The Keeper
Chapter 40 – Crossbow Keeper
The next morning, Brienne studied the assembled men and women in the Throne Room. These were the lords and ladies of the nearby keeps and castles of the Stormlands, the Reach and the Crownlands. Some of them were so young they should still be in the schoolroom, studying past wars not facing the upcoming Great War. But these boys, and some girls, now carried the burden of their Houses and their people, thrust into power after their parents had died in the explosion of the Sept of Baelor.
Many of the young leaders could not hide their fear. Their faces were pale and tense, shiny with sweat, their lips pressed together until bloodless. They stood in a room filled with hardened men who had seen many battles, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms who'd seemingly risen from the dead, the brothers of the disgraced queen who had murdered their parents and their loyal men, Dornish lords who had no love for southland Houses and living, fire-breathing dragons. Brienne admired the young leaders' courage for standing in the assembly.
"Are you ready, Podrick?" Brienne asked quietly.
She kept her body still but allowed her gaze to take in the room. Podrick waited beside her, equally steady, at the foot of the remains of the Iron Throne. Serdun, Catren and Ardayn formed a line in front of them. Their positioning was wide, leaving room for Gallan and Allwyn to take places between them. The three dragons sat tall and straight, aware they were the main focus of everyone in the hall.
"I am, my Lady Ser," Podrick assured her, his gaze darting around as he also surveyed the assembled crowd.
Podrick moved to the other side of the dais to stand behind Ardayn. Griff would stand before this crowd with his back to the dragons and the remains of the Iron Throne. The positioning was a deliberate and inspired decision. It made it clear to everyone assembled that the dragons were powerful enough to destroy anything, including the grand illusions of past kings. It would also limit those who came to stand with him to only those the dragons trusted. No man with false intentions would dare turn his back on dragons.
Griff walked through the crowd to the steps before the Iron Throne, Gallan and Allwyn flying at his back. The lords and ladies, young and old, gasped and stumbled away, their natural fear of dragons overwhelming their learned respect for monarchy. They quickly reassembled as Griff, Allwyn and Gallan reached the raised steps, giving them distance and the illusion of protection from the most powerful creatures in King's Landing.
The Prince of Dorne wore a brown leather jacket impressed with a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field, the sigil of House Nymeros Martell. He stopped directly before the remains of the throne created by his ancestor, Aegon the First Targaryen. Dawn, the extraordinary sword of House Dayne, hung at his hip. Allwyn and Gallan joined the other dragons, landing with practiced precision. Even the frightened young lords and ladies gasped, wide-eyed and awed, at their performance.
"My lords and ladies, Westeros is at a critical and dangerous point in its history," Griff began. "We face starvation, disease and a war against an army unlike any we've ever known before. You've all heard stories of the threat beyond the Wall and thought it fanciful tales meant to frighten children."
Griff paused and looked around the room. Some of the younger lords and ladies looked even more afraid while the older lords looked at Griff with scorn.
"Aye," a voice called out from the back. "I have no fear of grumpkins or snarks but I do fear foreigners with arakhs and dragons."
Tyrion, showing the raw courage he so rarely was given credit for, stepped out of the crowd. He looked at Griff, his eyebrows raised in question. Griff nodded and waved Tyrion to stand at his side. The Hand to Queen Daenerys came to stand at Griff's right. Several people gasped at the sight of the Lannister lion standing, unafraid and accepted, before the Targaryen dragons.
"The threat is real, Lord Hayford," Tyrion said. "I have seen these creatures, these Wights, with my own eyes. Queen Daenerys took her dragons north of the Wall to fight the Army of the Dead. Even her dragons weren't enough to stop them."
"Then what can we, houses without dragons, whose armies have been destroyed by Queen Cersei or her bastards, do?" A plain-looking lady with greying blond hair but a strong, straight posture spoke out.
A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd. Griff leaned over as Tyrion whispered up to him. He nodded then straightened to address the woman.
"Your concerns are valid, Lady Tinda, and shared by many here," Griff agreed. "Currently, the Army of the Dead is contained by the Wall. We have become lax in manning the Wall and guarding the realms of men. Once the Night's Watch was a noble institution, maintained by men of honor. Our negligence has turned their castles into little more than sparsely populated penal colonies. My aunt and Jon Snow march with an army of fifty thousand men to reopen the sixteen shuttered castles and man them all with disciplined warriors."
"That may guard us from fairytales but what guards us from those who are power-hungry?" Hayford spoke again. "We've seen only bloodshed since King Robert died. Joffrey the Cruel plunged us into war against the North and the Baratheons, Tommen the Weak gave us over to the Faith Militants and Cersei the Mad killed our blood and her own by destroying the Sept of Baelor. We suffered because of the Lannisters. Now their men fill the tourney grounds and their imp stands at your side."
Again, Tyrion reached up and Griff leaned down. After a quick exchange, both men turned to face the angry lord.
"We no longer have the option of standing against each other, Lord Hayford," Tyrion said quietly. "The Westerland troops are committed to marching north to aide Queen Daenerys and Jon Snow, to protecting us all. They will provide the secondary line of defense if the Army of the Dead pass the Wall and enter the lands of men."
Hayford snorted. "You offer us only words, imp. Words will not protect us."
