[h3][i][color=c4df9b]"Big" Bryce Tarly[/color][/i][/h3]

Bryce hated horse-riding.

He'd not even become a man yet and he was still no stranger to the uncomfort that riding brought to one's lower areas. Every step was nearer and nearer to agony, his thighs themselves also felt as if someone had taken a knife to them, the green armor he had been forced to wear didn't help matters, his head felt like it had been dipped into the Narrow Sea. Apparently he looked exceptional however, bright greens flanked with bright gold at every seam in plate. He couldn't tell, mostly due to the fact that in order to keep control of the horse, he had to keep his hands busy, meaning he was unable to lift the visor on his helmet. The helmet's design looked like a Grumkin, a nose that consumed half the face, with a seam the width of an earthworm to see through. It hadn't been his first time in armor, but it had been his first time in a full suit of plate, he was very much envious of Osmund Rutland, who simply wore chain under the overcoat with his house's sigil upon it. 

[i]Sew a bunch of bloody strings onto a flag and you're a vicious animal, bunch of cravens unable to make sense of themselves.[/i] He complained silently.

Apparently the armor was because he had yet to finish his training, though he had managed to defeat his cousin Harys, even if all the lords had expected the red-haired man to lose. He was constantly hailed as his great-grandfather's only true heir, as he was already a prodigy at swordplay despite his young age.

And yet, he was forced to wear a ridiculous suit of armor.

And he wasn't allowed to ride with his knight.

And he had to ride with SER BLOODY REDWYNE, the ponciest ponce that ever ponced. Redwyne couldn't fight, couldn't ride, could barely walk. He was worthless, worthless, yet, he was still allowed into Belgrave's war tent to plan with Bryce and the lads. Belgrave said he was a "True friend." and that he was a "Brilliant commander.", why he was friends with such a ponce confused Bryce exponentially.

"Bryce?" [i]Oh toss.[/i]
"Aye Lord Redwyne?" Bryce turned to the man, who was fat in face but thin in body. Redwyne's orange eyes didn't even shift with the rest of his head as he tilted it quizzically.
"Lord?" He chuckled warmly, a sickeningly warm thing, too good to be a real chuckle.
"Please lad, I'm just a ser, call me Ser Julian. Now..." He coughed, the clacking of metal on metal continuing as soldiers continued to move and march. Julian walked faster and faster to keep up with Bryce on horseback, not knowing that Bryce was lightly hitting against the horse's sides with his heels.
"Do you mind fetching me my wife? I'd like to discuss something with her." Lady Bella he meant then, the future Lady Redwyne, Belgrave's baby girl, probably his favorite child, what with Torwin's murder and with Falwell... not living up to expectations. Bella was born of a Northern woman, and it was obvious she possessed the wolf's blood that the Starks loved to have. From a young age she had sneaked out of the castle to join the men sparring while still in her dresses. Belgrave had been pleased with this, or so Bryce had heard, and took a hand in training Bella himself. This had been what had caused the divide between Belgrave and his wife, as Lady Jeyne Tarly had been tutored in the south, and despite her Northern nature, she had been brought up to be a proper Southron lady, and seeing her child turn out like a Northern girl was not something that pleased her in the slightest.

Indeed, not many had been in favor of Belgrave's route with his daughter, including Gerris, one of the many castle servants and wannabe soldier. Belgrave had stated that if Gerris could defeat her in a duel that the lady would be sent to the septry to finish her education. Gerris later died of head wounds taken during this fight. Even after this showing, Lady Tarly was still set upon by rapists when visiting King's Landing in her youth. She had taken her brother Torwin with her, and together, they dispatched the poor bastards easily.

This was the moment that Belgrave fell in love with his children, truly.

Bryce nodded to Ser Julian and ayed, turning to go to Lady Bella's section of the column.

"Wait!" [i]More now?[/i] Bryce bit his lip and turned to Ser Julian, who stood with his legs further across than before, tapping at his armored long-cloak.
"Wait until we stop for the night, she's probably with her father, and once you do go to get her, ensure you knock before you walk in, she... enjoys herself, sometimes, just something I've learned." [i]How fascinatingly disgusting, another wonderful statement from someone I loathe, hopefully when the battle starts, Belgrave will let me join him, I really hate this.[/i]

Bryce nodded, and Julian grinned back, before wandering away towards the right flank. Bryce blew out his lips, the sun glinting off of his helm into his eyes through the tiny hole he had to see through.

[hr]

His hand tapped against the heavy breastplate he wore, sending out a loud metallic clang. Finally, a use for this bloody thing. Bryce doubted she had even heard him. Bryce raised an eyebrow, again pounding gauntlet against chestplate, with no response from Lady Bella, Belgrave however, threw open the door to his tent, fuming, his face a wonderful shade of bright red. The fury was palpable, and the cool air seemed to warm just due to his entering the area. He was huge, larger than even Bryce, though he seemed not to notice, his body covered in a reddish brown pelt that extended from the top of his head to the top of his feet.

Oh and he was shirtless, as all main branch Tarlys seemed to like to sleep, unfortunately, one of his worst trials he faced as Belgrave's squire, was sleeping in the same tent as the lord. Belgrave's hands nearly closed, as if he wanted to collect Bryce's head in his hands, which Bryce didn't doubt he could do. Belgrave's snow-colored eyes shone brightly in the dark, like sapphires rolling in his sockets. His apple tremored slightly in his throat, a sure sign that he was truly infuriated. It was okay though, if anyone could match Belgrave's murderous rage, it was Bryce Tarly.

Bryce swallowed. Too bad he was not the Bryce Tarly he was thinking of.

