Author's Note: Hello again!
Thanks for the favorites, follows and reviews. I finished/am posting this one on very little sleep, due in part to of my transition into a new job (which I'm super excited about!). So, y'know, be advised for potential grammatical errors I'm too tired to see right now. Not too much movement in overall plot, but a few character building moments and setup for planned payoffs later. Plus it gives me an excuse to write a touch from Bella again, whom I love though most of you guys don't haha. Anyhow, y'all rock.
As always, I hope you enjoy and review this update!
It took them only until dusk to catch up to him, but Damon had figured that would be the case. He had six hundred mounted men, which could have kept ahead of the inevitable pursuers from King's Landing if he pushed them hard enough, but he also had fifteen hundred footmen and a couple hundred followers of various occupations. With these, there had been no chance of avoiding them for long, and in any case they would have found him eventually.
Damon met them on the outskirts of his half-erected camp, the sound of tents and fortifications being raised rose from behind him while the scent of roasting meat filled the summer air. He took only three men with him, one of which knew what the incoming delegation was here for and two who were about to be horribly surprised. Garlan Tyrell had taken command of the Tyrell men who had gone with Damon, making up nearly all of the Prince's cavalry. He sat an impressive black destrier to Damon's left, the strong animal having been bred by his elder brother Willas. To Garlan's own left sat Ser Philip Foote, whom Damon had chosen to continue his role as Damon's prefect and made commander of the Lannister contingent beneath only he himself; the knight was atop a bay charger, the only man of the quartet in armor although all wore swords. To Damon's right was Tyrek on a grey stallion, the Lannister knight's preference in horseflesh. He was every bit as nervous as Damon, for he was one of only three conspirators who knew of Sansa Stark's presence when they left King's Landing.
You've made your decision, now live by it. Sansa is our only true bargaining chip to secure uncle Jaime's release, and I will not see it squandered by marrying her to me in a political move. I realize I'll marry for politics one day, but I can at least hope it won't be to someone my brother emotionally tortured for his own putrid pleasure.
The prince breathed a touch easier when he saw who headed the twenty-strong contingent from King's Landing. Ser Kevan Lannister, portly and balding, was Damon's great-uncle, and had always been kind in their interactions. Kevan was a capable, charismatic man who did not lack for cunning, but Damon was glad it was the hand of the Hand of the King to follow them. Damon would stand up better to his great uncle than he would any other.
He had known it to be highly unlikely, but Damon had feared Tywin himself would follow after the Prince when they realized Sansa Stark was missing; he'd had no doubt Tywin would instantly know just where she had gone. Damon had taken Sansa and Edmure Tully to try and negotiate with Robb, their respective brother and nephew, because he saw it as the best chance of securing Jaime's release. While he was scared shitless of his grandfather, Damon had no intention of giving her back now. He supposed plots and schemes had their place in the world and particularly in times of war, but when those plots and schemes risked the life of the person he trusted most in the world...well, Damon refused to risk it.
Damon eyed the gold and crimson banners flying over the approaching party, steadying his breathing for the coming clash. You've always thought me subservient, grandfather, and you've been right. But you yourself said a man only gets what he wants when he reaches out and takes it. How angry can you be that I followed your guidance?
The answer was very, but Damon didn't let himself focus on that fact.
Kevan reined to a stop a few meters to the Prince's front, bowing as was proper though he eyed both Damon and Tyrek knowingly. "Prince Damon."
"Uncle Kevan, a pleasure to see you."
"Normally the pleasure would be mine, Prince Damon, but I regret my reason for being here." Kevan eyed the Tyrell and Foote knights pointedly. "Shall we discuss that reason in a more private setting, Your Grace?" He found it mildly amusing that Kevan hadn't included Tyrek as a pair of ears that didn't need to hear the following. Ser Kevan had taken a large role in raising his nephew since Tygett, Kevan's brother and Tyrek's father, had died when Tyrek was very young. As such, he had noticed the friendship that, after several years, had finally grown between Prince and lordling. He clearly had no doubts Tyrek knew all about Lady Sansa's presence.
Even if he had, Tyrek's sheepish look would have given him away in a heartbeat. Damon was bad at intrigue, but Tyrek was terrible.
The Lord of Dragonstone shook his head. "I chose them to be here with full knowledge of what was coming."
Kevan pursed his lips a moment, nodded, and wasted no more time on pleasantries. "Where is the Lady Sansa, Prince Damon."
He felt the glances Garlan and Philip Foote gave him, though he kept his eyes forward. "In my camp, in her own tent."
His great uncle's face darkened. "You left her there unguarded?"
