He paused at the doorway, glancing back at the rooms that had been his quarters these recent weeks. Now he left them, hopefully for the last time. If he won, he would be able to go home. To Aly, Myrielle, Lelia, Joanna and Tion, away from all of this. If he didn't win, there wouldn't be anywhere that would be safe for them. He patted the doorframe twice before leaving, closing the door behind him with a click.

There were a few stops to make along the way, the first was in the gardens of the Red Keep. Most of it was still filled with scribes and keykeepers, worn out from days of logistical work, but in one corner he found the four innocents. Daenerys was skipping stones with Tommen, trying to get them in a rough goblet purloined from who knew where. Daenerys' next stone bounced into the cup and right back out again. Tommen cheered as she scowled. He smiled at the sight of his nephew grinning in triumph. He'd only noticed recently how little that was. Ever since his father had sent him back to King's Landing as acting Hand, he had barely seen a look of childlike happiness on his face. Sitting under a tree, Myrcella was sewing something, a plant by the look of it, under Sansa's careful direction.

It was the picture perfect look of childhood, and he ruined it. Tommen's next stone hit the side of the cup and ricocheted, bouncing along the stones until it came to rest at his feet. "Uncle Loren!" Tommen exclaimed and all the others jumped. Sansa and Myrcella got to their feet and bowed respectfully.

"Hello," he said, trying and failing to force a smile.

"Can we help you Uncle?" Myrcella asked.

"No, no I don't think so," he said. "I'm just here to-"

"To say goodbye," Daenerys finished.

He nodded. "Quite."

He was disgustingly glad that they all looked sorry to see him go. "I just came to say goodbye." He patted the top of Tommen's head affectionately. "I'm sorry, Tommen, but you're going to need to be strong for a little while."

Tommen nodded sadly. Loren hated himself. Tommen was a boy. He shouldn't have to be strong, he should be able to be weak and childish. But no. Tommen had to be strong because there was no one to do that for him. His father was dead. His grandfather was away. His mother and brother were weak, Tyrion would have the world on his shoulders and so Tommen was alone.

"We'll both be strong," Myrcella said, coming forward and taking Tommen by the arm.

Loren smiled, patting her on the head just as he had to Tommen. "I know you will. I just wish it didn't have to be so." He looked up at Daenerys and Sansa, who stood a few paces away. "I don't want to ask more of you, but if you could keep looking after them, I would appreciate it."

"Of course, Lord Loren," Sansa promised. He felt like he could rely on her. Although he wasn't so sure he deserved it, after what his family had done to her.

"Lady Daenerys, if I could have a word."

Silently, she followed him a short distance away, out of earshot. "Is there something I can do for you?" She asked.

"Perhaps," he replied. She looked surprised. "I am extremely grateful that you delivered my message to Gerold, it has changed things around here. I have only come to offer you a warning." He looked around to make sure that no one could hear. "I don't know how you got out of the keep," he whispered. "In truth I do not think I want to know. I will only tell you that Lord Varys has more eyes than you could possibly know, and it is probably best that you do not attempt… something of that nature, again." She made to speak but he leant in to speak first. "But, I have one thing to ask of you. If you feel that the castle is unsafe, that you are in danger…" She nodded slowly, following his eyes as he glanced towards the others. "If it is possible, could you take them with you."

Daenerys glanced at the other three. "All of them?"

He nodded.

"That might be-" she began.

"I will say or ask no more." He said, touching her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Just be careful." He didn't know. He didn't want to know. But if there was a chance Tommen and Myrcella might be protected while he was away, he owed it to them to try. He may have been a worse uncle than he had been a father, but this was one way he could start to make things right before he went back to battle and war again.

She nodded. "I wish you good luck, Lord Loren."

He would need it.


"We could spend another few days preparing, Lord Marshall," Gerold recommended. The tent was being disassembled around Loren's chosen commanders, ready to be taken back to the Red Keep. Such a pavilion would be unsuited to the quick march Loren would need to make, a smaller tent was already packed for him in the waggon train.

Loren ran his fingers through his hair, tugging out a few stubborn knots. "No, we can't. We've delayed long enough as it is. My father has departed for the peace talks at Yore. We have to get started if we want the roseroad opened again. I can't put off battle with Stannis Baratheon any longer. Are you with me?"

"Always."

"Then we march. Ser Addam, I want your army marching by the end of the day. I will follow tomorrow, we'll meet at Bitterbridge."

"We'll depart as soon as we are able. I look forward to meeting you at Bitterbridge for the battle."

"Likewise," he clasped Ser Addam's arm tightly. "Gather what intelligence you can before my arrival." Ser Addam was the best outrider commander he had. He would be the best placed to take account of what was happening on the ground, where Stannis' army had been, the state of the castles and land in the territory. Loren would need all that information and more if he was going to have a chance to defeat Stannis in the field.

