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2021-03-28
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Good Command

Summary:

When Lord Tywin brings Tyrion's new wife to be punished, the captain of the guard does what he can to ameliorate the situation.

Notes:

I wondered how a strong leader might have been able to help, both with direct commands and with the unit atmosphere he had shaped.

This story is tagged with warnings. Please do not read this story if you think it will cause you distress, or please stop reading if you feel distressed. It is meant as a smutty situational story and not to deliberately cause offense.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“On your feet.”
Lebold sprang up at Captain Sammes’ low rumble. Camp stools tumbled like dominoes as the rest of the company did the same.

A rush of shocked murmur wound through the men as two Lannister house guards followed behind the Captain. The sound dried up completely when the liege lord himself appeared in the doorway.

“Everyone shall have a turn,” the lord said coldly. Lebold had an instant to be puzzled before one of the house guards pushed a ragged, shaking figure into the light of the shack.
“This whore thought to trap my son by posing as a crofter’s daughter, and so she shall learn her place, and my son shall learn his.”
Surely the Old Lion would not punish his golden son?
“I will return with Lord Tyrion. The whore is yours to use. Begin.”
Oh, so this was punishment for the other son, then, the Imp. That, and it was punishment for the girl.
Lord Tyrion and the guards departed, swinging the barracks door shut on the captain, his men, and the shivering girl.

Lebold hadn’t had much experience, since Captain Sammes forbade camp followers, but they had passed through several towns on their way to the camp here. Lebold could say straight off that if this girl was a whore, she was doing a bang-up impression of being a young crofter’s daughter, with her bare feet, brown braid, and torn wool kirtle.

He began to breathe quickly in both anticipation and dismay. It had been a long march. They could all use a woman. But, would they really use the girl this way?
Lebold felt a surprising disappointment. Sammes was a good commander, and Lebold would have thought him too good a man to commit an atrocity like this one, even when ordered. War would make liars of them all.

“Those who want to watch, watch,” the captain barked. “But only one man will bed her, and I,” he paused, “will decide who rolls for the privilege.”
Some of the men grumbled, but most were curious about who the captain would choose, and Lebold thought many looked as relieved as he felt. Surely the girl could survive a tumble with just one man, under the captain’s eye. Lebold stood straight and tried to look worthy, but the captain passed him right by.
Lebold understood once he saw the captain’s picks. These were the ladies’ men, who could charm a surly barmaid into a tumble or wheedle extra goods from a farmwife. Gerold rolled last and highest, and the losers groaned.

“In the center,” the captain told Gerold in a low voice. “Make it look convincing.”

The men arranged themselves in a loose semicircle, sickly fascinated.
Gerold dragged over the bursar’s camp desk and the closest bedroll. He hunkered down on the floor. The captain went to the door where the girl still stood, and propelled her by the elbow to the center. He let her go and stalked back to the door, glaring out through the cracked boards.

The girl heaved with frightened, silent sobs. Gerold held out his arms. The girl came hesitantly, walking with stiff motions. As soon as she was close enough, Gerold grasped at her, making her jerk in fear, and drew her down into a clumsy embrace.
He propped them both up against the desk and held her for a few moments, making little shushing noises. The girl’s tears subsided into hiccups in the shadow of the desk, under the illusion of privacy.

“It's a lie, innit?” Gerold said confidently, and the girl nodded eagerly. “You’re no whore. You’re just a girl, and you love the little lord.” He reached up with a long arm and set the oil lamp from the desk on the floor beside them, both illuminating her and obscuring her view of the watching men.

“But the lord’s father wants you punished and he gets what he wants. So I’ll bed you- shh!” Gerold stroked the new tears away. “But it will only be me. We’ll show him what he needs to see.”

He slipped a hand around her breast and the men’s hands went to their pants. “There, sweet, I know. Normally you wouldn’t let another man touch you because you’re a good girl saving herself for her lad, and that’s as it should be. But this is different. You don’t want this, you’re being made to, and it’s not fair. But you must and so you’ll do it.”
Gerold cupped her breast lightly. “You’re saving me, did you know that? You’re saving all of us by letting me bed you.”
Lebold had no idea Gerold could be so creative. The girl gazed at Gerold in astonishment. Gerold saw he had traction and licked his lips.

“That’s right, you're saving me and the captain and the whole company. Because you know what the high lord would do if we disobeyed him, right? He’d hang the lot of us, if we were lucky. So we’ll obey him like we must.”

