The Keeper
Chapter 43 - Lightning Keeper
Brienne dreamed she was on the tourney grounds outside King's Landings walls again. The ground was a field of dragonglass and silence. She looked around at the burnt remains but no one was there except her. There were no archers positioned on the ramparts, no merchants managing their stalls or Gold cloaks guarding the gates, nor did she hear the noises normally associated with a busy, thriving city. She turned in a full circle and saw no signs of life. Sharp pricks under her feet caused her to look down. She was naked, as she'd been after the dragons' assault, but this time there was no Podrick to bring her a banner to cover herself. She looked up at the walls again. The three-headed, blood-red banners of House Targaryen no longer decorated the walls. In fact, the walls were blank, without banners of any house.
A chill wind caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. Heavy clouds hovered over the horizon, shrouding the daybreak in a blanket of gray. A cry drew her attention overhead. She looked up to see the black dragon flying in slow circles over the capital. As she watched, the color changed from black to dark red, with lighter red markings on its wings. The dragon had become Drogon. Drogon cried out, this time causing a reaction on the ground. A mound of dragonglass shifted and the wolf appeared from under it, its coat almost black from the blanket of soot and dirt. As the wolf walked towards her, its fur became lighter with every step. Brienne realized the darkness was falling off, almost shedding, as the wolf came closer.
A heavy weight pulled on her arms. Brienne looked down to see her arms held out, elbows bent, palms up, as though to receive an offering. As she stared at her hands, a sword appeared on her outstretched arms, close to her elbows. It was the Stark's greatsword, Ice, the Valyrian steel shining as the red-tinged ripples reflected the weak daylight and the melted gold of its dual hilts.
The dragon cried out and Brienne looked up. It wasn't Drogon anymore. Now the dragon was dark green with red markings. It had morphed into Rhaegal. She looked back down at her arms. Another sword had appeared. Firestorm, Griff's Valyrian steel sword, now lay next to Ice in her arms. The sword, with its gold flame licks and empty center oval, was as unique and as powerful as Ice beside it. She looked up and saw the dragon's color had changed again. The green shade was lighter and the markings had changed to orange, Serdun's coloring.
Brienne looked down at her hands and wasn't surprised to see the tourney sword, blackened with age and dirt, resting next to Firestorm in her arms. She looked up to see the dragon was now as blue as the waters of Tarth, matching Gallan and Allwyn's coloring. She looked down at her arms. Lightning, the sword of House Dondarrion, now lay across her wrists. When she looked up at the circling dragon, it was brown with red markings, Catren's coloring. Even as Brienne watched, the brown lightened until it was dark burnished gold. Viserion.
She looked to the wolf, unsure of what she was supposed to learn from her dream. The wolf, now only a few yards away from her, stopped. It had shed so much color, it was almost a pale grey, matching Ardayn's color. She looked down at her hands. Dawn lay across her open palms, its milky surface glowing with purity and purpose. She stared at the five swords, laid out in a neat row, unsure of what to do with them.
Jaime nodded, his eyes dark and haunted. "Ser Arthur allowed me to hold it on several occasions. He even knighted me with Dawn. The blade was so sharp it cut through my armor, cloth and skin. I still bear the scars to this day." He touched his shoulder. "They are my most cherished possessions."
Jaime had said that the day Ned had unsheathed Dawn in the Throne Room. Even as she stared at the magnificent sword of House Dayne, blood pooled in her hands. The sword, sharp enough to cut through armor, was cutting into her palms. The other four swords, resting on her arms, began to prick her skin, all commanding her to see their true value, to see what was not seen.
It suddenly occurred to her that she only saw the dragon and the wolf, both changing, becoming something different than they'd been before. Where were the lion and the eagle? They had been in her dreams before. Her heart began to pound. Had the eagle killed the lion? Had they killed each other? She looked around for them.
There! Another mound of dragonglass shifted, as if in response to her concern. She saw the lion's hind legs kick furiously, throwing off some of the darkness, assuring her it was still alive. As she watched, the eagle, still holding fast to the lion, raised its head and screeched. It unfurled its magnificent, powerful wings with such force, it threw dirt, dragonglass and blood several meters into the air. Brienne closed her eyes and shifted away, trying to prepare herself for the pain of being hit by the debris.
Brienne gasped and sat straight up in her bed, looking around wildly, the dream fading as she took in the reality around her. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing the bright, sunny day, though the sun was so high in the sky, she couldn't see it from her point of view. Serdun, curled up beside her in the sheets, chirped. They'd spent the rest of the day yesterday and, apparently, a large portion of this morning, in bed, recovering from the battle.
If the rest had annoyed her, it had been worse for Serdun. She knew she had to allow her body time to recover and her feet a chance to heal after being cut on the tourney field. Serdun didn't like having its wing bound or being restrained when it wanted to fly. The little dragon, born of magic, was healing rapidly. By the previous evening Serdun, normally calm and stoic, began to angrily burn off its bandages each time Griff finished binding them. Finally, Podrick, who had the unenviable task of caring for both Brienne and Serdun, had suggested putting Serdun in bed with Brienne, so she could hold its wing still. That kept both of them occupied. Though Serdun didn't crave being held the way Catren or Allwyn did, it tolerated being cuddled in Brienne's arms while its wing mended.
