The Keeper

Chapter 71 – Woods Keeper

Brienne and Podrick kept the dragons back while the Golden Company gathered the attackers into smaller groups. The now cowering men, covered in badly-healed scars and fresh wounds, the signs of their brutal past, were quiet and docile under the threat of dragonfire. The Stark guards, along with Thoros and Beric, were standing near the cart and the Stark siblings. They were careful to stay away from the dragons. Arya, however, hovered half-way between her brother and the dragons, her eyes still glittering with awed fascination.

Bran, seated in the cart, also watched the five. His fascination was quiet and calm, more thoughtful and contemplative than his sister's blatant interest and admiration. He had folded his hands in his lap and tucked his chin against his chest, almost as if the weight of his thoughts was a heavy burden. A lap blanket, crumpled and forgotten, lay at his side. Like his sister, Bran wore thick leathers to ward off the chill. Given that they had come from Winterfell, the weather here probably felt warmer to them than the greater cold in the North.

Thoros observed the dragons with focused wariness. The Red Priest, unlike Moqorro's morose nature, was tense and vigilant, as if aware of threats, both seen and unseen, around him. Beric, his mouth pulled down into a deep, almost thoughtful frown, didn't appear at all interested in the dragons. He focused on Ned, blinking rapidly, as if he was having trouble seeing the young Lord of Starfall clearly. Ned, along with Brynden and Tormund, dragged the last of the dead men into a heap.

"That's all of the dead," Brynden announced. His gaze narrowed on some of the still-living but wounded attackers. "For now."

Beside him, Tormund snorted as he looked at the pile of the dead. He leaned down and, as Ayra had done, calmly cleaned his sword on the corpse nearest him. "All of 'em should be dead. No reason to keep any of 'em alive."

After seeing Griff's anger, Brynden had taken Tormund by the arm and led him away to help gather the dead. The distance required to separate the living attackers from the dragons also served to keep Tormund away from Brienne. Brynden Tully, an intelligent, battle-hardened leader, had instantly understood the threat the Wildling didn't comprehend. The Blackfish had seen the dangerous fire burning in the dragons' eyes, all six of them.

Brynden nodded in agreement but sighed heavily. "These men are a scourge on these lands but my grand-niece is correct. Her brother must determine their fate before the people. The king has to show strength to rule these lands."

Bryden turned his head when Griff snorted. The rightful king came to join them with his hands resting on the swords in his belt. Brynden looked down and stiffened. He then looked back up at Griff with shock darkening his Tully-blue eyes. Brienne could tell the Blackfish recognized both swords Griff wore.

It was probably well known by now that Griff was the Sword of the Morning. He had fought at her side during the battle in King's Landing. Arya had called her Ladydragon, as had the children on Tarth. Their exploits had reached the northlands. It was too soon for anyone, but the Golden Company, to know that Griff had Blackfyre. They were only learning Griff had rejoined the Targaryen bloodlines. Griff's gaze narrowed at Brynden's shock but he kept his expression calm.

"You mean he has to accept the Golden Company's strength," Griff corrected. His indigo eyes were hard and sharp. "We stopped this attack, just as we helped you take the Twins and end House Frey."

Immediately, Brienne's gaze turned to Arya. The youngest Stark daughter stiffened at hearing about the traitorous House Frey. Her bright-eyed awe abruptly died at Griff's words. It was as if a light had been extinguished in her soul. A quiet rage darkened her grey eyes instead. Though Arya hadn't moved, nor had her expression changed, a hardness came over her features, making her face look less like warm flesh and blood and more like a cold, stiff mask.

Brienne shivered at seeing the subtle but harsh change overtake the girl. Arya has been cool and poised at Winterfell but had also smiled and interacted easily. She didn't seem to be that girl anymore. The person standing before Brienne now was the young woman who had fought with such precision and speed, who's cold focus and superior skill had almost defeated Brienne in the courtyard.

This person could be a ruthless killer.

The dragons gathered around Brienne hissed at her sudden emotional spike. The Stark guards froze, their faces losing color as they stared at the dragons. Brienne and Podrick soothed the five as Griff and Ned strode across the road to join them.

"What is it, Brienne?" Griff asked. "Do the dragons sense danger?"

