Brienne of Tarth is without a question one of the homeliest women Bran has ever seen. She isn't like Osha who just looks like a man, but she has coarse features and straw colored hair, is tall, too tall for a woman, and broad and flat chested and is covered in freckles. Her teeth are prominent and crooked, her mouth wide, her lips swollen and she has broken her nose many times. But she also has large blue eyes that scream the need to be accepted, like Arya when she was with Sansa and mother, and Bran can't help liking her, even if just for that one reminder of his wildling sister.
"Lady Brienne," he says. "I take it you have come for Jamie Lannister."
"Yes your Grace," Brienne nods. "He has tried to find your sisters and when he couldn't be out there himself, he made sure I had everything I needed to effectively search of them."
"And why would he do this?" asks Bran. "I can't help but wonder."
"Your Lady Mother said it was the only chance he has at regaining his honor, your Grace," Brienne answers. "I have never seen words affect a manmore. Since then, he has tried to become more honorable in his own way. I hope you spare his life for he has become a good friend."
Bran catches the faint blush on her cheeks as she talks of the Kingslayer and can't help the amusement rising in his chest. He has the Kingslayer brought from the dungeons. "Would you be willing to take responsibility for his actions?" he asks her. "Has he changed enough for you to lay your life in his hands?"
"Yes your Grace," Brienne says firmly.
Bran smiles chillingly at Jamie. "Congratulations, you remain alive. But I strip you of your knighthood. You may earn it back from Lady Brienne after she thinks you're good enough with a sword and after you've learned true honor, not just the code of chivalry. I suspect the second part will take longer than the first." He pulls out a letter. "This came for you a few days ago. Now that you're free, I suppose I should give it to you."
Jamie takes and reads the letter, snorting. "Burn it," he says with a sneer and thrusts the letter to a servant.
Bran looks at him expectantly and he sighs, relenting. "My sister is being accused by the Faith for killing the previous high septon, King Robert, of infidelity and incest and other more minor crimes. She also beseeches me to come back to King's Landing and be her champion." He grins crockedly. "Too bad I'm not longer a knight. But then, there would be no honor in fighting for her as she is guilty."
Bran tilts his head slightly. "Maybe you can be taught true honor after all."
Not quite a week later Bran gets a raven from the North in which Mors "Crowfood" Umber writes that the Boltons have been captured and that the tortured prisoners, some of whom have been partly flayed, will be left at Winterfell to heal and help in the castle's repairs. The northern host is marching to the Twins and Crowfood estimates it will take them three weeks to travel through the snow. He also writes that Bran needs to appoint a new Lord for Barrowtown, Lady Dustin having died in crossfire, and that Roger Ryswell is now the Lord of the Rills. Dreadfort is without a lord as well but "that keep should be burned to the ground" advises Crowfood.
Four days after that Crown and Crowd return and after a slight warging with one of them, Bran sees that Sansa is in the Vale. Her hair seems darker than it should be, but as the crows do not see in colors, Bran can't be sure. She is with their cousin Robert Arryn, a sickly little boy who is supposed to be only a year younger than Bran himself but seems younger than Rickon. Bran wants to tut at the boy. He needs to grow strong to be the Lord Paramount and the Defender of the Vale and Warden of East. Unfortunately the boy might die before the Winter is even halfway over.
Still, she seemed to be fine for a while longer, meaning Bran could take care of the Freys before heading to the Vale.
A week after Crown and Crowd's return Bran and his host started marching to the Twins where they arrive eleven days later, just in time as the northern host marches on the opposite shore. Both hosts stay far enough from the Twins not to be shot with arrows. Eventually Bran sends a letter with Crowd but doesn't enter him as the Freys are just as likely to kill Crowd as send a message back.
In the letter Bran told them that they are surrounded on all sides and no matter how well fortified the Twins were, they would fall eventually. In his letter he said that Old Walder Frey was no longer recognized as the Lord of the Crossing by the other Riverlords and that Lord Edwyn Frey would take over. Should the Twins surrender, no other Frey would die but those that had been part of the Red Wedding. If the armies are forced to take the Twins, accidents could happen to anyone. As Crowd flies back without a message and the Twins remain closed, Bran knows they can't avoid the battle.