Now the green dragon unfurled its wings. Brienne held her breath as Serdun began to stretch out the injured limb. The action didn't appear to distress the dragon, which was a positive sign. Serdun squawked with its usual calm, even tone, another positive sign. Movement at the door between the bedroom and sitting room caused her to look up. Ardayn and Gallan sailed in with Podrick only steps behind them.
"My Lady Ser!" Podrick called happily, a delighted smile stretching across his face. "Serdun."
Ardayn and Gallan screeched, flapping their wings, equally pleased to see Brienne and Serdun awake. The dragons landed on the bed beside Serdun, closer that they would normally stand, indicating how concerned they'd been too. Brienne reached out to hug the two close to her while Podrick gently stroked Serdun's back, between the rows of spikes, careful to keep away from its injured wing. Brienne looked up and noticed something different about her squire.
"Blue suits you, Podrick." She admired the new, deep blue leather jerkin and matching thin wool shirt.
Podrick reddened. "Do you like it? I wasn't sure of the color."
Brienne smiled. "It's perfect."
"How do you feel?' Podrick asked, the color deepening in his cheeks.
"I'm much better, as is Serdun." She nodded to the green dragon, who continued to stretch its wings. "Where's the king?"
"In the council chambers," Podrick reported. "He's meeting with his councilors to assess the damage to the city, the surrounding areas and the people. Thankfully, it appears limited."
Brienne nodded as she released Gallan and Ardayn. She threw the bedsheets aside and swung out of the bed. Podrick drew in his breath as she gingerly put her feet down on the soft rug.
"Does it hurt, my Lady Ser?" he asked anxiously.
It did, but it was bearable. She could sit in the council chambers as easily as she could here. At least there she'd be able to hear and know what was happening in the city.
"I'm fine," she assured. "Give me a few minutes to dress. Take Serdun and don't allow it to fly, not until King Aegon looks at its wing."
Podrick nodded as he swept Serdun into his arms. The dragon squawked indignantly but didn't fight to be free. Podrick paused in the connecting door. Brienne looked up when she saw her squire hesitate and open his mouth.
"My Lady Ser…" he trailed off.
"What is it, Podrick?"
He was quiet for a few more seconds, looking down at Serdun in his arms. Finally, he lifted his head back up, his eyes somber and his mouth turned down at the corners.
"I know I promised you I'd be strong and take care of everything but…" he paused and took a deep breath. "But I'm so glad you're here. Being on the ramparts, thinking I was losing you, I…I…"
He stopped speaking and looked down again, drawing in his breath on a harsh gasp. Brienne felt a twinge in her chest, almost as if her heart ached. Ignoring her tender feet, she crossed to her young squire. Facing her death had been hard for her but it had been harder for those she'd leave behind. Her suffering would have been brief while they would go the rest of their lives with their memories. This was her family, the people who loved her as she was, without expecting her to be anything but herself.
"I'm glad I'm here, too," she agreed.
She put her arms around Podrick and hugged him gently, aware of Serdun nestled between them. Podrick leaned into her embrace while Serdun rubbed its head against her heartbeat. Ardayn and Gallan, picking up on their emotions, also flew to join them. They landed on the floor since there wasn't enough space for them to hover in the doorway. Brienne released Podrick so he and the dragons could wait for her in the sitting room.
His bright smile, when he looked back at her, could rival the sun.
. * * * .
A short while later, Brienne walked to the council chambers, Serdun in her arms, Ardayn and Gallan flying at her head and Podrick at her side. The castle guards nodded respectfully and put their hands behind their backs, to indicate they were no threat to the dragons. Serdun looked around with interest while Podrick opened the chamber door for them.
Griff was standing at the far end of the table, at the position Daenerys normally sat. Tyrion was on his right side and Ned on his left, all three men focused on the parchment laid out on the table. Tanda sat in the seat beside Tyrion also concentrating on the papers. The group looked up when Brienne entered the room.
"Brienne, how do you feel?" Griff came around the table to meet her.
"Very well, thank you, your Grace," she responded formally, aware of the audience in the room and the guards just outside the still open door.
"Good." Griff narrowed his eyes at her as he relieved her of Serdun. He looked her over from head to feet, his gaze stopping on the black flat boots she wore with her black and red dress. "How are your feet?"
"They'll be fine," she assured him
"It's good to see you looking so well, Lady Ser Brienne," Tyrion said, also coming to meet them.
Serdun squawked at Tyrion, twisting in Griff's arms to look at the Hand. Tyrion smiled warmly at the injured dragon.
"And you, as well, Serdun," Tyrion assured soothingly. "I was quite worried about you, little one. Does your wing feel better?"
Serdun squawked again, this time softer, mollified by Tyrion's sincere concern. Tanda and Ned remained near the head of the table. Both nodded politely and murmured their welcome. Catren and Allwyn, who'd been sunning on the sofa by the windows, flew over to join their family. Tanda pressed into her seat, as if trying to put as much distance between herself and the dragons. Still, she looked from Serdun to Tyrion then back to the dragon.
