Before the dawn, Podrick approached Jaime's tent and called for him to wake. A rider had come in the night from Winterfell. A single man on horseback could make the journey in three times the speed of a caravan of horses and wagons. Jaime shook himself awake and prodded Brienne gently on the shoulder to wake as well.
"Brienne, there's a rider from Winterfell," he whispered, springing to his feet and dressing as fast as he could. He was still fastening his golden hand when he stepped out into the darkness.
"My Lord," the man said, bowing to Jaime. He held a torch in one hand and a scroll in the other. "I bring a message from the King in the North." Jaime snatched the scroll from the man's hand and fumbled to open it beneath the torchlight.
Ser Jaime, we've received word from our allies in Kings Landing that Queen Cersei has called upon her army in Riverrun to march the River Road to the Kingsroad and make camp at the crossing. They're going to form a blockade in some misguided attempt to protect Kings Landing from the North. This maneuver will also block the entrance to the Vale. Go to White Harbor. I've already dispatched a ship to meet you there to carry you to Old Anchor. Take fifty men and send the rest back to Winterfell. Lord Robyn will have more than enough men to hold the Eyrie and the Bloody Gate. The Queen's army won't attack the Vale and if the dead make it that far south, their forces will add to the Knights of the Vale to fight them. If the dead reach them, you'll know we have lost. Your last hope will be to take that ship from Old Anchor and sail for Dragonstone. Give Sansa my love and may the Gods protect you all.
Jon Snow
Jaime's hand trembled a bit and he clutched the scroll tightly in his fist. "Podrick, my horse."
"Jaime, what is it?" Brienne asked, emerging from the tent. Jaime handed her the scroll and pulled her aside.
He watched her eyes scan the letter and waited for her to speak. "White Harbor it is then." She wasn't shaken or thrown off at all by what she'd read. "We knew this wasn't going to be easy, but our King has saved us all from massacre."
"Cersei got to my army before I did. I suppose I can stop worrying about swaying them to our cause now." Jaime paced, rubbing his brow. "The worst of this, is knowing they have no idea what's coming for them."
"There's nothing we can do to warn them now. All we can do is pray," Brienne said softly, taking Jaime's hand from his brow and holding it tightly. "I'll inform Lady Sansa and help Pod break down the camp and pack the horses. You go and give the King's orders to the men and gather fifty of the finest. I'll plot our course to White Harbor."
Jaime pressed a kiss into her knuckles and turned on his heels to go. He stopped, looked back at Brienne and said, "Thank you," with a nod.
Jaime sat atop his horse and watched as the cloud masked sun rose, and four hundred and fifty men turned north. A lump swelled in his throat and he swallowed, unable to dislodge it. Brienne galloped to his side and asked, "Shall we go?" He nodded and nosed his horse southeast, leading them to White Harbor.
With fewer men and no wagons to slow them down, he took comfort in knowing they'd make better time. They'd fashioned sleighs to carry their supplies and the horses pulled them with ease through the snowy plains. With so many farms now abandoned by families heading south in search of warmth and food, they'd been fortunate to find shelter on many of the cold nights as they traveled.
One such night they spent at an inn near the White Knife River. They were surprised to find the tavern owner's widow still hunkered down with her young grandson, who spent most of his time hidden in a loft. His only companion, a pet rat he called King Whiskers.
When Jaime pushed open the door to the inn, he called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?" No answer came, until Brienne called out the same.
A voice came from beneath a corner table that asked, "What's your business here? We've no money and barely a drop of ale."
"Madam, we only seek shelter for the night. We have our own food and ale. May we please enter and come in from the cold?" Brienne asked, as she crept towards the woman with her hand clenched on the hilt of Oathkeeper. "Please madam. You don't need to fear us."
The woman rose slowly and peeked over the heavy oak table top at Brienne. "You're a woman. From the floor, I couldna tell. Yer wearin' armor."
