Tristan pulled back on the reins as they approached a fork in the road. He looked left and right, down each tree-hooded path. Too many tracks going forward and back. No doubt the marks of armies, refugees and traders criss-crossing the Riverlands. They probably thought that would be enough to outrun him, prayed that he took the wrong path. But he didn't need to see them to find them.

He glanced down to his side, his breath coming fast. "Which way boy?" He asked.

Shield padded forward, hunting. A second later he settled on the left hand path.

"Tristan, wait!" He heard Dom call from behind. But they couldn't wait, so he kicked his horse into a canter down the path. Shield kept ahead of him as they pushed deeper into the wood, the boughs of the trees reaching across, covering the path so they were in sun dappled shade. He dare not ride full gallop in here, not here. The branches and brambles could hide his targets, waiting in ambush. Even now he heard Dom's voice in his ear again. Wait Tristan, put your armour on first. That would have taken far too long. They would have gotten away, and he couldn't allow that, not with their plunder.

A hundred metres down the path, he pulled up again as Shield had stopped, head turned to the right. The bushes to the right were broken and disturbed. So they went that way swung his leg over the side and dropped to the floor, quickly tying the horse to the tree as horse hoofs pounded up the path behind him.

"Tris wait!" Dom repeated. He glanced back at Dom, his dark hair flying behind him. "Curse you Tris, why is now the moment that you outpace me."

Tris grinned and pointed into the woods. "We're on foot now, this way."

"Tris wai- of fuck you!" Dom yelled again as Tristan pushed into the undergrowth. The brambles scratched at Tristan's face as he followed Shield through. He had utter faith that Shield would guide him, and only kept his eyes peeled for an ambush. The direwolf was very good, but Tristan could only fully utilise his senses when wearing his skin.

Shield led him to the boundary of a small clearing, and inside, their targets waited. He crouched low, slowing his breathing and waited, watched. There were fourteen of them, six clad in some kind of armour, all clutching weapons. One of them had a sword, but the others wielded axes, spears, one of them had a flail. They had gathered their plunder at the other side of the clearing, a small chest of coins and jewels that they were laying out and counting, one of them was wearing a necklace of pearls before another told him to put it with the rest.

Dom slipped up beside him. "I hate you."

"No you don't," Tris whispered back.

He felt Dom shake his head exasperated. "How do we do this?"

"I don't fancy our chances against all of them," Tristan said. "We might take them? But we have to try."

"I hate the new you."

"No you don't," he said again.

"Wait for a chance to eliminate one, then get the rest to run," Dom suggested.

Tristan nodded, silently slipping his sword from his scabbard. They waited silently. Waited. Would one of them even come?

One of them, a small man who's only protection was a leather cap. He was unlacing his breeches. "I don't need that sight," Tristan muttered. When the thief dropped his hand axe, Tristan burst out and drove his sword up into the man's chest.

The thief gasped, eyes wide as Shield leapt out, roaring. One of the other thieves caught himself quickly and charged, but Dom emerged from the undergrowth and sheared his spear in half before opening his throat.

The others stumbled over themselves before forming a vague semicircle, weapons ready, but staying back, looking as the corpses of their friends emptied blood and voided bowels onto the grassy floor.

"You have something that doesn't belong to you," Tristan declared, pointing his sword at the chest the men had nearly emptied. "Return it to me and the rest of you can go. And my wolf will sate his hunger on just your friends here."

The group stared at them, glancing nervously at each other. One of the ones in the mail stepped forward. "And why would we do that, it's just you two."

Tristan forced out a laugh. "Is that what you think?" He stepped forward, puffing out his chest and gesturing at Shield with his sword. "I am Tristan Stark, Prince of the North and Slayer of the Mountain. Do you think I would only travel with one guard?"

The thieves again glanced at each other. He pushed the point home before they found their courage. "This is your chance, leave with your lives, or die. Annoying as that would be."

"Annoying?" One of the thieves asked, his voice quivering. They had all taken a step back at the mention of his name, none of them questioned his killing of the Mountain, so word had clearly spread. A reputation like this was useful to have.

Tristan fixed his glare on the questioner. "Yes, annoying," he said, gesturing at the bodies. "This is enough meat for my wolf to eat his full," he said, and Shield growled as if on command. Tristan knew it was the bond between them now. "Any more bodies and I'll have to string them up. My brother doesn't let me leave my kills where they fall anymore. So when you're in the seven hells, send up prayers to him won't you?"

They were looking at him fearfully now, but still waited on their leader, who somehow stood strong, clutching his axe tightly. "Alright then," he said, stepping forward, stretching out his limbs. "Dom, when I'm done with them I'm going to need you to pull me off the bodies, I don't have time to be carving them into little chunks like usual,"

Dom smiled. "Alright, but if you nearly take my eye out again…" he left the warning hanging.

"No, not doing it," one of the thiefs cried, taking off into the woods, quickly joined by one, two, three more.

"Oh come on!" Tristan called after them. "I haven't even started yet. Fine," he turned to the other side of the clearing. "You first."