The Baratheon Prince liked Kevan, he truly did, but he couldn't help but find the suggestion insulting. He was not a genius, but Damon wasn't stupid either. "Of course not. Ser Balon Swann guards the entrance with orders to kill anyone who tries to force entry."
"And if she attempts to leave?"
Damon shrugged. "Steps were taken to prevent that, as well as to protect her...reputation."
Those steps consisted of Bella, a whore, and an elderly septa named Morra from a small septry a three hour march from King's Landing. Damon had convinced the hunched woman in her fifties to join them with a very generous donation to the septry's presiding septon, and she and Bella had predictably butted heads almost instantly. The septa resented the whore's occupation, while the whore resented the septa's attitude towards her. Still, Damon had taken Sansa from King's Landing to attempt to use her in a negotiation, not to cause rampant rumor about her lack of virtue; two women with her at all times, one being a septa, would help in that endeavor.
He'd also told Bella to let the northerner know what might happen to her were she to leave the sanctuary he had made for her; no one in the camp aside from Damon, Tyrek, Bella and now his Kingsguard and two commanders knew who she was; all the common soldiers would see would be an attractive young woman, and they would assume her to be of the same occupation as Bella and most other women in camp. His wartime paramour was well aware of the baser desires of men on campaign, and the danger to Sansa should she show her face would probably be the only thing Bella and Morra would agree on.
Kevan was watching him, and Damon returned the gaze far easier than he had in the past. "Did the Kingsguard knight know? From their reactions, I can see Sers Garlan and Philip did not." He glanced to Tyrek, lips twisting emphatically. "And I never doubted that you did."
The Prince stepped in to defend the men under his command. "Tyrek was only following orders. Ser Balon found out approximately ten minutes ago."
Kevan snorted in mild amusement. "'Following orders'. This war has changed you, Damon."
He felt a mixture of pride and shame at that, and didn't understand the odd mixture. It was certainly true, though; before the journey to Winterfell all that time ago and the events that had unfolded since then, Damon never would have disobeyed his mother, much less his grandfather. The prospect of taking only a few horses and one squire younger than himself He never would have taken the initiative to steal a noble lady out from under the nose of his brother and intend to use her to barter with an enemy, with only partial permission from the crown. After his first battle, he had lamented to Bella that he didn't understand other people because they rarely did what it made sense for those people to do. Now he was just like them.
He also wouldn't have been called the Daring, led men and heard their praises of him, or been knighted. He wouldn't have a true friend his own age.
He wouldn't have blood on his hands and dreams that sometime kept him awake at night.
Yes, the war had changed Damon. He felt like overall it was for the better, but he knew several—his brother the king, his mother, the Hand, a nameless Piper solider with a broken nose whose body was by now only bones in a mass grave—who would disagree.
The Prince just shrugged. "Jaime said war changes all men."
His uncle spoke softly. "I suppose it does at that." He straightened, tone returning to normal. "You know why I am here."
He nodded. "I do."
"But you don't intend to give her back."
This time he shook his head. "I don't."
"I don't suppose I have to tell you how certain of those in King's Landing think of this."
Damon almost laughed, though he felt no joy or pleasure at the thought of just how and who he had pissed off. Well, except for Joffrey; I may have to serve him for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy infuriating him. "I can well imagine, Ser Kevan."
The Lannister knight's look was cautionary. "Then you can also imagine what sort of danger you are flirting with, Your Grace. On more than one front."
He most certainly did know, but he felt his heart soften a touch farther towards his uncle for the warning nonetheless. "I can."
"If she were to escape or be freed..."
"I can imagine the results of that possibility too, uncle. I am shy, not stupid."
Kevan snorted his laugh again. "'Shy'. I've never seen a shy lad do anything so..." Reckless? Absurd? Convoluted? "...Daring."
The twist to his uncle's lips showed his intentional use of the moniker Damon had acquired. It made the Prince's heart swell with pride, and even his uncle's cryptic next several words couldn't deflate it. "But I still have my reservations, and not only about the validity of your intended plan. Be careful, Damon; these are dangerous times."
And like that, it was done. Damon's respect for his uncle increased when he realized Kevan had seen he would not relent and, instead of trying to haggle Damon down, had accepted it as it was. With a small bow and no further formality, Kevan turned his horse. "May the gods help you, Damon. You will need all seven."
The septa had finally stopped talking at her, Bella closing her eyes to try and alleviate the headache that had developed over hours of argument, when a hand smacked the canvas of the tent she was to share with the embodiments of the Crone and of the Maiden. Standing, and looking to lady Sansa to assure herself the young woman was decent—she was, and was eyeing the origin of the slap reservedly—Bella walked to the flap and half opened it, peering out. When she saw the torchlight flickering in the brilliant emerald she had come to like, she opened it fully.
