Chapter 10: Backdraft
The seabreeze cleared his head and brought wisdom.
"How did you get on my ship?" Lelouch asked as Cici redressed his wounded left palm. Stitched as it was, it still felt too light by far to him.
"Who would take care of you otherwise?" Cici said, the back of her hand a welcome warm against his forehead. "No fever. Good, at least it doesn't look like infection is taking hold."
"You can't answer a question with a question," Lelouch said.
"I go where my people go," Cici said.
"Your people?"
"The free Myrish. Any peoples who love pizza are my people," Cici said. "Also I'm their mayor."
Lelouch's brows rose a fraction. "They proclaimed you?"
"In a manner of speaking. I asked if anyone objected, and no one said a thing," she said.
"That's not how it should work," he said, shutting his eyes.
"We are working with primitive societies here. I improvised."
"Why do you even want to lead them?" Lelouch asked.
She gave him a winning grin. "So I can be given pizzas as tribute!"
Of course, why had he expected anything else? "I can have them made for you."
Cici scoffed. "It took me months to get it right with these people. I am not throwing away all of that work bringing culture to this backwards world."
Captain Bluebeard cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for interrupting, my lord, but what are 'pizzas'?"
"Myrish pies," Lelouch said. "Activity?"
"Our scouts ashore report movement to the north and southeast of Saintsport."
From Saintsport headed south, Bloodstone's shoreline curved out into the sea, creating a cozy pocket of water for his ships that also served to hide them from the approaching enemy's view.
"We have turned one battle into two," Lelouch said. "Do we know who we're facing?"
"Tyrosh will have their marinemen," Bluebeard said. "Reliable spearmen that have trained for a day like this. Long have the Archons dreamed of seizing the Stepstones."
"What of the other host?"
"Pirates, best as I can tell, fly Saan's Red Woman. Then again, it could just be some other Lyseni's banner. Not a very creative folk them," Bluebeard said. "My guess would be sellsails and pirates, some which have been recruited at swordpoint."
"Our new friends in Saintsport must be feeling angsty now. Best we show ourselves now," Lelouch said. "All ships, advance."
Altogether, some twenty-nine hundred Driftmark men and a thousand Tarth men-at-arms on ninety war galleys advanced. It was near the full muster of Driftmark, including various Crownlanders employed in the Driftmark Fleet and paid for by their meagre trade.
Lelouch's timing was not perfect. Hiding his fleet put them a little under thirty knots, roughly five hours, from Saintsport. If the pirate lords lost heart before Lelouch arrived, he'd be stuck out at sea separated from Redmoore and the Wendwater levies. Better they arrived a little earlier and let a few ships escape their net than risk the entire plan.
When Saintsport finally came into sight by far-eye, he indulged his eyes by lingering on the brightened Blood Strait to the north. Some forty Tyroshi ships had tried to ram their way through half their number, no doubt to link up with the allied pirate fleet sailing from Scarwood south of the straits. A score of his merchant cogs, older galleys, and floating pieces of driftwood some sea dogs called ships had been chained together at its narrowest point.
They served as ample fuel for wildfire pyre.
With passage through the Blood Strait denied, the enemy could only either retreat, giving them several more days, to fortify the island, or advance in separate groups that would not let them concentrate their greater host at the critical moment.
That still left them outnumbered at sea, with sixty vessels to fly the tower on purple beyond the wildfire wall and eighty corsairs closing on Saintsport, perhaps still thinking they had friends on the island. But numbers weren't everything in a fight, and it seemed their enemies were unaware there were more than thieves defending Bloodstone now as their fleet appeared behind the corsairs.
"No sign of Old Mother," Lelouch mused, putting down the far-eye.
"No," Bluebeard said.
Strange, Lelouch thought. Samarro Saan is the one with roots in Lys, yet he's here, and instead Old Mother is missing from action.
"Could they be hiding more ships somewhere?" Lelouch asked.
"On a day with storm skies overhead? They could be hiding a few in some of the larger rocks, though no great number I think," Bluebeard said.
Lelouch nodded and pointed straight at the rear of the corsair formation. "Let the sea dogs wrestle in the mud for Bloodstone. We will cut through their ships."
The Seafyre picked up speed as it prepared to ram and men murmured prayers to the Seven. Lelouch winced as he grabbed his longbow with his injured hand.
"If you keep abusing your hand like this, your wounds won't heal properly," Cici chided.