The dragons didn't sense danger, she did. The hardness in Arya's expression had sent a wave of alarm though Brienne's body. She knew better than to ignore her internal warning. But Brienne couldn't tell Griff about her concerns while Arya, Bran and their grand-uncle were with them.

Her gaze slid past Griff to the Blackfish. Brynden studied them carefully, especially Griff. Unlike the Stark guards, the Blackfish was more wary of the human dragon than the fire and scale ones. It was another sign of Brynden's military intelligence. He understood the leader who controlled the most powerful fighters was himself the most powerful fighter. Though the young dragons were lethal, the one they chose to follow was the greatest threat facing them.

"They're fine," she assured him. "I believe Lord Brynden recognized your sword, your Grace."

Automatically, Griff looked down at his left hip, where Dawn was sheathed. Brienne nodded to his right hip, where Blackfyre hung. Griff had many responsibilities as the Prince of Dorne and the Sword of the Morning. Even so, his most important role was as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Dawn was the sword of great warriors but Blackfyre was the sword of kings. His duty as Protector of the Realm took precedence over all others.

"I'm not a lord," Brynden denied. "Aye, we took the Twins but that doesn't make me the Lord of the Crossings. Only the king has that authority to bestow a lordship."

Griff's concern melted away as his expression shifted to cool consideration. A frisson of alarm slid down Brienne's spine. She knew that look. Griff sensed an opportunity in the Blackfish's words, a chance to affect and possibly even control an outcome. She watched as Griff deliberately placed his hand on Blackfyre's pommel. He smoothed out his expression to bland calmness before he turned away from her to face Brynden.

"I can give you the Twins, if you wish," Griff offered. "The Golden Company helped you take it. By right of conquest, I'll accept your claim to it, Lord Brynden."

Brynden scowled. "You have no right to offer it to me. Jon Snow is the King in the North."

"Do you fear Jon Snow will deny your claim?" Griff questioned. "I'm sure he remembers how your niece treated him. Tell me, did you show respect to the Bastard of Winterfell before he became king?"

Brienne drew in her breath and exchanged worried glances with Podrick. What was Griff doing? Brynden had already said he accepted Jon Snow as his king. Why would Griff make an offer that could challenge Jon's authority? Worse, why was Griff trying to remind Brynden of his niece, Catelyn's resentment? Was Griff trying to weaken his half-brother's rule, divide the men who had sworn to support him? If so, to what purpose? Why would Brynden Tully, who shared blood with House Stark, consider abandoning Jon Snow?

"Lord Varys, was the Blackfish successful in his campaign?" Griff asked.

"He was, your Grace," Varys confirmed. "Brynden's men have taken the Twins. The women and children of House Frey are their captives, but are well. They haven't been harmed, according to my little birds."

Griff nodded, his mouth curling up in a smug smile. "Did he pledge, Lord Varys?"

"Again, it is as you expected, your Grace. Brynden pledged himself to the White Wolf," Varys confirmed.

As you expected. Brienne stared at her king. Griff had known Brynden Tully would go north to take the castles of the traitorous Freys. The Twins were guarded by the Frey's few remaining loyal men, with the drawbridges raised and the doors barred. Why would Brynden want the keep of the men who had murdered his niece and her family, including his king? Brynden's home was Riverrun, more than two days south of the Twins.

Brienne recalled sitting in the council chambers in King's Landing, discussing the fall of House Frey. Griff had anticipated the Twins would fall and had taken steps to ensure it fell into friendly hands. Brynden was loyal to his nephew, Edmure, the Lord of Riverrun. Was he also loyal to the memory of his dead niece, Catelyn? Lady Catelyn had barely tolerated the boy she'd believed to be her husband's bastard son. Did Brynden share his niece's dislike of Jon Snow?

"You don't have to make a production of holding your sword," Brynden snapped. "I recognize Blackfyre. I saw a painting of it in King's Landing before the fall of the Targaryens. You may be a Targaryen and you may be a king, but you're not my king. House Tully is bound by blood to House Stark."

Brynden glared at the sword under Griff's hand. The older man's features were tight and almost angry. Thoros, standing beside the cart, narrowed his eyes as he studied the sword. He nodded in agreement. The Stark guards looked at each other nervously but remained silent. Even Tormund was uncharacteristically quiet, looking from Brynden to Griff then back to Brynden.

