sololoquy | open post

I would be interested to hear what it is a Dornish bastard thinks she knows of "the King's will".

[Its not exactly dodging the question, but it is yet another sign that he isn't interested in discussing the King, or his will. As far as he was concerned, his men belonged to him -- and through him, they were acting in the interests of the King, whether the King knew it or not.

And they all knew where they were going. They were sent to find Skywalker -- and that's what they were going to do.

For his part, Ren watches the path, waiting for his banners to reappear.]

Nothing.

[ Admitting that took nothing from her. She had no pride or status to lose, so his insults had no bite. A bastard was a bastard, and a bastard who couldn't even serve on the wall was worse. From the minute she'd been born, the gods had promised Rey no better possible position in this world than a brothel in King's Landing.

And she'd hated that idea, so she'd taken a different kind of slavery. ]

But I know a thing or two about avoiding the King's will. The only reason someone wouldn't want to hear orders is if they don't plan to follow them. [ She turned in her seat to look up at him. His face was ill-proportioned and looked worse twisted into such a sour expression. More proof that lords were no different than the rest of them, she supposed. ] Why are you chasing Skywalker? You're dragging me into it; I deserve to know.

You deserve nothing. You dragged yourself into this by accepting that missive, and by choosing to dispose of it.

[He feels her eyes upon him, so he tilts his chin down to look at her. Skywalker's true lineage was known by few, beyond the fable that he was the one true King -- just as few knew why he'd nearly slaughtered his entire house on Snoke's orders not long after he'd become Kingsguard.

He was hiding something in Essos, something that belonged to him now that Skywalker was meant to be nothing but a fossil -- of that, Ren was certain. And he wasn't going to let King Snoke have it.]

The King's orders were to find Skywalker. That is what I am doing.

That might work on your bastard prisoner, but getting to Storm's End from here will take days. Plenty long enough for people to start asking questions. [ And his bannermen were coming back up the hill, riding with a steady purpose. Signs of bandits, probably. They'd have to move with caution, which would only further slow them. ]

If you're so worried about loyalty, you're going to have to figure out something better to say to them.

[ But that was none of her business. She turned back around. Looking up at him only made her seat more uncomfortable because of the twist in her hips. But let it look like she was dismissing him out of hand, or letting the conversation lapse for the sake of company. ]

[It didn't take much to get him to doubt. He isn't listening all that much when his bannermen return to confirm the presence of bandits ahead. Perhaps they could double back and venture to Blackwater Bay without being called back to the castle as they went through King's Landing. Would Snoke anticipate his movements and halt the port? Then what?

Rey would most certainly die in that situation and while he held no love for a Dornish bastard, she was his ticket to Skywalker.]

How many?

[Five. Outnumbered, then. One knight was worth two or three bandits, but they had cargo to protect where the bandits did not.

Bollocks.]

We will hold until they pass.

We don't have to.

[ He didn't want her commentary, but he did want to hurry. Rey didn't look at him as she said it, but instead jangled her chains. ]

Four against five is more than a fair fight.

[ Probably the knights had already been spotted. Probably the bandits knew they were here, and if they didn't fight back, they were going to get surrounded. Possibly they even had reinforcements deeper in the woods. Rey was not used to having a contingent behind her. She knew how to win a fight before it could escalate.

But maybe he'd just think she was calling him craven. He seemed to take everything the worst way possible. She just didn't fancy dying out here with him, even if it did appeal to her to slow them down as much as she could. Maybe, somehow, Skywalker would get word. Maybe somehow he could get away. ]

[She dared. His men straighten on their saddles, already aware of what was about to happen.

The downside of her being in close proximity to him means it is easy for him to grab her by the throat and squeeze when she starts to speak out against his orders. The bannermen do not react -- this doesn't appear to be a new reaction.

Something under his skin is trembling with anger, but it is covered up by his gauntlets as the metal presses into her trachea.]

If you speak without being spoken to again...and I will gag you until we reach port. Do I make myself clear?

[His voice is a low and dangerous growl.]

[ The chill that crossed his men's face was her first clue, but she didn't get a chance to react. Immediately his hand closed around her throat, and Rey's eyes widened as she drew a failed breath. She raised her bound hands to try and pry his fingers away, but he was stronger than her. Prick. He just wanted to prove that he was to be obeyed. It didn't matter if his plan was the best one or not — as long as they listened to him.