"Just get below deck," Lelouch said, testing his draw. Still good.
To the credit of Saan, some of his ships had seen them coming and tried to steer north or circle back, but it was too late for the greater part of the fleet.
The waters splashed angrily as stones fell from the sky and threatened the half of the corsairs closer to the island. A thousand craftsmen under supervision did quick work building their siege crafts and the palisade of their camp. It was those same trebuchets they'd used against Saintsport that now protected it.
It seemed fighting had already begun in the streets from the brief glimpses of bared steel glistening in the sunlight.
They entered bow range, and Lelouch aimed at what he thought was a captain. The arrow downed the man, but a shaft to the shoulder was not fatal. The pirates used bows, but Driftmark had longbows. The pirates used javelins, but Driftmark had ballistas. Three volleys they exchanged and then—
Seafyre shuddered as it's ornamental seahorse ram proved it wasn't just frills.
There wasn't much more to say about the battle. The corsairs were pinned between a hammer and anvil, with rocks and bolts showering their position. It was untenable, and they were not the bravest men to begin with, nor was this their fight in truth. Those that fought died, those that ran drowned, and those that didn't were shot.
Some twenty ships managed a breakout, mostly those farthest from the direction they'd struck from and trading their comrades' lives for their own. It did not matter.
Saan's ship was not among them. The escapees scattered.
"Blood and fire," Lelouch said, as he surveyed the wreckage. "Why is it always blood and fire?"
"Maybe you should stop torching everything in sight," Cici said. "Try water next."
-ZeroRequiem-
The Wendwaters did not fare so well.
"The Tyroshi have landed their marines," Redmoore said. "We harassed them as they did with bow. When I thought the time right, I tasked Ser Mortimer Creek to lead an attack, but it didn't break all of them. Men in fancy golden armor locked shields, rallying the Tyroshi to their side and breaking out of our encirclement."
"The Golden Company," Lelouch said. "How many of them did you see?"
"Half a thousand men, each wearing a lord's ransom, and an equal number of the Tyroshi managed to escape," Redmoore said. "The only spot of luck we had is that the Tyroshi fleet fled as the wildfire died down. They followed Serpentholm's shore north, tails behind their legs."
Water doesn't affect wildfire, the ships probably just burned whole, Lelouch thought. "Did you pursue?"
"I sent scouts to watch them, but night was falling," Redmoore said. "We can march at them on the morrow and bring them to heel."
"Do not underestimate the Golden Company," Lelouch said.
Redmoore frowned. "They're sellswords. They gave a proper fight, but they're still sellswords."
"My uncle feared those sellswords, and he is not a man to do so lightly," Lelouch said. "Where are they now?"
Redmoore pointed to a hill in the distance. "I've had scouts scorch the lands around them. They'll have little in the way of food or water to sustain them."
"That will make this easier," Lelouch said, then turned to Donnall. "Is it done?"
"I watched to make sure none might slip through," Donnall said. "Joined Ser Redmoore at the fight when I thought it ample."
"Well done. Get some food and rest, both of you. We will march early tomorrow," Lelouch said.
"My thanks, Lord Velaryon." Redmoore left, the sound of merriment and song streaming through clearer as the tent flapped.
"What of you?" Donnall asked. "Going to sit here and brood?"
"I might go find Cici," Lelouch said. "Who knows what might happen to her if left unattended."
"She is safe as can be here," Donnall said. "The men know that she is yours, and will not touch her, especially not after a victory like this. Outnumbered nearly two to one and you broke half of one host with barely any losses, and sent the other fleet running scared without a fight."
Lelouch grinned. "The trick of real combat is that everyone is human. It's not about killing the enemy, it's about driving the fear so deep into their hearts they dare not fight on."
"Ha! Mark my words, they'll sing songs about this for years to come."
They left later on the morrow than Lelouch would've liked, but the men had drank deeply from their bottles, and it was good for morale. There might be precious few chances to celebrate safely again.
The Golden Company had not moved from their position on the hill. Moving in the dark was dangerous business, and if their host broke apart further, no amount of discipline would spare them from the inevitable onslaught.
With Driftmark, Wendwater, Tarth, and corsair marching as one host, they outnumbered their enemy seven to one.
Lelouch ordered a flag of parley raised, and was accompanied by Ser Redmoore, Donnall, Lysandro, and a pirate lord by the name of Blackjaw. An equal number of men met them between the hilltop and the plains.
