Seated on her chair to the left of the Iron Throne, Cersei Lannister watched as the Great Hall's doors swung open and then the lords of the Riverlands swept in, armor and cloaks in half a hundred different colors. Edmure Tully himself came first, the soon to be former King of the Trident splendid in his bright mail and mud and water cloak. He had foregone a helm in favour of wearing his crown, a plain silver band with three stones; blue, red and green set into it, to represent the three forks of the river Trident. Behind him came his wife, and then Cersei got her first look at the woman who had maimed her brother.
She was pretty, that much Cersei could admit, or at least had been once, but what had been a natural beauty had been destroyed by battle and neglect. She used no powders or paints on her skin, making it easy to see where her face was marred by a long scar running diagonally down her face, from her brow to her cheek, and another just above her chin. Her hair was the well known red that marked members of House Tully, a trait she shared with her brother and sister, though tangled and matted from lack of care. She was tall, and lithe, moving with a deliberate purpose shared by many warriors Cersei had seen in her life, the same way she had seen Jaime move. Seeming careless, yet ready to react at any moment.
Long and short sword swung from her belt, and she was clearly ready to use them, hands never moving far from her waist. Boiled leather protected her body, with a shirt of blue oiled ringmail over that. Gloves covered her hands, with metal studs over the knuckles, and long boots her feet. As she turned to take her position next to her brother, Cersei caught a brief glimpse of a dagger under her cloak, before the red and blue cloth covered the blade once more and Cersei saw only the dolphin this woman had chosen as her sigil.
Such a kind, playful creature was not the sort of choice one expected from a woman bearing such titles as 'Trucebreaker' and 'Witch'. A person looking from afar might even dismiss Alyssa Tully as no threat, despite the weapons she carried, yet Cersei knew better. This was the bitch who had taken Jaime's sword hand, and ended a line stretching back to the time of the Andals landing in Westeros. Even her eyes, though blue pools of water like her siblings, flashed with an icy steel the moment her gaze met Cersei's own green orbs.
Refusing to back down, Cersei met that steel with fire and the lioness stared at the dolphin until Joffrey cleared his throat, Cersei then tearing her eyes away in time for one quick glance to the right at her brother, whose face held the same worry she did. This was where it could all go wrong. If Joffrey provoked these men and women too far, the war would resume and with hardened veterans of war here and armed, the Kingsguard may not be enough to save Joffrey's life if this turned to steel. Of course the Goldcloaks would see that the King's murderers never left the city, but that wouldn't bring Joffrey back.
"I assume, my lords" Joffrey began, lips curving into a gleeful smile, "you have come as promised, to repent your treasons and resume your fealty to the Crown."
"We have, Your Grace" Edmure Tully confirmed. "As promised."
Joffrey's head tilted in mock concern. "Correct me if I am wrong, but did you not also promise to free my uncle Jaime, and all prisoners taken in the fighting?" He made a point of scanning the group before him. "I don't see my uncle here, or any of the others? Have the Riverlands broken their word?" Even as courtiers gasped, Joffrey smirked in anticipation.
"The prisoners were already freed, Your Grace" came Edmure's smooth reply. "They rode west, to return to their homes and families. As for Ser Jaime, he was weak from his long stay in our dungeons. He travels here even now, accompanied by an armed escort for his own protection."
"Armed escort?" Cersei snapped. "Do you take us for fools? You agreed to release my brother, not keep him as a hostage! Do you really expect us to believe the armed guards are for his 'own protection'" she finished, scorn obvious in her voice.
"Yes". Edmure gestured to his younger sister, still standing at his right hand waiting silently. "If you recall, Your Grace, the wound my sister gave Ser Jaime festered, forcing the removal of his sword hand, and after his attempted escape, he was chained to the wall hand and foot to ensure he would not try again." Edmure met the queen's eyes without fear. "When I personally unlocked his chains after we made peace, he was barely able to stand, much less lift a sword or look after himself. His guards are there to ensure he makes it safely, and that no bandits attack him on the road." He thought for a moment, measuring distance and speed in his mind. "At the rate they were going, I expect Ser Jaime to arrive within two weeks, Your Grace."