"No, but the Dornish will." Ned spoke from the crowd.
The young Lord of Starfall took a deep breath and walked to Griff's left side. Only Brienne, facing him, saw the look of stark terror on his face as he stopped beside his prince, within Serdun and Allwyn's firing range. He looked at the dragons, his fear visible. The dragons looked back at him with the same polite interest they showed to Tyrion. Ned closed his eyes briefly before he schooled his features into calm confidence and turned to face the crowd.
"While your lords and kings went to war, our wise Prince Doran kept us out of conflict," Ned continued. "Our armies are strong and whole. We have already marched into the Reach and the Stormlands. We will join with our prince, Aegon Martell Targaryen, and protect your homes and families."
The murmur of whispered conversation erupted amongst the leaders. Tyrion, standing on Griff's other side, stiffened. Griff glanced at him then looked past him to Manfrey. The castellan nodded with satisfaction. Griff then turned his head to look at Jaime, standing stiff and controlled, at the back of the group. Jaime's mouth tightened but that was his only response.
"The Dornish have no love for Crownland houses," Tanda, the Lady of Stokeworth noted. "Why would you protect us?"
"Because they, like you, have sworn their allegiance to me," Griff answered.
Many of the leaders began to protest, some even shaking their heads. Tyrion's eyes widened as he looked from Griff to the leaders then back to the Prince of Dorne. Griff held up his hand to silence everyone. He smiled his slow, satisfied smile.
"My men now hold Storm's End in the Stormlands, Highgarden in the Reach and Rosby in the Crownlands," He explained. "You pledged your loyalty to your liege lords. Their loyalty is to me. You are my people. I will ensure your protection."
A gasp passed through the crowd. Even Tyrion echoed it. Jaime exchanged grim looks with his brother and also surveyed the shocked, confused crowd.
"Those castles have been promised to the Golden Company," Tyrion protested. "Queen Daenerys agreed to give them in exchange for the company aiding her in securing the Iron Throne."
"And so we did." Griff smiled with cool satisfaction. "You were here to witness the event."
Brienne saw Tyrion jerk visibly at hearing Griff's claim. But then Tyrion didn't know Griff was the secret commander of the Golden Company. He wasn't aware that Griff's men had been in Westeros for the past month, quietly taking over the regions and creating access points for the Dornish troops to filter into the southlands. The Hand to Queen Daenerys looked grim as he studied at the assembled lords and ladies, most of whom had, some unknowingly, pledged themselves and their houses to Aegon Martell Targaryen.
"You saw Serjeant Brienne Tarth of the Golden Company lead the dragons through the capital," Griff continued. "She claimed the Iron Throne in the name of House Targaryen. She's the reason my aunt now calls herself Queen of Westeros."
Brienne stood very straight as the murmur rose to a rumble. People spoke amongst themselves, staring at her with eyes wide in shock and wonder. Some of the men frowned in disapproval while others seemed reluctantly impressed. The older ladies appeared confused while they few young ladies looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Despite herself, Brienne couldn't control the blush that stained her cheeks.
Tyrion turned to stare at her, his eyes wide, his face a mixture of shock, surprise and even a little awe. From the back of the group, Jaime had an identical expression on his face. Bronn, standing beside Jaime, looked thoughtful as he studied Brienne. She ducked her head but couldn't control the heat in her face.
Why had Griff called her Serjeant? She was only an officer with the Golden Company. She'd hidden her commission in her childhood bedroom in Tarth but had admired it often enough that she could see the parchment when she closed her eyes. It wasn't the most important issue at the moment but it allowed her a moment's distraction from the noise and confusion inside the Throne Room.
"You're the son of the Prince Rhaeagar, the rightful ruler of Westeros," Hayford said. "You say we pledged ourselves to you. How will you protect us? What will keep the Dragon Queen from attacking us with her dragons when she finds out?"
"My right to kingship is superseded by your right to safety and protection, Lord Hayford," Griff assured. "I won't go to war against my aunt. She remains committed to the army of men while I remain here to oversee the duties of the kingdom."
"But she has dragons, too," a childish voice called out. "Her dragons are bigger than yours."
The crowd shifted to reveal a young girl of no more than eight standing beside a soberly dressed older woman. The girl wore her dark brown hair in a long braid that lay upon her shoulder. Her gown, though made of fine silk, was ill-fitting, as if it had been hastily altered. Griff bent down to confer with Tyrion before addressing the child.
"Lady Elinor, I understand your concern." Griff's voice was noticeably gentler as he spoke to the young leader of House Massey. "Stone Dance is close to Pentos. No doubt you've heard of the damages inflicted by my aunt's dragons. Those dragons are not a threat to us."
Elinor's little mouth puckered with her frown. "But what will stop them?"
"They won't attack us because Drogon, the biggest dragon, is father to these five dragons," Griff explained. "Would your father have allowed anyone to hurt you, even if that person was your grandmother?"
Elinor shook her head. "No, Father wouldn't let anyone to hurt me. But Grandmother loves me, too. She takes care of me now that the Mad Queen killed Mother and Father."
