Perhaps your father will retain me, perhaps he'll give me one of his Kingsguard cloaks. Perhaps not. And if not, I'll have to find another lord to serve, and they will want proven warriors in their retinues. A knight must retain his fighting edge if he is to keep service, and if there is no service, then he becomes little better than a bandit." His fist clenched. "I don't want to become a bandit."
"I understand," she said. "Will you be ready soon?"
"By the end of the week."
"Don't rush the preparations, I don't want you going out there anything less than fully prepared."
Richard bowed. "As you command, princess."
Another column approached the castle two days later. A mass of horses and people, flanked on either side by outriders. But these outriders were not keeping them locked down. They were protecting them.
Banners flew high above the column, all of them from houses in the Reach. She saw the red and green apples of Fossoway, the yellow flowers of Cuy and the flowered field of House Meadows and a dozen more that she couldn't identify.
As they got closer, they saw what she knew was coming from her father's letters. These were not knights, they were women and children, those too old and those too young. They were the non combatants of her father's Reachmen allies, freed from their castles in the war zone and sent to her for their own safety.
She was waiting for them on the steps leading down from Storm's End's main drum. They came under the portcullis in noble clothing that was worn and torn from the journey. The women clutched children to their chests on the backs of horses, the few young people helped the elderly down from horses and carts, and they shuffled towards her. "My friends," she called out, smiling and stepping down towards them. They turned to her, those who recognised her bowing. "No need for that," she said, helping a woman in Fossoway colours to her feet, smiling at the young child that clutched at her leg. "You've all had a long journey and are far from home. I will do everything I can to make you comfortable here until the war is won. Please, come inside," she gestured to the castle. "We've had rooms made up for you, and you'll be shown to them now. And tonight, there will be supper for you all."
She stepped aside and smiled as they moved passed her. She held out her hand to be kissed or taken by them as they passed, helped by her servants.
The woman in Fossoway colours held back. Despite being the closest to her, she was the last to pass. "Is something wrong, my lady?"
"No, princess," she said, bowing and kissing the back of Shireen's hand. "I just wanted to speak with you."
"What is it? What can I do to help lady…?"
"Sibyll," she smiled. Her soft brown hair was a mess from the journey, and her cheeks were red from the autumn cold. "No more than you've done already, I just wanted to thank you. Tarleton said it was because of you that King Stannis chose to liberate us and send us here."
"Oh," Shireen felt her own cheeks flush. "Yes, well, he was already going to, I just helped raise the point with him."
Lady Fossoway looked around, seeing there was no one close, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "You don't need to be modest, princess. King Stannis himself told me that you were the reason he came to us."
"He did?"
She nodded. "Yes. I thanked him for liberating our castle, and he told us he didn't care for the castle, he was there because you pushed him to divert from the war to save us."
Shireen couldn't help but smile. That sounded like her father. "Well, I stand by that decision. And in his name, I will protect you here as long as I am castellan. If you want to come with me, I'll show you to your chambers."
"I'm sure that's unnecessary," she began.
"Not at all," Shireen smiled down at the young child, he couldn't be more than four. "And who is this one?"
"This is Raymun," Sibyll said, gently pulling on Raymun's arm. "Raymun, bow to the princess."
The little boy bowed in an adorably awkward way. "Do you want to to come and see your new room Raymun?" Shireen asked, crouching down to his level. "It's got a nice bed for you and everything."
Raymun's eyes lit up at the mention of a bed. "Yes, please," he whispered.
Shireen stood up. "Come on then, I'll show you."
Her father had sent her a list of all the loyalists sent to Storm's End, and Shireen had allocated each of them a room. Those with the largest families got the larger rooms, as they would have to share. Extra beds and mattresses had been prepared where they could, as Shireen didn't have rooms for all of them. Since only Lady Fossoway and her young son were coming from Cider Hall, they had been given one of the smaller rooms and Shireen had had an extra bed brought in for the boy.
It was a small but well equiped room and Sibyll smiled when Shireen led them inside. "I hope this will serve you well as long as you are here," she said.
"It will be more than enough," Sibyll said, as two of the servants carried her case inside. "Thank you again, my lady."
"It was my duty as a princess, nothing more," she replied. "Hopefully not many more come. I'm almost out of rooms, we'll have to start finding accommodation in other parts of the castle or even nearby villages if we get too many more." She forced a smile onto her lips again. "But that's nothing you need concern yourself with. I'll do everything I can to make this stay comfortable for you until my father wins the war."
"That may be rather soon," SIbyll said.
"You have word?"
Sibyll nodded. Raymun had clambered up onto the small bed and was looking out the window. "Mother, look, the sea!"