Cersei's heart leapt at the thought of her twin's imminent return, even as her blood burned at the hurt done to him. Desite how badly she wanted to hack off the Tully bitch's own arm as payment, she knew she could never get away with it. The Tyrells would never support her in such a foolish move, and the Crown couldn't defeat the Tullys in battle without their help. Not to mention if Cersei gave the order it would be a toss of a coin whether or not the Kingsguard could bring Alyssa Tully down before she cut Cersei down. Before she could speak, Edmure Tully moved forward and stood before the Iron Throne.
"Your Grace" the Lord of Riverrun began, for Cersei refused to consider him a king, "my lords and I have come before you to beg your forgiveness for our recent treasons. We allowed our conflict with House Lannister to affect our fealty to the Crown" he bowed his head in well-faked remorse, "and that was inexcusable. We stand ready to forsake our treasons, and live under the King's Peace once more." So saying, he removed the silver crown from his head and knelt before his King. The Kingsguard grasped the hilts of their swords tightly, and none relaxed until the Tully lord had completed the formal vow of fealty that once more bound him to Joffrey's service.
Rising from his seat, Joffrey made his way down the steps and towards the kneeling Edmure, one of the Kingsguard barely a step behind in case Edmure went for his sword. Grinning in delight, Joffrey took the silver band from Edmure and Cersei tensed; watching her son open his mouth, she prayed to every god she knew that Joffrey kept his head despite her own desire for revenge. She could see the Tyrells watching from the sidelines anxiously, and for once was glad of Margaery Tyrell's presence, as the girl smiled at Joffrey, causing him to sigh and quite visibly abandon any plans he had to derail this event.
"You knelt as Edmure Tully, so-called 'King of the Trident'" Joffrey intoned, channeling his most kingly bearing. "There never was such a thing. The Riverlands are under the protection of the Crown, and have been since Aegon united this kingdom. You rise now as Lord Edmure of House Tully, my Lord Paramount of the Trident and Lord of Riverrun. Welcome back to the King's Peace, my lord."
From the corner of her eye, Cersei noticed Roslin Tully, silent until now, offer her own silver circlet to Margaery Tyrell, who accepted it with all the grace of the queen she aspired to be. Alyssa Tully then removed a pin from the inside of her cloak; a copy of the one her brother wore as Hand of the King, yet suiting this woman perfectly, as the pin itself was honed to a razor's edge and long enough to kill a man with, the whole thing resembling a gilded dagger more than a badge of office. Striding forward, she placed the lethal emblem in Tyrion's open hand, who gingerly closed his fingers around it, careful not to slice them off.
With the three Tullys stepping back into the group, Edwyn Frey came forward, the weasel-faced heir to the Twins asking pardon for House Frey's treasons, and then the other Riverlords gave their oaths one by one. Jason Mallister, the man who had slain Gregor Clegane, splendid in his purple cloak and gleaming plate armor, the silver eagle of Seagard on his breastplate. Tytos Blackwood and Jonos Bracken, both glaring at the other as they made their pledge. Fat Clement Piper, sullen Karyl Vance and many others Cersei didn't care to learn the names of, bent their knees and swore their fealty to the Crown once more.
Cersei raised an eyebrow when an old woman came forward, before she saw the woman's colors and knew her as Shella Whent, soon to be Lady of Harrenhal. Though the castle had been granted to Janos Slynt, its restoration had been one of the terms the Tullys insisted upon, and the Tyrells had seen no point in Reachmen fighting and dying so a butcher's son could keep a ruin he would never be able to hold. Still, it burned to have the Tullys dictate this, and her lips were drawn tight as Shella Whent rose once more Lady of Harrenhal and ruler of some of the most fertile lands in Westeros.
Alyssa Tully herself was among the last to give their oaths, and Cersei bit back a laugh at the reminder that despite her former lofty position, Edmure Tully's younger sister was among the least of the lords assembled here. After Lord William Mooton, last of the lords gathered there, had given his oath and risen back to his feet, Joffrey spread his arms, staring down at the Riverlords before him. "Welcome back to the King's Peace, my lords" he proclaimed, tone making it clear the King would be gracious in victory, "let us now draw a line under these past two years and say nothing more of them." Then his warm smile turned cold, and Cersei's blood froze.
"Now" Joffrey smirked, "let us turn to matter of justice. The Crown requested that the traitors Rickard Karstark and Catelyn Stark be brought to King's Landing for trial. Have you done this?"