"Who do we have the pleasure of speaking to?" Ser Redmoore asked.
"Torman Oakheart, Captain of the Golden Company," the man said.
"I am Lord Lelouch Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and head of the host before you," Lelouch said. "Ser Oakheart, you are beaten."
Oakheart glanced at his men behind him, then at Lelouch's assembled troops. "My men still draw breath. We are not beaten."
"Samarro Saan is dead," Lelouch said. "Drowned in the sea with the rest of your fleet."
"I stand in service to His Grace, Maelys Blackfyre, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms," Oakheart said. "As for the fleet, what use do I have for ships? We stand on the solid ground we'd hoped to now."
Donnall clenched his jaw. "You're outnumbered."
"By a band of sellsails and traitors? I think not. Each of my men are worth a dozen of you, and I will stake my life on that wager," Oakheart said. "Peace has made the lot of you soft. You will break on our spears and shields as surely as the tide breaks against stone."
"Soft?" Redmoore repeated dangerously. "It was not our host that ran from the field yesterday."
"We did not run," Oakheart said. "We completed a withdrawal in good order, as all captains of the Golden Company are taught to do under these circumstances."
"Bollocks!" Redmoore roared. "You want to settle this, boy? You and me, here and now!"
"You are not the head of your host," Oakheart said.
"You ought to hide your desperation better, Ser Oakheart. I could smell it from my camp," Lelouch said.
"Are you a coward who will not fight his own battles?"
Lelouch tilted his head and smiled. "I am not a fool to be goaded by a man who knows his situation is beyond dire. Let us face the facts, ser. My men have seen to it that you have no food, no water, no means of resupply, and no rescue. Whether it takes seven minutes or seven days, this can only end in one way. I am inevitable."
"We will not throw down our arms before a servant of the Pretender King," Oakheart said, face set.
Rain began to fall.
Just my luck, Lelouch thought. Had this storm hit as it should have, my victory over Tyrosh would have been complete.
"It appears we've found water," Oakheart said. "The Seven smiles on us."
"You will still starve," Lelouch said, turning back.
"Bastards," Redmoore muttered. "Any other sellsword company would have broken under these conditions."
"The Golden Company is not like any other sellsword company," Lelouch said. "They are knights, or sons of knights, brought together by Bittersteel for one purpose: to kill who their king commands. They have never broken contract, and never lost a battle."
"Wear lots of gold," Lysandro said, running a thumb against his throat. "We more men, yes?"
"No, they have the high ground. Besides, we don't have to do a thing," Lelouch said. "Have the Myrmen raise a palisade and bring the ships around. Leave a way out though, small enough that a party of ten might slip through unnoticed."
"You want them to escape?" Redmoore asked.
"He wants to bleed them," Donnall said. "Every man that deserts is a man we rob from their formation, that we will not have to fight on high ground."
Lelouch nodded. "Men who think they have no choice but death fight harder. Do not worry, Ser Redmoore, you will take a hundred men and lie in ambush for the deserters. I know how boring sieges are to you."
Redmoore grinned. "I might live to see a proper war yet by your side, Seahorse."
-ZeroRequiem-
Siege was not a glamorous affair.
A hundred and a half things needed to be done, and none of them involved bloodying your sword. Palisades needed raising, ditches dug, and proper division of the camp to ensure good order. Fires had to be started and food cooked and water drawn. Weapons sharpened, sentries assigned.
"I do not understand why we don't just rush them," Blackjaw said as they sat around the war tent. "Hell, even without you, we have them dead to rights by ourselves. Redmoore butchered a hundred men last night."
"Tyroshi. None of them from the Golden Company," Donnall said.
"What does it matter?" Blackjaw said. "If we Bloodstone men attack them, we'd still have three men to their every one. Then we can be done with this business and go back to the wine and whores!"
There was also boredom.
"I've made my position on this clear," Lelouch said. "If you wish to attack them, go right ahead. I won't stop you, and you can even have the first pick of their bodies."
"But you no join us," Lysandro said.
Lelouch shrugged. "I will not waste the lives of my men. I'm in no great rush."
"Maybe we'll wait a few more nights, let them thin themselves out some," Blackjaw grumbled.
The next two nights were predictably dull. The pirate lords complained, but Redmoore was happy. Finally, the pirates had had enough and prepared to assault the hill. There were only six hundred men left, with most of the Tyroshi fled.