She thrashed about for a minute, not feeling adequately able to reply because of the compression around her throat. Words wouldn't come out, just rasped choking noises. Probably for the best. The first few things she intended to say would have pushed him to kill her, not release her.

Finally she nodded, an urgent and insistent motion that pushed her chin down into his hand.

She'd never been around people like this, had never had to learn to be particularly reverent because of anything stupid like status except to Lord Plutt. And even he had so little status that it wasn't like the stories she heard of places like Riverrun and King's Landing. That was another league entirely.

Ren, though, didn't seem to think she needed experience to accept him as her better. He just was. ]

[Ren holds her there for a moment longer, letting her pull at his hand uselessly before he releases her and turns his horse around.]

Good.

[He shifts backward in the saddle slightly, just enough so that Rey would be forced to fill in the gap as his horse breaks off into a gallop. Fortunately, Ren was quite strong, and the awkward angle doesn't prevent him from leaning into it. Unfortunately, it also means Rey is going to have to endure him being much closer than he was initially.

If they road fast enough outside the perimeter of their camp, they might have ended up missing them. The rest of his men are not far behind, though Ren keeps some distance ahead.

If nothing else, he would draw their attention, and hopefully make it past without incident.]

[ Songs and stories always made things like this sound thrilling and romantic. In a way that left her feeling cheated, almost. There was nothing thrilling or romantic in being caged with her arms bound between the uncomfortable metal plates of Ren's armor and the hard leather of the saddle front, swallowing the panic she felt about whether or not she might be thrown from the horse at any moment.

She managed to begrudge him his closeness even though it was the only thing that offered her security from being thrown from the saddle. She was allowed, she figured, since his armor cut painfully into her back through her thin homespun shirt.

But then, reality tended to be disappointing.

Rey knew that better than anyone. If this were a story, she wouldn't be a bastard orphan of no one important. She'd be a lost Dornish princess and Lady Organa's bannermen would help her free herself any minute now. (Not rescue her. She didn't need rescuing; she just needed help.)

Instead she was trapped with this monster, trying to ignore the pain in her back, trying not to panic that she might be thrown from the horse and trampled, waiting to see if his stupid plan got her killed because he wouldn't take her manacles off.

Sure enough, the thunder of hooves drew the attention of the bandits who lurked in the trees, and an arrow cut overhead with a whistle. He'd provoked them. Idiot. He'd told her not to speak without being spoken to, but if she didn't do something, he was going to get them killed by being a reckless fool!

She bit down on her tongue. They were Redcloaks, weren't they? Killing people was what they did. And anyway, why should she try to keep them alive? They'd kidnapped her, threatened to rape her, dragged her halfway across the Stormlands … Good bloody riddance. She'd be better off among bandits. ]

[Another arrow pings off of his armor as they race by. Several bandits give chase as one manages to tangle itself in his fluttering red cloak.]

Hold on.

[Its a brief warning as he yanks on the horse's reins to get her to halt. The mare rearing backwards with a cry of protest. His sword flings its scabbard somewhere in the dirt behind them as he draws it, and the first unfortunate bandit to charge is kicked backward by the horse's flailing hooves.

As if on cue, the knights behind them finally launch their own horses forward, coming forward to trample the archer's who have chosen to focus on the Lord Commander. Ren struggles some to get the horse back under control while also trying to prevent Rey from falling, his sword arm slashing outward to force the charging bandits away from him.

One determined bandit catches the sword in the face and falls to the dirt, dead.]

[ She had not been the only orphaned bastard employed by Plutt in the Saltpans. There were others, and just like her, when they stole from him (stole things they had scavenged, of course) or disobeyed him or even just when he was in an unpleasant mood, he'd strike them. On those nights, Rey had leaned back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest and recited the songs she'd heard on the road up from Dorne.

One of them was a song of adventure about a brave knight who'd traveled down to Dorne before the kingdoms had been united. He'd brought back a tapestry from the throne room on Dorne. The men she traveled with had always laughed, and it had taken her a while to realize why; people fought and died for that tapestry, and that knight had patted himself on the back, but he couldn't do anything with it. And he'd showed it off to his king, but he'd not gotten anything for it because he'd come back instead of properly holding Dorne.

She felt a great deal like that tapestry now, she realized. Useless luggage. She hated that feeling, and she decided so quickly. The journey thus far had already bruised her legs and back, and she wasn't allowed to talk, and she wasn't allowed to fight for her life, and she might as well be a bloody tapestry for all that Ren wanted from her.

