The Keeper
Chapter 70 – Wildling Keeper
Brienne stared at Tormund while firmly holding Ardayn and Serdun. The dragons strained against her, hissing in warning. Their instinctive defense echoed in Griff, who pulled Dawn from its sheath, as ready to defend her as the five were. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms growled warningly, sounding like the dragon he truly was. Tormund, caught in his dual awed fascination of the dragons and Brienne, didn't sense the greater threat approaching him.
Catren and Allwyn, held by Podrick, continued to shriek, as if scolding Tormund for Brienne's discomfort. Gallan hissed and puffed. The blue dragon wasn't restrained like the others. Podrick yelped again, his arms tightening around Catren and Allwyn, who also pulled against his hold.
"Gallan, māzigon naejot issa." Griff crossed to them in four long strides, Dawn in his hand.
Gallan went to him and perched on Griff's shoulders. The blue dragon spread its wings out wide, making both dragons appear even more deadly. The Stark men and even some of the bandits gasped audibly. Griff didn't pay attention to them. His focus was on the man who had set off such an intense reaction in Brienne and the dragons. Griff held his sword out but stayed far enough away from Tormund to keep him out of Gallan's fire range.
"Stand back," Griff ordered, "or I'll run you through."
"I'm with her," Tormund protested, titling his head towards Brienne. "She's my woman."
Tormund's body was still but his gaze slid over Brienne in the same impertinent manner she remembered. She had the urge to look down to ensure herself she was still dressed. The Wildling always stared at her in a way that made her feel he could see beneath her armor and cloth. It wasn't a feeling she liked.
Griff stiffened as his face flushed brighter red than the Wildling's hair. Tormund stared at the dragons with an awed look in his eyes, before flicking back to Brienne, his bright smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Definitely, my woman."
Unfortunately, Tormund didn't see the warning sign of the threat from the human dragon, just as dangerous and deadly as her children. Brienne blushed, as she hurried to defuse the situation. Even though Tormund wasn't someone she wanted to know personally, he was a good fighter and loyal to Jon Snow. She couldn't let her personal grievances harm Griff, or let Griff harm Tormund.
"Your Grace, he doesn't mean what he's saying," she assured him hurriedly.
Griff flicked his eyes to her, not at all appeased by her words. He did not draw back his sword. "Brienne, he said you were his woman."
Before Brienne could even open her mouth, Tormund nodded fiercely. "Aye, she is," Tormund insisted. "Though she didn't have dragons when she left Winterfell."
The dragons shifted uncomfortably, torn between reacting to their father's fury and the fact that the man in front of them meant no harm to their mother. Tormund's adoration was apparent even to those less emotionally sensitive than the dragons. His bright blue eyes were soft and his mouth had curved into an almost dreamy smile. Even the wonder of the dragons hadn't distracted him from Brienne for long.
Gallan squawked. It folded in its wings and settled on Griff's shoulders, looking from the large, lovestruck man to its mother. The other dragons also deflated, sniffing the air, equally confused. Brienne sympathized with the dragons' confusion. She was rather confused herself.
Griff gritted his jaw before answering. "Yes, she has dragons now. I am father to these five."
Tormund carefully turned his head, dragging his gaze from the dragons to Griff. His brows pulled together and he looked Griff up and down carefully. He snorted, making his feelings about Griff obvious.
"You? I thought she fucked a dragon, not a puny kneeler," Tormund rasped.
Brienne felt her mouth drop open. She stared at Tormund in open-mouthed horror as Podrick gasped. Ardayn and Serdun pulled free from her grasp and landed before her, joined quickly by Catren and Allwyn who wrenched free of a stunned Podrick.
At the slight to their leader, the Company men paused their work. They had been gathering up the living bandits and assessing the wounded. Even so, the Company men were diligent and disciplined, aware of their surroundings and ready for possible attack. They had been keenly listening to the conversation. They all stiffened and turned to stare at Tormund, their faces grim and set.