The pirate lords screamed in different tongues, making crude gestures at the Golden Company and promising their men gold and riches if they won.
"I didn't think they'd actually try it," Donnall said as the pirates slowly ascended.
"They think they have the advantage," Lelouch said. "They're used to fighting with numbers on their side, and have no patience for the finer aspects of warcraft. Plus, that is a lot of gold they wear. Might even be enough to buy a small keep put together."
"You're really not going to stop them? Donnall asked.
"Never interrupt your enemy while they're making a mistake, Cousin," Lelouch said.
"They fought with us."
"They're sellsails. They fight for us today, and slip us the knife tomorrow. Treachery is in their nature as sure as the Dornish are cunts," Lelouch said. "Bows, form up!"
Donnall whistled as first blood was drawn.
Despite being starved, sleep deprived, and outnumbered five to one, the Golden Company did not break. They thrusted and pushed and thrusted, buckling the pirate lines, and then the corsairs broke. Some of the sellswords gave chase, carving a bloody swath in the pursuit.
"To think," Lelouch said, "there are ten thousand of them in the Disputed Lands. Can you imagine it? With ten thousand men of that calibre, I could break the world." Lelouch sighed. "It almost hurts to do this. Bows, loose center mass!"
The arrowstorm fell upon fleeing pirates and overextended sellswords alike, killing more of the former than the latter. There were shouted commands in the distance, and the Golden Company reformed before another volley could be unleashed.
"The result was never in doubt, was it?" Donnall asked.
"No," Lelouch said, walking up to intercept a pirate lord, Redmaw or something to that effect.
"You shot at us!" he screamed in Tyroshi.
"I stopped them from pursuing," Lelouch replied in kind. "Or would you rather they had kept butchering you?"
Redmaw spat at his foot. "To hell with this fight. Those up there are no men. They're demons! I am going back to Saintsport."
"If you leave now, you forfeit your share of any loot from the bodies," Lelouch said.
"What use is gold to a dead man?"
Lelouch smiled. "That simplifies things quite a bit. We can bring out the ballistas now."
It took a few hours to position the siegecraft from Season of Tides and its escorts, but they had plenty of that. The bolts ripped right through the golden formation. To their credit, they did not break at first, but the cracks were there. Four more volleys, and they shattered, attempting to charge downhill.
The rest was cleanup. Without their phalanx, they were just lone men, and lone men died easily in battle.
-ZeroRequiem-
Even his newfound piles of gold did nothing to wash away the bitter taste of victory. Maybe it was just the ale though.
"Things," Zoutos drawled, holding a goblet of swill like it was an Arbor vintage, "have not gone according to plan."
Cici translated for the others in the room.
"That's putting it mildly," Lelouch said.
The table shuddered as Redmoore banged his fists against it. "Two weeks! Two fookin' weeks ago they should've arrived! We've been sitting on our asses here, twiddlin' our thumbs, and all of a sudden the war is over?"
Lelouch raised his good hand. "That's not what I said."
Redmoore glared. "I heard what you said. 'Difficulties in weather' and 'logistical challenges'. That's pisstalk for we've been left out to dry! No one is coming to help us, which means the war is as good as over. 'Continued state of hostilities' my ass."
"It could be genuine concerns," Donnall said, nursing his cup. "We've been getting hit by storms all week now."
"This weather is nothin' to the Ironborn."
"And the Redwynes," Zoutos said, "have a great many ships. Their people are not unfamiliar with the narrow sea's temperament. Weather may cause delay, but not two weeks worth of delay. In Myr, we would call this 'a contract in bad faith'."
"There is nothing to do for now but continue as we are," Lelouch said.
"Easy for you to say," Redmoore said. "You get to get off this godforsaken shithole and meet the king again."
A rather unflattering description of things. There was no castle, and the food and drink was a little plainer, but other than that life on Bloodstone was fairly similar to Driftmark. The weather was an improvement even, when it wasn't raining. Their camp on the hills overlooking Saintsport had been improved by a new wooden barracks and dirt paths to the nearest farming villages. Oh, and a whorehouse.
Food and fucking: the absolute essentials to camp morale.
"Rest assured, Ser Redmoore, I will petition the king most vigorously to see this war set back on its proper course," Lelouch said, pushing his half empty cup away. "In my absence, I will leave you in overall command of the camp."
"What a great honor that is when there's nothing left to kill," Redmoore said. "Are you sure we still need the pirates?"
