Light, just a glimmer.
Within a moment, his eyes adjusted and Brandon wondered if he had ever been asleep at all. His mind was as alert as it had been just before he slept.
He'd gone to sleep thinking of justice - and he awoke without it having left him, so devoted was the desire. From the day he watched his father burn before him, everything was different. And now everything he did had to be focused on that, on justice.
One thing he would admit however was that it came in different shades.
With a swift movement, he rose from his bed - no, not his bed, but the bed he occupied in this pit of a city. It was to be a busy day in the capital and not just for him. He'd learned to listen during his time here. And the young northerner knew what was to happen before he met with the King later this afternoon. The silver devil and Elia were going to meet with the High Septon. About Lyanna.
Brandon wanted to laugh, it was all so preposterous. He wondered if any of it were real. And more than that, that these southerners thought it was for them only to recognize this so-called marriage.
That was not a union blessed by his father. Nor the old gods. Perhaps they'd seen it - but it was not true. They may not have the pomp of the southerners and their new gods, but those that watched over the north had their ways. And family was what a marriage was about.
He wondered how Lya could not see. Did father not get through to her, teach her? Should I have done more when I was home from the barrowlands?
Of course he should have. But he had acted as though everything were a certainty - even the things he knew were not.
Barbrey flashed through his mind before he shut her out. The pang of guilt coursed through him. I acted without care with her.
He put those thoughts aside and thought ahead to what was to come - and what he needed. What the north needed.
And then a knock came at the door.
What is due for father.
When he walked out he was surprised to find a kingsguard.
"Ser - " Then he corrected himself. "Prince Lewyn, is it not?" Elia's uncle, he thought with piqued curiosity.
The knight was tall, sun-kissed like the queen though his eyes had a different tint to of strength than hers. And the eyes before Brandon seemed to be taking stock of him. "That is correct," Lewyn acknowleged with a small bow of his head. "The queen asked that I escort you to the meeting."
They began their walk to the council chambers. "Did she think I would lose my way?" Or that I would barge in yelling if not accompanied by her uncle, he wondered with dryness.
His first answer was a small laugh. "No, though these halls can be a maze if you are not familiar. She asked me to see you to the meeting. She said it was so that you might know the crown values the north."
Values the north , he wondered. "She is kind, the queen. I.." he faltered for a moment before regaining his step. "I owe her much." My life. "She has given me more kindness than I deserve."
The knight turned to look at him as they walked, giving him a look of study. "If Elia has deemed you worthy of her regard, that is a gift."
"Indeed," Brandon confirmed fondly as their steps led them to the chamber of judgment.
When he entered, he found the room full with occupants around the table. The ginger storm lord was there. As were two other men that Brandon believed to be the masters of laws and coin respectively.
And the queen had come too. Elia.
Part of him felt glad she was there, her presence might keep him calm. He did not want to upset her.
But part of him wished she had not come - so he did not feel any restraints upon his conduct.
It was mid-afternoon now. He knew the King had spent the morning meeting with the High Septon and by his face, he did not seem pleased.
"Lord Stark," King Rhaegar greeted him solemnly. Brandon only acknowledged him with a look as he made his way to an empty seat at the table.
"Lord Stark," a softer voice said then and he looked to Elia. "Welcome." There was the barest hint of a smile and sympathy in her eyes.
"My queen," he returned, with a reverent bow of his head. Finally seated, he turned to the king so that they could begin this and he could find what he needed.
"Lord Stark," the king began. "First, I would like to say that words cannot express the abhorrence I feel for what my father did. I do not condone it and would like to take steps to rectify his actions. I hope that his...absence...might be a first step to coming to an agreement that will restore better relations with you and the north."
Such sweet words. Perhaps he meant them, perhaps he did not. Brandon did not truly care. "Fine, let us begin this."
"Of course, I'm sure you are eager to return home. I thought - "
"I have a place for us to begin," Brandon interrupted. Perhaps it was not the way to handle things with the man that was his liege in name, but he would not let them make the first measly offer.
Rhaegar cleared his throat. "What did you have in mind?"
He waited a moment, eyeing the king, assessing and sizing him up. "I hope I need not explain to you that what was done to our family...to the north...was a crime." Tension seemed to fill the room immediately upon his words. "And you're right, I could not be happier that the world is rid of your mad father. It is not enough, not nearly enough." Thinking of Aerys brought back flashes of his father, the last time he saw him alive. He closed his eyes briefly as his breath shuddered.