"Yes, Your Grace". Edmure Tully confirmed, pointing to the rear of the hall, where two knights in Tully colors guarded the former Lord of Karhold, Karstark shooting venomous glares at all who met his gaze.
"Then let the traitor Rickard Karstark come forward" Joffrey commanded, and the lords of the Trident moved to the side to allow the old man, arms shackled in front of him to approach the Throne. His guards grabbed his arms but Rickard shook them off with a sharp pull. "I can still walk on my own" he barked, making his way towards the throne before one of the White Swords stopped him three steps from the throne.
Halted from approaching any further, Rickard merely stood glaring at Joffrey for moments until the Kingsguard, seeing his refusal to kneel before his king, forced Rickard to the floor.
"Rickard Karstark" Joffrey began, staring down at the prone Karstark, "former Lord of Karhold, you betrayed your King by siding with the traitor and so-called King in the North, Robb Stark. You slew loyal men of the Crown, and refused all chances to repent your treasons." The King extended his hand, as if offering it for Rickard to grasp. "I give you one last chance; bend the knee, forsake your false King and I shall forgive your crimes and restore your titles as Lord of Karhold. Your son shall still inherit after you, all you need do is kneel."
It was a generous offer by any terms, and yet a hollow one, as both knew that Rickard would do no such thing. Karstark was a proud, patriotic Northman, and he would rather die than bend his knee to a Southern king. This was nothing more than Joffrey mocking a man soon to die, and Rickard repaid that insult in kind, hawking loudly before he spat at the foot of the Iron Throne.
Joffrey's smile fell away from his face like ice melting under the sun. "So be it" he spat. "Ser Ilyn, take Karstark outside and remove his head." The mute King's Justice nodded silently, already reaching for the hilt of his blade as he turned, only for his King's call to stop him in his tracks. "Wait!"
The tongueless man halted, a questioning look upon his face, and Joffrey smiled, gesturing to Ser Loras Tyrell, who held a large object wrapped in cloth. "Lord Redwyne didn't just bring word of the North's surrender back from Lannisport" grinned the boy king, "he brought this too. I think there's no better sword to use on a Northern traitor." The cloth fell back, revealing the ancient Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark, Ice. Bowing to his king, Ser Ilyn took the huge sword from Ser Loras and headed for the doors, gesturing for Karstark to follow him, which he did rather than suffer the indignity of being dragged.
As the doors swung closed, Alyssa Tully suddenly snapped her fingers, the sound loud in the momentarily silent room. "Speaking of swords, Your Grace" she called, "that reminds me." Reaching into her cloak, she undid a second swordbelt and removed a longsword from her waist, the shape of the weapon having been masked by the cloak and her own sword. Stepping forward, she bent to place the sword in Tyrion's hands. "As agreed, Lord Tyrion, I return Bloodclaw to House Lannister".
"And House Lannister thanks you" Tyrion replied, almost on reflex as he admired the beautiful sword in his arms. His lord father would never have so much let Tyrion touch that sword if he had a choice, yet now Tyrion held his birthright in his hands. His sword, one day, if Jaime remained true to his Kingsguard vows, though that seemed unlikely. "It will be safe in my keeping until I can return it to my lord father." Too short to wear Bloodclaw on his hip, he instead gestured for Bronn to strap the scabbard across his back, and the Imp took his seat again with a Valyrian steel sword jutting over his shoulder.
Hand over his mouth in mirth at the sight, Joffrey could contain himself no longer. "Careful there, Uncle" he choked out in laughter, "I think that sword's bigger than you are." Gentle laughter rolled through the court, Tyrion flushing red briefly as Cersei failed to hold back her own smile, before the doors to the Great Hall abruptly burst open. Ser Loras drew his blade, his other brothers following suit and the Riverlords reached for their own weapons while Joffrey turned red with rage. A hulking figure in blue plate armor marched into the room, followed by several other men and women. From their colors, Cersei made them out to be Stormlanders.
"How dare you interrupt court like this" Joffrey screamed, fists clenched in anger. "Who do you think you are?"
"Apologies, Your Grace" the blue knight called out, voice muffled through his helm, "but we have something important to tell you." Unlatching his helm, he pulled it off and Cersei gasped at the sight before her. It was a woman, or at least she was moderately sure it was, but her face was like that of a man's.