Once she got over her shock, Brienne drew her breath in on a hiss and straightened fully. "He is not a kneeler. He is Aegon Martell Targaryen, the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms." She lifted her chin and stared straight into Tormund's eyes.
Tormund frowned at her in confusion, as if unsure as to how he had upset her. Brienne could tell he realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't clear on what he'd said. His eyes widened, seeing the four dragons were unrestrained, and looked back to her.
"Woman, it doesn't matter," Tormund assured her earnestly, his arms twitching as though forcing himself not to gesture widely. "Wildling women fuck whoever they want. The past is how it is. Our babies will be strong warriors, they will conquer the world."
The Company men looked at each other, sensing trouble. The Stark men were already on edge and said nothing. Griff's face flushed in indignant fury, his indigo eyes darkening the longer he stared at Tormund. The Wildling seemed unaware of Griff's towering anger as he looked thoughtfully at the dragons.
Tormund nodded his head slowly, a grin once again building on his face. "Maybe these babies can join our babies and conquer the world together," Tormund suggested. "Sorta like how the direwolf took to King Crow."
Brienne could only stare, at a loss on how to respond to him.
Beside her, Griff's rage began to fade as disbelief caused him to stare hard at the Wildling. Brienne could relate to his confusion. Tormund didn't follow any norms or customs she understood. It was part of why she was so uncomfortable with him. He had the Wildling free spirit and direct approach. Griff turned from Tormund to Brienne.
"Is he mad?" Griff demanded. He sheathed Dawn, indicating he didn't see the Wildling as a threat any longer. "This man must be mad."
Griff put his hands on his hips as he turned to look at Brienne. The dragons also felt the same stunned shock. Their aggression eased as their father's fury gave way to sheer confusion, even while they maintained their defensive positions. Podrick shifted his gaze from Brienne to Tormund, looking as confused as the dragons felt. The Company men slowly returned their attention to the bandits, equally as perplexed by the odd turn of events distracting their leader.
Gallan, still perched on Griff's shoulders, ruffled its wings, and rose. The Stark men gasped and even some of the bandits cried out at seeing the blue dragon spread its magnificent wings. They all watched as Gallan joined the defensive line. Serdun shifted aside so Gallan could resume its normal place between it and Catren, their leader. The dragons had calmed but were ready, as always, to defend her, if needed.
Brienne looked down at the dragons. The love and pride she always felt for them caused a sharp pain in her chest. But she looked back up immediately. She knew her focus now was on defusing the confrontation between her king and the blunt, clearly deluded Wilding.
Griff had put his sword away but still looked ready to cut down Tormund. He glared at the Wildling but his censure had no effect. Tormund continued to look at Brienne with his usual direct, adoring fascination, a bright grin on his face. He was blithely unaware of the threat posed by Aegon Martell Targaryen.
Brienne brought one hand to her forehead. "No, he's not mad," Brienne sighed and shook her head, trying to figure out how to describe him. "He's Tormund Giantsbane. He's a Wildling and a friend of Jon Snow. A 'crow' is a man of the Night's Watch. 'King Crow' is his nickname for Jon, their former Lord Commander."
Griff's eyes narrowed, still unhappy with the explanation. "He thinks you're his woman." Griff scowled. "Why is that?"
At this, Brienne turned to glare at Tormund once more. "I don't know. I've made it clear that I don't want a relationship with him. He just doesn't listen."
She was about to continue when a sharp gasp drew her attention.
"I've never seen anything more extraordinary," a female voice said breathlessly from behind Tormund.
"Aye," Tormund agreed fervently. "That's what I said. Those big blue eyes and that yellow hair, it's like the day starts when she wakes every morning."
Brienne didn't know if she should continue to glare at Tormund or try to ignore him. His words were sincere enough but his burning fascination left her unsettled, as always.
She gritted her teeth and looked past him to the cart. The Company men had calmed the horses, allowing Arya to release the side and kneel. Only her head and shoulders appeared above the wooden side. A wondrous smile lit her face. Her eyes glittered with delight and her face was filled with the same combination of lust and awe that Tormund displayed.