No, do not go down that road. Find justice, he thought to himself. For father. He opened his eyes once more and looked directly at Rhaegar. "The north shall halt all taxes to you for a generation. And you'll make no claims on our incomes nor our labor or goods for a generation."
Staunton and Chelsted exchanged glances with each other, but the king simply stared at Brandon Stark.
"Do you mean to break from the crown, Lord Stark?" he asked with an odd air of calm. "Because your words give the appearance of that - in all but name."
A surge of fury bubbled in him, but he tried to ease it away. A wolf must be as patient as it is fierce, Brandon. That's what his father had once told him. And so he took a steadying breath before answering. "What would you suggest?" the northerner whispered in a chill, his mouth pulling up with a hint of a snarl.
"Pardon?" Rhaegar asked.
"What would you suggest?" The words were still cold in repetition but louder now. "What is our justice? We have been robbed of our father, of our warden, of the north's caretaker. And it was done without truth or honor." Each word left his lips with care and precision, as he built one onto the other and his voice rose tall. "That was a sham of a - " He stopped himself with a harsh scoff of laughter. "I shall not even deign to call it a trial for it was nothing but a mockery." His eyes were fixed, locked on the king. "And no, this is not independence. But what I deem to be halfway down the path. I assume you shall not take any actions to push us further."
He wasn't a fool, Brandon. He could not sit before the king, declare the north free and then simply walk out with a cheer.
But he could gain something to strengthen the north. To build something of which his father might have been proud.
"To that end, in my father's honor you shall also provide the funds for the construction of a northern fleet."
Now it was the griffin's turn to speak it seemed. Or the moment he chose, at least. "What does the north require a fleet for? It sounds as though you mean to create further division between the king and the north."
He wondered if his father would have been able to stay calm and patient in front of such ignorance. "Do you know the north at all? The ironborn are our neighbors and I would see Saltspear protected from them as I would see White Harbor shielded from thieves on the sea. And I have no intention of cutting relations with you. In fact, I shall do the opposite." A bit of confidence flowed through him then. This was right, this was just. A knowing smile crossed his lips. "A northern lord of my choosing shall join your small council so you know of events in the north - and us the same. As a means to keep the north more...engaged."
"There is already a tie, Lord Stark," Rhaegar interjected. "Your sister is - "
"Is what? Did your high priest recognize your mummer's act you call a wedding?"
A flush spread quickly across the pale cheeks of the king. And his face tightened as though it would break. "It shall be resolved in due time."
"You'll have to wed her by your new gods then. Do not mock ours by claiming what you did was by their rite or with my father's blessings. But if you claim that she is our ' tie' ," he said the last word with nearly a hiss. "Then consider a northern lord here as a form of compensation. You forced our house to break its word to House Baratheon."
In truth, Brandon did not want his sister to marry Robert anymore. As upset as he was with her, he could not nor ever wish her harm. If he demanded her return, they would be obligated to see the betrothal through. And the way Robert had reacted to her words against him made Brandon worry if - or rather how - he might hold that against Lyanna.
Of course, he did not see a future in which the High Septon would approve of two marriages. Which left…
There were no good options.
Nonetheless, the betrothal was broken - and he would see recompense on that score.
"Altering the small council like this would be drastic," Lord Staunton cautioned.
"I concur, my king." The griffin again. "It could lead to others demanding the same, this is too much."
Brandon turned his head slowly to look upon the man, his eyes a furious grey steel. "Too much?" Seething anger was barely restrained in his question.
Connington leaned forward. "You heard me, Stark."
The chair Brandon had been sitting in nearly toppled when he rose furiously. His hands quickly braced upon the table as he eyed Connington like prey. "Nothing will be enough for what he and his father have done to my family!"
"Please!"The queen had risen from her chair with a cry, her hands raised to ask for calm. "Please, my lords! This will not get us anywhere," she beseeched. Her eyes shifted to Brandon and he could see the plea in them. Reclaiming his breath, he looked at her and began to ease. He licked his lips hoping to quench the fire.
"Forgive me, my queen," he told her with a bow of his head and then letting his eyes settle on hers so she could see his truth. Pulling his doublet to straighten it, he took a seat once more and then looked to the king. "Well, you can say no. And perhaps my bannermen decide they do not quite like that. And what happens then?"
The red-haired stormlord narrowed his eyes. "You ask that, while you sit here? In front of the king? Is that a threat?"