When Ren slashed out, though, he lost his grip on her and she slipped off the side of the saddle, rolling into it and throwing her bound hands up over her head to keep his mare from trampling her. She rolled clear and fumbled her way to her feet.

She'd been right. There were more than four here now. So though the two archers had been felled, and Ren had caught one of them in the face, there were still a handful standing. They seemed to realize what they'd gotten themselves into, however. Ren's sword, at the very least, was a recognizable beast. This wasn't just a traveling group of green knights. The were Redcloaks with their Lord Commander.

These bandits didn't want to leave empty-handed though. Without purses or supplies to steal and get off with, one of them tried to grab the chain she dragged behind her just as she reached for Ren's dropped scabbard, thinking she might defend herself with it at least. It was heavy and metal and solid. But the bandit pulled her off her feet, but one of Ren's bannermen took him out swiftly enough. They closed ranks then, while she clambered back to her feet.

Tapestry indeed.

She looked up begrudgingly at the one who had interceded and wondered if that was loyalty to his Lord Commander or compassion for her. Or if it mattered. The rest of the bandits scattered and fled, giving up when they'd seen enough of their comrades' guts. They were smart, she thought, watching one of them recede out of sight in the tree cover. They'd run.

She looked down at the chain that dragged off her manacles.

She should have run. How long did she had to try to convince herself that dead would be better than this? If she stayed with them, Ren would either lose his temper and kill her, lose his temper and let his men have her, or get her killed with his own pride and stupidity. ]

[They were smart to have run. This likely would not be the last bandit party they tripped on in the Stormlands.

Ren watched them flee, jaw set and stiff. There was a rigidness to his posture, suggesting that he was nearly failing at curtailing the urge to charge after them and hunt them down. But after a moment or two, he exhales and forces himself to dismount. He does not go for Rey's chain right away. Instead, he moves for the scabbard.

He'd hardly drawn any blood. It was nothing to be happy about or proud of. So, quietly, he wipes the small amount of blood off on the inside of his red cloak before he shoves the sword away in its scabbard. Tying it back to his belt is something of a chore.

His men were reassured, but Ren continued to have doubts. Perhaps the girl was right -- but they were already half way through the Kingswood. Turning back now simply wasn't an option.

So he trails back to Rey and scoops up the chain, pausing long enough to look her over. He could already see some bruises forming.]

Were you injured?

[Its an invitation to speak.]

Fuck off.

[ Nearly dying had, as it turned out, cut her temper short. And she didn't have a long fuse to begin with. Rey spat at him. It came out bloody.

It wasn't just him. It was all of it. She didn't have any bloody control over her own bloody life, couldn't even defend herself when it came to it. She wanted to cry and scream and fight, and he wouldn't even let her bloody speak without choking her for it.

The soreness in her shoulder warned her that she might have popped it from its socket. She'd done that before, once, and it had taken some work and help to get back in. Leverage. He'd never help her with it — it'd mean loosening her chains. What would happen if it stayed out, bouncing on that damned horse?

She'd told him they'd have to fight. She'd told him to go back through King's Landing. She'd told him to free her. And they were still all dancing to a fool's song anyway because of a damned title. ]

You're as mad as they say. [ Mad Lord Ren cut down his own house. Mad Ren, the King's attack dog. ]

[Her response, which should incite anger, does the opposite. He offers her the briefest flicker of a smirk, reaching up to wipe the blood from his cheek and between two of his fingers.]

Is that what they say?

[His head tilts, as if he's expecting an actual response from her. Oh yes -- he was quite mad indeed. He hadn't always been that way, of course...not that anyone alive in Westeros would be able to confirm that. For all his mother tried, she'd been told she was mad with grief, that it wasn't her fault, that some men were just born that way.

A curse from the Seven. Sometimes it was good to hear, that people accepted the symbol he'd made for himself. There was no room for regret that way.]

[ The sick bastard took joy in it. Rey couldn't stop herself. She charged him then, shoving roughly at the plate of his armor. He was too heavy to knock back in it, of course, and she was too small. In fact, pain lanced through her shoulder as she did it. She'd hurt herself more and accomplished nothing.

