Chapter 2: The Brotherhood

Sorry for the wait. Exams and a bit of a minor inspiration roadblock on how to continue delayed this, but I have no desire to have my first fix be a one-proper-chapter dead end; without the magic that is meant to be part of it properly showing up!

So here it is:

(Disclaimer: I do not own aSoIaF/GoT or any other parts of G.R.R.Martin's world of Planetos, and I also do not own the cyoa I used in making this: magical multiverse mayhem v1.3 by graevface)

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The knife's journey to Oisean's face paused. The corners of the maniac smile of the devil holding him twitched downward minutely.

"But he needs to smile, Toyne. The rabbit will not speak so he will smile, yes, so pretty and wide and red…"

The voice replied; "enough, Knight, he will come to camp and he will be kept alive until his value is no more, do you understand me?"

For a few terrifying seconds, it seemed as if the awful man would ignore the voice. But he slowly, mutinously, stepped backward; stowed his knife in a sheath at his back, and stalked off towards a gap between two trees several metres to the left of the stream.

Oisean let out a great breath he did not realise he'd been holding, his mind clearing slightly from the all-consuming terror of just a few moments before. He started again as he felt a hand grab him from behind, then heard the sawing of a knife through the ropes holding him up. He curled upward trying to get a look at the person behind him and let out a yelp as the rope that had been holding him up gave way and he fell onto the hard ground.

"You will not run," calmly stated the voice that had commanded the Smiling man. "If you run, you will be hunted and killed. If you go where I wish of you, cooperate with my demands, and cause no trouble, then I will limit the Knight and the Fawn and you may yet survive this."

Oisean groaned in answer from the mud where he had fallen, mind working sluggishly with the pain in his head. He lifted his head and saw the tall thin man to whom the voice belonged, the hard eyes of the man boring into him showing only indifference to his plight. Oisean didn't doubt for a moment that this man, Toyne, could and would kill him without blinking an eye. He nodded, knowing it was the only thing he could do to survive. Toyne turned and walked off, toward where Oisean was sure the bandits he was part of had their main camp.

Oisean pushed his way up to his feet swaying and with darkness dancing in front of his eyes, for a second he entertained the thought of running into the woods, escaping free. But then his fear prevailed; all his possessions were gone, his sword, bag, and robe were all taken by the bandits so he had no protection in the forest, his staff was nowhere to be seen and the horn was similarly missing. If he ran he would be chased and killed, either by bandits or by wild beasts, (a face shone in his recent memory teeth rotted and dirty bared in a menacing grin, he shuddered and pushed it back down). If he went with the bandits he would survive and may yet find a way to escape the situation. He began to stumble after the retreating back of Toyne, wondering what new hell he had resigned himself to.

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Over the next few weeks, Oisean was kept as a captive of what the members called: 'our Brotherhood of the Kingswood,' a name that seemed strangely familiar to him. At first, their leading members seemed intent on finding out all they could about the origins of his miraculous bag and valyrian sword, the memory of the blades and hot brands used in those days would cause Oisean to shudder for years after, but as the weeks passed and it became increasingly clear he could not tell them where to get more of either they stopped caring and placed him with the other male prisoners. The bandits kept him constantly busy in the camp, carrying firewood, refilling water, and digging latrines with the few other prisoners, all while his legs and arms were loosely tied together with lengths of rope and watched by at least one, armed bandit.

At night he and the other few lasting male prisoners; an unlucky trader who had been caught, tortured, and muted by the tall and fierce woman called 'Fawn,' and a local taxman who had been waylaid near a village to the east, were given the bare minimum of food and water and a single ragged patchwork cloak to fight over between them.

He tried to keep himself from gaining attention, the thought of being under Fawn's knives and brands again was almost enough that he would bite his tongue before it occurred. He tried to avoid thinking of the conditions of the few female prisoners, but the quiet sobbing and screams of the fresh captives were a constant nightly reminder of the horror they were all trapped in. Tears softly trickled down from his eyes in pain and sorrow for both himself and the others, as he fell asleep each night.

Oisean grew slimmer and sickly, as the constant chill and dampness under the trees, lack of food and sleep, beatings that constantly aggravated old scabs and burns, and the constant terror of catching the attention of the 'Smiling Knight' and 'Fawn,' all took their toll on him. He became a skeleton of himself whose only respite from his creeping depression, and constantly aching body, was the fleeting oblivion he gathered between strange, twisting, half-remembered dreams and his waking.

After about a month of awful conditions and a short but fierce squall, Oisean and several other camp members fell badly ill. They became feverish and delirious when awake, and sleep came ever longer. Upon seeing this Toyne decided it was time for the Brotherhood to move on, leaving the sick behind to die in the cold.

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Deep in a forest, in a clearing full of corpses, the still living body of a man twitched.