"No. Tis just an honest show of what shall come to pass. I can't leave until the north is given what it is due. And if that takes too long, well, mayhaps they think I'm still a prisoner." Then his eyes settled once more on Rhaegar. "Of course, you could always kill me and finish off what your father started. Like father, like son."
That seemed to break whatever might have been holding the silver man back for he reared back as though he'd been slapped. He rose quickly from the table causing the rest of the room to do so as well. "I am not my father. And I abhor what he did. I...I wish it had not happened, but what is done is done and we could only try to move forward now." His words were near mournful. Rhaegar looked to the queen then, taking her hand in his and Brandon thought he saw a tightness in her face then. "You have your agreement. However your choice for northern representation will have to be agreed upon here as well."
Brandon watched him for a moment, slightly surprised at the pace of the meeting and that it had not taken any horrible turns. "Aye, I can abide by that."
"Good," Rhaegar confirmed with a nod before looking to Staunton. "We shall have the papers drawn up to reflect this and we shall sign them before you depart, Lord Stark."
As the others began to file their way out of the room, Brandon remained looking to the queen and king. There was something left in him, something that needed to be said. He waited as the other council members left. Connington remained in the doorway for a moment before the king acknowledged him and waved him off.
"Is there something else?" Rhaegar asked carefully.
"I'd ask for a minute to speak with the queen if she will permit."
Rhaegar eyed him with a bit of confusion - and perhaps suspicion. "Is something amiss?"
Amiss. He did not know how to begin to answer that query. "No. But it is because of her that I live and for that, I would like to speak with her to express my gratitude." When he looked to Elia, she was gazing at him in a way that made him feel calm but alive.
His explanation seemed to ease any worries the king had. Though he did not seem to fully understand Brandon's meaning. Because he stayed and the northerner wanted the man to leave.
"I would speak with her alone," he clarified without emotion. "It is because of her that I did not demand more."
Perhaps that was too blunt. For the king's posture tightened slightly then. "And I would like to hear your words of praise for the queen."
Because you do not know how to honor your wife? He took a breath and turned to look at Elia. She smiled as though to urge him to speak. He wanted to ask her what she thought of the agreement, if he had asked for too much, too little. And he wanted to ask how she felt after all of this, after meeting with the septon. How do you feel?
Brandon wanted, and he thought - no, knew - he wanted what he could not have.
"My queen," he began slowly, aware that the king was waiting to hear just as much as Elia. "Because of you, I stand here, I am alive." Gods, there was so much he wanted to say to her - but not with an audience. Not in front of him.
"And I want to express my undying gratitude for your actions. The north is grateful to you." His eyes were pure honesty and he felt a warmth he never had looking upon her. He wondered if she could tell.
She looked at him, not speaking yet. "Lord Stark, as my husband said, what happened to your father was abhorrent. I only hope that what was agreed upon today will help to ease the injustice inflicted upon you and yours. The north…" Her words faded before she seemed to rouse herself to finish. "The north is valued."
Valued , that word again. "Perhaps in time, you will have a progress that brings you to Winterfell."
That brought a larger smile to her face. "I would like that. If it is not during winter," she laughed. It was a bright laugh and he would miss it.
"Yes, a progress will be arranged, I'm sure," the king added and Brandon realized he had forgotten the man was even there for a moment. Would that his mind were true.
It was clear the king wished to be done. "I shall wait for the papers to be signed before I depart tomorrow." He made his way to the door but when he arrived at his exit, he turned around once more. The king had moved to speak with the Dayne knight but she was there watching him leave and when he looked to her, their eyes met with uncertainty - and want. Finally he tore away to make his way to his chambers.
He would leave tomorrow. Was this to be how they would part ways? So formal, with their words watched like a show?
As he wove his way through the maze of the keep, his mind did not wonder. Instead it settled on a course of action.
Night was beginning to settle when Prince Lewyn knocked upon the door to his niece's chambers. A few moments later, she emerged, tying her nightrobe and looking at him with surprise. "Is all well, uncle? Is it the children?"
He turned to look around before looking back to her. "All is well, niece. It…" he looked down at his hand before handing her a small piece of parchment. "Is this."
"Who is it from?" Elia asked with a quiet anxiety, taking the missive from her uncle's hand.
Lewyn watched as the queen slowly unraveled the message. It was a small thing, that message. But as he watched his niece's face, the knight wondered at the weight it must have held before he answered.
"The wolf."
Godswood, before sunrise.