It didn't help. But she raised her fists again and pounded them on his breastplate and yelled like a feral thing and waited for the release of catharsis that never came. Damn him. Damn him and his Redcloaks and the King. Damn all of them. She'd never felt anything for the nobility before — they meant nothing to her, never interacted with her, barely even affected her life.

Until Ren, at least.

He should have just killed her. Maybe that was what she was really doing, ignoring the pain in her shoulder to attack him uselessly. She could provoke him this way. She'd seen his temper. ]

[Almost as soon as she charged, his men had dismounted, but Ren held up a hand to them and allowed Rey to continue her relentless flurry of attacks.

In truth, for all of his recklessness, the Lord Commander was a calculating thinker -- given the proper motivation. Watching the way Rey chose to throw her self, tilting his chin sideways to keep her from getting at his eyes. Her temper then was a familiar thing, perhaps the most familiar thing he'd felt in years. The sort of unrestrained, untethered anger that had no place in noble society.

He swayed slightly every time she threw her weight into him, eventually exhaling and reaching to grab her wrists the next time it came for his breastplate. By forcing her to stop moving, he could see that her shoulder had fallen out of its socket.

And then, he released her. She could continue until she exhausted herself, if she wanted. His hand was over the hilt of his sword, and she had no weapon or advantage. Sooner or later, she would have to give up.

He waits for a pause between her strikes before speaking.]

The sooner we get to Essos, the sooner you will be free of me.

Edited (not self depreciating enough, crit my hmd) 2018-05-17 23:23 (UTC)

[ Free of him, yes. And left alone with the consequence of the craven she was, giving up Skywalker so save her own skin. She was nothing. She meant nothing, next to him. She deserved to die for giving him up, if nothing else, but she just couldn't seem to let herself.

She tried to raise her hands to knock him across the face with her shackles — that would wipe the smug right out of him — but the sudden and burning pain drove her instead to her knees, pulling a scream from her. A scream, and hot tears. ]

I hate you.

[ She pulled her hands to her chest, trying to strike the right balance between letting the weight of the shackles pull on her rotator cuff and exercising her arm too fully and pulling it in a different way. ]

I know.

[Her and everyone else in Westeros.

Ren paused to glance skyward, and then to his men. They weren't going to make anymore progress today if he didn't quiet Rey down somehow and they all knew it. So he reaches for her manacles and back to his hip for the key.]

Come here.

[If he didn't release her, he risked breaking her slim wrists while putting her shoulder back in place. So while he messed with that, he spoke to his men.]

Go to my horse. There should be something to wrap this.

[One of them complied, returning with a bit of bandage and a torn bit of red cloak. It wouldn't be the most professional sling, but it would allow her to heal.]

[ It had hurt, the last time she'd had her shoulder set, and she knew already that Ren wouldn't be as gentle about it. When he freed one of her wrists, she reached up to her shirt and stuffed the hem at her collar into her mouth. She could at least bite down on that. Muffle the fact that she was going to scream, hope she didn't break her teeth without something more substantial to bite down on.

She didn't thank him and she didn't meet his gaze, even as the knight came over with the material for a sling. In fact, she looked down and away. She hated his charity more than she hated his anger and his stupidity and that hideous scar on his face. It made her feel worthless to need help from someone who was such a monster to her.

But she wasn't too good to turn it down, either. She held her wrist back out to him. If she couldn't use the arm because she'd damaged it, leaving it out of its socket, she'd never be able to work again. Some things were more important than pride. ]

[He reaches up carefully when he sees her bite at her collar and gently seeks to wiggle her mouth open to instead offer her a balled up piece of the cloak. Charity or not, they both needed things out of her -- and for that alone, he was willing to make this easier.

And then once that was done, he finished putting together the sling -- he'd have to mess with a needle and thread later to make it stronger, if she'd let him. But it would do for now. He took her wrist in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her collar bone. His wingspan was large enough to make the task of lining everything up on his chest that much easier.

And then, with a brief tap of his finger to warn her, he jerked his arms to pop it back into place with an audible sound. One knight was already handing him the sling to rest the joint in.

The injury was a blessing and a curse. It would mean that he could no longer bind her wrists, and that she was free to walk around. Ren is obviously not happy about it as he stows the manacles away in a saddle bag.]

We should move a bit farther for camp, in case they decide to come back.