Arya, however, was looking at the dragons, not her. Brienne fervently thanked the Gods for that mercy.
"The dragons," Arya gasped. "They're amazing."
Arya looked down at the dragons' defensive line. She shook her head slowly, as if unable to absorb the wonder she was seeing. Her delighted fascination was as evident as Tormund's, but her control was greater. She finally tore her gaze from the five to look up at Brienne.
"Look at how they protect you," Arya noted. "They would burn every man here, if not the whole woods, to keep you safe."
Brienne couldn't hold back the smile of love and pride as she looked down at the dragons. Arya was right. The five would burn the world – or call Drogon and Rhaegal to do it – if she was threatened. Their ability to love was even greater and fiercer than their ability to rain down fire and blood. She knelt and gathered Ardayn and Allwyn, the dragons closest to her, into her arms.
Surprisingly, the dragons allowed her to hold them. Perhaps it was Griff standing over them, or the Company men working nearby, that allowed the dragons to relax their guard. Even Catren, their leader, stepped back to press against her. Podrick knelt, too, pressing Catren between them as he guided Gallan and Serdun back into his embrace. Tormund's shoulders relaxed visibly when the dragons abandoned their defensive line to cuddle into Brienne and Podrick.
"Yes," Brienne agreed, a small smile on her face. "They love me and I love them. They are my children. My gifts from the Gods."
"Huh." Tormund grunted, eyes squinting as he tried to piece things together. "I thought you said the little prince king was their father."
Brienne chose to ignore his words and focus on Arya. "They won't harm you." She raised her voice so the bandits could hear her. "The dragons will only fire on those who try to harm them or those they love. Everyone, stay calm, move slowly and the dragons will not burn you."
The bandits, many of whom were still awe-struck by the dragons, offered no resistance as the Company men gathered them into smaller groups. Around them, many of the other attackers lay dead or dying.
The Stark men did as Brienne instructed, taking slow, measured steps, and gathering into their own small group. They didn't interfere with the Company men, nor did they try to help them. The Stark men looked to the oldest man in their group, clearly their leader, for guidance.
Brynden Tully, still tall and commanding, even in his older years, broke from the group. The Blackfish slowly crossed the road to join his grand-niece. He watched the dragons as he came to stand beside Tormund.
Brienne nodded to Brynden, before turning to Griff. "Your Grace, may I introduce Ser Brynden Tully, Lord of the Twins?"
Griff looked from Tormund to Arya then to the Blackfish. He glanced down at the dragons, who were alert but calm. Griff scowled at Tormund before he stepped closer to Brynden.
"Ser Brynden, it's good to meet you." Griff held out his hand. "I thank you for the care you showed Brienne and Podrick when you escorted them from Riverrun."
Brynden hesitated, looking past Griff to the dragons. Seeing the five calm, he slowly reached up and caught Griff's arm in a warrior's greeting.
"Aegon Martell Targaryen. My thanks for sending your men to help us take the Twins," Brynden responded. "The Freys will never harm the Riverlands again."
Brienne looked from Griff to Arya as Brynden mentioned the Twins. She saw the faint smile that crossed Arya's face, even as the young woman still stared at the dragons in delighted fascination.
Brienne felt a chill at the cool satisfaction in the she-wolf's expression. That didn't mean that Arya was an assassin, she reminded herself. The Freys had murdered Arya's mother, her brother, his wife, his direwolf, and the Stark bannermen. Arya had no love for House Frey. It was understandable that she was pleased such terrible men were no longer alive to harm other people she loved.
Ned came to join Griff and also held out his hand to Brynden. The Blackfish turned to introduce them to the other men. Before he could speak, Ned gasped, looking past Brynden.
"Ser Beric," Ned's eyes were wide with shock. "I didn't recognize you, at first."
Ser Beric wore an eye patch and had a tense nature. He moved his body in jerky motions, as if he wasn't quite sure how to use it. His mustache and beard couldn't hide his sunken, almost hollow visible eye. His body was gaunt, as if he was starved of nourishment.