"The dragons understand you," she gasped. "The green one spoke to you and knew what you said in return."
"It didn't understand my words, Lady Tanda," Tyrion corrected. "The dragons understand the tone of my voice, interpret how I interact with them and sense my feelings towards them and those they love. Dragons are extremely intelligent, understand emotions and intent, and are able to learn commands and battle strategy."
Tanda looked at the five dragons. "I heard they flew formations, protected each other and fought off those terrible creatures."
"They did, indeed, my lady," Ned confirmed. "They protected Lady Ser Brienne and Serdun, the injured dragon, when it was struck down."
"Speaking of which, where is the sword?" Brienne asked.
"Ser Balon went to retrieve it from the smith," Tyrion explained. "I sent it to be cleaned. It won't be possible to study it until it's clean."
"Brienne, sit down," Griff urged. "You need to rest your feet."
Her feet were starting to ache. Brienne sat in the seat next to Ned's position. It allowed her to see the parchments on the table. The papers were various maps, a large one of King's Landing, and smaller ones of the Crownlands, the southlands and of Westeros. Griff went back to his position at the head of the table, while Tyrion, Ned and Tanda returned to their seats. Podrick quietly slipped into the chair next to Brienne while the dragons, minus Serdun, went to sun themselves near the windows. Serdun twisted its neck to watch their flight but settled unprotestingly in Griff's lap.
"Serdun stretched out its wing only a short time ago," Brienne informed him. "It didn't appear to cause it pain."
"No pain from a sword wound inflicted only yesterday?" Griff ran his fingers along Serdun's wing, over the injury point. His eyebrows lifted when Serdun looked up at him calmly, giving no indication of pain or discomfort.
"Serdun is born of magic, that might speed up its healing," Tyrion suggested.
"You said fire closes wounds," Brienne reminded him. "Serdun sustained direct dragonfire."
"As did you, my Lady Ser," Ned noted softly. "And Prince Aegon ran through the burning fires, not around them. His clothes burned but he wasn't harmed, either."
"Brienne had to walk over dragonglass with bare feet." Griff's voice was tight and grim, the memories of the previous day still fresh. "That's what cut her."
"Even dragons have vulnerabilities," Ned concluded.
Griff looked at Brienne, his features perfectly composed but his eyes stormy. Something intense and potent darkened his indigo eyes to almost black. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, as a wave of energy passed from him to her.
"Yes," Griff agreed, his voice smooth and even, in contrast to his fiery eyes, "they do."
The other four dragons, picking up on Griff's spiking emotions, sat up on the sofa and table next to it, sniffing the air. Tanda, sitting across the table from the dragons, cringed in her chair. Ned, with his back to the dragons, stiffened but remained in his seat. Podrick looked from the dragons to Griff then back to the dragons but remained silent.
Brienne looked back at the dragons, too. She knew the five were as anxious and emotional as Podrick and Griff were. The terror of the battle against the Army of the Dead hadn't faded from anyone's mind. They would all be on edge for the next few days. Nothing she did would erase the anxiety so it was best to move forward, try to develop a strategy for protecting Westeros from future attacks.
"Did anyone see the Night King or whoever led the attack?" Brienne questioned.
"No, no one." Jaime, just coming through the door, answered.
He walked into the room, Bronn beside him. Both nodded upon entering. Brienne blinked as she looked from Jaime to Griff. Griff nodded in return, his expression calm and civil. Jaime had never shown respect to Griff before, just as Griff had always shown disdain for Jaime. Now they seemed to be able to tolerate each other. The hostility between the Prince of Dorne and the Lord Commander had eased to a workable level. Even Bronn, who had always been flippant and dismissive of those in authority, looked serious and sober.
Brienne's eyes widened as she turned back to the Lord Commander. Though Jaime still had fading bruises from Cersei's attacks, his features were firm and controlled, his shoulders straight and his posture tall. He looked younger somehow. Then she realized she'd only known Jaime during his lowest points, during times of stress or suffering. Now he looked strong and sure, with a confidence she hadn't seen in him before. Jaime wasn't aware of her realization and continued his report.
"I checked with all my officers. They each report the same thing. Waves of the dead came at the capital and the skies were filled with cold, heavy clouds. Then, as soon as the big dragons began to fire on the dead, the clouds thinned and started to break up. No one saw anyone or anything that seemed to be controlling the creatures." Jaime looked back at Bronn. "Did you hear anything else?"
Bronn shook his head. "No. The archers only talked about firing on walking horrors, being fired at by very big dragons and the female knight who survived both."
He looked pointedly at Brienne, who blushed to the roots of her hair. He raised his eyebrow at her embarrassment.
"Huh, funny you should blush at mere words today," the knight said. "When just yesterday you showed all of King's Landing your –"
"Bronn!"
Jaime, Griff and Tyrion hissed his name, almost in unison, and glared at the knight. Serdun, still in Griff's lap, hissed. The dragons, already tense, sat up to watch the blunt knight, but remained by the windows. Tanda hunched further down in her seat. Ned twisted so he was sideways in his chair and no longer had his back to the windows. Bronn glanced at the dragons then at the men's angry faces and shrugged.