Hidden by the dark winter night wildlings take small river boats from upriver and row under the bridge from where they scale to the bridge rather than trying a frontal assault against the gates. The Freys are secure in the knowledge that other Freys are on the other end of the bridge and not one door leading to the bridge is locked, making it easy for the wildlings to sneak through the sleeping castles and silently slit the guards' throats before opening the gates on both ends, letting the hosts in. The Freys are caught sleeping in their beds and the men are restrained until the next morning when Bran will deal with them, Edwyn being the puppet lord. The women, wives and daughters of the Freys, are made sleep more closely, mothers and daughters often made to share the same bed, sometimes even grandmother, mother and daughter. This leaves many rooms free but even the Twins can't hold forty thousand plus men.
Roslin Frey Tully is found in a tower room, her door locked, and belly only slightly smaller than Jeyne's . At first she flinches away from those that come to her room but when Edmure comes to her, she starts to cry and clings to him, mumbling something about a dream. Bran leaves his uncle to deal with his wife, feeling this is something private and will most likely lead to more intimate things.
A number of Stark bannermen and Riverlords are found in the dungeons, the Greatjon and Ser Marq Piper included and not much worse for wear save for the lost weight. Bran doesn't have the time to meet them right then because he has to put Rickon to bed and promises to meet with them in the morning, before any Freys are judged. Just as the last story of the evening ends, Bran hears howling outside the castle and settles beside Rickon before letting his mind find Summer and going to take a look.
It is a giant she-wolf, a direwolf, that smells familiar but as he is up wind, can't quite determine what, leading a pack of a hundred of their little grey cousins. Bran can tell she is the alpha, but he also knows she wasn't always, that she, as a female, submitted to her male litter-mates. Bran also knows he's bigger and could win a fight against her but be gravely wounded in the process which isn't something he'd want. Then Shaggydog is behind him and he knows together they can take her even easier, without endangering themselves. Their little grey cousins are hungry and the horse-meat in the human-cave calls to them but the horses are important so Bran can't let them eat the horses. He growls warningly to the she-wolf, saying that these particular humans aren't pray, ears erect, canines bared and fur bristled. The she-wolf sniffs at him, relaxing as she recognizes him. He and Shaggy step closer warily and sniff her too. She smells of pack, like Ghost in the cold place. They had two sisters, Lady who returned as bones and Nymeria who ran, leaving her mistress when she most needed her. Pack means they won't attack her but she has also been gone for nearly two years. They tell this to her but offer her a chance to earn their trust back. There will be a time when they will call for her and her pack of little grey cousins and when they do, they expect Nymeria to answer the call. But before that, she is to go south where it is warmer and west where the sun sets and eat as many men wearing red human furs with a sun colored beast on them. Bran and Shaggy would hunt with this night but after they expected Nymeria to go eat those with the red human furs.
With that Bran returns to himself and lets himself fall into actual sleep rather than Summer's mind.
He is up with the sun and no one minds that he sleeps in as it was on his orders and strategy they took the Twins last night. Lord Edwyn is already sitting in the Frey seat, a massive chair of black oak, its back carved to the shape of two towers joined by an arched bridge. A comfortably plush chair is on its right side, obviously set for Bran and he has Hodor seat him on it. The Greatjon is the third to arrive for breakfast, demanding loudly for eggs and bacon "and don't be shy with those crisp ones," as well as ale to wash it all down.
"Your Grace," he says to Bran, "I'm happy to meet you again! I only hope I could have saved your brother."
"Don't we all," Bran answers with a thin smile. "But I am happy to see you again. I hope you were not offended that I didn't met you last night, after my uncle's wife was found, I had to go put my brother to sleep. He is only seven, you understand."
"Of course," chuckled the Greatjon. "But why is he with you at all? If you don't mind me asking, your Grace."
"I don't mind," says Bran. "And it's simply because everyone else that have left us haven't come back yet and Rickon doesn't properly remember them anymore. He knows mother had red hair and that father looked like an older Jon Snow and that Sansa always smelled like lemons and that Arya was always being scolded and that Robb didn't care enough to tell him goodbye in person. None of them came back. The Arya Stark that had been journeying to North to marry Ramsay Snow turned out to be Jeyne Poole, our father's steward's daughter, and I had to take the Twins before I can march to the Vale and demand Sansa back. I fear that if I leave Rickon, something will happen to either of us. As everyone knows, in the Winter a lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Now I'm just trying to rescue my lone wolf sisters from what happened to father and Robb, both lone wolves in the south."
The Greatjon nods in understanding. "I suppose had the same happened to my family I would have done the same."
