Dunno what you're up to these days but 27! You choose!
Aegon Targaryen, would-be king of the seven kingdoms, woke up feeling like he'd been on the losing side of a battle. He winced, checking for blood on the canvas hammock he'd been using. “Shit,” he muttered. There was no bleeding, but he heard a hiss behind him.
“Oh, Griff,” Septa Lemore said, and he spun around to see her staring at him with pity in her eyes. “Your match must be suffering terribly.” She didn't offer anything for it- match pains couldn't be touched by anything short of drinking milk of the poppy until you couldn't notice anything, after all. They faded fairly quickly, which was good- Rhaenys would probably need a cane if that wasn't the case. And she would try to still climb the rigging if that was the case. Also possibly just smack Aegon with it when he was being stupid. Also beat Jon Connington half to death with it, because as much as he loved his adoptive uncle, the man was horrible to their mother and shockingly rigid in what he thought Rhaenys should be allowed to do.
“Ow,” he agreed, reaching for a shirt. “Someone seems to have tried to caved her ribs in.” He'd gotten half-there flashes before, in his dreams, of a girl with red hair who was quite tall. She'd been crying in the latest ones, and all he could think to do was let her sob on his shoulder and hum his mother's lullabies.
“Whoever did it was wearing plate mail,” she added, thoughtfully. “The bruising is very clear on that front- you could probably match the gauntlets to the marks they left.”
“So most likely my future lady is between the Marches and the Wall,” Griff grinned at her, covering the ghostly marks. “Given everything else going on in the Seven Kingdoms, I admit that I don't find myself terribly surprised how helpful that is.”
“You'll find her,” Lemore said serenely. She had a remarkable amount of faith. She was a septa, so that made sense, he supposed, but something his mother had said made him wonder about her history.
“My sister's ways of ferreting out information will work, if nothing else,” he agreed, still a bit worried, though. If whoever was tormenting her took it too far...
...he'd know if she was gone, that was how the damned bond worked. Still, the fading echoes of pain spoke loudly of something happening to her, and he worried about her. His mother kept the accounts for the Golden Company, and had made herself so very useful, and Rhaenys learned archery from that captain who knew their uncle, and worrying about Rhaenys was useless as a whole. But his match... she was a bit younger than him, and she'd said that she was all alone...
He'd get her out, though. He had Rhaenys and his mother and Septa Lemore, his cousins in Dorne, and even Old Griff and Duck and the rest of the Golden Company, who had no Blackfyres to champion and no love for Tywin Lannister.
He would find her, and bring the Golden Company home, and that wouldn't end his work, but, well, his mother frequently said he should never be allowed to get bored...
...and he needed to plan as to what should happen to men who thought that beating a young girl, especially while in full armor, was an acceptable course of action.