"Who are you?" Joffrey stammered, struck dumb at the sight before him.
"My name is Brienne of Tarth, Your Grace" the woman said, hefting a large bag she carried with her, "and I bring joyous news. The traitor Stannis Baratheon is dead!"
"Dead?" echoed Joffrey, leaping to his feet in excitement. "How? Why? Who killed him?"
"I did" Brienne claimed, jaw set defiantly. "To avenge the death of King Renly, who Stannis murdered with black magic."
"You?" Lord Randyll Tarly stepped forward from his place at the hall, arms folded as his face clearly displayed his scorn. "How could a woman like you overcome a warrior like Stannis Baratheon? And how dare you claim to act in the name of Renly when it was you who slew him."
"Never" Brienne shouted, the sheer vehemence of her denial taking many aback for a moment. "I could never hurt Renly!"
Despite herself, Cersei felt a flash of sympathy for the woman before her, for Renly's habits had been no secret among the court, and Cersei knew Renly would never have loved Brienne back as she loved him. "And so you may have, my lady" Cersei agreed, recognising the name as a vassal House sworn to Storm's End, "but Lord Randyll does have a point. Come" she coaxed the younger woman, her voice gentle. "Tell us who truly slew Stannis, if he even is dead."
"He is dead, Your Grace" called one of her companions, an armored knight whose golden plate bore the blue-green spiral of House Wylde, another powerful Stormlands banner. "I saw it myself." He removed his own helm, placing it on the floor next to Brienne's. "Casper Wylde, Your Grace, Lord of the Rain House. I was there when Stannis was slain, and it was indeed Lady Brienne who did the deed."
"How?" choked out Tyrion, as unable to believe this news as anyone else in the court. That Stannis was not only dead, but at the hand of a woman no less? "How did you manage it, he must have had thousands of men left after the Blackwater?"
Brienne clasped her hands together and stared at Joffrey, her great height allowing her to meet his eyes, despite the Throne's size. "As you know, Your Grace" she began, tone letting him know it would be a long story, "when Stannis laid siege to Storm's End, Renly set out to break the siege with only his horse, leaving his foot behind at Bitterbridge. When the shadow with Stannis' face stabbed Renly" she steadfastly ignored the cries of disbelief from behind her, "I knew who had murdered my King. Renly himself named me to his Rainbow Guard, called me Brienne the Blue." Her fists clenched inside their gauntlets. "My duty was to avenge my King, but Ser Loras" she hurled a glare at the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who met her eyes with his own angry stare, "accused me of killing Renly, and I knew there was nothing I could do there. I couldn't avenge my King if I was dead, so I fled."
"You fled". Lord Randyll's voice mocked her. "You said yourself your duty was to avenge Renly, and yet you ran like a coward?" He shook his head in disdain. "Renly should never have given you that rainbow cloak, and he'd tear it off your shoulders himself were he alive today."
Mutterings of agreement filled the court at this, and Brienne had just grabbed her sword hilt when Tyrion intervened. "Enough, Lord Tarly" he shouted, the small man's voice filling the room with surprising power and silencing the room, at least for the moment. "I sincerely doubt Lady Brienne came all this way to tell us she abandoned her sworn duty, so mayhaps let the lady finish speaking before you judge her."
After a moment, Tarly grunted and stepped back, Brienne throwing a grateful nod to the Hand before resuming her tale. "With Renly dead, his lords went over to Stannis with all their chivalry, as I knew they would. Ser Loras, however" she nodded towards the Lord Commander again, this time without venom, "led a fifth of Renly's horse back to Bitterbridge, intending on claiming Renly's foot before Stannis could. As was my own intention. I knew I could never defeat Stannis alone, but I didn't intend to.
Alone and on a single horse I was faster than Ser Loras and his thousands of companions. I could take back roads and cross small bridges more easily than they, and I arrived in Bitterbridge a week before you" she informed the Knight of Flowers. "The footmen there had heard nothing of Renly's death yet, nor of their lord's defection, had no orders, and I seized that opportunity. I informed the men that Stannis had murdered Renly, and called on any who remembered their vows to avenge him."
"I was joined" she smiled, "by not only the men I had brought with me from Tarth, but also by many others. Renly was loved in the Stormlands, and thousands jumped at the chance to avenge him. By the time we began our march east, we had near three thousand men all pledging to avenge our king."