"Ahh, but Jon Snow doesn't carry the blood of House Tully," Griff reminded. His voice had become softer, his words drawn out, almost tauntingly. "Yet you pledge yourself to the man who was the source of your niece's shame and vexation."

"Jon didn't choose to be a bastard." Arya's face flushed and the cold, silent rage disappeared under her passionate defense. "He was always respectful to my mother, no matter how she felt about him. He's our brother and he did whatever was necessary to protect us."

"With help," Griff pointed out. "The Golden Company saved your sister Sansa, your Uncle Edmure, your Grand-Uncle Brynden and now you and Bran. Plus, we're helping the Riverlands recover. Jon Snow may have regained Winterfell but he hasn't done much else for his people or his family."

"That's not true," Arya denied hotly.

She was about to say more but Bran spoke up.

"He is of the North," Bran announced. "Direwolves can endure great cold."

Arya turned to look at her brother. "Direwolves? Bran, do you see Ghost? Is Nymeria with him?"

She turned in a full circle as she tried to peer into the woods. Despite their tense situation, Brienne felt compassion for Arya. She'd seen how bonded Jon Snow was to Ghost. It must have been the same for Arya with Nymeria. Brienne would fight any enemy, cross any distance, to protect her dragons.

Bran shook his head and frowned at the dragons still gathered around Brienne and Podrick. The five tightened their circle, alerted by the knowing intensity in his eyes. It was almost as if Bran knew what Brienne was thinking.

"No, the direwolves aren't here." he denied in his odd, flat tone.

Arya stopped looking around and glared at her brother. "Then what are you going on about?"

"The war is almost upon us," Bran said. "We all have a purpose to fulfill. Dragons endure great heat while direwolves endure great cold. They are both needed in the Great War."

"Yes," Arya agreed triumphantly, smirking at Griff. "The Great War is coming. While you play cyvasse, moving people around Westeros like pieces on a board, my brother is preparing for the upcoming war. He is defending his people."

"We are all defending the people," Griff reminded her, but there was no venom in his words. "The Golden Company had joined the Great War, as has Dorne, because all of Westeros is in need. We fight to defend the Seven Kingdoms and beyond."

"You fight to become the King of the Westeros," Arya shot back.

"Yes," Griff agreed easily. "I do."

Arya opened her mouth but didn't speak. There wasn't much she could say. Griff had made no secret of his goals and intentions. He was the rightful king and working to protect all of Westeros. Jon and Daenerys were focused on war, while Griff saw beyond the battles, to the aftermath. If the Seven Kingdoms survived the war against the Army of the Dead, they had to be prepared to protect the people that remained.

Ned spoke up to break the brittle silence. "We're ready to burn the bodies. The dead are gathered with dry leaves. We need to ignite the pyre."

Brienne looked past him to the mound of dead bodies. She had no sympathy for men who preyed on the innocent and the helpless. The only thing worse than the evil these men had done was the possibility of the evil they could do, if they were brought back as Wights.

"Begin immediately." Griff nodded in agreement then turned to Brienne. "We also need more men, supplies and provision if we're to spend the night on shore. We only brought enough men for a scouting trip."

"Serjeant will expect us to return by nightfall," she agreed. "We don't have much daylight left, especially given how large and thick these trees are."

She turned her head to study the shadows creeping forward from the woods. The sun was lower in the sky and would soon sink behind the tree line, causing the darkness to encroach around them. Griff also turned to gauge the setting sun.

"We need to be quick and light to reach the Sea Keeper, arrange supplies, and rejoin the main group at Saltpans before full nightfall," Griff assessed. "I'll take Catren, Allwyn and a team of six men with me. The rest of you will remain with the Stark guards and their attackers."

"Your Grace, we cannot separate," Brienne protested. "I'm your sworn sword. My place is at your side."

"You're not just my sworn sword, Brienne. You're also a serjeant in the Golden Company," Griff reminded her. "You have a duty to lead your company. A small group will move quickly. You'll lead the larger group, with wounded prisoners and a cart, after ensuring the dead have burned."

"The dragons won't like being separated," she warned.

"They're not being separated," Griff assured her. "We can still hear the river, which means we're close to it. The dragons sensed me at the King's Gate while you were in the Red Keep. The distance between us won't be enough to upset them."