He stared at Ned blankly, seeming not to recognize him.
"I'm Ned Dayne," Ned reminded him. "I…I was your squire."
"Were you? I don't remember." Beric sighed heavily. "We are here for a reason. The Lord of Light brings me back for a reason. We are part of something larger than ourselves."
Another man with the Stark group stepped forward beside Beric. He was taller and appeared to be in better health than Beric. This man wore his beard with sideburns that grew up into his hair. It made him appear as if he had a fuzzy halo around his head, similar to Moqorro's style.
"He has come back many times since you left us, Lord Ned," the man explained. "The memories of his past lives are all but gone."
Ned nodded sadly. He gestured to the taller man as he spoke to Griff. "Your Grace, may I introduce Thoros of Myr? He is the Red Priest who brings Lord Beric back after each death."
Griff and Thoros nodded to each other. Brynden and Ned both looked at Beric with sympathy. Brienne stared at the man who had mentored Ned and had been betrothed to his Aunt Allyria. Though his body moved and his mind thought, there was no joy or energy in Beric's actions. The movements were grim and stiff, as if living was something he remembered, not something he participated in. Oddly enough, Lord Beric reminded her of Ser Gregor, suspended between life and death.
The men moved further away, towards the Company men. Brynden had a firm grip on Tormund's arm, pulling him away with them. Tormund looked back longingly at Brienne but allowed himself to be led away. Brynden and Thoros both looked back nervously at the dragons, but Beric did not. The Lord of House Dondarrion hadn't seemed shocked or frightened by the dragons. Perhaps, after facing and defying the Stranger so many times, the man didn't fear death the way most people did.
Brienne looked from the men who were rapidly walking out of her hearing to the cart. The horses were calm now, still being held by Company men. In the back of the cart, Arya finally tore her gaze away from the dragons to look behind herself. That was when Brienne remembered that Bran Stark was also in the cart with his sister.
"You can come out, Lady Arya," Brienne called. "The dragons won't hurt you, unless you're a threat to me or them."
Arya looked down at the dragons again, as if considering the truth of Brienne's words. Then she vaulted out of the cart, landing with the speed and sure-footed descent of a cat. She bent down over the body of the man she'd killed. She paused and looked up to make sure her action hadn't alarmed the dragons.
When the five continued to only stare, she calmly wiped her sword on his tunic before sheathing it in her belt. The youngest Stark daughter wore the same confident smile Brienne remembered as she slowly straightened.
Arya's cool, smug smile was full of secrets. Brienne had fought against Arya with a sword and dagger. The smaller woman was even able to use both weapons at the same time. That wasn't a skill most people, men included, could master. Ever since their encounter, Brienne had worked hard to learn to use a dagger. Even now, she couldn't claim to have Arya's speed and expertise. Arya moved with the stealth of a cat, silent and swift. While at Winterfell, Brienne had often seen the young woman suddenly appear, where seconds earlier no one had been, where no one should be without being seen.
Arya moved slowly, still watching the dragons. She backed away until she was standing beside the cart, leaning in to check on her brother.
Brienne and Podrick tightened their holds on the dragons as Arya helped Bran sit up. Bran looked over to them, his head visible over the wooden side.
"Brienne of the Gods," he greeted in his flat, toneless voice, head tilted to the side.
Griff left the men to rejoin Brienne and the dragons. He looked from Bran sitting up in the cart to Arya standing protectively in front of her brother. Arya smiled coolly and nodded to him. Had they been in the southlands, Brienne would have objected to Arya's cool greeting. The youngest Stark daughter deliberately ignored Griff's position as king. Here, where they were so far north, Arya was the sister of the King in the North, as far as most people knew. She was a princess while Griff held the formal title of prince. No one in the North accepted Griff as the rightful King of Westeros. At least, not yet.
If Griff was offended by the slight, he didn't show it. He matched Arya's cool smile with his own. "You are Arya and Bran Stark, I presume?"