"Well, she did," he insisted. "Anyone with eyes in their head knows she's a Targaryen. Normal people burn when they're fired on by dragons. Trust me, I know." He tugged on the singed hem of his jacket. "She can't hide it now. Her blood comes from dragons."
Jaime, Tyrion and Griff relaxed while Ned and Tanda looked at the three men in confusion. Bronn snorted at their reactions. Podrick ducked his head and slouched in his chair, as if trying to make himself disappear. The young dragons settled back onto the table and sofa to return to sunning themselves, except poor Serdun, who strained its neck towards the sunshine.
"I have some dragon blood but I'm the daughter of the Evenstar of Tarth," Brienne said quietly, willing her blush to fade. "Home of blue waters and abundant fishing."
"Well, they must be putting something special in the water if they're breeding dragons," Bronn retorted. "Evenfall Hall is sounding better and better. I bet I'd be a great Evenstar."
Griff growled and half-rose, even with Serdun in his lap. Jaime hissed in his breath as his glare returned full force. Tyrion massaged his forehead as if it pained him. They were all distracted when Balon arrived with several young men.
"Your Grace," Balon nodded politely as he entered the room.
"Welcome, Ser Balon," Griff sat back in his seat." Are these the swords I requested?"
"Yes, they are," Balon confirmed. "The smith's apprentices have brought them."
Balon stepped aside but the boys remained in the hall, their eyes wide as they stared at the young dragons. None of them moved to enter the room. Bronn rolled his eyes and turned to the boy closest to him. The apprentice eagerly handed over his burden and backed away from the door, bowing repeatedly. Jaime and Balon collected the rest of the swords from the other boys and carried them over to the table.
Brienne studied the weapons they put down. The grips were covered in rough cloth but nothing could hide the distinctive swirl design seen only in Valyrian steel. All except one sword. That one was an ordinary steel, most likely the weapon that had harmed Serdun. Griff nodded to Podrick, who began to unwrap the grip of the sword closest to him. Brienne eyes widened when the cloth was removed and she saw the cords binding the hilt. She looked over to Griff. He caught her gaze and smiled slightly.
Griff rose from his seat and motioned to Podrick. Her squire hurried to him and gently took Serdun from his arms. The dragon yelped indignantly but calmed when Podrick carried it to the windows. Catren and Allwyn, who were already sunning themselves on the table, moved aside to make room for Serdun. Everyone turned to watch the green dragon extend its wings, the sunlight gilding the orange markings, making the dragon look as if it were a part of the sun itself.
"He's healing," Tanda whispered, straightening in her chair.
"It's healing," Tyrion correct. "Dragons are genderless, neither male or female."
Tanda huffed. "That's convenient. No fighting over what roles men or women are supposed to play. Imagine the conflicts we could avoid if humans were genderless."
"I wouldn't want that," Bronn said. "I like the difference between men and women. It makes life interesting."
Tanda looked over at Bronn. "Did you hear that fool Wyllis Bracken got himself killed? My Lollys is still unmarried."
"I didn't know that." Bronn glared at Jaime. "Why didn't I know that?"
Jaime shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind, what with all the other problems we're dealing with currently."
Griff walked over to them. "Lady Tanda, I've not had the pleasure of meeting your Lollys but I'm sure she's charming. However, I'd like to return to the matter at hand."
"Of course, your Grace," Tanda reddened and nodded respectfully.
Griff picked up the unwrapped sword from the table. The pommel was bound in simple cords of crimson and gold with no ornamentation on the hilt. Even without adornments, the sword was beautiful, slim and elegant. Griff turned to Jaime, the blade resting on his arm.
"Since you no longer have Widow's Wail, I thought this would be a satisfactory replacement." Griff held the sword, with the hilt on his right forearm, out to Jaime.
Jaime's face was wiped clear of expression. He stared at the fine Valyrian steel then up at Griff. "You're giving this to me?"
"You are the Lord Commander," Griff noted. "Take it."
Jaime reached out with his right arm. His golden hand, now mishappen, clinked against the fine Valyrian steel blade. He quickly put that hand behind his back and took the sword hilt with his left hand. Carefully, he held it out to check the balance.
"I'm not very good with a sword in my left hand," Jaime confessed.
"Then you should practice more so you don't embarrass yourself," Griff suggested, but his words no longer had the harsh bite they would have had previously.
"Ser Jaime, what will you name it?" Brienne asked.
Jaime looked at the sword again, as if the name might be engraved on the metal. After a long moment he looked up.
"My family used to have a Valyrian steel sword called Brightroar. It was lost a long, long time ago. That sword symbolized the greatest days of House Lannister, the time the lions shone with power and purpose. Now we're at the end of our days, our light dimmed but not yet lost. I'll call this sword Darkroar."
Brienne frowned at the heavy sadness in Jaime's eyes. Even with his newfound confidence, the past still held him. But he'd taken the first steps to free himself of those chains. His future was now only his to command. She shifted her attention away when Griff turned around with the next unwrapped sword. This one was bound in cords of black and blue.