Lady Sansa and Morra came to their feet, bowing lightly as the Prince only stepped far enough in to be clearly visible in the light of the brazier and torchlight. "Lady Sansa, septa." He hesitated, and she saw he was contemplating how best to say what was on his mind. It shocked her how, even after weeks of relative separation after their arrival in King's Landing, she remembered the Prince's physical cues that she had picked up on months ago.
Although she reasoned Damon Baratheon was hard to forget, at least for Bella; he had made a habit of taking her life and turning it over onto it's head. She'd gone from a broken-nosed whore in a minor Riverland town to a prince's paramour/servant on battlefields all over central Westeros. She'd seen Riverrun, the great castle of the Tully's, the ruined remains of Harrenhal, the largest castle ever built, and the Red Keep, the seat of kings.
Then, after fully expecting Damon to forget her upon his recall to King's Landing, she had found herself working in one of the most popular brothels in the capitol. Her earnings, which had been great from her months with the golden haired royal, had grown faster than she had ever thought possible. Yet before she could even become set into that setting, the same green-eyed warrior had come to her again, and now she found herself, for the first time since she was much too young, being paid for something other than her body—which was almost a shame in this instance, as it was horribly easy to look at Damon and remember just how shockingly much the silent prince had known about a woman. That aside, she was now a handmaid/minder/semi-guard to a lady descended from hundreds of generations of kings, even if said lady hadn't chosen her willingly.
She'd seen none of it coming but Bella could hardly wait for what would come next.
She brought herself back to reality when the Prince found his words. "I came with warning and reassurance both, Lady Sansa."
Bella glanced at the girl. Sansa had been quiet, very quiet, ever since Bella had helped sneak her into a wagon of camp followers at the Red Keep, but that was to be expected; the girl had been raised prim and proper, and while Bella had gathered that Sansa's experiences in King's Landing had taken the shine off many of her girly notions she figured it was still odd for the lady to have a whore as a constant companion. That, and the northerner was a captive in the middle of a camp of men on the warpath to kill her brother, which Bella couldn't imagine was a comforting thought. The poor girl was in a hard place.
But she was nothing if not proper in her answers and courtesies, unfailingly so with regards to Damon. "Yes, my Prince?"
The whore barely withheld a smile at the odd light that flashed through Damon's eyes at that; oh yes, she remembered the effect those words had on him when spoken by a woman. She couldn't blame him, either, for the first thing Bella had noticed about Sansa was how attractive she was.
Damon rallied and carried on, though not without a glance at Bella that made the courtesan's smile come to the forefront. "The warning is what I imagine Bella and Septa Morra have already told you; straying from this tent when we are encamped or from the wagon you are riding in when we are not would be...unwise."
Sansa nodded, face emotionless. "I understand."
The Prince looked like he expected her to say more, but quickly realized she was finished. Now he knows how I felt when I first met him. Or how anyone feels when they first meet him. "I also find it only to fair to tell you exactly what we are doing here. I am not taking you back to your family for nothing, if at all" His voice hardened almost imperceptibly. "I don't know what they told you in King's Landing, but here are the facts. Your brother captured my uncle Jaime in battle, and nearly captured myself and Tyrek with him. I, in turn, have your uncle Edmure Tully in my custody...and you."
Sansa said nothing, blue eyes respectfully somewhere on Damon's chest. After only a momentary pause, he continued. "You are here because I intend to trade you and your uncle for Jaime. With that in mind, your safety and wellbeing are my foremost concern. At night, Ser Garlan Tyrell, Ser Balon Swann, Ser Tyrek and even I myself will take turns standing sentry through this flap. While we travel, one of those same men will be near you, though not openly." He cleared his throat, not used to saying so much at once. "While many will guess, I don't intend to scream to the world that you are with us, at least not until I meet up with a larger force."
Suddenly her eyes darted up to meet Damon's, not those of the scared doe she had been but now something else entirely. It shocked Bella as much as it did Damon. "In case my brother tries to free me."
Damon nodded, emerald meeting blue. "Yes. In case he tries that...and many die."
The Prince shifted uncomfortably, holding her gaze until Sansa's eyes dropped again to his chest, the girl's face going back to the emotionless mask it had been. "I felt you should know where things stood." He shrugged. "And, before you let your hopes rise...I offered parlay to Robb once before. He didn't respond." He turned as quick as he came. "Goodnight, my ladies."
Bella caught his parting words. "At least I hope it will be."
Two weeks later, the raids began.