Elinor shift her small body in an attempt to shield the older woman beside her. The woman placed a steadying hand on the girl's shoulder and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Brienne swallowed hard to keep tears from springing into her own eyes. She was a knight. Knights didn't cry, not even when they witnessed young children forced to be brave because of the cruelty and reckless ambitions of older, less caring people.
She saw Tyrion's shoulders slump at viewing the small Lady of House Massey. In the back of the room, Jaime grimaced and hung his head. War was an evil thing, killing indiscriminately and making orphans of innocent children. Elinor was one of the lucky ones, with some family left to protect her. Griff turned his head to look at Brienne. His expression was stark but calm, though his indigo eyes were troubled. He turned back to face the assembled crowd.
"It's just as you say, Lady Elinor," he agreed. "My aunt, Drogon's mother, cares for these five as your grandmother cares for you. The dragons will not go to war against each other. We will all work together to protect the people of Westeros, no matter what region they come from."
Brienne watched Tyrion's body stiffen as he looked back at the five. The dragons continued to watch the crowd, knowing Tyrion was no threat to their family. Tyrion looked from the dragons to Griff then to Brienne. Stark realization was apparent in his wide eyes. He knew as well as she did that Aegon Martell Targaryen was swiftly taking control even as he promised to work with Daenerys and Jon Snow.
Tyrion now realized Daenerys's greatest power, her dragons, had not only been nullified, but was a threat to her. Drogon would destroy any army, including the Unsullied and the Dothraki, if it attempted to attack the five. Dragons had free will, powerful emotions and the ability to sense intent. Drogon and Rhaegal had already chosen the young dragons over their own mother. Even more, Drogon had chosen Brienne and Griff to raise the five. It would not tolerate a threat to the young dragons' guardians.
"Many of the lords from Dorne will depart today," Griff announced. "They will return to manage their homes or guide the troops who will protect your homes. Lord Ned Dayne, of Starfall, will remain in the capital to represent Dorne."
Ned, still standing beside Griff, bowed. "It will be my honor, your Grace."
Griff looked into the crowd. "Ser Balon Swann, of Stonehelm, son of Lord Gulian Swann, will represent the Stormlands."
Balon separated himself from the crowd and came to stand next to Tyrion. It was a testament to the knight's courage that he didn't even glance at the dragons. In return, the dragons looked at him with polite interest but remained in their places.
Balon also bowed to Griff. "It will be my honor, your Grace."
"Lord Tyrion Lannister, of Casterly Rock, will represent the Westerlands," Griff continued.
Tyrion blinked rapidly at the unexpected appointment but kept his expression calm. He was Hand to Daenerys but Griff had still included him in his council. Brienne could almost see the dwarf's quick mind work through the possible advantages and disadvantages of the position.
Tyrion bowed to Griff. "It will be my honor, your Grace."
Griff looked into the crowd. "Lady Tanda, will you agree to represent the Crownlands?"
Tanda's eyes widened. "Me, your Grace? I…I would be honored."
"But she's a woman," Hayford protested. "You cannot allow a woman to sit on your counsel. They're unsuited to manage such power. Cersei Lannister was proof of that."
Blood flushed into Brienne's face. She took deep breaths to keep herself from reacting to the lord's ignorant comment. Men had always thought less of her, too, simply because of her gender. They thought her too masculine for a woman but too feminine to achieve greatness. She'd proven them wrong time and again. This man was no different than most Westerosi lords. The dragons, sensing her spiking emotions, stiffened and looked around for the threat.
"The Dornish have had many great female leaders," Ned said quietly. "Prince Aegon and I are both descendants of Queen Nymeria herself. The fault lies in the weakness of the person, not in their gender."
"Westeros has also produced powerful women," Griff added. He smiled back at Brienne. "You stand before one now."
Hayford flushed as he looked at Brienne. "I meant no disrespect, my Lady."
Brienne looked at him. No matter his words, he had disrespected her and every other woman in this room. Some of the girls here would have to make hard decisions, stand for their people in a time of possible devastating war. The Seven Kingdoms would not survive if men like Hayford stood against women like Tanda Stokeworth or even Elinor Massey. Brienne stepped forward so she was almost touching Serdun.
"My Lady Ser," Brienne corrected. "I'm a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, knighted by Queen Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen."
"She's even more than that," Podrick, normally quiet and respectful, spoke up, his voice strong and clear. "My Lady Ser is heir to Tarth, serjeant of the Golden Company, keeper of dragons, the Gods' warrior and Lightbringer."
There was a long silence after Podrick's pronouncement. The assembled lords and ladies looked at each other then back at Brienne, some with shock or reluctant approval and others with undisguised disdain. She looked at the combination of pride and admiration in her squire's expression. Podrick's face flushed with color but his stood strong and sure, his chin raised, as if daring others to comment. Once again, she couldn't control her blush. The dragons puffed up, unable to find the source of their mother's anxiety, and hissed at the crowd, extending their wings to their full, impressive width.
The people cried out and began to back away. Griff stepped back and stroked Catren and Gallan to soothe them. Podrick wrapped his arms around Ardayn's neck while Brienne pulled Allwyn and Serdun closer to her. Fear soured the air as the leaders stared at the now anxious dragons. Tyrion stepped forward.
"Thank you all for attending." He raised his voice to be heard over their worried cries. "You are dismissed."