Bran looks out of the window. "I just hope they won't resent me for taking so long."
"They'd be fools if they did," the Greatjon huffs. "I've known men who would have given up after their brother was killed and were in your situation. They would have slunk away and wait for their physically fit brothers to grow up and then simply be the brain behind their brothers, hiding behind them. You're a real Stark, not giving up against such odds."
"Thank you," Bran says with a warm smile. "But I couldn't hide behind Rickon if I tried. Yes, he will be able to stand and fight where I can only help in the planning but he's my baby brother. I could never ask him to do something I wasn't willing to do myself and believe me, ruling is the scariest thing I've ever done. My decisions affect people's lives on daily basis, I have to have an answer to every problem, I must seem doubly strong to make up for my disability to walk. The only thing heavier than the crown is Rickon's complete trust in me, yet he's also the only thing making this whole thing lighter, him and my "little court" as Alysane took to calling the children warded on Bear Island."
"It must be hard, being a King and not yet two-and-ten."
"Oh yes, I was quite content being a prince but then Robb didn't heed my advice. I doubt he would have heeded my advice had I become a Maester and told him to rest in bed after being sick. Don't misunderstand me, he was all I could have hoped for in a brother, but sometimes he was too proud for his own good," Bran grumbles. He resents and at the same time doesn't resent his brother for not listening to him about nor going to the Red Wedding. He resents him because Robb was supposed to be the protector of the family and he went and died, knowing Bran isn't able to step into his shoes. He wonders if this is how father felt after uncle Brandon was killed, the second son, the less favored son, then the quiet, serious son, now the broken son, being tasked with protecting two unwed sisters and a younger brother. But then he remembers the reason Robb married and broke the alliance with the Freys: love. A summer love, yes, but still a love. Their parents had been happy and loved each other. Of course Robb would want that from his own marriage but he hadn't understood that their parents' happiness was the prize of hard labor. Their mother had for the longest time thought she would marry their uncle Brandon and had most likely fallen in love with the outgoing, happy, handsome heir of Winterfell, and yet she had ended up being married to his quiet, not as comely brother. And father had had a lover, Bran knows. He listens to the stories (or gossip, as it might be) and while romances aren't his favorite, he can suffer through them, and knows of Ashara Dayne, the supposed mother of Jon. But they had both entered the marriage determined to make it work and had found happiness in each other. Had they not been willing to work on it, they could have become bitter and Bran might not exist at all but a dozen bastards in his, Rickon, Sansa and Arya's place. Only Robb and Jon would have been certain but would they have become the men they did? Would Jon be the honorable man he is? Would Robb have discarded Jeyne after bedding her? So many things could have been different had his parents not fallen in love with each other, so for that he doesn't resent Robb for his choices.
Bran is brought back from his musings by Lady Maege Mormont and Alysane entering the hall, loudly exchanging news and Alysane praising Bran's tactical mind to the heavens. Lady Maege spots him soon enough and stomps over, Alysane following in her wake.
"Good morrow, your Grace," they greet him in chorus, taking seats in front of him.
"Good morrow," Bran greets back. "Lady Mormont, it is a pleasure to see you again."
"And you, your Grace," the lady of Bear Island nods. "Alysane has told me of everything you've done so far. Treating with the wildings and taking over the Iron Isles. It's what the real Kings of Winter would do."
"But not my brother," Bran says, looking up at her through his fringe. "He fought too far in the south without understanding the rules here. Like my father."
"Aye, your Grace," Lady Maege agreed. "Your father was a great general but a politician he was not."
"No, he wasn't, as Robb wasn't either."
"So how did you become as adapt as you are?"
"I'm not a born and bred politician but I learnt from their mistakes," he says, looking lady Maege straight in the eyes. "I learned from history and gossip. Many think Torrhen Stark was the weakest Stark king ever, but I find him perhaps the wisest. He could have challenged Aegon and his sisters but most of his people would have burned because of his decision. And then what? He'd have been killed, as would have his children most likely which would have left Starks extinct after seven thousand and seven hundred years as well as made the Boltons the Great house of North. No, being the first person of the North to bend the knee left a good impression on Aegon and Torrhen got to keep his lands even is he had to give up his crown, but he was still comparable to a King in the North. It was the only politically correct as well as logical choice. I hope Daenerys Targaryen doesn't expect me to actually kneel," he japes with a roll of his eyes.
Lady Maege, Alysane and the Greatjon roar with laughter.