Bryce feigned a startled shake and fell to one knee,his visor falling back over his face after he had just struggled so hard to put it up. Belgrave gave his helmet a hard clout that caused Bryce to nearly fall to the ground. [i]Seven hells, I really should have just slept.[/i] Belgrave snorted with fury, his nostrils flaring with each heavy breath. 

"I hope you understand I am just yonside that tent you seem so enamored with!" Belgrave roared, a bodkin flailing off his hip with every exaggerated motion. [i]What in Seven Hells did yonside mean?[/i] Bryce decided not to wonder too much about that, shaking his head and pushing his visor back up with much effort. Belgrave gave him a harder lout on the nose. Bryce looked as if he were trying to bite his ear.

"Wake up the whole bloody camp why don't you? We're riding to war tomorrow, I'd prefer to have a well rested army than a loud squire."

"Would you have me killed for being loud?"

"I've done worse for less." Belgrave's tone became much more relaxed, he looked haggard and tired more than angry. He planted himself onto the ground with a loud thump that Bryce worried would knock down the whole camp. He pulled out the bodkin and tested it in his hands, running his plump fingers up and down the edge woodenly, like his fingers were of stone and hard to bend. Bryce rested the skin between his thumb and forefinger on his hip.

"Ser Redwyne wanted me to get his wife."

"Must have taken too long, they talked earlier, just a quick chat about 'er armor, good man that Redwyne, legs built for sailing aye, but his head's built better." Bryce ignored the comment about Lord Redwyne, who Belgrave seemed to love to shill.

"They talked? Bloody hell." Bryce sighed. Belgrave laughed what could have been a booming bellow, but he whispered it solemnly, his face turning sad.

"Something the matter?" Bryce sat down and asked with concern.

"Ah... no." He lied admirably, his shift in tone from solemn to pleased served to make the lie work better, but instead it made him look more suspicious, as his comforting smile failed to carry any true happiness.

"You lie like my father when the roast goes missing." Bryce joked to reduce the tension, Belgrave laughed and smiled truly at the joke for a moment, before shaking his head.

"Aye, I do, it's in the blood I presume... To tell you the truth lad..." He coughed.

"I haven't gotten sleep in days. I hate being alone with my thoughts, It's mad I know... it's..." He stumbled over his words and motioned with his hands.

"Nightmares, about my son, my brother, my father, everyone I ever loved and lost, when I wake I'm in a panic, and no amount of yelling can free me from it. I cry to myself that it's not real and that I'm a strong man..." He was on the edge of tears.

"...Truth is I'm not, I'm the weakest bloody man in Westeros, can't even save my own bloody son." He pouted and his lip quivered, a tear mirroring the torchfire towards Bryce.

"The worst part, the worst bloody part, is that I know that he'd been a... a monster who beat his wife and murdered his own unborn child, a cruel madman, but I'll still love him, I'll still dream of him... him crying out to me as he's cut down. 'Father save me!' And I can't! I can't move all but my bloody eyes! They cut his hands off, they cut my son's hands off and hung them from a banner like some bloody conquest that meant something. He was a ser! He was a boy! He was my son! My only trueborn son! They sent him back, handless and eyeless, I saw him, a-and I remember thinking, 'Where is my son?' Because they'd taken so much from him that I couldn't think it to be my son, a doll, a mummer's puppet, hollow and broken. Where do monsters go, Bryce? Where do monsters go?"

"I don't know son." The voice didn't come from Bryce's mouth, but he knew who had said it. Bryce noticed that he hadn't even looked away from his Lord, captivated and crying from the man's speech. It seemed like the entire court of Horn Hill had come to join them, Maester Lucamore hunching over his younger lord and rubbing his shoulder affectionately, Belgrave was always his son, even if they weren't related, Lucamore had delivered all Belgrave's children, tutored him, he was the closest thing to a father the warrior lord had left.. Lord Bryce clapped a large mitt over Belgrave's other shoulder, reassuringly smiling, the same smile that Bryce associated with his great-grandfather, the gift-giving smile, the smile that marked the point at which he had been awake too long. Bryce felt a hand upon his head, slowly tussling through his hair.

"Father," He finally spoke.

"Where do monsters go?" Bryce's fat father solemnly grasped around his son's shoulders, pulling him into his soft warmth.

"Monsters go wherever Torwin Tarly bloody well tells them to, surprised the bastard didn't kill The Stranger himself." Lord Bryce agreed with his grandson emphatically.

"Torwin saved my life." Remembered Ser Gared loudly.

"As he did mine!" Yelled one of the stable-boys.

"Torwin's gold saved my family, I could never repay him."

"Your son was no monster m'lord." Soon the rest were drowned out in a chorus of Torwin's name and a large amount of "M'lords".

It baffled Bryce, how come these people so adored a lord who ruled with an iron fist and brutally slaughtered any resistance? Why him? Why did they love him?

"Father, why do the people love Belgrave so?" Ser Reynald Tarly turned to his son and smiled.

"How many of these men did Lord Belgrave personally train at arms? How many did he bring with him when he hunted? How many did he mourn alongside when his brother passed? Belgrave is no perfect lord, but he is one of the few who actually care about their smallfolk, sure he killed a few during the rebellion, but if a battle were to come to Horn Hill, you can bet on it that he would give anything to prevent it." Reynalf again messed his son's hair before walking up to join with his family. Bryce was left alone to think.

The Tarlys were vicious beasts, Belgrave was called a bear, the closest thing to a true monster that existed south of the wall. Bryce had done many horrible things while at war, but when it came to it, they loved their people. Torwin was a brat and a ruthless cruel man, but he was loved.

Where do monsters go?

Monsters go where they're loved most.