"If we burn down their city, the whores will burn with them," Lelouch said.
"I'm not saying we burn them—"
"A sack would see our strength wasted," Lelouch said. "If we are weakened, there will be fewer battles we can fight in in the future. We don't want that, do we?"
"I s'pose not," Redmoore said.
Lelouch nodded. "Good. Magister Zoutos, if you'd stay awhile? I'd have your thoughts on some matters of logistics."
When it was just them (and Cici) in the room, Zoutos spoke, "You have never consulted me about matters of logistics. What is this really about?"
"I have a problem, you see," Lelouch said.
"The slaves," Cici added, then leaned back with a grin to watch it unfold.
Zoutos frowned. "What about them?"
"I need them freed," Lelouch said.
"In Myr—"
"I know what this is in Myr," Lelouch said. "We are not in Myr, we are on this island trying to get back to Myr."
"The matter was settled," Zoutos said, draining his cup and slamming it down on the table. "We support your war, you let us keep our slaves. We help you get revenge, you make us kings of Myr. Was this not what we agreed upon?"
"It was," Lelouch said.
"Then I do not see the problem."
"The problem is that this matter has grown beyond us," Lelouch said. "We cannot wage this war on our own. Without the Seven Kingdoms, there will be no kings of Myr. Just one king whose name is Liomond Lashare."
Zoutos played with the rings that adorned all his fingers. His favorite one was on his left pinky—a simple band of silver with a ruby. "Then our contract cannot be fulfilled. This happens all the time. With the gold and ships you've seized, you can easily repay the loans we've extended you."
"You and I both know that's not happening," Lelouch said.
Zoutos shrugged. "No matter."
"You will have to relocate as well. Your business is beginning to settle in Driftmark."
"There is no business if you free my slaves," Zoutos said. "Better to start from scratch again then to lose it all."
"What if I told you there was a way?" Lelouch asked.
"To keep my slaves? It is simple. Do not take them."
Lelouch shook his head. "No. What if I could make you kings of Myr if you freed your slaves?"
Zoutos assessed him, and leaned forward. "This has something to do with the king's delay?"
"Not the reason behind it," Lelouch said, "but it might help fix it."
"So you know the reasons?"
"I have my suspicions, but I will need to confirm them," Lelouch said.
"Tell me," Zoutos said.
So he did.
Zoutos nodded. "The logic seems sound, but even if I agreed to this, the others would not."
"Therein lies my problem," Lelouch said.
"I might have a solution," Zoutos said. "From what I understand, what you really need is not their freedom, but the appearance of it, yes?"
"I don't care much either way. The appearance of freedom is fine, as long as it is not discovered to be false."
The magister grinned. "It will not be discovered until it is too late. Even this scheme fooled the Braavosi, and they have a mind for trade beyond the grasp of your lords. We can follow Pentos."
"Elaborate," Lelouch said.
"Fifty years ago, Pentos lost a war with Braavos and were forced to abolish slavery, so they did in name," Zoutos said. "But in truth, slavery continued. The freed people were given wages, but were charged for food and shelter whose costs surpassed it. They were given contracts of employment that lasted a year, but could be renewed indefinitely. Unpayable debts were made, which the masters forgave if the contract was renewed."
"Devious," Lelouch said. "But I care not for the details of it. Will it convince Glossos and Rasporos to stay on?"
"I believe so, but realize that your leverage—"
"Will be lost," Lelouch said. "I lose my threat, my only threat, for then they are not masters of slaves, but masters of free men. Little better than smallfolk, if from a different land. If that is what it takes to get my uncle back, so be it."
-ZeroRequiem-
Their return to Driftmark was delayed by passing storms, but even storms could not stop the inevitable.
Spicetown was coming along nicely, with many wooden huts finishing construction and some semblance of order being forced upon the city. The magisters were used to a certain way of things, and the Myrmen were used to obeying those certain ways of things. Straight roads and blocks took shape, and certain crafts became established.
Even its pier was widened enough to let Seafyre dock, though it would be years before they could build ships from here.
"Glossos was always particular with how he did business," Zoutos said as they rode for the castle. "Once, I remember he ruined an entire man's business just to buy him out and demolish it, so he could shorten the walk between his storefronts."
Mother and Omorfia were waiting when they arrived, and Lelouch heard it before he saw it.
The sound of a babe wailing in Mother's arms.
