The Keeper

Chapter 71 – Fireside Keeper

Their group moved slowly along the dirt road leading to the remains of the town of Saltpans. Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan flew above the Golden Company, ensuring the subdued attackers made no attempts to harm the Company men. The dragons took turns rising above the treeline, most likely to keep track of the river and, with it, Catren and Allwyn. Several silver eagles also followed their group, hopping from tree to tree as they observed their slow, steady progress.

From the corner of her eye, Brienne watched Arya Stark walk beside her. Arya's eyes were never still as they shifted from target to target. The tiny warrior looked from the men walking ahead of them, to the dragons and eagles above them and into the woods on either side of the road. She also occasionally touched her sword. It was the instinctive act of self-assurance all fighters displayed, ensuring she was armed and ready to defend herself.

"I hope Lady Sansa was well when you left her." Brienne spoke quietly so her voice didn't carry to the men in front of them.

Arya nodded but didn't look at Brienne. "Yes, she's well." Arya paused for a beat, then her voice hardened. "As well as she can be, after all that she's been through."

Brienne thought about the battered and terrified young woman she and Podrick had defended in the Wolfwoods. Sansa had survived years of abuse and neglect, first in King's Landing, then even in Winterfell, until she and Theon had saved themselves. They had almost been recaptured by Ramsey Bolton's men when she and Podrick had found them. Sansa and Theon had both been traumatized by what they had endured. They'd been terrified of every noise and shadow, until Castle Black had appeared in the distance. That was when Theon had found the strength inside himself to leave them to rejoin his sister, Yara. Sansa's determination had kept her determined, upright, and steady until she'd reunited with Jon Snow. That was when Sansa's icy veneer had shattered, causing her to sob in relief, finally safe in her brother's arms.

Her cousin's arms. Jon loved Sansa, protected her, and had reclaimed their childhood home, but he wasn't Sansa's brother. Jon was Sansa's cousin, the son of her Aunt Lyanna. Though he had wolf's blood, Jon Snow, like Brienne herself, was a bastard child of House Targaryen.

"Your sister is a very strong woman," Brienne murmured. "She was able to overcome the terrible abuses she suffered in war."

"War didn't abuse Sansa, the Lannisters did," Arya contradicted. "If I could, I'd kill each and every one of them myself." She finally looked over at Brienne, her Stark-grey eyes stormy and intense. "Not that I blame you for killing Cersei when you had the chance. She didn't deserve to live."

Deserve. Arya spoke as if living was a gift, a choice that was made. No child chose to be born, just as no man could choose to avoid death. It was the natural order of things, the cycle of life that only the Gods, in their divine wisdom, could alter.

"Are you saying the assassin killed House Frey without contract?" Jon Connington demanded, regaining Brienne's attention. "The Faceless Men don't work that way. There's always a price for death."

"It's not just a calling but a religion," Varys added. "They believe the deaths they grant satisfy the Many-Faced God."

The Faceless Men thought they had the right to disrupt the natural order. As followers of the Many-Faced God, they believed death was a gift they could bestow, for a price. One of them was suspected to have killed Walder Frey and most of the men loyal to him. Was the destruction of House Frey part of the Gods' grand plan? Was House Lannister, now reduced to only Jamie and Tyrion, the next to be destroyed? Could Arya truly be part of that destruction?

"I didn't kill Cersei," Brienne corrected. "Sandor choked her, then the dragons fired on her. It was Ser Jaime who delivered the killing blow. He did it as a mercy because he couldn't bear to see his sister suffering."

"The Kingslayer isn't as noble as you make him out to be, Brienne," Arya insisted. "He's just as evil as his sister. Worse even, because he's too much of a coward to take responsibility for his cruelty."

"Ser Jaime vowed to send you and Sansa back to Winterfell when your mother released him," Brienne corrected gently. "You had already fled King's Landing and Sansa disappeared shortly after Joffrey's death. Ser Jamie gave me gold, armor, and his sword to find and protect you. He is an honorable man."

"Honorable," Arya snorted. "So honorable that he threw Bran out a window. He tried to murder my brother."

Brienne gasped. "No, Ser Jaime would not do that."

Arya scowled fiercely. "He did. Bran loved to climb. He climbed up the side of the old tower and found the Kingslayer fucking his sister. Ser Jaime caught Bran then threw him out the window so he could continue fucking Cersei and put his bastard son on the Iron Throne."

Brienne wanted to protest but was stopped by Podrick's reaction. He was walking on her other side and sighed heavily as he hung his head. She looked at him and saw the sad acceptance in her squire's down-turned features and stooped shoulders. A cold finger of dread slid down Brienne's spine. Podrick would know the truth. He had been in Tyrion's service before he'd become her squire.

Brienne drew a deep breath when a memory bloomed in her mind. Jaime and Cersei had come into the Throne Room after the dragons had freed the Valyrian steel swords. They had seen Gendry, Robert's bastard son, for the first time.

Gendry shrugged. "Joffery ordered the murder of all King Robert's bastards to hide the fact he was a Lannister bastard. Now, all the Lannister bastards are gone and I'm still here. Odd, huh?"