Brienne frowned. Griff's plan was sensible. They needed to alert the crew of the Sea Keeper and bring additional men. A small group, protected by dragons, would pass through the wood quickly and safely. They would even have an easier time rejoining with the main team with dragons to guide them. His arguments were logical.

That wasn't why she was concerned. Brienne knew her king. Griff was always thinking ahead, arranging and rearranging his strategies, based on new input. She'd seen the calculation in his gaze when he'd agreed to Arya's demand to allow Jon to pass sentence on the attackers. He'd also looked thoughtful when Brynden had denied being a lord. Griff saw an opportunity and wanted to go back to the Sea Keeper to implement it. Her king was up to something.

Even so, he was still right. She was a serjeant of the Golden Company. It was her duty to lead the men in their commander's absence. It also allowed her to guard two of Catelyn Stark's children. Brienne hadn't forgotten the kindness the Lady of Winterfell had shown her.

"Yes, commander," she agreed softly. "We'll burn the dead then meet you at Saltpans."

Griff nodded. He stepped closer to her, forcing Ardayn and Serdun to shift aside. Brienne felt more than saw Podrick also move away, as if to give them privacy. There was no privacy while surrounded by Company men, Stark guards, and prisoners. Even so, Griff shifted so that his wide shoulders blocked her view of the others. He opened his mouth but said nothing. Instead he looked back at the men and Arya all watching them. Griff huffed out his breath, as if frustrated, and turned his attention back to Brienne. He laid his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed gently then allowed his hand to fall.

"Take care, Brienne," he said quietly. He turned away and raised his voice to address the men. "I need six men with me. Ned, remain with Brienne and the Stark team."

Ned frowned but didn't object. The Company men looked at each other and decided on the six that would join Griff. Arya, Brynden and Tormund watched them with obvious suspicion. Bran's expression was calm to the point of disinterest. Thoros was also calm but he was focused on the dragons. Beric stared into the distance, almost as if he was seeing nothing at all.

Arya, who was closer to Brienne than any of the others, put her hands on her hips. "Where are you going?"

Griff glanced at her but didn't bother to reply. "Catren, Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa!"

The dragons readily rose from Podrick's side and flew to join Griff. Many of the attackers cried out as they crouched down. The natural fear of dragons, coupled with the knowledge of how little life they had remaining, had the hardened men cringing at the possibility of a painful death by dragonfire. Brienne had no sympathy for them.

It took Griff and his team only seconds to organize. With a final nod to Brienne, Griff led the men back into the woods. Tormund snorted and put his hands on his hips. He turned to Brynden and gestured to where the team had disappeared.

"The little prince king ran away. What's a' matter?" Tormund snorted. "Aye, he's as pretty as a woman but I didn't know he'd turn tail like one."

Both Brienne and Arya turned to Tormund, their hands on their swords. The dragons hissed and puffed warningly. Brynden threw Tormund a vicious glare. Tormund put his hands up, as if in surrender.

"I ain't saying women can't fight," he correctly hurriedly. "I just saw the prince king leave us. What's the matter? The pretty little dragon doesn't like the smell of burning flesh? Is his Grace's fine nose offended by the smell?"

"His Grace is not weak." Brienne gritted her teeth but forced herself to speak civilly. "He is the Sword of the Morning, an honor bestowed on only the greatest of swordsmen."

"Swordsman, aye?" Tormund repeated. "Seeing how many swords he's got, how does he know which one to use when?" He eyed Brienne speculatively. "Which one have you handled most?"

Brienne froze, the blood rushing into her face. Beside her, Podrick gasped in shock. Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan extended their wings, as if they could physically block the offensive words. Around them, the Company men put their hands on their weapons, anger clear in their eyes. Arya and the Stark guards looked between the Golden Company and the dragons, horror in their faces. The prisoners cringed again as tension filled the air.

Brynden, his face flushed deeply red, crossed to Tormund in three strides. He shoved Tormund into the side of the cart. Tormund protested but the Blackfish held his face close to the Wildling's and hissed something Brienne couldn't hear. She saw Tormund's eyes widen as he looked from Brynden to Brienne.