Lord Randyll frowned. "That would explain why there were slightly less men at Bitterbridge than expected when we arrived" he admitted despite himself. 'Slightly' being a relative term when talking about a host of sixty thousand. "Not to mention the missing supplies. But we had no reports of another army being spotted in the Stormlands, and Stannis was last seen fleeing the capital by sea after his loss at the Battle of the Blackwater! I was there, and I know you weren't."
"True" Brienne nodded, "we weren't at the battle. I knew we didn't have enough men to defeat Stannis' whole host, and that we couldn't take Storm's End, but that didn't mean we weren't going to do what damage to his cause we could. It took Stannis nearly a moon to consolidate his troops and march on the city, and we used that time well. Striking south-east from Bitterbridge, we crossed the Blueburn and moved through the south of the Stormlands, past the ruins of Summerhall, around Crow's Nest and into the Rainwood. Many of the lords there had gone home rather than ride with Stannis, and I hoped to gather more aid to our cause."
"And they just helped you like that?" asked the Lord of Horn Hill, snapping his fingers to underline his point. "It can't have been that easy."
Brienne shook her head, face grim. "It wasn't. It took weeks to march to the Rainwood, and by then the story of Renly's death had spread. Including, my supposed role in it. At Mistwood, Lady Mary Mertyns accused me of murdering Renly and threatened to have my head on a spike for it." The woman smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I offered to prove my innocence with steel, and after I defeated the captain of her guard, Lady Mertyns pledged her support without another thought.
From the Mistwood we moved north-east through the Rainwood to Rain House" she said, taking a drink from a waterskin hanging from her belt, causing Tyrion to summon a page and command the Stormlords be brought refreshment, before Brienne resumed speaking. "Lord Caspar" she indicated the man beside her, "had taken his cavalry home with him rather than serve Stannis, and at the Rain House I had a stroke of luck. He had little love for Renly, but…"
"But I've never forgiven Stannis for what he did" interrupted the Lord of the Rain House. He glanced up at Joffrey, indignant rage still in his eyes, the kind seen by men still smarting over hurts years past. "My brother was Ser Gawen Wylde, master-at-arms for Stannis during the Rebellion. Near the end of the siege, he tried to sneak out a side gate and surrender, along with three of his knights, and was killed for it."
"As any such traitor deserves" Lord Mathis Rowan proclaimed, golden tree of his House shining on his doublet. "I'd have done the same, you're owed no justice, my lord."
"You mistake me, Lord Mathis" growled Wylde, fists clenched in his fury. "Had Stannis merely hung or beheaded Gawen, I'd bury him and say no more of it. But that's not what happened. A few years back, Renly visited the Rain House, and indulged rather heavily of my casks during the feast I threw him. It was then he revealed how my brother truly died." Now Lord Caspar was grasping his sword hilt almost without realizing it, gauntleted fist creaking on the steel with the force of his grip.
"Stannis had my brother and the other knights strapped to the catapults" he spat. "He ordered them flung from the walls."
"I know, my lord" Lord Rowan replied, now more gently. "Renly told Lord Tarly and I this story just before his death."
"Then you'll know that Stannis eventually decided against it, but only because he might need to eat my brother's corpse later." Caspar Wylde shook his head, almost in disbelief. "It would have been kinder for Gawen if he had. Stannis decided not to waste valuable rations on traitors, and my brother starved to death in his cell, a far slower and more painful end. I may have accepted Renly as my lord, but I never forgave Stannis for that, and I swore one day I would even the score." He turned his head and smiled at Brienne. "When Lady Brienne arrived at my gates, asking for men to defeat Stannis, I knew the Seven had finally given me a way to do just that."
Having said his piece, he stepped back to rejoin his fellow lords, while Brienne took up the tale once more. "Lord Wylde gave men, horses and ships" she explained, "which, when combined with ships from Lady Mertyns' Weeping Town, proved sufficient to carry our forces through Shipbreaker Bay along the coast of Tarth. The gods were good" she praised, "and the storms were kind, our fleet arriving at Parchments with only a single ship lost.