"My own forces won't be ready by then," said Lord Rowan. In all the military trials he had carried out since his release, Lord Rowan had proven himself the most well rounded commander Loren had outside himself. As such, Lord Rowan would command the rear battalion of the army.

"How much longer will it take for you?"

"Two days. The end of the week at the latest."

"Acceptable." Lord Rowan's battalion was made of the most mixed and matched units in his army. It wasn't a surprise that it was taking longer for him than the rest. Still, he would need those ten thousand men. "But no longer."

"Of course my lord Marshal."

Eight thousand men with Ser Addam, two thirds of them mounted, with some infantry to guard the waggon train. Fifteen thousand under his own command, including the blooded veterans of the last march up the Roseroad, who had refused to serve under another's direct command. Ten thousand infantry and five thousand heavy horsemen. And finally the last ten thousand men under the command of Lord Rowan. Just under thirty five thousand men. But they were the best men. The most battle hardened of the army outside the capital, the most dedicated, they had performed the best in the battle trials over the last weeks. The rest would remain behind to guard the capital and act as a reserve he could call upon if necessary. They were equipped with the best weapons manufactured in the capital, every man had a heavy shield and a mail shirt. Every arrow was freshly fletched and every sword and speartip sharpened. Despite it all, this was the best army that the legitimate regime had put into the field since the start of this war. Apart from the Golden Company itself, he could not have asked for better.

It all went smoothly. Ser Addam left that day, Loren slept in his tent ready to march the day after. But he was awoken the next morning with a summons from the council, calling him to the council chambers at once.

"They've got some bloody nerve." He muttered. "Gerold, maintain the assembly, I still intend to march."

"With respect, my lord, I will not."

He whirled on his knight. "And why, pray tell, will you not?"

"You're not walking back into that keep without me. Not again."

"They wouldn't try anything like they did before again." And this time, he would hold his tongue, he had already said what he wanted to say.

"I won't take that risk, my lord."

Loren sighed. Instead ordering Ser Thryce to continue the assembly, as he and Gerold rode hard for the keep.

The council were waiting for him, dark expressions on their faces. "What is going on?" He demanded after the customary greetings were given. "My army is ready to march. Why do you need me."

"We've received a message." Lord Varys said, holding up a letter. With his father and Kevan gone to the peace talks, the council room felt empty. "Crackclaw Point has been invaded."

"By the Starks? Have the peace talks already failed?" His father had only left days before, they couldn't even have started yet.

Tyrion shook his head. "By the Baratheons. A fleet has landed on the hook, carrying an army."

Loren sighed. "I need to send for Lord Rowan."

When Lord Rowan arrived and had been informed of the invasions, talk turned about how to respond. "I can't just turn north. It might take a month to clear Crackclaw, or it might take six. We don't have six."

"But what if this is the first step to an attack on the capital? They tried coming from the north before?" Cersei pointed out.

"What if it's just a raid?" Tyrion countered. "To distract us."

"We don't know, so speculating is useless." Loren said. Of course. Of course this would happen now. "We don't know how many men landed, or why, or who leads them. Stannis would never give up the Roseroad for Crackclaw Point, so it must be whoever commands a Dragonstone, probably his son."

"What do we do?"

Everyone looked at Loren expectantly. "You are the King's Marshall. What is your answer, Lord Loren," Cersei said.

"Where did this raven come from?"

"Brownhollow."

"Have we heard from Duskendale?"

"Not so far."

He nodded. "Okay. Lord Rowan, how many men are ready to march today?"

"No more than five thousand."

Loren nodded. "Transfer them to my command. I will depart with them to march against Stannis Baratheon. Keep preparing the rest of your troops, as soon as they are ready, take them north, occupy Duskendale and hold a defence in the area. Do not attack the Baratheons, only keep them contained on the peninsular. Once I have dealt with Stannis, I'll be back to help."

"What if the army he lands there is too strong to contain?" Cersei demanded.

"Then Lord Rowan will fall back to the city and defend it, have some respect for my abilities, sister, I am not so foolish as to leave the capital void of defenders. Besides," he added, "we can take faith from this. Lord Stannis has divided his strength. He is in the Reach, he must have garrisons on his fortresses in the islands and the Stormlands, and now he has men on Crackclaw Point. The more places he is, the fewer places he is strong. And it changes nothing about the strategic situation, we still need the roseroad opened, so I will go and open it. If I have the council's blessing?" He asked, knowing full well he didn't need it, but wanting them to say it anyway.

They did, one after the other.

He didn't like it, but he couldn't divert course now. Ser Addam had already left with his vanguard, he couldn't face Stannis alone, and to just retreat after a day would ruin morale. Either his men would think him scared or they would think he was foolish, both were unacceptable. So he would proceed, come what may.