Arya nodded. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at Brienne then back to Griff. "How did you know?"
"You bear a striking resemblance to your Aunt Lyanna," Griff explained.
Arya's cool smile melted away. Her brows drew together in startled confusion. "How would you know?"
Griff's smile turned sharp "I saw her once."
Brienne stiffened. Arya and Bran both had the same dark hair, grey eyes, and sharp features they shared with Jon. All three looked like the woman Griff had seen birthing Jon in his ice cave vision.
"You were a baby when she died."
Arya's voice brought Brienne back to their exchange. Arya's voice was suspicious, and she held herself straighter, distrust clear in her Stark grey eyes.
"Even if you did meet my aunt, you wouldn't remember her," Arya insisted.
"It depends on how long ago I saw her, doesn't it?" Griff raised his eyebrows, his indigo eyes calmly assessing the young she-wolf.
Arya again looked from Griff to Brienne, unsure how to respond. Brienne rose from the dragons. The five, now calm again, watched her rise but didn't try to prevent it. Still, Brienne stayed with them, keeping her distance from the Stark children. Arya nodded to her, seeming to regain herself as quickly as she'd done when they'd fought in the courtyard at Winterfell.
"Lady Brienne, we meet again," Arya greeted. "Or do you prefer to be called the Ladydragon?"
"I prefer to be called Lady Ser Brienne, Lady Arya," Brienne replied. "Or do you prefer to be called Princess?"
Arya scowled at that, looking more like an annoyed, half-wild child than a restrained, dignified Princess in the North.
"Aegon Martell Targaryen," Bran called from the cart. He didn't raise his voice but somehow it still carried. "The son of the sun and of dragons. The last of your line and the first."
Griff looked past Arya to her brother. Arya rolled her eyes, again looking younger.
Brienne chided herself for thinking this young woman, little more than a girl, could be a ruthless assassin. Arya barely had the patience to deal with her brother. How would she have the fortitude and discipline needed to become a Faceless Man?
"Bran is adjusting after being away for so long," Arya explained. "He spent many months north of the Wall. He's still recovering from the ordeal."
Griff nodded. "I've been north of the Wall. It's a harsh place. It would be even harsher for a boy without the use of his legs."
"I had no choice," Bran insisted, voice still hollow. "The three-eyed crow led me north."
Griff stiffened and looked over at Brienne. She held his gaze and tried to keep her expression blank. Brienne knew Bran had been north of the Wall then brought back to Winterfell by Meera Reed. She hadn't known that a three-eyed crow had led him there.
Was it the same three-eyed crow that had led Griff to the ice cave?
"Yes," Bran said.
Griff's expression remained blank, as it did when he was actively hiding his reactions. Brienne tried to match his restraint. She didn't look at Podrick, not wanting his reaction to affect her own.
Arya looked at her brother with a mixture of concern and question.
"Yes?" Arya repeated, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What do you mean, Bran?"
"They were wondering if it was the same three-eyed crow," Bran explained. "It was." He turned his attention back to Griff. "I thank you for leaving your sword. We needed it when we had to escape the Others."
"The Others?" Brienne gasped. "You met the Army of the Dead?"
Bran nodded solemnly. "That's why we came. Jon needs us. We cannot wait any longer for him to march north. The time grows short and the ice grows thin. The dragon will soon rise."
Brienne felt a finger of cold slide down her spine.
It was so sudden that her entire body shivered visibly. She knew Bran was different than before he went north of the Wall. The boy had suffered terrible trauma with the sacking of Winterfell, his escape, and all the time he'd spent in the cold and wild lands. Sansa had told her they were all broken and jagged by the experiences they'd endured.
Sansa had also told her that Bran knew things, had information he had no business knowing, since he returned to Winterfell. He'd spent most of his time in the godswood, staring at the face in the weirwood tree. His long stretches of silence and his piercing gaze often upset and even unnerved the servants.
Brienne hadn't paid much attention to Sansa's concerns. Her focus had been on delivering the Golden Company's coded message to Dragonstone then rejoining the dragons in Valyria. War changed everyone, herself included.
