Chapter 2: Torture is worse than death.

Sir Gregor and his party rode for some hours, wanting the main camp by nightfall. Tylan remained unconscious for about half the trip, but woke groggily as he was jostled by his uncomfortable position in the fast pace of a spare horse. It took him a while to process what was going on, but his memory soon came flooding back. He began writhing around, trying to get of the horse.

His efforts ceased when a guard hit him forward with the flat side of a sword. He felt the pain but did not yell. He was not going show pain. Pain meant weakness.

"If you want to survive you should stop these futile attempts." A guard suggested

"Let me go," he growled

"So you can kill me?" the guard replied slightly amused.

Tylan thought that he should try to escape more but remembered that pain. If he wants to survive he can't act impulsively. His uncle always told him to think about all the possibilities of what could happen and use his senses and wait or the right moment to act. So He simply just tried to stall the guard.

"So I can escape," Tylan countered.

"Now why did you ever think to do something like that?" he inquired; annoyance darkening his eyes.

"Aside from the obvious?" he retorted

"Hmm, I think I've seen better escape attempts," he mused, "But I doubt that I've ever seen worse."

"Just kill me and be done with it." Tylan snapped.

"Kill you?" he questioned, "There are a lot of things worse then death, boy."

He said nothing in return; just stared at him defiantly, fire blazing in his golden eyes. The solider sighed and let him drop to the ground.

"I'm sorry but you may cause some disturbances while you are awake," he noted, "But it would be unnecessary to give you a concussion. Hammond, fetch the sleeping draught."

"You just carry that around with you?" he inquired.

"For occasions such as these," he replied; taking the leather bottle handed to him.

He walked over to him, and Tylan knew he didn't want to be forced that he didn't want to be forced into sleep and slung over the spare horse like some sake of potatoes. As the horse stopped two guards pushed him over and he landed on his shoulder.

In the end the man had a soldier grab him cruelly the hair and tip his head back. He then forced had then forced open his mouth and poured a bitter tasting liquid into it. Tylan tried to choke it back up, but he put a hand over his mouth to stop him. He fought the fog he felt coming over his mind, but it was to no avail, and soon he was once more asleep.

"Sir Gregor, it seem as if it would be easier if we just killed him," Hammond said, "And what will Lord Tywin think of his son's only bastard alive?"

"Tywin can think wants to think, we are riding to Kings landing to give this bastard to king Robert, then Robert will be able to hold this boy hostage as a way to remove a portion of the dept. he owes to lord Tywin." Gregor replied.

"But sir-"

"Are you questioning me?" Gregor asked; tone shifting too dangerous.

"No sir, my apologies."

When Tylan woke up his hands were banded and he was hanging, when he looked around all he could see was that he was in a small cell with Sir Gregor.

"Your going to the capitol boy," he said as he picked a whip " You must looked presentable to the king." He smirked.

When Tylan felt the first strike against his back he had screamed, hoping that the first strike was the worst, but he was wrong. The second strike and the one after that had been all the more painful. After the tenth strike or so on he started to have flashes. He saw a woman black of hair holding him, looking exhausted. In the background he saw a young man arguing with a midwife, looking like he had just been back from a battle.

"Be brave my little cub." The woman had said right before closing her eyes.

Tylan had assumed that was his mother moments after birth to him. She looked beautiful with jet-black hair stretching all the way to her thighs. With aqua-blue eyes she had a smile that would make you do anything for her. It was torture to know that he would never get to meet.

Gregor once more slung Tylan over a spare, he had stopped moving.

When Tylan awoke he was being chained to a pole by a solider. It was firmly stuck deeply in the ground no matter how many times Tylan attempted he could not even wiggle it.

"I suggest you sleep bastard, it's a long road to the capitol." And with that last encouraging comment the solider walked of whistling a tone.

"Tylan wanted greatly to break down in tears but he knew he couldn't. Not here. Here he had to be strong to survive." And for the rest of the night Tylan devised ways of escaping this fate worse than death.