"Very nice Raymun," she replied with a smile. Her smiled dropped as she turned back to Shireen. "Yes, my princess. As we departed, my husband wrote to me. He said that he was able to cross the Mander with King Stannis, they were marching north to drive the Starks back and then hold the Roseroad, opening the way to King's Landing."
Shireen swallowed. Battle then, war. Gods be with you father, she thought. "Well, I'll leave you to settle in, if you need anything, our servants are here to help."
"Of course, thank you, princess, and princess," she added as Shireen turned to the door. She looked back. "If you need anything, I'll do anything I can to help you while I'm here."
Shireen nodded. "Thank you, lady Sibyll."
It was time. He'd be leaving this morning.
Shireen made sure that her servants woke her up early and got her dressed. It was still cold, so as she left her chambers she pulled on a heavy woollen cloak of light brown fur that fastened at her throat and hurried for the armoury.
He was inside, his squire fastening his breastplate. "My princess," the squire said bowing.
Richard turned to look at her. "Princess, what are you doing here?"
"I need to speak to you," she said. "You can go and prepare ser Richard's horse, I'll handle the rest," she said.
Richard nodded and the squire bowed again, departing.
Shireen picked up one of Richard's pauldrons and began fastening it on in silence. "You had something you wanted to say, princess?"
"Just… not yet," she whispered, tightening the straps. "Good?" He nodded, and she moved on to the other pauldron.
She worked her way down his arms, carefully putting each piece on Richard's arms, then his legs. She didn't speak, not yet, she just ran her hands over his armoured form, touching his living body. He was still alive right now, gods be good this wouldn't be the last time they saw each other, but if it was, she was going to take every minute to soak in his company. She knew she would be no help in a tough spot, she'd probably be a hindrance, but she'd be there, with him. "Arms up," she said. He raised his arms to the side, and she stepped in close, wrapped her arms around him to pass the belt around his waist, pulling it around and tightening it around him. "Good?"
He nodded. "You've done this before?"
"Lyonel," she said, "before… all of this, I used to armour him." Back before they could find anyone who would bear his greyscale. She slid Richard's sword out of his scabbard and held it in her hands. Her eyes cast over the steel, seeing where the metal had been folded over and hammered into shape, the edge sharpened on the grindstone. She looked up at him, trying to take in all his features, from his dark hair pulled back under the cloth hood, his hard eyes and pox scars. "You'll be careful, won't you?"
"I will be," Richard replied.
Shireen nodded and slid the sword back into his scabbard. Then she picked up the gauntlets. "Hands," she said. He held out his hands and she slid the gauntlets on, pulling them tight. There was only his helmet to go. She looked up at him again. Had she been crazy to think of this during the night? Of course she had. But her father had trusted her to rule Storm's End. She'd done it before. But that was with her brother, innocent, no matter what lies the Lannisters said. "Princess, what did you want to say?" His voice was strong, sure. Why couldn't she be so sure? "Princess."
She leant up and pressed her lips to his cheek. She held them there, just for a moment, just one moment. She pulled away softly, her lips tingling, her breath short. "Promise me you'll come back," she whispered. "I can't lose you, not after what you've carried me through."
Richard took her by the shoulders and gently held her away from him. "Princess. I promise you, I'll come back. If I die in your service, it won't be at the end of some raider's sharpened stick, it will be because I'm standing between you and those who would do you harm." He let her go. "I'm not going to die this time."
She nodded and picked up his helmet, the steel cold. She pressed a kiss to the metal before passing it to Richard. She looked him over, a perfect knight. "I shouldn't keep you any longer. Go, Richard, protect the Dondarion lands, make me proud."
He bowed. "As you command, princess. I'll return as soon as I am able."
"Yes. I know you will, ser Richard." She wasn't sure how to fill the silence, so she took a breath to steady herself and remembered her words as a princess and castellan. "I wish you speed and fortune on your task, ser. Your men await."
Richard stood tall, nodded, and departed.
Without her knight, the room felt a hundred times bigger, like it was missing part of itself. She wanted to go after him, to watch him leave, to be sure he was safe for as long as she could. Then she realised.
She hurried out of the room as fast as her dignity permitted and took the stairs all the way up to the top of the drum tower. There was a single guard stationed at the top of the tower who bowed to her. She nodded to him, not giving him the proper response, not this time. She hurried to the edge and looked out to the west.
The column emerged from the entrance and moved along the road to the west. In the faint autumn morning light, it looked like a line of ink being drawn along the earth, getting thinner and thinner as it drew further and further away. She rested her left hand on the battlements, used her right to pull her cloak tighter about herself, shivering in the sudden cold.
