Brienne woke from her sleep in a cave. She had no idea how long she had been out, but her head ached, as if she had suffered some sort of hit on the back of it at some point. Her eyes had to adjust to the darkness as she woke, and she didn't realise where she was. She felt someobody touching her skin, but couldn't make out a face. Soon she fell back to the darkness of her sleep, unable to keep herself awake in the darkness of reality. She thought that she heard a voice as she drifted off, but she was already too far gone.
In her dreams she was walking through a forest. She could hear the running of water somewhere nearby. There were other sounds too. There was the rustling of leaves, and the chirping of birds, but they sounded fake, as if somebody was planting the idea of them in her head. There was other sounds, though, sounds that sounded real. They were the hushed voices of people watching her, of people judging her, but none of the speakers revealed themselves to her. She tried to look for them, but it was like they didn't exist, even though she knew that they were there.
Then she turned and saw one of them. It was Hyle Hunt, on his knees, bloody and bruised. He was dirty and his hair was messy. He looked up at her, desparation in his eyes. He reached his hand out for her to take, as if he was real. She hesitated at first. He had been part of the bet on her maidenhead, and yet he had been friendly to her in the Riverlands. She realised then that she wanted to forgive him for how he had acted before. No sooner did she touch his hand than he crumpled to the floor, though.
She stepped backwards, and stumbled into the water she had seen before. It was a stream running through the glade. Then some sort of creature jumped out and attacked her. It wrapped it's arms around her face and held on tight. Eventually, she managed to throw it off, and then, as she looked down at it, she realised what it was.
It was Podrick Payne laid before her, looking as feral as the wolves of the Riverlands. His clothes were torn into rags, and he bared his teeth at her. She tried to back away from him, but stumbled again, and then he was on top of her, scratching at her face and going for her eyes. She was stronger then him, though, and managed to roll over, pushing the boy's face under the water. She watched as he gasped for air, and then felt his body go limp. She blinked, and was shocked to find that Podrick had been replaced.
Instead it was her elder brother, Galladon, that was laid out cold and wet before her. He had died when she was young, drowning in a rockpool back home on Tarth. Why was she remembering him now? She hardly ever thought of him, since they had barely known each other when he had been alive.
"He reminds you of home, doesn't he?"
She turned then, expecting to see Hyle Hunt back on his feet, but instead it was Jaime that was stood in front of her, as he had been when he met her. His hair was long, and he still had his right hand. It was resting on the pommel of the sword that he wore at his waist. He was dressed in Lannister red and gold instead of the white of the Kingsguard.
"You're a wench playing at war, but it costs the lives of boys. How many do you think I have killed? The Mad King and his pyromancer Hand? The Vance men at the Golden Tooth? They weren't boys. How many little boys and girls have lost their lives thanks to me? How can you love me, wench? You can see it easily. I may be the most handsome man in the Seven Kingdoms, but deep down I am as ugly as you, truly."
"This isn't you. You changed. I changed you."
Jaime scoffed, and circled her. He flicked his hair with a cocky arrogance.
"Did I really? Did you change me completely, or did I just take pity on you and use you? Did I really care about whether you found the Stark girls? Catelyn Stark was a dead bitch-"
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare say that about her! She trusted you-"
"Then more fool her. The Stark girls are both dead, and there is nothing that you can do to bring them back. They are dead, and you failed me and you failed her. You're worth nothing more than your dead brother. Nothing more than the dead fools who thought you worth following."
She charged at him, but Jaime drew his sword quickly, and parried her strike. Somehow she was now carrying a sword, but it wasn't Oathkeeper. It was a rusty sword of nicked steel. It was nothing, whilst Jaime's was a blade of shimmering gold that danced through the air. He laughed as he parried her strikes, and forced her back into the water with his attacks.
"You could beat me with one hand, but when I have both then you are nothing to me. Nothing more than an ugly wench."
They sparred for what seemed like hours, with Jaime throwing out jibes at her that cut deeper than his golden sword ever could. She grew tired, but Jaime seemed like he gained strength the longer that they were fighting. He laughed as they fought, laughed at her for being weak, laughed at her for the deaths of Sansa and Arya Stark, laughing at her for forgiving a man that had bet on her maidnehead.
She drove her sword at him then, and he let out a cry of surprise. The sword went through him with no resistance, and he crumbled to his knees. She wiped away her tears, and looked down at her friend, only to find that he had changed back to the Jaime she had known in the Vale. He was one-handed and dirty, with a scar running across his face, damaging his good looks. He was a broken man.
"You- You killed-"
Then he fell on his side. He was dead. She sunk to her own knees and cradled him. tears streaming down her face as she did. He was silent, but for the sound of his shallow breaths. She knew it wasn't the real him, but still, the pain passing through her body didn't want her to believe that
"Are you there? Wake up..."
Then everything she had seen was gone. She was, instead, staring up into the face of a girl. She was pale, with brown hair and eyes. She recognised the face, but wasn't sure where she recognised it from.