She wasn't the same naive, trusting person she'd been when she'd first joined Renly's army. She'd been so naive back then, filled with dreams of a life of honor and chivalry, a golden future. War wasn't golden, chivalrous, or honorable. It was hard, brutal, unfair, and heartbreaking.
Even so, Brienne wouldn't change a single event in her past. Her experiences, the rejection, the brutality, the slow, painful understanding that life was unfair had made her into the person she was. It had led her to swear herself to Catelyn Stark, to sail to Essos in search of Arya and had caused her to meet Griff and, most importantly, to go to Drogon's cave. She was the Gods' warrior and the keeper of their dragons. It was her most important duty.
Ned came to join them, effectively halting their conversation. "What should we do with the ones who survived?"
Griff turned back at the attackers, looking over them with a cold gaze. They were on their knees, with their hands folded over their heads. Some of them were wounded, blood still flowing from cuts and bruises, many severe. The men were hardened killers but the presence of the dragons had deflated even their rage and bloodlust.
"Hang them," Griff decided, a grim look upon his face. "Leave their bodies as a warning for other men who prey on the innocent."
Some of the Company men nodded and called out in agreement. Bryden Tully crossed his arms and looked at the attackers without sympathy. The other Stark men, including Tormund, sneered at the deflated and beaten attackers.
"No!" Arya cried.
Everyone turned to look at Ayra. Griff raised his eyebrows in silent questioning.
"My brother is the King in the North." Though tiny, Arya glared at the men. "The Riverlands have pledged their swords to the White Wolf. My brother, Jon Snow, will pass sentence on these men. They are not yours to judge."
Ned and the Company men looked at the tiny young woman in disbelief. Some Company men snorted, their hands on their swords. Brienne leaned down to comfort the dragons but they were not alarmed. The five didn't sense a threat. They knew no one, not the attackers or Arya and six armed guards, was enough to stop the Golden Company.
Griff, however, was thoughtful as he regarded Arya. He put his hand up to stop the Company men then smiled coolly at Arya.
"Won't your brother," Griff put a slight emphasis on the word, "be tired of hearing Brienne's company, once again, had to rescue one of his sisters? And this time, save his brother, too?"
Arya glared at Griff. "Lady Brienne swore herself to my mother. The Ladydragon did her duty by protecting my mother's children. Jon will be grateful for your help, but he won't appreciate you usurping his role as king."
Griff's jaw hardened but his expression remained calm. Brienne knew her king. Griff was always thinking ahead, seeing possibilities and outcomes in his head. He was weighing the value of Jon Snow's gratitude against King Jon's annoyance of a rival giving orders.
Once again, the Gods' great plan was working in Griff's favor. The dragons had led them to Arya and Bran, putting the Golden Company in place to protect Jon's siblings and bannermen. Brienne knew nothing mattered more to Jon than his family. She'd seen his expression when he'd been reunited with Sansa. Observing the long moment when they'd hugged each other was like seeing two broken links mended, made stronger because they were now together.
Every action Griff's forces took that protected House Stark, from Brienne saving Sansa, to the Golden Company strengthening House Tully, seizing the Twins, or cutting down those attacking Arya and Bran, increased Jon's gratitude. Jon had vowed to put House Stark at Brienne's back for saving Sansa. What would he pledge now that the Golden Company had saved the rest of his family?
Was saving the Riverlands and his kin enough to sway Jon's loyalty from Daenerys to Griff?
"Speaking of the White Wolf, where is he?" Tormund called out, turning in a full circle to look around.
The Blackfish had been glaring at the Wildling but now his expression turned to alarm. Arya gasped too, and also began to look around, her head turning frantically.
Brienne frowned. "There's no need for concern. We spoke with Yara Greyjoy when we arrived in Maidenpool. She said Jon Snow won't arrive until tomorrow."
"Not that white wolf," Arya explained. "Ghost! Ghost is missing."
"Ghost?" Ned repeated. "Do you mean the other direwolf?"