They ran, and ran. One of them ducked down to the chest. "Oh no you don't!" He thundered, levelling his sword at the man. "So much as touch one of those coins and I don't care what my brother says, I will make your screams haunt this wood." The thief retracted his hand like it had been burned and took off after the rest of his band. Now, only the leader was left. Dom dealt with this one, taking a step forward. "Off you go," he said gently. The leader looked between them, and left. When they were alone, Dom punched him on the shoulder. "You're a reckless bastard, you know that."

Tristan rubbed his shoulder. "I know, but if we didn't follow them, we'd never have gotten these back," he said, gesturing to the abandoned goods."

"The people had their lives. If they were in danger I'd have been ahead of you, but for a few coins-"

"Dom, this is all they had," Tristan said, scraping the coins and goods into the box, "All of it."

"Fuck Tristan I am trying to rant about your behaviour, stop being the good person!"

Tristan stood up and clasped Dom's shoulder, the box clutched under his chest. "I listen, Dom, okay, I promise."

Dom placed his hand over Tristan's and squeezed. "You know I don't do it to be callous," he said softly, head bowed. "I do it because I worry about you."

"I know," Tris said, kissing Dom's cheek. "And I will never be able to express how much that means to me."

"Well, not like that please," Dom said, rubbing away the kiss.

Tristan laughed and Dom darted in kissing him back. "You bastard," they laughed as they and Shield walked back to the horses.


"I hope this is everything," Tristan said, handing the box back to the farmer, who quickly opened it.

"It is, my prince," the husbandman said softly.

"You haven't even opened it," Tristan pointed out.

The husbandman, flushed with embarrassment quickly opened the box and started counting as Tristan began walking around the back wagon. "Elmar, how are they?"

Elmar stood in front of the four children, a sword pointed down in the ground, still standing guard as he had ordered. "They're a bit shaken, but alright," Elmar said.

Tristan nodded, "and you, madam?" He asked the wife of the family who was around the side of the wagon. She was holding a cloth to her face, her arm shaking. Gently, he took her arm. "It's alright," he said. She looked at him, her soft brown eyes watering.

"I know, I know," she whispered, sniffing. She glanced towards the children. "I can't let them see me like this."

Domeric came over and rubbed her back gently. "It's alright," he said with his soft smile. "We chased them off, they're gone now."

"Thank you," she whispered, smiling back at Domeric.

A groan came from the wagon. "Should've killed them," a grunting voice said.

"Rastin," the woman said, hurrying over. "You need to rest."

"How is he?" Tristan asked, hurrying over.

"I'm fine," Rastin said, trying to sit up, a dark bruise spreading across half his face. "Bastard got me while I was pulling the wagon."

"You were pulling the wagon?" The man was big, strong, from what he could work out the oldest child of the family. He glanced at the woman. How old had she been if this one was her son? Thirteen? A wedding night child he assumed, given the age gap between him and his siblings in the back.

"We had an ox to pull it," the woman, Doreena said. "But he was taken early on in the war. Rastin's been pulling it ever since but-"

"I can't also protect them if I'm pulling," Rastin said.

"I see," Tristan said, looking up and down the road. "How far now to your homestead?"

The husbandman, Alric, came back from counting the coins. "Just up the road from here, we turn of the main road about a mile before it joins the Kingsroad."

Tristan glanced over the wagon. It was heavy even before they put their son, who was about a head shorter than Hodor, in the back. There was no way the rest of the family would be able to pull it all "Well, we'll help you pull it back to the homestead," he said.

"You don't have to do that!" The husbandman said hurriedly.

"No, but it would be a shame to have gotten your goods back only for it to be stolen again," he said. "Elmar, get up the front, you and Dom are helping to pull."

"Children, you come and help too," Dorenna added.

As Dom marched passed he shook his head. "You're going to claim you only have one working hand again, aren't you."

"I do only have one working hand," Tristan pointed out. "Don't worry Dom, I'll be looking after the horses."

"That doesn't make me feel better," he said, as he took one prong of the wagon with the husbandman, while Elmar, Doreena and the children took the other.

They made it back to the homestead an hour of pulling later and set the wagon down. Elmar and Dom were both dripping with sweat, even though both of them had divested their cloaks, Dom even stipped off his tunic, and draped them over Tristan's horse.

"You look hot," he joked to Dom, who looked back at him with daggers in his glare. Tristan met his gaze. "I'll take first watch tonight."

Dom snatched back his shirt and pointed a thin finger at Tristan. "You will."

"You're more than welcome to spend the evening here," Alric said, as Doreena got the children inside, helping Rastin carefully through the doorway.

Tristan glanced down at Dom, eyebrow raised. His friend looked at the sky, back to Tristan, clearly wanting to rest, and shook his head.

"No, thank you," Tristan replied to Alric. "But we still have daylight and we are needed elsewhere."

"Of course," Alric bowed his head. "Seven speed you on your way, my prince," he returned to the wagon and started unloading it, as Tristan and a very sweaty and tired Elmar and Domeric turned back for the road.

"You know," Elmar said as they left the homestead behind them. "They are not the only suffering family in the Riverlands."

"Aye," Dom added, "if there are any more on the way, we may be late meeting with the king."

Tristan pressed his lips together hard. "I know, I know," he said softly. "But I couldn't just leave them."

"I know, Tris, but there are only three of us," he gestured to Tristan and Elmar, "we can't fix all the problems in the kingdom."

"No," Tristan sighed. "We can't."