"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, this is for you," Griff announced.
Unlike Jaime, Bronn didn't hesitate to take his Valyrian steel sword. It was wider than Jaime's but still elegant and fine. Bronn stepped back and took some practice swings. The dragons sat up and squawked, but not in distress. They were encouraging Bronn, who twirled and stabbed an imaginary opponent for their entertainment.
"She's a sweet lady," Bronn marveled, holding the sword up to catch the light.
"A sweet lady," Tyrion repeated. "So that's what you're looking for now? A lady with a sweet temperament?"
Bronn shrugged. "Temper doesn't matter to me. I can hold my own. As long as fortune smiles upon me."
"That's a good name for your sword, Ser Bronn," Podrick suggested as he unwrapped the next sword. "For you value nothing as much as fortune."
Bronn considered then nodded. "Fortune, huh? You know, I like it. Good Fortune is my future."
Griff, his back to the knight, rolled his eyes before taking the next sword from Podrick. This one was wrapped in cords of black, white and gold. Brienne heard Balon's indrawn breath when Griff offered it to him.
"Ser Balon, your courage and chivalry are a credit to House Swann," Griff said quietly. "May this sword remain as strong and steadfast as you are."
Brienne's heart clenched at the wondrous, uncertain pleasure lighting up Balon's face. That must have been how she looked when Jaime gave her Oathkeeper. That anyone would consider her worthy of such a rare and fine piece was an honor she hadn't imagined. Balon's sword was as large as Oathkeeper had been, a perfect fit for the big, brawny knight.
"Thank you, your Grace." Balon received the sword carefully and, like Jaime, held it out to test its balance.
"What will you call it, Ser Balon?" Brienne asked.
Balon looked at the sword, his brows furrowed. "I don't know, my Lady Ser. I never thought I would have such a fine weapon."
"May I offer a suggestion?" she asked hesitantly.
Balon smiled warmly at her. "I would consider it an honor for you to name my sword, my Lady Ser."
Brienne blinked. The open warmth in the gallant knight's face couldn't be false. He was truly inviting her to name his sword. The jolt that went through her was the same as the one she'd felt when Ned had said it was an honor for her to hold his family's irreplaceable sword.
"It's said that you are an extraordinary weapon, too," Ned remarked, his beautiful purple eyes dark and solemn. "Perhaps this moment was fated. The sword of the Gods now holds the sword of the stars."
That tender place deep inside of her that used to shirk away from praise ached, but not painfully. The constant warmth and acceptance from her family and generous people like Jon, Daenerys and Sansa had taught Brienne there were those who truly admired and liked her. The honest, open acceptance of men of honor like Balon and Ned was genuine.
"Valiant," Brienne said softly. "If your sword is a reflection of you, Ser Balon, it will be Valiant."
Balon's smile grew wider, almost a grin, making the large knight look like an excited, overgrown boy instead of a sober, mature man. He nodded and looked at his new sword with pleasure.
"Valiant," Griff repeated. "It means possessing courage and determination. An excellent name for your sword, Ser Balon."
Ned, Tanda and Tyrion murmured their agreement. Balon puffed with pride as he removed his ordinary sword from his belt and carefully sheathed Valiant. Brienne looked around at the others. Podrick, seated next to her, nodded in approval. Bronn was too busy admiring his own sword to pay attention to Balon's. Jaime looked down at Darkroar, his expression shuttered. Brienne felt the twinge in her heart again. She knew Jaime had deliberately given his sword a sober name to remind him of his, and his family's, failings. Still, Jaime had taken the first steps to redemption. He had protected the people of King's Landing and led the army of men with admirable courage and swiftness.
Griff nodded and turned back to the two remaining swords. Podrick unwrapped the ordinary steel sword and gasped. Everyone turned to look at her squire.
"What is it, Pod?" Tyrion asked, rising up on his chair to see the sword. "What's wrong?"
Podrick pointed to the base of the steel blade with a shaky hand. "I recognize this sigil. I saw it on a shield in the armory at Evenfall Hall on Tarth."
Brienne leaned forward as everyone, except Bronn and the dragons, crowded closer to see the sword. The weapon was long and slim, wrapped in a simple black cord, unremarkable except for the sigil etched into the steel. It was a five-point shooting star arching over an elm tree.
"Ser Duncan the Tall," Brienne gasped. "This is Ser Duncan's sword!"
The icy chill ran down Brienne's spine again. She remembered her dream; of the line of swords she'd held. The swords were important. The Gods were telling her she'd overlooked something crucial. She looked up at Podrick. His face was blank of expression he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.
"A weapon belonging to Ser Duncan the Tall, your ancestor, attacked the dragon you named after him? Ser Duncan attacked Serdun?" Podrick shook his head. "How is that possible?"
"Ser Duncan didn't attack Serdun, his sword did. It's a message." Brienne groaned. "The Gods are trying to tell me something but I don't understand."
She told them about her dream from the night before, of holding the five swords, including, unknowingly, the sword of Ser Duncan. She also described the dragon and wolf who changed colors, and the lion and the eagle, still bound, freeing themselves from the dragonglass.