"Yes madam. Most of us are. However, we wear it for our protection, not to seek battle. May we please come in and warm ourselves."
Sansa entered the inn with Podrick, and stood next to Brienne. "Madam, I am a northerner like yourself. My name is…"
The woman rose to a stand. She was hunched at the shoulders and her weathered eyes were pinched, straining to see in the shadows of candlelight. "Lady Caitlyn? Is that you? No.." she paused. "Lady Stark's been gone many a year. My eyes are playing tricks on me again." Not only was she examining Sansa but she eyed the golden hilt of Oathkeeper as well.
Sansa lowered her head for a moment and then looked to Brienne for direction to answer. Brienne spoke, "This is Lady Sansa Stark, madam. She is the Lady of Winterfell now. We don't expect free service. We can pay."
Jaime stood back by the door, motioning to Podrick to come closer. "Pod," he whispered, "Have the men shelter in the stables and set up camp. Send our best hunters southeast. I saw a heard of deer in the distance about a mile back. Tell them to take as many as they can carry. If there's one blessing in this damned snow, it's the preservation of our meat supply." Podrick nodded and went on his way.
"Who's he?" the woman said, pointing at Jaime.
"He's a knight madam. He's helping us reach White Harbor. We're meeting a ship there," Brienne said, now stepping closer to the woman.
"Lady Stark's daughter is always welcome in my home and as such, so's her companions. I'll get a pot a rabbit stew on fer ye. Robert!" she shouted up at the loft. "Come down here and help me skin these rabbits." She swept a matted wad of gray hair away from her face and straightened her soiled skirts. "We have guests."
"May I assist you madam?" Brienne asked, waving Sansa to sit.
"That's Robert's job. I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch yer name," the woman answered, looking up at Brienne.
"I'm Brienne of Tarth."
"Robert and I can make the stew but yer welcome to knead the bread. You've strong hands I imagine, with that big sword and all."
Jaime motioned to Brienne to come to him and she said, "I'll be right there madam." The old woman nodded and went to the kitchen with Robert on her heals.
"I've ordered Podrick to get the men settled for the night and send out a hunting party. I don't imagine this woman or the boy do much hunting. They'll starve soon if we don't repay their hospitality with meat."
"We must be very close to White Harbor. There are mermen banners and carvings everywhere in this place," Brienne said, glancing about the dining room.
"Yes, I've noticed. So you're going to knead bread?"
"And converse with Mrs. Flint—distant cousin of the Flint's of Widows Watch. I better get moving if we're to have enough bread for everyone." Brienne turned and headed for the kitchen when Sansa asked, "May I help?"
"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Brienne answered.
"But I want to. I know less about cooking than I do about archery but if I don't find an occupation immediately I'll go mad."
Brienne smiled with understanding and nodded. "I don't know much about cooking wither unless it's over an open campfire but I'm sure kneading bread doesn't require a steward link from the Citadel."
They entered the kitchen together and were swiftly put to work mixing and kneading the dough. There were mounds of it but soon, the room was filled with aromas so rich their stomachs retched with hunger pangs and they yawned, one right after the other. As Brienne had stated to Jaime, the conversation started quickly and just kept going. As a little girl on Tarth, she recalled the cooks working in the kitchen at Evanfall Hall, and the ladies working, laughing and chattering away all day long.
"I hope this will be enough for your people. Robert and I, bein' alone and all, we appreciate the company and the meat. Now that the winter's come, that meat will keep in the larder until the spring, whenever that might be."
"Have you lived here long?" Brienne asked, using a long wooden paddle to remove the freshly baked bread from the large stone oven that was built into the back wall of the inn.
"Ha, this inn has been in my family since the days of King Jon Stark. For hundreds a years this inn was the only stop before the White Knife poured inta the Bite. It's been burned to the ground, more than once, and there's ghosts here too ye know," she said her voice fading into a whisper so as not to frighten the nearly mute boy, now stirring the stew in a cauldron the width of a yard with a boat paddle.