The people hurried for the doors, leaving as fast as they could without appearing to be running away. Some of the young lords and ladies didn't even attempt that decorum and sprinted out of the room. Almost immediately, the Throne Room cleared as the assembled group rushed out of the seven doors and into the hallways. The Lannister guards, who'd been stationed outside the entrances, hastily shut the doors. Only the Dornish lords, the Lannister brothers, Bronn and Balon remained with Griff, Brienne, Podrick and the dragons.
Ned and Balon had backed away from the dragons, their hands held out, away their sword belts, to indicate they weren't threats to the five. The dragons began to calm now that the crowd had left and Brienne was no longer upset. They folded in their wings, relaxed their bodies and snuggled into the warmth of the family members holding them. Jaime and Bronn came closer to the group, to stand by the lords, but still out of the dragons' fire range. Only Tyrion stayed where he was, close enough to touch Ardayn. He smiled affectionately at the five.
"That's the fastest I've ever seen this room clear," he commented, unfazed by the dragons. "Well done, dragons."
"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Brienne corrected, as she released Serdun and Allwyn.
"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Tyrion repeated, smiling at the five again.
The dragons, calm now, squawked and puffed under the praise. Podrick released Ardayn while Griff gave Catren and Gallan a final stroke. The dragons broke their defensive line to explore the room. Some of the tension left Brienne, too. The dragons would never leave their protective stances if they thought the Dornish lords meant them harm. Even Manfrey, whom they were sure supported the murders of Doran and Trystane, didn't alarm the five. The five, however, alarmed the Dornishmen. They stiffened as the dragons began to prowl around the room. Bronn, seeing their obvious concern, grinned.
"You know they can sense fear, don't you?" The knight hooked his thumbs into his sword belt and rocked back on his heels. "Best you not group yourself together like that. You're too easy a target."
The lords sprang apart instantly, some stumbling in their haste to make themselves less likely targets. Bronn snickered.
"Careful there, Lord Yarnwood," Bronn cautioned. "Looks like you might have tripped on a length of wool or something."
The lords, realizing the knight was japing at their expense, straightened and glared. Anders took a threatening step closer to Bronn. Serdun, exploring only a few feet away, hissed warningly at the Lord of Yronwood. Andres froze, staring wide-eyed at the dragon at Bronn's back. Bronn glanced over at the green dragon then back at Anders, his eyebrows lifted.
"Forgive me, my Lord," Bronn said with exaggerated deference. "I was just trying to be of service to you."
"Bronn," Tyrion hissed. "I heard they're baking fresh lemon cakes in the kitchens today."
Bronn shrugged easily. "Cake is nice. The cook is nicer. If you fine lords will excuse me, I think I'll go down to the kitchens for a bite." He paused and pretended to consider. "Maybe I'll have some cake, too."
Tyrion hissed out his breath again. Bronn swept a careless bow to the lords then walked past the remains of the throne to the carefully hidden servant's door. The lords glared at Tyrion as if he was responsible for Bronn's flippant attitude.
Tyrion shook his head. "If he wasn't such an excellent swordsman, I'd be tempted to stab him myself."
The lords continued to grumble and glare at the youngest lion. Jaime instinctively put himself between the lords and his brother. The Lannisters and the Dornishmen studied each other coldly. Balon stepped between them and calmly addressed Griff.
"Your Grace, shall I have the children brought in now?" Balon asked, keeping his head straight but following the dragons with his gaze.
"Children?" Brienne repeated.
Griff nodded to Balon before turning to Brienne. He took her arm and led her away from the men. Brienne looked past him. Podrick watched them with concern but the dragons were still wandering around the room, more interested in the cavernous hall than the stiff lords who watched them with fear and calculation in their eyes. Jaime frowned, also watching the five, but said nothing. The lords reformed their group, whispering amongst themselves. Brienne looked back to Griff.
"So soon?" Brienne demanded, trying to keep her voice even.
Griff's expression softened. "Brienne, we discussed this. The children will be safer and better cared for in Dorne."
"But Ela and the dragons," she protested. "They'll miss her."
Unspoken was how much she would miss the little baby, too. Ela was gentle and sweet and far too strong for a child so young. The little girl had survived abandonment, starvation and a short life of abuse and neglect. Yet she still had a sweet disposition and a resilient nature. Griff's expression softened as he leaned closer to Brienne. She knew her understood how much the thought of separating from the babe upset her. He rubbed her arms comfortingly.
"Ela will be happy in Dorne," Griff assured. "We'll get her once it's safe for her to return, I promise."
Brienne's reply was cut off when the main doors opened. Two Lannister guards came in carrying Cersei's limp body between them. Her eyes were open but unseeing. The guards set her on her feet just inside the doors. Cersei swayed then crumpled to the floor.
"Cersei!" Jaime sprinted across the room to his sister.
Tyrion gasped and also hurried across the length of the great hall to his siblings. He looked back at the Dornish lords who walked down the hall to Cersei at a more sedate pace. Brienne turned away from Griff to grab Catren and Allwyn, the most excitable dragons. Seeing her, Podrick quickly grabbed Gallan. They needn't have bothered. The dragons barely glanced at Cersei. They weren't interested in or threatened by the former Queen of Westeros.