"It means something, I know it does." Brienne pressed her fingertips to her forehead, "but I don't understand my dreams until after whatever I've seen comes to pass."
"My Lady Ser's previous dreams about the dragon, the wolf, the lion and the eagle have all come true," Podrick explained. "She dreamt of the fall of House Lannister, how Lord Qyburn would lead to its destruction, and of the existence of the Valyrian steel armor and Ser Beric's Valyrian steel sword, Lightning."
Podrick launched into retelling Brienne's previous dreams, helped with input from Tyrion. Jaime, Bronn and Balon sat down at the table as Griff, Ned, Balon and Tanda listened attentively. Once Podrick was finished, they all turned to stare at Brienne.
"I agree that your dreams are prophetic, especially since you didn't know about the Valyrian steel armor or Lord Beric's sword before you saw them in your dream," Ned agreed. "The meaning of this dream will be clear in time, too. What I question is this sword itself. How is it that the sword was even here? Ser Duncan perished in the tragedy at Summerhall that ended the reign of King Aegon the Fifth."
"I can answer that," Jaime responded soberly. "It was after a tourney. Ser Barristan told me the story."
"Ser Barristan?" Tyrion repeated. "Ser Barristan Selmy, the only swordsman in the known world who could rival Ser Arthur Dayne?"
"Yes." Jaime nodded. "Ser Duncan was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard at the time. He competed in a tourney here at King's Landing. Both he and Prince Duncan were defeated by Ser Barristan, who was knighted by King Aegon the Fifth after his victories."
"How does this relate to the sword?" Griff leaned forward to listen to Jaime's story.
"Ser Duncan was so upset by his defeat that he drove his sword into the ground when he went back to his tent. He was so strong, or so angry, he buried it past the hilt. No one dared to remove it. Then, when the tourney ended, the sword was missing. Some said Ser Duncan had removed it, others said Ser Barristan or another knight took it as a trophy. Now it appears that Ser Duncan, or perhaps the Gods, buried it completely. In time, it was forgotten, until it attacked Serdun."
Almost as one, everyone turned to windows. Serdun, who was relaxing on the table with Catren and Allwyn, looked back at them with a calm gaze. It appeared to be fine, though it hadn't been allowed to use its injured wing. Podrick was the first to look away and turned his attention back to Jaime.
"Ser Jaime, what is this sword called?" Podrick asked.
Jaime frowned. "I don't know. I don't think Ser Duncan named it."
Brienne reached out for the weapon. It was longer but slimmer and lighter than Oathkeeper had been. She ran her fingers gently over the engraved shooting star.
"Would you like to have it, Brienne?" Griff asked. "As Ser Duncan's kin, you have a right to it."
"Thank you, your Grace." Once again, she traced the engraved shooting star. "It would be an honor to have this sword."
"It's not Valyrian steel," Bronn noted.
Brienne smiled and looked up. "I don't need Valyrian steel, Ser Bronn. I have dragonfire to protect me from Wights."
"True." Bronn looked back at the dragons and nodded. "Any chance I can trade a fine Valyrian steel sword for a dragon?"
"No." Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. "Not for all the Fortune in the world."
Bronn shrugged. "It was worth a try."
"My Lady Ser, what will you name it?" Podrick asked.
Brienne laid the sword on the table and studied it. "I'm not sure."
"Perhaps something that associates Ser Duncan with Tarth?" Podrick suggested. "Ser Duncan's sigil has a shooting star and the lord of Tarth is called the Evenstar. You could call it Starshine since the sun and the moon, on Tarth's sigil, also shine."
Brienne stared at the sword. "Starshine. Is that a name Ser Duncan would have selected?"
"Ser Duncan isn't naming this sword, you are." Griff pointed out. "It should be a name that has meaning to you."
"If not starshine, how about Bright Star?" Podrick offered. "That would work well with the Tarth house words."
"I don't believe I've ever heard the words of House Tarth," Tanda commented. "What are they?"
Podrick sat up straight and smoothed down his new, Tarth-blue jacket. "The words of House Tarth are 'Ours is the light.' It seems that even my Lady Ser's ancestors knew that she would be the light in the darkness, the Lightbringer."
Brienne blushed. "No, Podrick. Those are our words because we keep the port fires burning. The lights of Tarth can be seen from most southern ports on the Narrow Sea. It allows sailors to find the port without triangulation."
"Triangulation?" Podrick repeated. "What's that?"
"It's a navigational method that allows a ship to find its destination by knowing two points of reference and creating a triangle to find the third," Griff explained. "What do you think of Bright Star, Brienne?"
"I like it." Brienne smiled at Podrick. "Ser Duncan's sword shall be known as Bright Star."
Podrick smile morphed into a grin, clearly pleased she'd accepted his suggestion for the sword's name. He blushed when everyone else looked at him and looked down to hide it. Then his eyes widened.
"There is still another sword here, your Grace." Podrick reached out to unwrap the last sword.
The weapon he revealed was long and slim, corded in lilac and white, with an ornate silver five-pointed star affixed to the pommel. Brienne looked over at Ned, who's purple eyes widened as Griff rose to take the sword from Podrick. Griff turned to Ned with the Valyrian steel sword in his arms.