At Parchments our strength grew again; Lord Penrose was fond of Renly, and not only did he provide men and ships, but he sent a message to his neighbor, Lady Shyra Errol" Brienne indicated another of their group, a woman in an orange gown bearing the yellow haystack of Harvest Hall, "who also loved Renly greatly. Lady Errol sent all the strength she had left, despite her husband riding with Stannis. We waited a week at Parchments to allow Lady Errol's forces to join us, before we boarded our ships again and took to sea once more.
We had near four thousand men when we left Parchments" Brienne stated, proud of her achievement, and well she might be, for a woman raising such an army in the name of a dead man was not an easy feat. "Foot in the main, but half a thousand horse as well. Nowhere near enough to defeat Stannis in the field, but again, that wasn't our aim. I knew that with Renly's power behind him, it would be only a matter of time before Stannis moved on the city, and when he did, he would take the greater part of his power with him, leaving little to defend Dragonstone."
"You took Dragonstone?" Lord Randyll couldn't believe his ears. "The Targaryens built that citadel to last, even with four thousand men, I can't believe you managed that!"
"We did" Brienne shrugged her shoulders, "and we didn't. Stannis left only a few hundred men to hold the island, and the outer castle fell easily enough for lack of men to man the walls. The inner keep however, as you pointed out, my lord, would have been another thing entirely. I would have lost thousands of men taking it, but there was no need. The port was ours, the walls were ours and the gates were ours. We had the keep surrounded and cut off from resupply, there was no need for haste. We laid our siege, shot down the ravens and waited.
We knew that someone must eventually come to investigate why the castle had not been heard from in some time; either Stannis, or one of his supporters. Either way" her lips curved into a smile" we would either slay the murderer himself, or harm his cause by killing one of his lords or generals. Thanks to Lord Tyrell" Brienne bowed her head towards Lord Mace, who accepted her praise with pride, "Stannis was broken on the Blackwater, and he was forced to retreat to Dragonstone with less than two thousand men. Where I was waiting for him" she pointed out, voice dripping cold venom.
"Our watchtowers saw his fleet approaching, and so I moved my host to the outskirts of the port, leaving only a small force to keep the castle under siege. When Stannis made the shore, I met him on the dock, and challenged him to single combat in front of his men to avenge Renly's murder."
Another man pushed his way forward now, tall, silver-haired, with a pointed beard and the emblem of a fox surrounded by flowers embedded on his breastplate. At the sight of him, Mace Tyrell roared in rage. "You!" The Lord of Highgarden went for his sword, even as Joffrey narrowed his eyes, holding up a hand for Lord Mace to wait.
"And who are you?"
"Alester Florent, Your Grace" the man announced with a courtly bow, "Lord of Brightwater Keep".
"Brightwater Keep belongs to House Tyrell" Lord Mace shouted back. "House Florent has been attainted; stripped of all lands and titles for their support of the traitor Stannis Baratheon."
"Support?" Florent echoed in disbelief. He turned to Joffrey, falling to his knees before the king at the news that his House had ended. "Your Grace, please, it was with our help that Lady Brienne was able to kill the traitor Stannis."
Against his will, Joffrey glanced to Brienne, who nodded slowly. "Lord Florent speaks the truth, Your Grace" she confirmed. "When Stannis' men saw that my host outnumbered them near three to one, many of them lost hope. They believed him the one destined to save Westeros" she mocked, "or so I'm told, and his defeat at the Blackwater had shaken their faith in him. When I gave my challenge, Lord Florent did his best to shame Stannis into accepting, claiming that his king would never lose a chance to show his valour in front of his men. Stannis was forced to accept, or lose what followers he had left.
He fought well" Brienne was forced to admit, though she begrudged praising the kinslayer, "but I had justice on my side, and the Seven smiled upon me. I killed him myself" she drew the sword at her side, and Joffrey noted the antlers forming the guard, "with Renly's own sword." She sheathed the blade again, the energy now seemingly gone out of her. "With Stannis dead, Lord Florent turned his cloak, and since most of the men there were his; what was left of Stannis' men after the Blackwater either threw down their swords, or died upon ours. I left most of my host to continue the siege, while I sailed for the capital, to inform you, Your Grace" she knelt to Joffrey, "that your last enemy is dead."
"A fine story, my lady" laughed the High Septon, crystal crown shining in the afternoon's light, but you've yet to present any actual proof of this."
