"Take him and go...but believe me, if any harm befalls him I will cut you from balls to brains and I will take my fucking time with it. Understand?"

"Ser! What about you ser? I can hear them coming!"

"I'll manage. Now get him out now!"

As the Gold Cloaks scurried off he steeled himself. He could hear them too. The mob was large...and angry. If he was a younger man he would have prayed to the Seven, but he forswore them long ago during that hot orange night in Lannisport. Instead he untied the helm from his belt and placed it on his head. Then he drew his greatsword from it's scabbard on his back, and setting the tip on the ground he waited.

He could hear the rabble coming up the street. Shouting, breaking everything in their path. He almost imagined he could smell them but King's Landing constantly smelled of shit so he put that idea out of his mind. He did not fear death, he did not fear dishonor, his only concern was keeping his lord safe.

When the mob finally rounded the bend he was less than impressed. One had a sword, Seven know where that came from. A few had hatchets, some knives, some stones. Most had nothing but their anger and bare hands. When they saw him they stopped cold. The mob near the docks was larger and there's strength in numbers so they had no issue ripping apart the High Septon, Gold Cloaks, and Lannister men alike. But he was no faceless soldier.

"You can't pass! If you thirst for blood the only kind you'll find on this street will be your own. Go back. You can not pass!"

"N' who teh fuck are you ta tell us we can pass ur not huh? That fat lil prince went this way din't he?"

"I am Tommen Baratheon's sworn shield and yes he passed this way. I will say again, come this way and I'll kill you."

"We all come at you the same time n I bet we'd kill ya!"

"Perhaps...but I don't think it will come to that."

He wasn't as skilled as Arthur Dayne. He wasn't as strong as the Hound. If this starving group of peasants attacked him he would die. But he was smart...and he wasn't afraid to cheat. He reached down and untied his coin purse from his belt. Nine Dragons, Forty Stags, Three Groats...an easy escape.

"I hear you lot are hungry...here."

He watched their hands shoot up as they heard the jingle of coins flying through the air. He stayed, his sword raised, for long enough to see the smallfolk fight amongst themselves, scratching and clawing and biting. Fighting over little bits of metal. There were a few on the fringe of the mob who wanted to come at him, staring like hounds stare at a bone. But like hounds they turned their gaze when he looked them in the eye.

He walked backwards slowly, eyeing the mob. It didn't take him long to see they were preoccupied with the coin he'd tossed into their midst so he sheathed he sword and began running towards the Red had to get to his lord, had to make sure he was safe. That was all that mattered.

"Open the gate!"

"Tommen! My Lord!"

He shoved Lannister soldiers aside as he worked his way through the courtyard of the Red Keep. He glanced at Lord Tyrion berating the King. He saw the stunned gaze of Queen , there in the back, he saw Prince Tommen. He was bawling, desperately trying to grasp the leggings of an adult who would tell him not to be sad. Seeing his lord made his mail and leather feel heavy and he couldn't help but bend over, but when he raised his head he locked eyes with Prince Tommen.

"Ser Ben!"

The prince rubbed the tears from his eyes and began to run, and he ran too.

"Tommen!"

They embraced and Ben Westford scooped the prince of the Seven Kingdoms into his arms.

"Are you alright my lord?"

"Don't leave me again Ser! I command it..."

"As you wish my lord."

"I'm tired Ser..."

"I know my lord. Go to sleep."