"I've taken Dawn from you, cousin, for now. I vow, when the time comes, Dawn will return to the mantel at Starfall to await the next Sword of the Morning. I know this sword isn't Dawn but it's for you, Lord Ned." Griff offered the new sword to the young lord of House Dayne.
Like Balon, Ned took the sword with care, staring at the clean, sharp lines, the distinctive rippled Valyrian steel and the silver star affixed to the pommel. The lilac cords were an exact match for the lilac emblem pressed into his jacket, the sigil of House Dayne, a white sword crossed with a falling star. Ned looked from the sword to the Prince of Dorne and nodded. He put his new sword down on the table and reached for the sword in the sheath on his hip.
"Thank you, your Grace. Yesterday, in the rush to arm ourselves for the battle, I took Lord Beric's sword," Ned confessed as he laid Lightning, the sword of House Dondarrion, on the table beside his new sword.
Griff nodded. "You squired for Lord Beric and he's betrothed to your aunt. It's understandable that you would take his sword."
"What will you name it?" Tyrion asked, studying the two Valyrian steel swords on the table.
Brienne also looked at the table. Ser Duncan's ordinary steel sword lay beside the two Valyrian steel weapons. Though all three swords were well-built and sturdy, the blades of House Dondarrion and House Dayne were clearly superior. Bright Star had been cleaned and polished but, like all ordinary steel, it would need to be oiled and sharpened frequently. Still, Brienne was thrilled to have it. It was another connection to the greatest ancestor in her lineage. She reached out to touch the hilt.
An icy chill slid down her spine, causing her to shudder visibly. Griff and Podrick both looked at her with concern. Even the dragons turned to her, squawking at her sudden emotional spike. Ned raised his head from admiring his new sword to look at her, causing everyone to look at her.
"What is it?" Griff demanded. "Brienne, are you unwell?"
"No, your Grace," she assured him. "I'm fine. I just had an odd feeling."
"Odd, in what way?" Griff asked, frowning. "Perhaps you should return to your room to rest."
"I'm resting now," she insisted. "Sitting in a chair isn't stressful. Plus, I'd like to hear Lord Ned's name for his sword."
She composed her features as Griff looked at her with concern. Ned turned back to his sword, and the others did the same. Griff continued to study her for a moment but then returned his attention to Ned. Brienne slowly released her held breath. She knew she hadn't distracted Griff for long. He had an excellent memory for details and would ask her about her shudder later. Maybe by then, she'd understand her odd reaction to touching Bright Star.
"I think Starfall is a wonderful name," Podrick offered hesitantly. "It's a name associated with honor, courage and Ser Arthur Dayne. Can your home and your sword have the same name?"
"They can, Podrick," Ned assured. He looked down at the two weapons. "I agree, Starfall is an excellent name for House Dayne's Valyrian steel sword. In a way, Starfall is even a good match for Lightning as both a falling star and lightning can split the world and change a man's fate."
Brienne glanced down at the three swords laid out on the table: Bright Star, Lightning, and Starfall. Ser Duncan's sigil caught her eye. It struck her how similar the shooting star on Bright Star was to the falling star on House Dayne's sigil.
Bright Star, Lightning, and Starfall.
Two hurtling stars separated by streaks of lightning.
Brienne froze, eyes widening, blood flushing her face and icy cold chills racing up and down her spine as she stared at the swords. The saltwater priest had given her the vital clue the first day she arrived in Braavos. The Gods had been trying to remind her, with words, dreams and even physical jolts, when she touched the swords, but she hadn't been able to comprehend their message. Now, finally she understood what the Gods' had been trying to tell her.
"Oh!" She jumped to her feet so fast her chair toppled over.
She gasped at the sharp pains in her still healing feet and put her hands on the table to steady herself. The dragons screeched, causing everyone else to jump up and look around in frantic concern. The five puffed up and extended their wings as they absorbed Brienne's startled shock and sudden pain. Podrick lunged for the table to gather up Serdun before it over-extended its injured wing. Griff crossed to Brienne in two large strides and caught her arms to steady her.
"What is it?" he asked, "Brienne, what's wrong?"
"Lord Ned, he said what you said," Brienne stared at Griff. "You said it and I didn't understand it then. I understand now."
"Calm yourself, Brienne," Griff soothed. "What did I say? What do you understand?"
Balon came up beside her to pick up and settle her chair. Griff guided her into the seat as Podrick returned with Serdun in his arms. Everyone stood, looking between Brienne and the dragons, aware they shouldn't sit while their monarch stood. Griff nodded to them as Brienne sat down. Griff leaned over her, a worried frown marring his beautiful face. Brienne breathed rapidly, her heart racing with her new knowledge.
"The saltwater priest in Braavos," she explained breathlessly before turning to Podrick. "We met him the first day. He gave us the clue about the stars but I didn't understand."
"Brienne, take deep breaths," Griff ordered.
Ned brought over a goblet of water for her. Brienne took it with both hands, shaking so strongly the water sloshed over the rim. Griff put his hand over hers to steady them as she drank.
"What was it, Podrick?" Jaime demanded. "What did the priest say?"