Gerold moved his other hand up and stroked the girl’s hair lightly.
“I’m sorry about the men watching.”
The girl roused from her worried daze and peered around in the dim light.
“They’ve none of them had a woman in a while, because the captain has rules. And they won’t have you,” Gerold was quick to add. “But, would you let them watch? Or shall I have the captain turn them around? They must stay in here, but the captain can turn them round.”

Lebold cursed the man internally, but Gerold went on, “They’d be so happy to watch you, though. It would make them so happy. You’re so pretty. Can you bear it, sweet one, that they should watch?”
Every man was still and silent, waiting on the girl’s response.
To Lebold’s surprise, after a long moment, the girl nodded hesitantly.
“Good girl. Brave girl. So kind, you are.” He kneaded her breast gently.

“Lord Tywin wants her paid,” said Captain Sammes in low tones to the men while Gerold fondled the girl. “You’ll each take a silver stag from the box here and pay her for the show on the desk there.”
Hands withdrew from trousers guiltily as the captain went around, and each man walked up and deposited a coin on the desk.
Flecky Mac tried to put out a copper coin instead, so Lebold jabbed him hard with his elbow, and Flecky Mac said, “Oops,” real slow and tossed down his silver stag.

Gerold pocketed the captain’s coin without looking and kept up his audible seduction.
“You may not enjoy it, but if you do, there’s no harm in it. ‘Tis natural, just as intended.” He now had a naked breast in each hand as the torn neckline of the girl’s dress gaped wide, and he massaged them gently. “Such a lovely girl you are. Shh. You’re made like a treasure, you are. What lovely teats you have. Maybe these lovelies will make milk some day. Would you like that, to nurse a babe here, some day?”
The girl inhaled sharply, and Gerold was astute enough to catch her concern. “Not today, sweet. I won’t spend in you, don’t worry. I won’t get you with child.” He weighed her breasts tenderly with his cupped hands, giving the men a good view. “Maybe I should ask. Did the little lord spend in you? Might there be a babe already?”
The girl blushed scarlet and Gerold continued. “Ah, it’ll be early days yet.” He slid a hand around her stomach, holding her cradled between his legs. He rubbed her belly gently as the men rubbed themselves. Someone had started around a bottle of oil, and Lebold took some and passed it on.

“I don’t feel a babe, but I’ll be careful as can be.” He rubbed his circles lower and stopped when the girl flinched.
“It’s all right, sweet one. I know you don’t want this, but I’m told I’m a passable lover. If you enjoy it, that’s how it was meant to be. It’s not your fault.” Gerold stroked the girl’s body lightly from shoulder to belly, over her breasts.
“And the little lord should understand if you save the lives of some good men. Like our captain, the best man I know. The high lord wants you hurt, but the captain is trying to keep you from harm. He trusts me not to hurt you. If I hurt you, you speak up right away.”

Gerold moved his hand lower, and the girl let him this time. He cupped her mound through her dress carefully at first, kneading it in small motions. Then his hand moved more firmly as she started to undulate against him, her eyes glazed.
Soon Gerold was inching up the hem of her dress, talking all the while. “I’ll go above you, but I’ll be gentle. You’ve done this before?” She nodded. “Good. And then I’ll bend you over the desk for right when the lord comes back. It will look rough, but it won’t be, not when it’s the second time. Nod for me, sweet, if you understand.”
Gerold waited patiently for the girl’s shaky nod, and Lebold realized one reason why Gerold could stand to be so patient: having gotten the girl’s dress up, Gerold had been heating his knife in the lamp flame and letting it cool, sterilizing it like the seasoned soldier he was. He pricked the side of his hand and suddenly there were drops of blood everywhere, but the girl didn’t see. Gerold moved his cut hand down from her breast to her exposed thighs, painting her with smears of blood.
Gerold laid the knife out of sight and took hold of the tear in the girl’s dress. “Let’s give the lord a good show.”
He tore the dress all at once, straight down. The sound of ripping fabric sent lust spiking through Lebold, and the men could see the girl’s whole body exposed.

“Shh, it’s just your dress. You’re as splendid as you ever were.” Gerold resumed petting and caressing the girl, dotting her with blood all on her belly and down her thighs, and after a few minutes she lost her frightened look and began to shift against him again. “Good girl,” Gerald soothed, opening her legs with his arm and spreading her to view. Her lower parts glistened in the dim light. “Good girl. What’s your name?”