She bent down to hold Ardayn and Serdun while Podrick had his arms around Gallan. The dragons folded in their wings but were still stiff and alert, as were the Company men around them. Arya and the Stark guards stood very still, watching the dragons with visible concern. Brynden released Tormund and stepped away. Tormund looked from the dragons to the Company men then to Brienne.

"I...I," Tormund paused, if unsure of what to say.

The dragons squawked and Tormund took a step back. Brynden put his hand on Tormund's shoulder.

"Say nothing," Brynden advised. "Silence speaks when words cannot."

Tormund frowned at the Blackfish, clearly confused by his comment. Even so, he allowed Bryden to push him to the far side of the cart, out of the dragons' view. Brienne exhaled deeply, allowing her body to relax. Everyone else seemed to take her gesture as permission to also relax. Their shoulders dropped and the tension eased.

Several Company men busied themselves with starting a fire and thrusting dry branches into it to feed the blaze. The others continued to guard the prisoners, who had lost their bloodlust and waited quietly. Soon, the stench of burning flesh caused everyone to move away from the blazing mound. The Stark guards turned the cart around to lead the horses back the way they'd come.

Arya continued to look towards the woods. No matter how hard the younger woman stared, Nymeria didn't appear. Arya finally accepted the fact when the Stark guards began to coax the horses back onto the dirt path. She took a moment to check on her brother then moved a few steps closer to Brienne.

"Why did your king leave?" Arya asked again. This time her voice was calmer and there was no annoyance in it. "Where did he go?"

"To bring reinforcements," Brienne explained. "These cowards are quiet now but we'll need to guard them for the night. Otherwise, they may attempt to overpower us while we sleep. We must not let our guard down, Lady Arya."

Arya scowled. "I'm not a lady."

Beside her, Brienne heard Podrick make an odd sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. Brienne gave him a side-eyed glare but understood his amusement. How many times had she herself said that? She, like Arya, had resisted being trapped in a role that didn't suit her. She, however, had been luckier. Her father had indulged her and allowed her to learn to train with a sword. How had Arya developed her skill?

"I'll address you simply as Arya if you address me as Brienne," Brienne offered.

Arya grinned and nodded. She once again looked like the cool, steady young woman Brienne had met at Winterfell. Her gaze slid past Brienne to look at the dragons with enchanted delight again. Ardayn and Serdun remained at Brienne's side while Gallan rose above the treeline. It looked in the direction Griff, Catren, Allwyn and their team had gone. Gallan didn't appear concerned. The other dragons were still close enough for it to sense their presence. As concerned as Brienne was, she knew Catren and Allwyn would keep them safe.

Podrick was also watching Gallan. He leaned closer to her to speak quietly. "My Lady Ser, the eagles are still here but several have left to follow his Grace."

Brienne frowned and looked up. "Why are they watching us?"

Podrick shook his head. Brienne turned to Bran, seated in the cart. She remembered Sansa saying Bran knew things he shouldn't know. However, his eyes were closed, as if he'd fallen asleep in the midst of the turmoil and stench.

"He does that sometimes," Arya explained. "Too much activity overwhelms him. He needs to shut it out."

Brienne nodded in sympathy. She'd only engaged the Army of the Dead once and that had been with dragons at her side. She couldn't image the terror of facing them without the benefit of Valyrian steel and dragonfire. How had Bran, a young boy without the use of his legs, been able to survive the encounter?

Ned came to join them. He also looked up at Gallan as the blue dragon swept through the air. "The dead are sufficiently burned. They will not rise again."

"They must be reduced to ashes," Beric warned. "Even a half-burned body can rise."

"Yes, we saw that," Ned agreed. "Some of the dead who marched on King's Landing were nothing more than bones held together with bits of skin."

"Ice Wights," Beric said knowledgeably. "Tethered to evil, touched by cold."

Ned nodded slowly. "Yes, the air became noticeably colder when they appeared."

Beric nodded, too. "Slaves to the Night King."

Ned looked over to Brienne. His purple eyes were dark and startled. Brienne shared his shock. She heard Griff's voice in her head.

"His motives are clear," Griff said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "He wants to enslave all of Westeros."

Brienne gasped. Everyone, including the dragons, stared at him. They were all still at hearing Griff's blunt declaration. The council members looked at each other, stunned. This time, Tyrion was the first to break free from his shock.

"Enslave?" Tyrion gasped. "The Night King isn't a slave master."