"Good, you have to drink. I have been trying to feed you, but you have been kicking it out for about half an hour now. Are you alright?"
Brienne moved her hand to her head, and found it covered in beads of sweat. She remembered her dream, but didn't want to talk about it with this stranger.
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Where am I?"
The girl dabbed a cloth at her face before answering, and wiped it across her brow, to clear it of the sweat. She had a soft touch.
"This is the hollow hill, an old place full of magic and mystery. It is a safe place. Safe from wolves and lions and others who prowl my countryside."
"Your countryside?"
"I was born in these parts. I have watched it bleed over the last two years. The high lords, safe in their castle, they sacrificed my people so that they could squabble over land and who sits on some cold throne. This is my land, not theirs."
Brienne sat herself up, resting against the wall. She looked around, and saw that they were in a dark cave, with torches sitting in brackets providing light. The room was near empty. There were a few bodies laid in the adjacent room of the cave. They looked to be men asleep, though. Roots twisted across the floor and up the wall. Some of them were brown, but others were as white as bone. She sensed there was some power in this place. Maybe that was why the girl had claimed this place was full of magic.
"Who are you? Who are they?"
She pointed at the men.
"They were Lem Lemoncloak and Notch. They were friends."
"Were?"
"They were killed by a dog protecting a wolf."
That got Brienne's attention. What could the girl be talking about? A dog and a wolf? Could that be-
"They captured Sansa Stark, if would you believe it. It was their end, though. She had protectors."
Sansa Stark? She was alive, and she had people with her? That was- Jaime had been wrong. She could still keep her oath to Lady Stark. She could escape here and find Sansa and then- Well, then what? Riverrun belonged to House Frey, and her uncle was a prisoner. Winterfell belonged to House Bolton, and Stannis Baratheon was in the North, too. The bastard at the Wall... That was the only choice. That was where she had to go.
"My name is Jeyne Heddle, though people round here tend to call me Long Jeyne. They don't like family names, you see? Even though my family is nothing now."
Brienne wasn't really paying attention to the girl now. She was too busy focussing on the idea of saving Sansa, keeping her oath to Lady Stark, and saving the honour and reputation of Jaime. She had to do this, and knowing this girl's name meant nothing towards that.
"You are a prisoner of my lady. She gave you a mission, and you ran from it. You will hang, my lady. I am sorry."
Brienne heard that. She stared at the girl, and realised that she did recognise her face. This was one of those that had taken her, Podrick and Hyle prisoner. She was one of the people that served the twisted remnant of Lady Catelyn, who hanged people for crimes that they may never have committed. She was a prisoner. She was a dead woman hidden in the shadows.
"You should sleep some more. You will want to be rested for tomorrow."
The girl laid Brienne down and walked away. She tried to close her eyes and drift away, but all she could see was the dead face of Lady Catelyn, her eyes judging her and the feel of the rope around her neck. She pictured Podrick and Hyle struggling for breath, and felt the cold touch of death. Then she fell into a fitful sleep.
She was walking through the corridors of the Red Keep. She heard the sounds of shouting and screaming. She entered the throne room and saw a crowd gathered. They didn't acknowledge her. It was as if she wasn't there.
She balked at the sight that she saw when she got to the front. A man was being burned alive in his own armour. He was suspended above a great pit, whilst three men stood around him, controlling the fire. Another was laid slumped on the floor nearby, a device around his throat, and his hand still reaching out for his sword.
She heard the cackle of madness, and she turned to look up at the Iron Throne. She had never seen Aerys Targaryen, but her father had described him to her when she was younger. His hair was long and matted, his fingernails sharp and unkempt, and his body covered in scabs he recieved from the Iron Throne itself. They say that it had rejected him.
It wasn't Aerys that drew her eyes, though. It was the young knight stood before the Iron Throne. She walked to him, and knew that she was right. This was her Jaime when he was younger. She stared into his beautiful eyes, and saw fear and conflict. He didn't approve of this, she realised. He wanted to stop it, but he wouldn't break his oath. Not yet.
"One day you will stop this, my love. One day you will do yourself proud. Live for that day."
She knew that he wouldn't hear her, so she was more open to him, she reached out to stroke his cheek, but the dream collapsed around her as she did. Soon enough, her Jaime had gone, and been replaced by darkness.
Then she heard more voices. She turned, and saw three men stood over the body of another. She recognised that one. It was the same man that she had seen on the Iron Throne only seconds before. Whatever this scene was, it came in the aftermath of the death of Aerys Targaryen.
Two of the men were clearly embroiled in an argument. They were both of the same age, although looked vastly different. One of them bore a long face and glum expressions, the other had thick, black hair and had piercing blue eyes. She realised then that this was King Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark. The other man was older and quieter. Jon Arryn, she supposed, Robert's Hand of the King.
"You would send him back to Casterly Rock? He is an oathbreaker, Robert. The Wall would be more suitable."
