2. Jenny Would Dance With her Ghosts

Silver.

The Valyrian Steel sword gleamed in the fire light, casting tiny sprinkles of light across her face. She looked up. The words the Kingslayer had spoken seemed to echo so loudly in the hushed room that it felt almost unreal. Maybe it was unreal. Maybe it was a dream and she would wake up any moment, back home and about to marry some highborn son.

Then the silence was broken by loud clapping. The wildling, it had to be. But then more people joined in. The Imp's voice rang out: "Ser Brienne of Tarth! A knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Brienne felt tears glisten in her eyes. She met Ser Jaime's look, which hadn't left her the entire time. Did he look sceptical? Regretful of what he had just done?

No; the look on his face wasn't either. Brienne didn't know what it was, but she felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. She repeated the words in her mind. Ser Brienne. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Since she had been eight years of age, she hadn't allowed herself to even think it.

Jaime gave her a nod. She thought he even smiled – not the derisive smirk she had come to expect, but a genuine, friendly smile. Brienne didn't join him as he returned to his seat, too stunned to move. She looked at all the faces in the room – all of them smiling at her – and then the laugh finally broke free. It had to, or else she would burst with happiness. There were tears running down her cheeks, and Brienne couldn't bring herself to care.

If only her father could see her now. What would he think? Brienne had been gone from home for so long; she didn't even know if he was well. He would have no idea where his daughter even was, nor how she had gotten here.

Somehow she thought Lord Selvyn would be happy for her. The Evenstar had never discouraged her from her preference of sword fighting over dancing, even though the former was very unlikely to garner her the attention of a suitable husband. He'd provided her with the proper training and armour and had taken it upon himself to teach her the virtues of bravery, justice and mercy – even though the word 'knight' had never left his lips. Because how could his only daughter ever become a knight, even though there was nothing else she was remotely good at?

Brienne certainly had never believed it. At least, not after the first time the real squires to real knights had led her on and mocked her. Back then, their scorn had almost reduced her to tears. She'd sworn to prove them wrong, prove that she was as capable as and more so than them, but their unquestioning understanding that a woman could never be a knight had become her own. She had become a better fighter, certainly, but never a knight. Could never be one.

Even Catelyn Stark had not seen her as such. Brienne had seen it on her face when they met: that surprised, sceptical look that everyone wore as soon as they saw her; a big, brutish woman in armour. In contrast to most, Lady Stark had at least been so courteous as to hide it thereafter. She had not treated her as lesser than any of her other retainers, and for that alone Brienne had been grateful to her. Would always be grateful for it, because otherwise she never would have ended up in this room, with Jaime Lannister placing a sword on her shoulder. In her wildest dreams she never would have been able to imagine a situation like this.

"Congratulations, ser – ah, m'lady." Podrick said as she sat back down next to him, before correcting himself a second time, "Ahm, I mean, ser."

"Thank you Pod." she said before crushing him in a hug. Such an effusive gesture would never have occurred to her at any other time, but now Brienne wasn't even thinking. She could not remember ever being this happy. Stupidly so. She must be grinning like a fool. Belatedly, she became aware that her squire must have difficulty breathing in his current predicament and released him.

Podrick straightened up. The look on his face was bright happiness for her. Then it turned thoughtful. He asked, "Since this might be our last night alive, perhaps you could knight me, too?"

"Uhm…" Brienne was taken off guard and didn't quite know what to say to that. Knight him? Podrick had become a good fighter, alright, but was he ready to be a knight? He was still young. Could she even knight him? Jaime's action had already been unprecedented; there weren't any guidelines for her. And how many people would laugh at Pod when they heard he had received his knighthood from a woman? "I don't know if…"

"It was a joke, ser." Pod hastened to reassure her. His face lit up with a smile, though. "You were considering it?!"

"Great." groaned the Imp, as he pressed a cup of wine into Brienne's hands. "Don't give him any grand ideas. He might think himself above drinking with poor, un-knighted sods like the rest of us."

Brienne took a big swig from the cup without even thinking about it, missing Podrick's response. The alcohol tasted bitter and unpleasant, but it made her feel warm inside, too, so she took another. This was something she was sure her father would disapprove of, she thought absentmindedly. He often used to joke about how a few small cups of wine could make even the cleverest man foolish. But perhaps a little bit of foolishness could help her nerves in the battle to come. Tyrion certainly seemed to think so, and – Brienne hid her smile behind the cup – he would have to know, judging by his demeanour.

I charge you to be brave.

Brienne didn't know if she was. She didn't run from her fights; maybe that made her brave. She was afraid of the coming battle; not for herself, but for Pod – and maybe a little bit for Ser Jaime, too. Could one still be brave if they were afraid?

I charge you to be just.

She would try to be, if she got the opportunity. From Lady Catelyn, and then from Lady Sansa, she had learned a lot about justice, though she doubted she would ever possess their good judgment. With the kind of blunders she had made at times, it would be a long time before she was fit to pass judgment over anyone.

I charge you to defend the innocent.

Her thoughts returned to Catelyn Stark once more. The woman she hadn't been able to protect. She had sworn her to protect her daughters, instead, and Brienne was resolved to keep to that promise. Even more so now that she was a knight. Defend the innocent. Lady Stark had not deserved to die, and neither did Sansa or Arya. And they wouldn't; not if Brienne had any say in it.

Both had grown into impressive women of their own. Sansa had become an image of her mother, as courteous and lady-like, but with the same edge and steel in her voice. The Lady of Winterfell, and Winterfell could not hope for a better one. And Arya – she had become a fighter. As she had proved impressively. Brienne hoped they would get more opportunities to spar, because the young wolf girl fought unlike anyone else she had ever encountered. It was no less impressive than her sister's skills as a ruler. With both of them together, House Stark was sure to survive the wars to come.

If she was to die defending their home, well, Brienne couldn't imagine a worthier cause to die for. It was all she had ever hoped for.