"What happened to her?" Jaime knelt beside his sister's limp body and pulled her into his arms.
"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa," Griff called, drawing the uninterested dragons to his side.
Brienne, with Podrick close at her heels, also hurried across the vast hall. The lords, taller and longer-legged than Tyrion, reached Cersei and Jaime at the same time the youngest lion did. They surveyed the former queen with satisfaction.
"Her punishment began last night," Anders smirked. "She broke in mere hours. You breed them weak here. A Dornishwoman would have survived for weeks."
Brienne was shocked by the former queen's appearance. Cersei's expression was more remote and disconnected than even after discovering the depth of Qyburn's vengeful machinations. She was still as beautiful as ever but so still she could have been carved from marble. Her eyes were open but blank, as if she were seeing something inside herself instead of the world around her. Cersei wore the same lavish gown she'd worn yesterday but it was wrinkled and stained, her short hair disarrayed. What had happened to Cersei that she was now like this?
"Ellaria survived for months," Manfrey commented. "We put Cersei in Ellaria's cell so she could spend the night with the ghosts of those she'd murdered in her madness and thirst for power."
"Ellaria had Qyburn giving her strengthening tonics," Brienne reminded. "That's why she was able to survive."
Manfrey looked thoughtful. "Perhaps we should ask for his mixture. Then maybe this feeble queen will last long enough for a fitting punishment."
"You're animals," Jaime snarled, holding Cersei's limp body against him.
"So says the man who murdered his own kin and helpless children to fuck his sister," Daeron sneered.
Jaime's face flushed but he had no reply. He pulled Cersei closer to him, as if to try to protect her, and glared up at the lords in helpless rage. Tyrion, who'd been looking at Cersei without expression, now turned to Jaime with sympathy.
Tyrion put his hand on his brother's arm. "Jaime, we agreed to do this, to trade one life for thousands of lives."
Jaime angrily shrugged off his brother's hand. "Look at what they did to her! Is she even still alive?"
"Yes," Andres answered. "She's still alive. We only broke her mind, not her body. We didn't realize she was so pathetic."
Jaime faced flushed even darker with his impotent fury. Brienne looked at Podrick who stared at the former queen with wide, shocked eyes. He looked away to meet Brienne's gaze. They exchanged grimaces. War was a truly ugly event but preventing it wasn't much better. Jaime had agreed, they had all agreed, to give Cersei and Gregor to the Dornish in exchange for a decrease in hostilities. Cersei's poor decisions and ruthless ambition had nearly brought all of Westeros to destruction. The Seven Kingdoms couldn't afford a war against Dorne while the northern armies, the Dothraki, the Unsullied and the Ironborn prepared to battle against the Army of the Dead.
Another group of guards came in, straining to pull a cart, covered with a sheet, into the Throne Room. They struggled with their burden into the center of the great hall. The men put the cart handles down as gently as possible but the heavy weight still clattered against the polished marble. In doing so, the cart tipped forward and the sheet covering the cart's content fell away. The guards bowed and hurried out of the hall, as if trying to leave as quickly as possible.
Brienne went closer to see what was on the cart. She gasped and stumbled away from what she saw. The dragons immediately hissed and puffed, sensing her horror. The lords, still surrounding the Lannisters, immediately crouched down, trying to make themselves smaller targets. Ardayn and Serdun screeched as they flew across the room to Brienne's defense. Only there was nothing to defend her from, except the unmoving horror strapped to the cart. Given the size and bulk, it had to be Gregor Clegane but the face and body were straight out of the stories told to terrify children.
His skin was the dull grey of death, covered with wounds, some open, some stitched shut, all oozing a foul odor worse than death and decay. Gregor's eyes were shut but his chest still rose and fell, releasing more of the noxious, putrid puss with every motion. Part of the knight's jaw was missing and deep gouges were cut into his throat.
"Is that...is that Ser Gregor?" Podrick squeaked, stumbling to Brienne's side.
"Yeah, that's the cunt," Sandor affirmed.
Brienne turned to the doors. Gregor's younger brother, the first victim of his cruelty, stood just inside the open doorway. Sunlight shone on the burn scars covering the side of his face. He'd received those scars when Gregor had held his face to a fire. Sandor looked at his older brother with visible loathing.
"Are you sure?" Podrick asked, eyes still wide with horror.
He, Brienne and Griff hurriedly gathered the dragons to hold them away from the cart. The five continued to hiss but allowed themselves to guided away from the abomination. The lords shifted the other way, away from the dragons, equally repulsed by the sight of the former Kingsguard. If she couldn't see his chest rise, Brienne would have been sure he was dead.
"Yeah, I know some of the scars and what's left of his face." Sandor crossed the hall to the cart. He looked at his brother and sneered. "They tell me you suffer every day. That ex-maester took out part of your throat so he wouldn't have to hear you screaming in agony." He paused, looking over the monstrous creature his older brother had become. "You still deserve to suffer more."
Sandor spat on his brother's body and turned away. Everyone was silent and still as they watched him cross the hall to the hidden servant's door. The sharp thud of the door slamming shut caused everyone to shudder. The dragons squawked and took to the air, circling around the room with furiously beating wings, looking for threats. The lords continued to crouch down to make themselves as small as possible. Jaime was already on his knees with Cersei in his arms while Tyrion was already small.
