(121-04-29) Recovered
Summary: Tameron and Magden, separated in the wildling battle, are reunited.
Date: April 30, 2014
Related: Wildling raid logs

And lo, the battle is joined. The small logging settlement where the wildlings have dug in teems with savages in fur and hides, peppered with the occasional, filthy deserter in black. Maera Mormont's horde swarms in to reinforce Bolton's men, arrows fly and blood turns the dirt to treacherous sludge. Ser Tameron Sand's squire follows him close, the size of a child in her well-tooled page's leathers — not the best rider, but near impossible to unseat, the balance and tenacity of a cat keeping her ahorse.

Still, fighting from the saddle is a whole other animal, not something they teach in the circus or the arena, and the fierce girl finds herself crippled, slashing at air, able to do aught but watch as a wildling archer takes aim at her knight…

The arrow finds his shoulder, and with that, Magden Quick has had quite. E-fucking. Nuff. Thank you. She gathers her legs up beneath her and leaps from the saddle, crashing bodily into the wildling that dared harm Tameron Sand, one of her knives in the creature's throat before either one of them have hit the ground. She rolls with the impact, snatching back her knife and crouching, panting. Now, she's on the ground and alone. The seething chaos of battle has swallowed her horse and her Ser. And a tall, broad shadow falls across her.

The arrow hurts, and Tameron is relatively distracted by the flood of wildlings and the general mayhem of battle. And, it never really occurs to him that Magden Quick might just… leap off her horse in the middle of a charge. But when a brief lull allows Tameron to look around him for his squire he sees nothing. No slip of a yellow-haired girl. No familiar horse. His eyes widen slightly and he scans the crowd again, but then the gap closes and he must pay attention to the more pressing matter of wildmen trying to kill him.

It's not until the fighting is done and Tameron too has gotten off his horse that he has time to look for Magden, again. He's got a few more small bruises and a gash to his side, as well as the arrow in his shoulder. That's no matter. He steps out of the fortified bunkhouse as northmen begin securing their prisoners. He whistles the call that should summon both horses and, with any luck, one errant squire.

The horses are so much better behaved than his squire. They respond promptly, running over and ready to go home now. Please. Or apples? They'll settle for apples. Horse and Magden's smaller, incongruously named Mouse snuffle around Tam for comfort and treats. Mouse tries to browse through Tameron's hair.

But no Magden.

The horses get gentle pats and an apple each from Horse's saddle pack. It's painful, climbing into the saddle with a wounded side, but Tameron's survived worse. He holds onto the reins of both horses as he begins walking Horse through the battlefield. "MAGDEN!" he calls every few paces, "MAGDEN QUICK!" In case, you know, there were any other Magdens out there.

"TAM!" Not Tameron, or Tameron Sand — not even 'Ser' (good help is so hard to find)… just Tam. But it's her. She comes shoving her way bodily through the Northmen and their prisoners, staggering men more than twice her size with the sheer force of her determination. Fuck you. And you. And you, and you. OUT of her way. She's lost her helmet, the side of her face and her mouth are smeared with blood. Her leathers are split at the shoulder and the skin beneath them slashed. She's down a good number of knives. But she's intact and on her feet, Magden Quick. She's there.

Tameron jerks Horse's reins with too much force, and the steed gives an angry shake of her head even as she obliges and corrects her direction. "Magden!" he calls again, now more so she can continue to keep track of him than to locate her. Reaching his squire he lists sideways and leans down to scoop her up and drop her in front of him on Horse. Mouse will just be riderless. "Are you well? Where have you been hurt?"

She barely weighs a thing, but squirms in the saddle, trying to crane around so she can see him, talking over him, words coming out in a rush. "I'm so sorry — I couldn't find you — are you — " They manage to get out the word 'hurt' at the same time. She shakes her head. "I'm fine," she whispers, shaking hard. "I'm fine."

"I can be patched, it's fine," Tameron agrees, doing his best to look Magden over as they ride back towards camp. "I can see your shoulder's scraped, and you've lost… we need to work more with weapons you can easily recover. Were you unseated? Did something startle Mouse?"