[ The urge to bite him nearly won out when he pried her mouth open. It was more of the same from his camp, beside that stream. Some pale shadow of gentleness, turned poisonous and made unnerving by the intimacy therein. Instead she reluctantly opened her jaw and bite down on the piece of cloak he provided. It tasted like stale blood and dust and for the first time she wondered what they used to dye those red cloaks.

That thought was ripped from her with a shout of pain that answered the pop of her joint. The ringing in her ears continued while he helped her arm into the sling and she pulled it tight on her own, padding it with that red cloth, while he went to pack up the shackles.

She'd have broken her arm earlier if she'd thought it would have gotten her out of those.

Anyway, he made that recommendation like it was up for debate. ]

More than a bit.

[ It probably wasn't up for debate. ]

Choke me for speaking out of hand when we make camp if you want, your lordship, but I'm used to sleeping outside. And I don't want to get attacked again. [ Realizing she should qualify that, she continued, ] There were more than four; that means they're spread out. We should keep on for at least a few hours and make camp well off the road after that. Just to be sure.

[She just had to speak up. Ren can’t help the angry grimance that crosses his expression when she speaks up again. This time, he lets her finish her quantification, but he very obviously doesn’t care for any of it.]

As you wish.

[The men don’t comment on his concession. Was he agreeing to choking her, or following her advice? It was impossible to tell, which was exactly how he intended it.

This time, he doesn’t get back on his mare. Instead, he wraps up the reins in his hand and marches forward. The others fall in formation around him and Rey.

They continue on until the sun begins to disappear and, sure enough, Ren diverts off the path. The men dismount to do the same. These pars of the woods were less known to him, but it was easy to spot a clearing at the top of a small hill. They just had to get up there. Most of the supplies make it up wihout issue, but the small cart on the horse doesn’t quite appreciate the incline. And so, Ren retreats to help his men get it up to the top in another rare display of charity.

He was too close to let something like making camp delay him. Everything gets set up much faster now that there are less of them and the more lavish of their supplies have been taken away. All of the knights are eager to dispose of their armor after a day of trapsing about in the Kingswood.]

[ Soreness spread through her legs as she started after him on foot, and suddenly, Rey felt endlessly grateful that he didn't try to put her back on that saddle. Even putting aside the shoulder injury that would probably ache with every cantering movement, her whole body was sore from just the ride. It was only just hitting her now that she was on her feet.

She could feel every bruise and blister, yet somehow her legs still felt like wobbly half-numb jelly. How could it hurt so much and feel tingly and numb? Every step, she tried to lengthen her strides, hoping that it would stretch her out and make the next day less painful. She'd still be sore, but maybe not as sore.

The others were obviously used to this. Trained knights. She'd always figured people from that sort of life must have a cushy existence. And they did, obviously. They weren't hurting for supplies or anything like that. Probably they'd get to Storm's End and easily be able to secure passage, never questioning. But there was some grit to them too.

Once Ren parted from her to help with the cart, it sank in how he just … kept going. Whatever plowed him forward, it was something stronger than money or honor.

Rey, unable to help with the cart, instead led the horses up, tied tandem to each other. For a moment, she thought of hopping on one and disappearing, but they'd have the other two, and they were better riders, and her arm was in a sling. She didn't even know how to steer one. How loyal were horses to their masters? She didn't know. Finding out would probably cost her the newfound freedom she had earned, and therefore her chance to cut Ren's throat in his sleep.

She patted the side of Ren's mare as she lead it upward. ]

Thanks for taking it easy on me. [ She said genially. ] You must be quite patient, putting up with him all the time.

[ She tied them as she had seen the men do the day before at the top of the hill. It was a good campsite that Ren had spotted. Well-positioned, hard to be snuck up on. By then the cart had made it to the top of the hill with her, and any hope of disappearing into the twilight was gone. ]

[Ren is almost surprised to find Rey at the top of the hill with the horses, evident by the way his eyes linger on her for just a touch too long. He turns away to help set up their meager camp. This evening is less eventful than the previous. Without the two instigators, the older knights are content to eat and sleep, with just a bit of drinking in moderation. Ren once again avoids partaking, instead choosing to sit outside of his tent and munch on a bit of jerky.

He doesn't bother to attempt to re-secure Rey. They would be taking shifts to make certain the bandits didn't sneak up on them again, and also to make sure Rey didn't try any funny business.

He's since changed, gone to relieve himself behind a tree, and is now making his way back to the group.]

I will take first watch.

[He nods to his companions by the fire.]

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