"And if I send him to the Wall, Lord Stark, then I deal with a Lannister rebellion. By sending him back to his father I pacify the West. By doing what you would have me do I sentence my kingdom to more years of war, and our armies are spent. You would bring more loss to my people and my city."
The old man stepped between the two of them.
"Boys. I raised you as brothers, not quarrelling lords. The answer is simple. Keep Lannister in the Kingsguard and secure Tywin's support through marriage. Robert, you must marry his daughter."
"Lyanna..."
"Lannister stays."
She tried to interrupt them, to tell them that Jaime deserved to be free. He had saved the city. He didn't deserve to waste away his life by the side of Robert Baratheon. He was a better man than that. She forgot that they couldn't hear her. She forgot that these were events that she couldn't influence. They had happened and were done with.
The three men then disappeared, and the darkness surrounded her again. It was cold and empty, and silent. Then a blinding light appeared before her. She raised her arm to block it out, but still it hit her eyes. Then it was gone. She lowered her arm, and then jumped back in fear at what was now stood before her.
It was a wolf that stood before her. A wolf with wide wings and great teeth. It was about the same height as a short man, and had more weight behind it. It started to circle her, baring it's teeth and growling. Then it stopped and stared at her. It cocked it's head, and then it spoke.
"He comes. Save him. Save her. Go south to the dragon. Go south."
Then it was gone, and she was awake, back in the cave where she had been before. The girl from before was stood over her again, but this time she was joined by someone else. It was a man. He was gaunt and old, with grey hair and wrinkled skin. He wore cloaks of red and carried a staff, which he was leaning on.
"We meet again, my Lady. You will not remember me from before, I am sure. I remember you, however. Leave us, Jeyne. I wish to talk with Lady Brienne in private."
The girl nodded and then left. The old man sat himself down next to her. She pulled herself up so that she was sat also. He didn't say anything for a while, but just stared at her, a look of sadness in his eyes.
"My name is Thoros, my lady. Thoros of Myr, they called me. I've never met another man called Thoros, though, so I'm not sure why the specification was necessary, You can just call me Thoros, if you please."
Then there was more silence. She didn't think that he wanted her to react to his statement, but she wasn't sure what to do. He had told the girl that he wanted to speak with her, so why wasn't he speaking? It was as she thought this that he started.
"You have met the leader of our group before. You never met our old leader, though. Beric Dondarrion, he was called. He was a good man, and he gave his life for the one they call their lady. She is a twisted reincarnation of Catelyn Stark. The kiss was given too long after her death. She doesn't know what she is doing, but she is determined to do it. She is part of the darkness. Do you see that?"
Brienne stared at the roots for a few seconds, before looking back up at the old man.
"I saw it last time I was here. She is not the same woman that I swore my life to. My old Lady was merciful and kind, she cared for the lives of those who followed her. This one does not. She is not truly Catelyn Stark."
Thoros smiled for the first time since he had woken her up.
"Your eyes see more than you think, my lady. I sense that today is not the day that you die. You have a role to play in this world yet, I think, and yet that is all to be ended by the ghoul of your past. The wight version of your lady Stark will see you today, and then sentence you to a death that you don't deserve. She will cut your life short, and endanger the future of Westeros in the process. You have to survive. You have to get out of here."
He talked a lot of fate and destiny, when it was clear to Brienne that her story ended here. She would never see her father again, or the beautiful Straits of Tarth, or ride through the woods of her home on a hunt, or look into the eyes of Jaime Lannister. This was where she died. She died as a criminal and an oathbreaker. The thought brought tears to her eyes. The old man reached towards her, and she pulled away from his touch.
"How would you suggest I get out of here, priest."
There was a sad smile on Thoros' face as she asked that question.
"A life pays for a life, my lady. My time is done. I have served the purpose that my god set out for me. My friend is dead, and now I must join him in whatever lies beyond. That is how it must be. That is how my song ends."
She was shocked. She could barely speak.
"You would- You would give your life for mine?"
The priest smiled at her.
"I would give my life for the future. By the time this story ends there will be countless like me, who know what needs to be done and will do it. That is my oath. That is my burden. I serve to protect those that cannot protect themselves, even if that means giving my own life for theirs. You have a purpose, Lady Brienne. Go from this place and serve it."
She shakily pulled herself to her feet, as did the old man. She stood opposite him for a few seconds, and then locked him in a firm embrace.
"Thank you."
They broke apart, and the priest looked her in the eyes.
"Do not thank me, my lady. By the time this song is done I shall be forgotten. Nobody will remember my name, but let people remember yours. Do your duty. Do what you must."
The priest then guided her through the tunnels of the cave, releasing her through a back entrance. She ran for a while, then turned. She saw the priest returning to where he had come, and then she ran some more. She covered leagues by the time that she stopped. She would sleep here, out in the open. There was something she must do first.
She went around the surrounding forest and collected countless rocks and sticks. She arranged them in a pattern on the ground, then stared down at them. He would not be forgotten. Not whilst she still lived.
Thoros of Myr. A good man.