Cersei hissed and lunged for him but Jaime caught her and held her back. The dragons screeched, reacting to Cersei's spiked emotions. Cersei's rage was directed at Gendry so the dragons didn't try to pull away from Brienne and Podrick. Still, their hisses made their displeasure known. Cersei froze in Jaime's hold, turning her head to stare at the dragons with raw fear in her eyes.

"Joffery ordered the murder of Robert's children?" Jaime asked her, his eyes stark.

"We did it to protect our children." Cersei's eyes narrowed. "Don't forget, you've done the same yourself."

Jaime's face drained of color and his hand dropped from Cersei's shoulder. He closed his eyes as a shudder shook his frame. Everyone stared between the twins in shocked horror, except Tyrion, who hung his head.

Arya's claim was true. Jaime's expression had been the picture of guilt, his shoulders drooped in defeat. Brienne didn't know why the knowledge shocked her. She knew Jaime had murdered his own cousin to return to Cersei. The man he'd been then would have willingly killed a hundred innocent boys to protect his sister and their children.

"Arya, anyone is capable of killing in specific circumstances," Brienne insisted quietly. "We've all picked up weapons to defend those we love. It doesn't make what we did right or justified. It's just a fact of life. No matter how we live, death is the ending."

Arya wasn't aware of Brienne's sad acceptance. Her scowl showed her focus was still on her own anger. She pulled out a dagger from inside her cloak and tilted it so Brienne could see the rippled pattern of the Valyrian steel. Arya's pace didn't alter even as she twirled the deadly sharp blade. Her slim fingers weaved with expert ease as the blade danced in her hand.

"I know death. It has many faces." Arya made no attempt to hide the venomous rage in her voice. "I look forward to the one Jaime Lannister will see when he leaves this world."

The dragons shrieked and swooped back to Brienne. The whole procession stopped in reaction. Brienne and Podrick held their arms open to receive Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan. Arya gasped and stumbled away, out of their firing range. Even so, she still kept command over the dagger, which she now gripped by the leather-covered handle.

The captured men cried out and shrank into themselves, as if to make themselves smaller targets. The Stark guards shuddered and crouched down. The Company men, disciplined and ready for possible attacks, immediately shifted their stances, half focused on their prisoners and the other half turning to face a possible threat coming out of the woods around them.

Only Bran Stark didn't respond to the dragons' defensive reaction. He remained in the cart, eyes closed, chin pressed against his chest, almost as if asleep. It was the rigid set of his shoulders and tightly clasped hands that gave away his awake, if not aware, state. Bran's attention was focused on an image inside his head and not the events around him.

The dragons landed between Brienne and Arya, separating the young warrior from their mother and Podrick. They faced Arya and hissed, puffing their bodies to make themselves as large as possible. Arya's eyes were open wide, no longer amazed and awed, instead now filled with raw fear. Brynden Tully, who'd been at the front of the group, slowly walked to the back, but was also careful to stay away from the tense dragons.

"Arya, what happened?" Brynden demanded.

"All is well," Brienne assured as she fell to her knees between Ardayn and Serdun. She placed her hands on their backs to soothe them. "Lady Arya was showing me her dagger. The dragons are very protective."

Podrick stroked along Gallan back, calming the dragon who stared at Arya with cold, reptilian eyes. Her squire glanced at her but remained silent, though his dark eyes were knowing. Podrick knew that wasn't the full truth. The dragons, more sensitive to emotions than humans, hadn't reacted to Arya's blade. It was Arya's undisguised rage that had alarmed them, made them swoop down to protect their mother from the sudden emotional spike.

The Company men, who'd spent months training with the dragons, looked skeptically at Arya, before looking to Brienne for guidance. Brienne nodded to them to assure that all was well. She knew they also understood the dragons hadn't been disturbed by Arya's blade. The dragons hadn't reacted to the dagger but, rather the person holding the dagger. Even so, the men remained alert and watched the woods around them. They maintained their disciplined structure, guarding the prisoners and their team, even while prepared to defend against another attack.

Arya slowly slipped the dagger back into the sheath in her belt. "I'm sorry, Brienne. I didn't realize the dragons would think I was threatening you."

"The dragons have just met you. They won't react so suddenly once they know you are a friend," Brienne assured her.

Brienne hugged Ardayn and Serdun briefly before releasing her most ardent guards. She rose and nodded to Arya. Podrick straightened and stepped back from Gallan. The dragons sniffed the air and relaxed, then unfurled their wings. In seconds, they were airborne again, squawking as if to assure the Company men that they were ready to continue.

"We must hurry," Brynden urged. He looked around with concern. "I want to be back at Saltpans before full dark."

Brienne also looked around. The sky was still bright blue but the sun was now behind the trees, casting the woods into deep shadow. The woosh of wings, of both dragons and eagles, didn't disguise the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Arya turned to peer deeply into the darkness around them.

"The wolves are still following us, aren't they?" Arya guessed.

Brienne nodded in agreement. "They won't come near us, not while the dragons are with us."