A soft cry came from the open doors. The dragons immediately came to the floor, searching for the source of the sound. Brienne gasped and looked to the horror of Gregor without armor. If looking at him sickened her, a grown, battle-hardened warrior, what would it do to a delicate babe who'd already experienced more trauma than any child should?
"Ela!" she cried, running to the cart. "The babies can't see this."
She and Podrick ran to the center of the room, both grabbing corners of the sheet and pulling it over Gregor just as Moqorro, with Ela in his arms, came into the Throne Room. He was followed closely by Balon, again carrying Ellaria, and the maester's assistants, all carrying the swaddled babies. Brienne, Podrick and Griff grabbed the dragons, keeping them from going to the babies and their terrified holders. The assistants and Moqorro shrank back from the five while Ellaria hid her face in Balon's neck.
Ela shrieked in joy and lunged for Brienne, almost launching herself out of the Red Priest's arms. Slowly, Brienne released Ardayn and Serdun. The dragons remained calm and flew at her back as she crossed the room. Moqorro watched the dragons and shook visibly but held his ground. Ela had no fear of the dragons and strained to reach Brienne. She accepted the slight weight and hugged the baby close. The babe was even stronger and more alert than yesterday, wrapping her skeletal arms around Brienne's neck.
"Brienne, the lords and I will take the other babies to the Dornish ship," Griff said gently. "We'll come back for Ela and Ellaria once they and the priest are settled."
Brienne nodded, unable to speak past the pressure in her throat. She knew Griff was taking the lords away so they wouldn't see how wrenching the separation would be for her. She pressed her face into Ela's soft, sweetly scented neck and inhaled deeply. How could a child dig so deeply into her heart after only a few days? What was the significance of this small babe? She knew the Gods were guiding her and had guided her to Ela. Was it just to save the babies or did Ela have a greater role to play?
The assistants, lords and Moqorro were all eager to leave the Throne Room but the dragons were not. She knelt and placed Ela on the floor so the five could sniff the babe, assure themselves she was well. Brienne looked up at Manfrey, the man who would be responsible for the babies' care. The castellan's eyes were wide with shock as he watched the dragons circle around the happy little girl. Ela fearlessly used Gallan and Allwyn to rise up to her feet.
"Please take good care of her, Ser Manfrey," Brienne requested. "Of all of them."
Manfrey could barely tear his gaze away from the little girl who'd so easily bonded with the dragons. He finally managed to look at Brienne. The castellan's expression was stark and tinged with fear. He nodded slowly.
"I'll guard her with my life, my Lady Ser," he vowed. "These children are under the protection of House Nymeros Martell. They will be safe."
"Catren, Ardayn, Serdun, māzigon naejot issa," Griff called quietly.
Reluctantly, the three dragons left Brienne and Ela to hover above Griff. Ela looked at them and cried sadly. Griff gave the baby a small smile and stepped aside to allow the lords and assistants to leave the room before him. They did so with alacrity, eager to leave the great hall even though Griff still had three dragons with him.
Griff was the last to leave. He smiled encouragingly at Brienne before he left, the dragons flying over his head. Ela, supported by Gallan and Allwyn, toddled after them. The guards stepped into the hallway and left the doors open, allowing Ela to watch the three dragons fly down at the hall above Griff's head. Brienne swallowed down the heavy lump in her throat, blinking hard to keep the sadness from gushing out of her eyes. Podrick looked at her with concern and moved closer to her side. Brienne forced herself to smile to assure him she was fine.
She took a deep breath and looked at the baby only to realize Ela, with her dragon guards, had crossed the threshold into the hallway. She hurried to retrieve the baby. Something, a mother's instinct or a flash of movement at the corner of her eye, caused her to turn her head as she reached the doors. Boros Blount, one of the disgraced Queensguard whom Tyrion had dismissed from Daenerys's service, stood just inside the closed side door, wearing his previous Queensguard armor, and holding a crossbow in his hands. Instantly, she understood what she was seeing.
"Brienne, fire can't kill a dragon!" Griff caught her arm and dragged her away from the railing.
She fought him. "No, but swords and arrows can!"
Her exchange with Griff, so many months ago, when they'd fought off the pirate attack on the Sea Keeper, pounded in her head as a terrifying warning. Even as fear washed over her, she reacted instinctively to protect Gallan and Allwyn.
"Shut the door!" Brienne screamed at Podrick, as she grabbed the heavy door on her side.
Podrick, trained by her daily commands, complied instantly. He grabbed the door on his side and shoved it with an audible grunt. The doors shut just as two bolts lodged into the wood, exactly where the dragons' heads would have been if Ela hadn't led them out into the hallway. Brienne threw the bar into place, locking the doors, keeping the dragons and Ela safely out of the Throne Room.
She heard the dragons screech in fury but ignored them to face the threat in the great hall. Boros, Preston Greenfield, Osmund Kettleback and the two Queensguard, whose names she didn't know, had come into the room. All five wore their previous Queensguard armor and held crossbows, rage and death in their eyes, all prepared to kill the young dragons.