"I still had my swords," Magden says. "I would have been able to recover more knives if there hadn't been so fucking many of them. Wildlings. Not knives. Never can have enough knives." She's still babbling a bit. "There was a — someone had an arrow aimed for you, so… so I jumped off and stabbed them."

"You what?" Tameron asks, eyes widening. "Magden! You can't do that. An arrow is nothing. Unless it gets you in the throat or the eye, an arrow won't fell you ahorse. You could have been trampled." You know. By wildlings.

"Well, what if he had gotten you in the eye? Or the throat?" asks Magden. "You didn't see him, there were too many on you, and I did see him and it's not like I was going to hit anything with that silly horse zigging and zagging every which way." She wrinkles her nose. "Anyhow, he shot you in the shoulder. And it made me angry."

"Then I would have been dead and there would have been nothing you could have done to stop it," Tameron answers, “Certainly not leaping off of Mouse." He exhales, and then winces as it makes his side throb. "We will have to work on your riding," he murmurs.

"I can stop them if I'm faster," Magden insists. "Quicker. I'm quicker on the ground." She looks down at the pommel. "He deserved to die and I'm glad I killed him. Of all the people I killed today, I'm gladdest about him."

Tameron huffs a small breath. "He was only fighting an enemy, Maggie. I was no more or less to him than any of the other men who rode against them."

"You are to me — " says Madgen, words dissolving into a growl. Her shoulders stiffen and she shakes. Her hands curl into fists against her thighs. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to kill the rest of them."

"Doesn't matter," Tameron replies with a shake of his head, the arm around Magden's waist offering a small squeeze. "Just wanted you safe."

She nods and swallows. It takes her a while to find her voice again. "I was so frightened."

"I'm sorry," Tameron murmurs, and he sounds it, his voice small and contrite. "You've never seen battle like this, before, and I lost you."

Magden bows her head, eyes shut, fraught emotions on her features that, thankfully, no one can see. "You might have died, Tameron Sand," she whispers. "You might have died and I wouldn't have been there. I wasn't afraid for me."

"Shhh," Tameron murmurs for all Madgen isn't speaking very loudly to start. "I'm not afraid of death."

"Neither am I," Magden vows, softly. "Not of mine."

"But I don't want you dying for me, Maggie Quick," Tameron muses, "and I suppose you don't want me dying for you, either."

Madgen sniffles and scrubs her nose on her sleeve. It itches. Shut up. "Then I guess neither of us get to die."

"Well," Tameron murmurs, "Guess not. So. Little less leaping off of horses, yes?"

"Stop getting shot," Magen counters. Huff.

"I will if you will," Tameron offers. Though, realistically, no. He won't.

"Shut up, Tameron Sand," murmurs Magden Quick, fighting a smile, with all the sweetness of having said… well. Something else.

"Shut up, ser," Tameron corrects, quirking a small smile of his own. "You really are a terrible squire."

"I know," says Magden. There's no arguing with that, really. And though 'squire' is something she'd never aspired to be, there's a note of contrition there.

"They knighted a girl, you know," Tameron points out as the camp slowly comes into view. "She won a tournament and a ser knighted her on the field."

Magden nods. "I heard that she's mighty." A beat. "I heard that it ruined him, doing so."

Tameron shrugs a little. "We shall see. I have not heard of him being dismissed or run out of Oldtown, so I doubt he is so badly off."

She glances back at him, best she can. "I'd never bring you shame, Tameron Sand," Magden says with soft, naked sincerity. "Not for anything."

Tameron smiles faintly and gives a small shake of his head. "I would never be ashamed to raise you up, Magden Quick, if you were ready for it and it was what you wanted."

Magden shifts her weight just a little, going with that movement from simply sitting before him to being in his arms, touching him at every possible point without touching him at all. She nudges his jaw with the top of her head, like an affectionate cat. "We should find someone to take the arrow out of your shoulder."

Tameron holds himself upright so their bodies can rest against each other while his hands hang onto the horses' reins. His chin presses briefly onto the top of Magden's head. "Maybe put a couple stitches into my side, while they're at it," he agrees. "There’ll be someone to do all that at camp." Hopefully.

"Yes," says Magden. When they arrive, Magden will find that person, and harry and harass them, until they see to her Ser. Because she may not be a very good squire… but she takes good care of him, in her way, after all.

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