Brienne gritted her teeth, rapidly running out of patience. "You want proof, Your Holiness" she growled, hefting the large bag she carried with her. "Then proof you shall have. Here!" With that, she hurled it at the High Septon's feet. The neck was open, and it thudded to the ground before falling open, causing many women to scream as a severed head rolled out of it, revealing the stern face of Stannis Baratheon. Halfway through its roll the crown of flames came free, and as it guided by the Seven it slid across the floor to stop at the foot of the throne.
All but leaping from his seat, Joffrey picked up the crown and studied it in his hands. Not familiar with Stannis, he glanced in hope at his mother, who swallowing her disgust, examined the head's features for a few moments, before nodding her head. "It's him, Your Grace" Cersei confirmed.
"It's true then." Joffrey's voice was filled with joy and wonder. "The war is truly over now." He raised his voice, addressing the entire hall. "The traitor Stannis is dead!" The King threw back his head and laughed. "All my knights couldn't slay him, the entire power of the Reach couldn't kill him and yet a woman brings me his head just like that!" Joffrey laughed again, ignoring the offended looks now sported by Mace Tyrell and many of his bannermen. The King then turned to the still kneeling Brienne.
"So great a service deserves an equally great reward. Tell me my lady" Joffrey insisted, "what is your dearest wish? Lands, castles, gold, name it and the Crown will see it done if it is within our power. What is it you want more than anything else in the world?"
Brienne muttered something, and Joffrey frowned. "Speak up, my lady!"
"A knighthood, Your Grace." Brienne flushed red at the laughter rocking the court at that, but held her head up high. Joffrey stroked his chin, considering the notion, before Lord Randyll pushed his way forward.
"Your Grace, I must protest!" The Lord of Horn Hill was staring daggers at Brienne, furious that a woman would even think to lay claim to such an honor. "I agree that Lady Brienne has done you a great service, none can deny that, but the Seven made women for the birthing bed, not the battlefield!" He looked her over in disdain, ready to spit at the sight of a woman in plate and mail. "Besides, the Seven forbid it, do they not, Your Holiness?"
The High Septon suddenly found himself the recipient of the King's glare, and began stumbling over his words. "Well…I...it isn't...forbidden, so to speak, Your Grace, it's...just not...well, done."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "Is that so, Your Holiness?" Recognising that tone, and knowing Joffrey was about to do something foolish, Cersei opened her mouth but was too slow as her son made his decision. "Well I am King, Your Holiness, and I say I will do as I wish. And since you feel so strongly about the matter Lord Tarly" he smirked in triumph, "you can have the honor of dubbing the first lady knight in Westeros."
With the eyes of the court upon him, Lord Tarly could not refuse his King's command and with great reluctance he made his way forward as Brienne bowed her head. Reaching up to his back, still moving slow, as if something were holding him back, he grasped the hilt of his Valyrian steel greatsword, Heartsbane, and for a bare moment, he wondered if it might be worth it merely to cut this insolent woman in two and end this farce here and now. As his eyes met Joffrey's however, the Lord of Horn Hill knew that his King could see exactly what he was planning, and would make House Tarly suffer for it.
Drawing the huge blade, Randyll smashed the flat of the blade into Brienne's shoulder, disappointed that she did not flinch. "In the name of the Father" he began, squeezing the words out through gritted teeth and making it plain to all that he still opposed this, "I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father...". Tarly forced out the formal vows with a face that said he would rather fight a dragon unarmed, before standing back at last. It was done, and pretending otherwise would only shame him further. "Arise, Ser Brienne of Tarth" he said with reluctance, "a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."
The court broke into applause, and Randyll sneered to see tears shining on the woman's cheeks; a knight should show no such weakness. Joffrey clapped his hands sharply. "Congratulation, Ser Brienne" he praised, before his face turned serious. "Alas, we must move forward with other business. With Stannis dead, the Crown is prepared to accept vows of fealty from those who once served him, and pardon their transgressions."
At that, Alester Florent all but threw himself before the Iron Throne. "I swear fealty, Your Grace, and behalf of House Florent, I beg your forgiveness for our treasons."
"House Florent is powerless, my lord" Cersei reminded him. "Your line attainted, your lands confiscated."