The girl whispered something.
“Tysha? Tysha. Would you like to pretend to be someone else? Say a name and I shall use it.”
The girl whispered again.
“Alys it is. Well, now, Alys. Do you feel me behind you?” He had opened his trousers. “That will go in you soon, but not yet. First we’ll get you ready.”
He pressed her and stroked her and then, quicker than Lebold would have thought, the girl stiffened and moaned.
Gerold laid her on the bedroll, artfully rumpling her braided hair. He felt between her legs again. “There you are, so lovely,” and he moved above her and positioned himself. “Slowly now.” He pushed in very slowly as the men panted. “Does it hurt? No? Good girl.” Gerold’s voice lost a little of its control as he sank in. “There you are, Alys, that’s all of it. You’ve taken all of it, and you’re doing so well.”

Lebold could barely see the girl now, as Gerold had her caged under his forearms, but his body knew what was going on, and he rubbed himself harder.
Gerold pulled out and pushed in carefully, then repeated the motion. The girl started to match Gerold’s pace and then he reached between them. “Find your pleasure, sweet girl. Sweet Alys. You needn’t worry, I won't spend inside you.” In a few more strokes, the girl bucked and cried out again, and after several moments with his hips held flush against hers, Gerold pulled out and brought the girl up on the desk. His shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Don’t worry, sweet.” Gerold pulled her limp arms to pillow her head and pushed the remains of her dress up high to her shoulders. He snaked one arm under her belly, keeping her chest off the desk. “Like this, Alys. One more time.” Then he tilted the girl’s hips up with a large hand and slid in again.
The motion was so easy, the glide so smooth, that Lebold, watching, groaned and spent himself.
Gerold was gasping into the girl’s ear now. She had her eyes squeezed shut. “You’re lovely, so lovely.” Gerold was pounding hard against the girl’s bottom, but she was pushing back at him, meeting him. Gerold reached under with his free hand and soon the girl keened again. Gerold thrust once more, then pulled out and spent himself on her back. He spread the sticky whiteness over her bottom and thighs as he touched her.
“That’s it, sweet. Alys did her part. You’ve saved us, Tysha, and we’ll just wait here for the lord to return. We’ll wait just like this.” He kept rubbing the girl over her arms and back, maybe to keep her warm. She was weeping softly into her elbow. “Good, sweet, cry a little. I’ll act cold when the lord returns, but I’m in your debt. You’ve just saved us, you brave girl. You’re such a lovely, brave girl.”
Gerold glanced up as he ran his hands over the girl.
Captain Sammes was gripping the doorframe. “Here he comes.”
“All right, Tysha,”Gerold murmured. “Time to be Alys again.”

When Lord Tywin returned with the dwarfed Lord Tyrion, he saw what he expected to see: a company of men with their parts hanging out, the girl on her face on the camp desk with a pile of silver stags beside her, and Gerold seemingly rutting her hard. Gerold pretended to spend again, and then he withdrew, slapped her on the rump, threw a coin on the pile, and walked away.
The room was full of ragged, guilty breathing.

Lebold couldn’t believe his eyes when the Imp slammed the girl back on the desk before she could start to stand. The young lord kicked a camp stool into place to stand on, ripped open his breeches, and started in on his turn. Hadn’t Lord Tywin said that the Imp had fallen for her? Wasn’t that supposed to be her crime? This didn’t look like love. It did, however, explain why the captain let the girl be touched to begin with. The captain must have known there would be more to the punishment, and that it would go easier for the girl, Tysha, to be pleasured properly first. The Lannisters were a cold bunch for certain. Lebold was thankful for his own liege lord as a buffer between himself and Casterly Rock.

Lebold did up his pants, morbidly fascinated, arousal gone. Gerold had taken a place in the circle, and Lebold could see the man’s jaw was set like stone. The girl was sobbing now, really crying, and she sounded in pain. The Imp was rough, pulling at her hair. Lebold was disgusted with the young lord, insomuch as a common soldier was allowed to be disgusted with a lord. For all the Imp knew, the moisture shining on the girl was the seed of a company, not Gerold’s careful painting and the girl’s own thrice-found pleasure. Had the scene been as it looked, the Imp would have been injuring her badly.

The Imp finally finished after what seemed like forever, wrenched himself away, and threw a gold dragon at the girl so hard it bounced off her head. Lebold didn’t know how the Imp believed his lord father about the girl, when all of the simple soldiers here could see better, but obviously he did.
Lord Tywin had already started walking away, and the Imp followed him.