"What else is he?" Griff challenged. "He takes people's choices, power and even their lives away from them. He reduces them to a single objective – to serve him and bring more people under his control. He gives limited power to a small group of followers, his White Walkers, to command Wights, slaves of their own. They all exist to serve the Night King's objective."

Brienne felt an icy wave of cold chill her from head to foot, as if she'd fallen into an icy-cold bath. Instinctively, she tightened her arms around Serdun, drawing comfort from its magical heat.

"And what is the Night King's objective?" she asked quietly.

"The same as that of all tyrants." Griff looked at her, his indigo eyes darkening almost to black. "He wants dominion over every creature in Westeros, if not the entire world. He wants to control their decisions, their actions and even their thoughts. In short, he wants to be a God."

"Lord Beric, what do you know about these Wights?" Ned asked him quietly.

Beric was quiet for a long moment as he studied Ned. Finally, he shook his head. "Many things but now is not the time."

He looked away for a long moment. It was so long that Ned turned away. But then Beric spoke again and Ned stopped.

"How is your aunt?" Beric asked quietly.

It was only because Brienne was facing Ned that she saw the confusion in his expression. The Lord of Starfall turned back to his former mentor.

"I thought you didn't remember my Aunt Allyria," Ned reminded him. "I asked you what you wanted me to say to her. You said you had no words because you had no memories."

"I said that so she would no longer feel obligated to me," Beric admitted. "Your aunt is a fine woman. She deserves better than to be chained to man who is more dead than alive."

"So, you do remember her?" Ned probed.

Beric sighed heavily. "I remember of her but I don't remember her."

Ned frowned. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Each death brings back less of a life." Beric explained. "Each time it becomes harder and harder to see the past clearly. It's like a portrait that is not cleaned. Eventually, the dust and cobwebs hide the image, even when you know where the portrait is hung and who it is of."

Ned stared at Beric, his frown making it clear that he didn't still didn't fully understand. Beric looked down, lost in his own thoughts again. Around them, the men stirred, as if eager to move to their destination. Or perhaps the talk of death has them eager to put the stench of burning bodies far behind them.

"King Aegon has gone to bring reinforcements." Brienne stepped forward to address the men. "Ensure the fire is completely burned out. Then we'll take these men to Saltpans to await our king, and tomorrow, to give them the justice they deserve."

The attackers, already cowed by the dragons, stiffened but didn't speak. Brienne looked to the cart carrying Bran and the Stark team's belongings. "Is the cart still functional, Ser Brynden?"

"Aye," Brynden agreed. "But the horses will spook again if the dragons come near them."

"Ser Brynden, you and Tormund will lead us," Brienne decided. "The horses will follow you and your men. The Company men will surround these cowards then the dragons and I will be in the rear. We'll ensure no one attempts to escape or harm us."

"I should be with you," Tormund began.

Brynden grabbed his arm and pulled Tormund away with visible force. Tormund scowled then his eyes widened when Ardayn and Serdun hissed. They two were still at Brienne's side but they had begun to swish their tails, their cold, reptilian eyes focused on the startled Wilding. Tormund either stumbled or missed a step with the force of Brynden's hold. Either way, he allowed Brynden to drag him forward.

The Stark guards surrounded the cart while Thoros and Beric followed. Arya stayed where she was, watching Ardayn and Serdun's complete mastery with a mixture of admiration and envy. Ned moved into place beside Beric, as if he was once again the lord's squire. Beric didn't appear to notice. Instead, he continued to look down at the ground, his focus on something they didn't see. The Company men hustled the attackers to follow Ned. Brienne, Podrick, Arya and the dragons brought up the rear.

Ardayn and Serdun rose into the sky to join Gallan. They flew over Brienne's head, maintaining their straight-line formation. They squawked, ensuring the Company men that they were also on duty, guarding their fellow fighters. Several Company men looked up and smiled at the dragons, even as they maintained their disciplined structure.

Their progress was slow since several of the attackers were wounded. Even so, the dirt path was easier to walk than the uneven ground in the woods. After a few minutes, Arya moved closer to Brienne and Podrick.

"Why did the men need to start a fire?" Arya asked. "You have dragons. You could have ordered them to burn the dead."