Suddenly Cersei, who'd been a dead weight in Jaime's arms until now, sprang to life. She pulled away from her brother, Widow's Wail in her hand. Jaime tried to grab for his sword but Cersei swung it in a practiced arc, cutting into his good hand. Jaime snatched his hand back and rose to his feet.
"Cersei, what are you doing?" Jaime demanded.
"What I should have done from the very beginning," Cersei snarled. She swung the sword at Jaime again. "Ser Gregor, now!"
Gregor, who'd been as still as death until then, turned his head, his eyes open and glowing red with deadly intent. The former Queensguards advanced into the room. They still had crossbows in their hands. That was their first mistake. Their second was to forget that Balon and Brienne were seasoned warriors and former Kingsguards themselves, armed and able to react instinctively during an attack.
Balon, who'd hastily put Ellaria down, pulled out his sword even as he straightened. He stabbed it through the unfamiliar former Queensguard's unprotected neck. The crossbow fell from the guard's nerveless fingers as Balon caught him and turned to Preston, using the dead man's body as a shield as Preston shot his crossbow.
Pounding came from outside the main doors. Then thuds as if heavy objects were being thrown at the wood. The pounding didn't disguise the dragons' screeches, their fury raising their cries until they echoed even inside the Throne Room. The thudding sound echoed from the other doors, too. The wood shook from the assault but held firm. The former Queensguards had barred the doors from the inside, trapping Brienne, Jaime, Podrick, Ellaria and Balon in with Cersei and the disgraced Queensguard.
"Brienne!" Griff's voice could be heard clearly from the other side.
Brienne wasn't listening. She advanced on Boros, fury and bloodlust crackling like a halo around her. If she or Podrick had been even an instant slower, these disgraceful excuses for men might have killed her dragons, her gifts from the Gods. Boros dropped the empty crossbow and reached for his sword, but it was too late. Brienne slashed his throat open with deadly accuracy.
Podrick pulled her back as a bolt flew by, so close to her head that she felt the disturbance in the air. Jaime growled like the lion he was and brought his golden hand down on the man's wrist, breaking the bones with an audible snap, even through the guard's armor. The man cried out as Jaime smashed his golden hand into the former Queensguard's face.
Cersei ran to the cart and began slashing at Gregor's bonds. Gregor was so strong he didn't need her help. He sprang up, snapping the bonds and slid down the cart to the floor. Cersei tossed Widow's Wail at her bodyguard's feet. Gregor was strong but his bulk worked against him. He reached down for the sword but Brienne was faster. She advanced on the undefeated warrior, kicking Widow's Wail away from him.
"Kill them!" Cersei screamed. "Kill them all!"
"Brienne!" Griff's voice, even more frantic that before, rose above the screeching of the dragons.
Brienne couldn't spare the energy to answer him. She jumped back to avoid Gregor's punch, and slashed out with Oathkeeper. The blade just missed Gregor who responded by kicking Brienne in her midsection. Her distance from the knight saved her from broken ribs but the impact forced the air out of her lungs and weakened her grip on Oathkeeper. She turned away and took the next kick in her side. The impact was enough to throw her to the floor, Oathkeeper tumbling out of her hands.
"Kill them!" Cersei screamed again. "Kill them all!"
Gregor raised his foot over Brienne's head. He was still wearing heavy boots with thick soles. Brienne curled into a ball and threw her hands over her head, trying to cushion the impact of having her unprotected head stomped. A growl made her look up. Sandor flew over her head and plowed his shoulder into his brother's chest. The impact was so great, it shoved Gregor back several feet.
Brienne looked around frantically. Cersei now had another sword in her hand and was trying to get to Ellaria, who cowered helplessly on the floor. Podrick stood over Ellaria, using his own sword to hold the former queen back from her prey.
"Die!" Cersei screamed, rage and madness glittering in her wildfire green eyes. "You'll all die! Kill them! Kill them all!"
Nearby, Jaime delivered a final blow to the man he was fighting. He grabbed the fallen man's sword just in time to block a swing from Osmond. But Osmond had two good, strong hands, armor and desperation on his side. He drove Jaime to his knees with his blows. Suddenly Bronn was at Jaime's side, his sword out and already dripping with blood.
"You highborn arses," Bronn snarled as he battled Osmond away from Jaime. "Didn't think to block the servant's entrance, did you?"
Brienne sat up as her lungs finally began to take in air. Balon was still fighting Preston, two dead Queensguard at their feet. A motion above her caught Brienne's attention. The heavy cloth covering the largest stained-glass window, the one that contained the roaring lion sigil, fluttered though there was no breeze. Underneath it, the formerly golden lion was turning blood red. She stared at it for a moment in blank shock then realized what was happening. The dragons, unable to reach her through the heavy doors, were firing at the window, melting the glass.
Suddenly, the main doors burst open. Griff, with Catren and Allwyn above his head, Tyrion and the Dornish lords poured into the room. The new Sword of the Morning unsheathed Dawn. As soon as the magical sword cleared the scabbard it flew out of Griff's hand. Dawn, the sword that selected its own wielder, that was rumored to have been forged from the heart of a fallen star, streaked across the entire length of the hall. Brienne followed its projection and saw it was headed for Gregor and Sandor, who were both viciously raining blows on each other. Brienne threw herself at Sandor, knocking him away from his brother.