"Your Grace, please" Alester begged. "I helped Lady Brienne, you heard her say so yourself, if not for me and my men Stannis may still be alive. Please, show mercy!"
Rising from his chair, Tyrion moved over and whispered in Joffrey's ear. After a few moments, the King grinned and nodded. "As clever as always, Uncle Imp." Tyrion flushed at that, but returned to his seat as Joffrey fixed his gaze upon the pleading Alester.
"Your lands are gone, Lord Florent" he proclaimed, "confiscated for your treason, and even if I were to restore them, I doubt Lord Tyrell would accept you back as his bannerman after your betrayal." Mace Tyrell made his opinion of that known with a loud snort, and Joffrey chuckled. "That said, my lord" he held up a finger to silence the weeping Alester, "you have served the Crown well, and do deserve some reward. During the Battle of the Blackwater, Lord Bryce Caron was slain by a hedge knight, who himself fell shortly before the battle's end.
Lord Caron was Lord of Nightsong, and with his death, House Caron is ended in the male line." Joffrey stared at Alester, who had now fallen silent, waiting to see what the King had in mind. "Only his bastard brother remains alive, and since Rolland Storm served as Stannis' castellan at Dragonstone, I have no desire to reward his treason with his brother's lands. Lord Florent, the Crown would grant you the lands and titles of Nightsong, to be held by you and your heirs, for now until the end of time. Furthermore" he continued, "due to their liege lord's treason against their King, I relieve House Florent of Nightsong of any vows or oaths of fealty to Storm's End. Nightsong and its lands will instead belong to the Reach from this day forward, and House Florent shall serve House Tyrell as loyal bannermen and do them fealty as their rightful lords."
Lord Mace gaped for a moment, before his mouth widened into a smile. At one stroke, the King had not only rewarded Alester's service and sent the message that treason would not be tolerated, but also weakened the power of the Stormlands by a fifth while also increasing the size and strength of the Reach yet further. The Stormlands would be the weakest of the Seven Kingdoms now, no question, and the realm would know the price of treason. Lord Alester gratefully thanked the king for his mercy, before kneeling in front of Lord Mace and giving his fealty oath right then and there. Lord Mace helped his new bannerman to his feet, and Highgarden regained control of Nightsong for the first time since the Storm Kings had taken that stronghold thousands of years ago.
The other lords following Brienne knelt before the King and gave their own oaths, Joffrey accepting each as solemnly as he could. After Lady Errol had given her oath, Joffrey smiled and spread his arms wide. "Rise, my lords, and join me in the new age of peace. The War of the Five Kings is over!" Joffrey commanded Stannis' head be taken to the gates, to be placed upon a spike, then ordered a great feast to be arranged, to celebrate the end of hostilities, and he grinned as his eyes lit upon Catelyn Stark, still waiting patiently in her chains. "Unlock Lady Stark" he commanded, "and set her a place at the table. She can enjoy one last good meal before her trial on the morrow."
Thus Catelyn found her manacles unlocked and herself sitting among the other lords of the Riverlands and Stormlands as they feasted and drank to celebrate the war's end. Wine and ale flowed freely, and the Crown was generous to its guests. Fish, pork, beef and lamb aplenty filled the tables, the wood groaning under the feast's wake, and for a few precious hours Catelyn allowed herself to forget her worries and enjoy herself. Nothing like that lasts forever though, and when the candles burned low, many of the lords departed for rooms prepared for them, while others remained at the table drinking.
As for Catelyn, Ser Loras gently escorted her from the hall, trusting that chains were not necessary, taking her to a highborn cell before locking her in, the Lady of Winterfell left to stare at the door and contemplate what she was sure would be her last night on this earth. There was no way any trial wouldn't be a farce, and she knew that Joffrey would take the opportunity to have her head the moment she was found guilty.
"Mother?"
A voice from behind had Catelyn freezing in her tracks and she turned just in time for her daughter to leap into her arms, Catelyn wrapping her arms around her baby girl, soaking Sansa's red hair with tears as she embraced her after not seeing her in years. Even as footsteps approached from behind, she didn't move until strong arms wrapped around her and Sansa both, Catelyn melting into her husband's hold.
As the lords drank and feasted, the three Starks rejoiced in each other's company, unaware that outside their tower cell, death was making its way towards the door, with bared steel in its fist, and determination in its eyes.