"Is this really—?"
"I found him where you said I would," Mother said. "This is the child."
"What of his mother?" Lelouch asked.
Mother shook her head, frowning. "I'm told the birth was hard on her."
"She taught me how to play Cyvasse, you know?" Lelouch said, a twinge pulling at his heart. He had not known Mysaria all that well, but no child ought to grow up without their mother. "Has the body been buried?"
"Your father would never permit her to be buried in the crypts, but I found a nice plot of land just outside the castle," Mother confirmed.
"Thank you for doing this."
"Of course, he's family," Mother said. "I… did not think it right for me to name him."
Lelouch nodded and took the babe in his arms, holding it like a glass bowl that might break at the slightest turmoil. His skin was softer probably than a pillow, and definitely softer than the hard beds of campaign. "Donnall, come meet your half-brother."
"My half-brother?" Donnall said, raising his brow. "How is it that you know of him and I don't?"
"Because I pay attention," Lelouch said smugly.
"I should name him after a great hero. Mayhaps Alyn?"
Lelouch cooed at the child. "Mayhaps I'll name him after his father. Do you want to be Adamm Waters?"
The baby giggled and grabbed at his fingers.
"What do you plan to do with my brother?" Donnall asked. "Raise him here?"
"Yes, though I'd see him consecrated before the Seven first, as any proper child ought to be," Lelouch said.
"We can have Septa Kailsey do that," Mother said.
"Nonsense! He's our kin by blood, if not by name," Lelouch said. "I will be going to King's Landing within the week. With luck, I can convince His High Holiness to bless the child."
"His High Holiness blessing a bastard?" Donnall said with a grin. "You jest."
"I can be very convincing when I want to."
"You will need a lady to go with you to care for him."
Omorfia blew a strand of black hair from her eyes and walked up to them. "A beautiful child. If you are going to King's Landing, I can accompany you," she said with a smile.
"Are you sure?" Lelouch asked.
"With grandfather back, there will be little left for me to manage," Omorfia said. "I do not like being idle."
"I suppose that would be fine, though I would send someone to assist you," Mother said then her voice turned somber. "Lelouch, there's someone else you should see while you're here."
A cold hand gripped his chest. "Where?"
Mother looked to the window of a short, squat tower, where servants might live.
-ZeroRequiem-
The room was well-aired, with plenty of windows for light to shine through. It was necessary, for there were no torches lit and no torches could be lit. It was utterly without glass, even those the windows used to have were shattered and replaced by good oaken boards. And doors there were plenty of too, leading to everywhere, but several outside.
It was a place with little privacy had the entire tower more than one occupant.
"Alarra," Lelouch called out.
She visibly winced, and kept her body turned away from him.
Gods be good, her hair was beginning to grow back at least, and with time cover the scars on her neck and shoulder. Lelouch stepped towards her, and called out again. "Sister, look at me."
"Go away, brother," Alarra said.
His heart shattered like he did to his enemies. "I'm your brother. I will not leave you."
"You do not understand," Alarra said. "I'm… I am hideous now. If you see me, you will not remember who I once was. How pretty I used to be. You will not like me anymore."
"I have already seen what the fire did to you," Lelouch said, and he saw her shoulders sag. "It doesn't matter. You will always be beautiful to me."
"I have lived with you all my life. I know when you are lying!" She turned around. Her eyes, normally so vivid and filled with the spark of life, were a muted shade. There was a wrongness to them.
He hugged her tight, too afraid to let go, as if she might combust if he slackened even by a little, even for awhile. "Then you know I speak the truth when I say that you are my sister. Nothing will ever change that."
"E-even my dreams have been stolen," she whispered with a sob, "even in my dreams I see it, burning everything. Everyone."
"I cannot m-marry Prince Aerys now," Alarra whimpered. "I am marred. Unfit. Father will not s-say it, but it is why he sent me away. He cannot stand the look of me. He cannot look at the daughter that can no longer wed. What u-use am I to him now?"
He pulled back, and cupped her face. "Father is wrong. The world is wrong. There is more to you than who you might one day marry," Lelouch said. "I will always be your loving brother."
"But you are leaving again soon?"
"I have to," Lelouch said.
"But why?" she pleaded. "S-stay here with me. Forget King's Landing and Essos."
Lelouch looked her in the eye, unflinching. "I go so that no one," —his eyes flashed— "will ever hurt you like this again."
The work is half-done.