Seconds later, Dawn pierced Gregor's chest with such force it lifted the knight off his feet. He fell with a mighty thud just as the stained-glass window shattered, sending a burst of burning cloth and red glass shards to shower into the Throne Room. Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan flew into the hall. Serdun and Gallan rushed to Brienne while Ardayn unleashed a stream of dragonfire on Gregor. The knight writhed and tried to rolled but Dawn held him fast for Ardayn's relentless assault. Gregor made fierce animal noises in his throat, unable to scream, as a stench worse than death and decay befouled the air.
Sandor, his eyes wide with fear and horror stumbled away from his brother's flailing and rapidly disintegrating body. Dawn, now that it no longer had Gregor's bulk to hold it upright, tumbled into the smoldering remains of the former knight. Laying in the sooty darkness, the magical sword glowed even whiter with life and purpose.
A gleam of steel shone in the sunlight pouring in from the now uncovered window. Brienne, with Serdun and Gallan flying close to her, saw their Valyrian steel swords, Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail, under Gregor's blackened remains. She looked up when she heard a harsh grunt, just in time to see Bronn yank his sword out of Osmond's now dead body. She looked over to check on Balon who was breathing heavily, his own bloody sword in his hand, the Queensguards dead around him.
"No!" Cersei screamed. "You'll die! You'll all die!"
She held her sword in a two-handed grip and rushed towards Podrick and Ellaria. Podrick, still dumbstruck at seeing Ardayn burn Gregor, was too slow to react in his own defense.
"Podrick!" Brienne ran down the hall, Gallan and Serdun flying over her head.
She was too far to reach her squire in time. Just as Cersei's blade was about to cut into Podrick, he threw himself to the floor, covering Ellaria. Cersei stumbled past them then stopped herself and turned around, tears, rage and madness glittering in her eyes Sandor growled again and grabbed Cersei by her neck. Cersei cried out as Sandor wrapped his hands about her pale white throat and shook her, choking the life from her. She retaliated by striking at him with her sword. Sandor released her and staggered away, yanking the sword from her hand in the process. He held his torn side, blood pouring over his hands.
Cersei's eyes bulged out of her head and she clawed desperately at her throat. But, after months of ingesting Qyburn's poison, her nails were too fragile to rip it open, to give her the air her crushed throat could not. Instead her nails tore off, her bleeding hands leaving streaks in the bruises already rising on the damaged, weakened skin. Agony showed clearly in the former Queen's eyes. Brienne gasped as she halted, Gallan and Serdun hovering at her head, and helplessly watched Cersei suffocate. The former queen's face drained of color, her lips taking on a blue tinge, as she tried desperately to draw in air.
Cersei stumbled towards Brienne. "You…" she managed to gasp, rage and madness burning in her desperate wildfire eyes.
Serdun and Gallan shrieked in fury. Brienne grabbed them but not quickly enough. The two released enough dragonfire to set Cersei's gown alight. The former queen was still on her feet and stumbled around as flames ran up her dress.
"No!" Jaime cried out in horror.
Brienne turned to see him grab his sword from underneath Gregor's remains. The sword, now larger and heavier than it had been before, threw him off balance, causing Jaime to stumble. Brienne's eyes widened as she stared at the strangely bigger sword. As Jaime ran closer, she looked at the sword and understood what had occurred.
"Valyrian steel is a special material, stronger and more resilient than ordinary steel," Daenerys noted. "Some say only dragonfire, blended with great magic, can forge such a mighty instrument."
She remembered Daenerys saying those words to her the night she'd called Brienne 'Valyrian steel.' Jaime's sword was so heavy because Ardayn's dragonfire had fused the two swords together. Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail were once again a single sword. Dragonfire, blended with the Gods' great magic, had re-forged House Stark's greatsword, Ice.
Jaime used his golden hand to steady the greatsword. He stumbled to his sister's burning body. Cersei couldn't speak but the suffering in her eyes was too much for her brother. He pressed his golden hand to her breast. The appendage, cold, rigid and unable to transmit sensation, made Jaime incapable of feeling the flames licking against it. Using his golden hand to balance the blade, he plunged Ice into his sister's, his beloved's, still beating heart. The sword emerged from Cersei's burning back and bursts into flames.
It was too much for the dragons. All five rose and fired on Cersei. Suddenly, Jaime's golden hand, still pressed to Cersei's breast, flung back as if controlled by a force beyond his control. He released Ice as his golden hand dragged him away from his sister's burning body and tossed him to the floor. Immediately, Tyrion and Bronn began to stomp on his chest and legs to beat out the flames licking at Jaime's clothes.
"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne cried. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa, please!"
But her pleas went unheard. The dragons would not spare anyone who threatened their mother. They continued to fire and didn't stop until nothing remained of Cersei Lannister, the former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but ashes.
And a burning red sword.
Author's Note: I'm sorry I didn't post last week. The American Thanksgiving Holiday started early and ended late for my family. I didn't have much time to write. For those who celebrated it, I hope you had a safe and wonderful holiday.
So…what do you think? Did you expect the Stark's greatsword to be reforged? Does it mean more than the resurgence of House Stark?