"On the dock in Braavos?" Podrick frowned as he thought back. "First he gave her clues to find Lady Sansa. Then he said 'Look carefully. You must see what is not seen.' I remember because he seemed stronger when he said it."
Jaime's brows wrinkled. "That has nothing to do with stars."
"No, after that." Brienne put the goblet on the table. "He talked about the stars. Why didn't I understand it then?"
She shook her head and stared at the swords again. How could she have missed it for so long? Griff looked impatiently from Brienne to Podrick, his eyebrows raised in question. Podrick looked at Brienne with concern before turning back to Griff.
"The priest said 'You are chosen. Your destiny was foretold in the stars before you were born.' That was all he said about stars," Podrick recalled.
"Before you were born," Brienne repeated and touched Bright Star's pommel.
Griff also looked at the sword. "What does this have to do with Ser Duncan's sword?"
Brienne nodded to the trio of swords. "Bright Star, Lightning, and Starfall." She touched each of the three swords in turn. "You said it yourself, then Lord Ned said it."
"Said what?" Tyrion demanded. "We don't understand."
Brienne looked up at the Hand. "Lord Ned said 'Starfall is even a good match for Lightning. Sometimes both a falling star and lightning can split the world and change a man's fate.' King Aegon, when we first found Lightning, said 'A single streak of lighting can split the world, change a man's fate and create a Firestorm.' I thought firestorm meant King Aegon's Valyrian steel sword, but it didn't. It meant what it was."
Griff looked at Podrick then at Tyrion. Both shook their heads at him, equally confused. Griff turned back to Brienne.
"Brienne, we still don't understand." Griff shook his head. "Explain it to us."
Brienne turned from the swords on the table to look at her king. Griff's expression was a cross between frustration and concern. The dragons, at the windows behind him, were also tense, puffed and anxious, aware of her startled shock and racing heartbeat. She put her hand on Griff's arm, giving her a steady point to focus her whirling thoughts. She followed his advice and took a deep, steadying breath. Her body relaxed and her chaotic thoughts calmed.
"Griff, what important event occurred the night we were born?" Brienne asked, releasing his arm. "Why did Rhaegar believe you were the prince that was promised, one of the three heads of the dragon?"
"The red comet," Griff answered. "We were both born under it."
Brienne nodded. "A comet, a type of shooting star. What is Dawn supposed to be made of?"
Griff paled as understanding darkened his indigo eyes. "The heart of a fallen star."
"What happened when lightning struck the men who attacked the first Lord Dondarrion?" she continued. "What happens when a star, like a streak of lighting, hits the ground?"
Griff's eyes widened. "It splits the world, changes a man's fate and creates a firestorm."
She took a deep breath. "I'm the daughter of the Evenstar, born at Evenfall. Evenstar, Evenfall. Evening star, evening fall."
"Evening starfall," Griff gasped. "The location where a shooting star fell. You think the fire that broke out before you were born wasn't caused by lightning. You believe it was where the red comet hit the ground."
"Lady Ser Brienne," Ned rose from his seat. "Do you mean there's another fallen star that can be turned into a weapon? There's a mate for Dawn buried on Tarth, at a second Starfall?"
Brienne looked at the swords laid out on the table, then up at the faces of the council members surrounding them. They all looked shell-shocked, wide-eyed and confused, trying to accept what she was saying.
"The Gods are guiding us," she reminded them. "They knew someday the army of men would battle the Army of the Dead. They're helping us by planting clues for us to find, when the time was right. House Dayne's sigil is a shooting star, their house, Starfall, built on the location where a star fell. Ser Duncan's personal sigil is also a shooting star, on a shield stored by the Evenstar at Evenfall, an evening Starfall. Yes, I believe there is something very, very important buried outside my birthing chamber at Evenfall Hall."
Ours is the light. The words of House Tarth were meant to remind the Evenstar and those who lived at Evenfall Hall to guide the people under their care. Selwyn Tarth had taken those words to mean the Evenstar must be a light among men, and had taught his daughter his values. It was those beliefs, of honor, duty and service, that had led Brienne to leave Tarth, to serve King Renly, then Lady Catelyn; to becoming the Gods' warrior and the keeper of their dragons; and finally, to become the sworn sword for the wielder of Dawn.
Now it seemed the Evenstar was also a keeper of the Gods' gifts. Could there be a second Dawn on Tarth? Dawn was more powerful than Valyrian steel, a conduit of magic and able to destroy Wights with a mere touch. It was so important a weapon, the Gods had allowed another Sword of the Morning in a single lifetime when, previously, generations had passed before the world was honored with such a glorious warrior.
Ours is the light. The Evenstar and his descendants were charged with carrying that light into the world. That light guided people, illuminated their path, created a focused point to steady them in the worst of conditions and gave them a beacon in the darkest of nights.
Could that light be bright enough to lead them all out of the Long Night?
Author's Note: So, who figured out the importance of the saltwater priest's words? Did the clues I seeded make sense? Do you think this might be the break the army of men need to survive the Long Night? Please let me know your thoughts. I'm working very hard on creating this story for you. I want to make sure I'm on the right path.