"How long have you and the boy been alone?" Sansa asked, loading the warm loaves of bread into baskets.
"Me boys left a fortnight ago to join up with the rest of the men in the North to fight the Wight Walkers. Yes I know all about that. I'm near my seventy second name day my Ladies. I've always known the tales from the truth. Ye don't live in the North yer whole living life and not know what's real and what ain't. Robert, get to carryin' these baskets out to the stable for them soldiers." She threw heavy burlap sacks atop the baskets to keep in the warmth. "Stew's nearly done. I hope they have their own cups and spoons. I ain't got nearly enough for that lot."
"Yes madam Flint. They've their own." Brienne washed her hands in the bowl of warm water near the hearth and asked, "Are the rooms prepared for guests? Not that it matters. To us, a bed is a bed. All of us would be happy with a dry blanket, a floor and a roof."
"They're always ready. There's six rooms upstairs. Lady Stark may take the large room all the way in the back. It's the finest."
"Thank you Mrs. Flint," Sansa said. "I won't forget your kindness when the spring comes and I'm able to return to Winterfell."
"My Lady, yer optimism is a breath of fresh air ta me but I'm old and I may not look it but I'm wise as well. It's a blessin' havin' you all here. There's good men and there's plenty a bad ones too. I don't expect Robert nor meself to live to see the spring when a band of the bad ones stumble through here. The last bunch took his mother right in front of him right after the good men rode off. He ain't hardly spoke since that night. I buried her in the snow behind the stables. Ain't the strength ta dig no graves." Mrs. Flint dried her hands in her apron and called from the back door for Robert to line the soldiers up at the door with their cups.
Brienne and Sansa filled four large bowls with stew and a loaf of bread on trays and carried them into the dining room where Podrick and Jaime sat, deep in conversation. Still deeply saddened by Mrs. Flint's story, their sullen expressions drew inquiries from Jaime and Podrick as the reason. Brienne simply stated, "This world is shit. When we're finished eating, we have a grave to dig."
At the end of the evening, they thanked Mrs. Flint again and headed up the stairs to their rooms. Brienne stopped on the stairs and spied Mrs. Flint, sitting alone at a table, opening a book. "You go on ahead, I'll join you in a few minutes," she said to Jaime, and headed back down to speak to her.
"Do you mind?" Brienne asked, pulling a chair to sit.
"Not at all, my Lady but if you're crossing the Knife come mornin', you'd better get some rest. That handsome Lannister fella's gonna want his dessert before ye close yer eyes and I'm out of lemon cakes."
"You are wise indeed madam," Brienne blushed.
Mrs. Flint dipped her quill in an ink well and began to write in the book as Brienne looked on. Fifty soldiers on horseback, two knights, one squire and Lady Stark of Winterfell. Fifteen loaves of bread and a full cauldron of rabbit stew, one barrel of ale. Brought me ten butchered stags as payment and buried my daughter Melanie.
"Is this your accounts?" Brienne asked.
"I keep account of every man, woman and child who walks through that door or sleeps in my stables."
"But, I get the feeling you don't believe the North can win against the Night King and his armies. What does it matter to keep records now?"
"That Lannister, Jaime Lannister."
"What about him?"
"He's a seasoned fighter, not some escort—lover or not. Do ye know what a greenseer is my Lady?"
"Yes."
"I dreamed of ye all last night. I had a dream the Lightbringer was near. Ye know the legend of Lightbringer?"
"Of course but what does that have to do with Jaime Lannister?"
"I know yer all headed for that ship in White Harbor but the Lannister, he needs to go back to Winterfell. The King's gonna need him in the fight."
Mrs. Flint patted Brienne's hand and headed to her chamber off the kitchen, blowing out candles as she went until she disappeared into the darkness. Brienne sat alone in the light of the single candle on the table and then picked it up and headed up the stairs.