Arya jerked and froze. Her eyes were wide. "What do you mean, the other direwolf?"
Ned didn't answer. Instead he looked over to Brienne, as if expecting her to answer instead. Brienne sighed.
"We saw another direwolf before we met you," Brienne explained. "It was as big as Ghost, but with grey in its fur. Lady Arya, we saw Nymeria."
For a moment, there was no expression on Arya's face. Then a strange combination of regret and hope tightened her features. She turned her head slowly, as if expecting Nymeria to suddenly appear.
"Nymeria?' she whispered. "Nymeria is here?"
Brienne nodded slowly. "We saw her and her wolf pack here in these woods. They left us when they picked up your scent. Nymeria is the reason we were here to protect you. She led us to you."
"Wolf pack?" Brynden repeated. "Could that be the same pack that's been following us for days?"
"I told you those wolves were odd," Tormund insisted. "What kinda wolves follow and don't strike? They got numbers on us and the little Starkling can't even fight 'em off."
"If Nymeria is here, then she kept her pack from hurting us." Arya's voice rose. She continued to stare into the woods. "Nymeria! Nymeria, are you there?"
"She won't answer," Bran insisted. "They have other matters to attend to."
Arya whirled to face her brother. "What other matters? Is Ghost with Nymeria? Why did he leave us?"
"The Others will take more than just men," Bran explained in his odd, toneless voice. "All must prepare."
Griff put his hands on his swords. "And prepare we shall. The Great War is already upon us. The Gods have brought us together. Now, while we wait for Jon Snow, perhaps we should secure these men and seek shelter for the night."
Tormund's eyes lit up as he turned back towards Brienne. "My bed roll is big enough to share."
Brienne simply looked away, unable to even find words to explain her feelings to the persistent Wildling. The dragons, sensing her discomfort, pressed into her. Griff's hands tightened on the swords hanging from his belt.
Brynden, understanding the threat Tormund did not, stepped between the two men.
"The Saltpans," the Blackfish suggested quietly. "Most of the town was burned and pillaged." He glared at the attackers they'd caught. "By these men or men like them. But there is enough still standing to shelter all of us and hold these mongrels. We can march to the ruby ford to meet King Jon in the morning. He'll decide how to punish these animals."
Brienne felt another finger of cold slide down her back but she suppressed her urge to shiver.
The ruby ford was the crossing where Robert Baratheon had killed Rhaegar Targaryen with a blow from his war hammer.
Robert had hit Rhaegar so hard the rubies embedded in his chest plate had fallen out, spilling into the water, and giving the crossing its name. Brienne looked at Griff with concern. His face was expressionless, giving none of his feelings away. She couldn't tell how he felt at hearing the name of the place where his father was slain. She recalled what he'd said about his father while they were still on Tarth.
"Robert killed Rhaegar at the Trident. Perhaps if Rhaegar had devoted more attention to preserving his family and less to his fancy black armor, he'd still be alive. The black dragon didn't rise in a blaze of fire and blood. He died with a war hammer in his chest."
Griff was disgusted with Rhaegar and considered him to be a weak man. Even so, Rhaegar had been his father. How would seeing the place his father died, where the collapse of House Targaryen had begun, affect her king? Even more, how would Griff react to meeting Jon Snow, the secret brother that was the result of Rhaegar's fervent belief in prophecy?
Would their meeting lead to the strengthening of House Targaryen, or deliver another hammer blow, this time to their very foundation? Could Jon and Griff come together, and perhaps even join with Daenerys?
Was the three-headed dragon about to rise?
Author's Notes: Almost all the warriors needed for the Gods' great plan have been introduced. There are still a few we need but they have started to gather. Who do think is still missing? Do you see the plan forming?
I hope I did alright with Tormund. I'm not a very direct person so it's hard for me to write him. How did I do? I would love to read your suggestions on how to improve him or suggestions on fun Brienne/Tormund scenes!
Much, much thanks to my wonderful beta Liv_it_Up124 for her help and support.