“Bring the whore and her payment. Put her on the next ship out,” Lord Tywin commanded on his way outside.
Captain Sammes grabbed a small canvas bag from the bursar, who was doing up his pants with the other hand. The captain scooped the coins into the bag and cinched it shut, then hauled the girl up with her torn dress flapping open and marched her outside.
They all followed out.

Lebold passed Gerold, who wore a face as blank and white as marble.
“She hasn’t a chance,” he overheard Gerold mutter to Letters Martin. “The sailors will eat her alive, looking like that.”
“You tried,” Martin said unconvincingly.

Lebold thought Gerold was right. Looking as she did now, the girl had no chance on a ship full of sailors. Even if she were neat and clean and dressed like a lady, a ship wouldn’t be safe. Had they just postponed her misery?

Lord Tywin motioned to a Lannister guard, but Captain Sammes was faster.
“Clegane,” the Captain called. The boy’s head snapped up. “Take her to the port and put her on the first ship out.” Lebold’s throat felt heavy, but the captain frowned at Clegane and opened and closed his fist in front of his stomach, out of sight of the Lannister lords. Hold and wait, that meant. Lebold guessed it meant to wait at the port, in this case, and if he understood, then Clegane probably did, too, being a lord’s educated son and all.
The Clegane boy grunted and went to fetch his horse.
Lebold felt his shoulders drop a little in relief, and he saw some color return to Gerold’s face. Their captain was still in charge.

Lebold knew why the captain had chosen Clegane. The boy was tall and vicious and had his own sword and horse, not just a pike and dagger and some armory steel. He could fight off any common bandit, and if he didn’t, well, everyone had heard of his brother the Mountain. Lebold shuddered. He was glad the Mountain was with Lannister House and not in this company. The Mountain would not have played along. Anyway, their Clegane wouldn’t hurt the girl. He had a weird soft spot for animals and small things. Rumor had it he had a sister, but rumor had lost a front tooth and had stopped talking.
Clegane swung into the saddle of his nasty biting horse. Lord Tywin and his son weren’t even watching anymore, so Gerold plucked the girl up and handed her to Clegane to sit in front of him, crossing her torn dress and tucking it under her thighs. “Goodbye, Tysha.” The girl said nothing, just stared at him, and Clegane turned the horse and rode off.

Captain Sammes decided that with Lannister forces nearby, they could afford to send the wounded back to Anchor Hall, his brother’s estate near Lannisport.
The captain assembled an escort group, which included Lebold, who was standing right there. The captain called for his writing box, scribbled a hasty letter, and passed it to the head of the escort.
The letter was only sealed on the one flap, so once they were outside of camp, they didn’t mind squeezing it and looking through the sides so Martin, who could read, would tell them what it said. “His lady wife is to find the girl a place with the servants at Archer,” he reported.

When Clegane met them at the port, he had done better than just wait for further orders. He led them to a dingy dockside inn and a locked room. Inside, the girl had on a thin but very large and untorn shirt, tied with a cord to look like a dress, and a knit shawl hiding the bag of coins. Her hair, though still dirty, had been pulled into a new braid. Clegane went in and gave her a little push forward.

Tristan, who had lost an arm to infection, handed her a knife, which she took in shaking hands. “Stay by our bunks and always in sight, even to relieve yourself.”

“Our nursemaid,” Tristan said to the ship’s captain when the party boarded. The lie and a few extra coins for passage were accepted without question.
Lebold and the rest of the escort, and Clegane, headed back.

Lebold stopped when he saw Gerold throwing dice on his own. “She is going back to Anchor Hall with the wounded,” he whispered. “You saved her.”
Gerold’s back tensed, and then he relaxed. “Come have a game,” he said, almost in a normal voice, and motioned to a spot in front of him.

After Lebold had come through all the wars, missing only two fingers to a sword and a toe to crushing from a horse, he visited Anchor Hall. Captain Sammes and his brother were in the orchard with their ladies and children, he heard. A green-eyed groom took his nag, and then who should walk up but Tysha and Gerold, now a kitchen maid and a man-at-arms, calling the young groom son and a brown-eyed little boy his brother. Leland joined them for the servants’ supper and let his doubts about that day fade into the past.

Notes:

Captain Sammes is named for Terry Pratchett's captain of the guard Samuel Vimes in the Discworld series.

Timing, geography, and all the guardsmen have been made up to suit the story.

The idea of having Sandor take Tysha to the port was in another fanfiction - I tried mightily to find it, but I think it was either a drabble or an off-mention in a much longer story.