"We don't order the dragons," Brienne explained. "They're like direwolves. They do as they please and only listen to us when it suits them."

"Yet they defend you," Arya pointed out. Her expression grew thoughtful. "They split up when we were first attacked but still worked as a team. They know how to fight. Even now, they fly in formation. How do they know to attack your targets if you don't give them orders?"

Brienne exchanged a troubled glance with Podrick. The dragons knew how to defend, not to attack. They reacted out of their instinctive drive to protect their family and from Griff's diligent training. Arya pointed out a troubling problem. They had brought the five north, into war. How could the dragons fight without knowing when to attack? Were their defensive skills enough?

"They don't attack targets," Brienne explained. "They only defend. They fire when they're trying to protect their family. Is it the same with direwolves?"

"Yes." Arya glanced up at the dragons, then she looked into the woods around them. "I lost Nymeria when I tried to protect her and Sansa lost Lady."

"Lady. Yes, your brother," Brienne stumbled over the word but pushed on regardless, "told us about how Nymeria was set free and Lady was lost on Cersei Lannister's orders."

"Cersei," Arya repeated. Her expression hardened. "I heard your dragons burned her to death. Did she suffer?"

The coldness in Arya's eyes made Brienne stumble slightly. She understood destroying her enemies, especially when they harmed others, but Brienne had never spoken of anyone with the same soul-deep hatred Arya seemed to have for Cersei Lannister.

"Yes, my Lady, she did." It was Podrick who filled the silence. "King Aegon agreed to give her to Dorne as partial recompense for the harm House Lannister had done to House Martell. The Dornish lords threw her into the black cells and did something to her."

"Something?" Arya prodded.

Podrick shrugged. "The next day, when they brought her into the Throne Room, she appeared more dead than alive."

"It was a ruse," Brienne growled. "They said they'd broken her mind but the lords didn't understand that Cersei's mind had already been broken. She attempted to have her guards kill the dragons. Instead, she and her guards died. Then Gregor Clegane's brother choked her, crushing her throat."

"Sandor?" Arya's hand went to her sword, the instinctive gesture every warrior made to ensure they were armed. "The Hound is still alive?"

Brienne glanced down at Araya's sword hand. She recalled Arya traveling with Sandor before she'd met up with them on the road to Gulltown. Arya had been wary but didn't appear to have been afraid of Sandor back then. Apparently, she and Sandor has separated after Brienne had pushed him off the cliff.

"Yes, he is," Brienne confirmed. "He was injured but did more damage to Cersei than she did to him. She stabbed him with a sword before he could fully kill her. Then she turned on me and the dragons fired on her."

The cold in Arya's grey eyes morphed into satisfaction. "Good. She deserved a painful death." She turned to look back to the path they were following. "I would have given her an even longer, more painful death."

Brienne was so stunned by Arya's words that she nearly stopped walking. She understood Arya's rage. Cersei had been at the root of so much of House Stark's suffering. She'd also been directly responsible for Lady's death and Nymeria's abandonment. Brienne knew the burning drive to avenge the death of someone she loved.

"Go on, do your duty."

Those had been Stannis Baratheon's last words before she had taken his head. Stannis had murdered Renly with blood magic. There had been no honor in his actions. Even so, Stannis had understood what she was about to do would be an honorable act. She, as Renly's Kingsguard, had avenged his death. Her reason for executing Stannis hadn't been cruelty or bloodlust. Her actions had been right and proper, her duty as a loyal member of Renly's Rainbow Guard.

Arya wanted Cersei to die painfully and horribly, not for honor but for revenge. She wanted the former queen to suffer and feel pain, to know the pain Arya had felt. The question was, did Arya still feel that pain? She was a trained warrior, able to water dance, comfortable with sword and dagger. No one became that proficient with their blades without a great deal of practice and experience. Arya had clearly killed before. How many people had she killed? What lay under the surface of the cool and steady Arya Stark? How dangerous was she?

And to whom?

Author's Notes: So, what do you think Griff is planning? You didn't really think he would allow Jon to have the upper hand in their interactions, did you?

This is a bridge chapter but I did seed some important clues. One more chapter and then the moment we're all waiting for – the meeting of Rhaegar's sons!

Much thanks to my wonderful beta, Liv_It_Up124 for her (as usual) wonderful work and support.