Arya turned her head sharply, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You said Nymeria did. She led you to us."

"True," Brienne conceded. "But even she kept her distance from the dragons."

"It's not the distance from dragons that concerns me," Brynden cut in. He looked up at the dragons above them, then amended himself. "Currently."

"You're right, Ser Brynden," Brienne agreed. "The shadows grow long and the time grows short. We must meet his Grace and the rest of our men. Let's move."

Brynden nodded to her and strode back to lead their procession. Seconds later, the cart began to move again. Bran swayed in the back, eyes still closed, showing no interest in the world around him. Ned, Beric and Thoros followed the cart and the Company men shoved the prisoners back into motion. Brienne nodded to encourage Arya to fall into step beside her. Arya continued to monitor their surroundings, her eyes never still.

"I meant you no harm, Brienne," Arya assured. "I will never turn my blade on the woman who served my mother and saved my sister."

Brienne deliberately slowed her steps, forcing Podrick and Arya to slow their pace to match. The action put distance between them and the prisoners, allowing more privacy as they conversed. Brienne glanced at Arya, torn between amusement and concern that Arya thought she was a threat to her. Arya must remember how Brienne had kicked her into the dirt in Winterfell. But then, Arya had also battled her to a draw in the same match. Could Arya truly be a threat?

"It wasn't your blade that upset the dragons," Brienne explained quietly. "It was your anger. Dragons understand emotions and intent. They reacted because they felt your rage, not because you drew a weapon. They were ensuring your anger didn't cause you to lash out at me."

"They can understand emotions?" Arya looked up at the dragons, her awe returning but now coupled with respect. "They're that intelligent?"

"Ghost is also intuitive." Podrick, walking on Brienne's other side, pointed out. "I saw him with Jon Snow while we were at Castle Black. He said sometimes it was almost as if Ghost could read his mind." He looked up at the dragons. "I didn't believe it then. Now I think Ghost might understand intent, just as the dragons do. Direwolves may be as intelligent as dragons."

"If not more," Arya agreed. "Dragons can only understand emotions, but direwolves understand dreams."

"Dreams?" Brienne repeated. "Ghost understands Jon Snow's dreams?"

Arya hesitated. She finally stopped her circuit of watching the dragons, the men, and the woods around them. Her gaze shifted to the dirt passing under her feet. Brienne could tell from her intent stare that Arya was thinking. Arya put her hand on the dagger in her belt as they walked.

"I have wolf dreams," Arya finally said quietly. "If I can dream as Nymeria, perhaps she can dream as me."

Arya's head remained bent, as if she didn't want to see how Brienne and Podrick reacted to her admission. Compassion washed through Brienne. Arya has lost so much and at such a young age. It was only natural that her mind would create happy dreams to balance the horror and loss she endured while awake.

"You have dreams of Nymeria?" Brienne probed. "That's understandable. Everyone dreams of those who have importance in their lives."

"Not of Nymeria, as Nymeria." Arya finally looked at Brienne. "I dream of being Nymeria, of hunting with my pack, running through the woods, and avoiding men with sharp weapons. I can smell the dirt, feel the wind in my fur, hears the howls of my packmates and taste blood in my mouth."

Brienne frowned at her. That was different from pleasant dreams of Arya playing and perhaps running free with her direwolf. Could dreams be so vivid that Arya remembered the smell, taste, and feel of the events from her dreams? The closest Brienne had ever come to that was the odd dream she had in her childhood bedroom on Tarth. She remembered looking through unfamiliar eyes to see her father, Podrick, Griff and the dragons while they'd slept. But she'd even been able to see fire burning inside Griff and the dragons. Surely, that proved it had just been a dream.

How else could she see what wasn't even there?

"Once I even dreamed of my mother, as Nymeria," Arya announced.

Brienne shook her head and furrowed her brows. "You dreamt Lady Catelyn was Nymeria?"

"No, I was Nymeria," Arya corrected. "I…I smelled a familiar scent and followed it. I saw my mother's body in the shallows of the water. She was naked, bloated, with her throat cut open and streaks down her face, but it was her. I, as Nymeria, pulled her body out of the river."

Jon froze. "Their corpses? You know where their corpses are?"

Qyburn nodded. "It took me a few days to find them. I trampled around the woods south of the Twins for days, checking the dead. You won't believe it, your Grace, but it was a pack of wolves who finally led me to the king and queen's bodies."

Jon's hand flattened on Catren's back. "Wolves?"

"Yes," Qyburn confirmed. "The Riverlands have more wolves than men since the War of the Five Kings. Strangely, the wolves hadn't disturbed their bodies. In fact, it was almost as if the pack was protecting them. Then, after I'd loaded their bodies on my wagon, the pack growled at me until I also took the body of a huge grey and white wolf."

"That was Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf." Jon looked down, hiding his expression.

"Direwolf," Qyburn repeated. "That must be what the lead wolf was, too. It stayed far back from the pack, but it was enormous, even from the distance.

Jon's head jerked up. "What? You saw a direwolf? What did it look like?"

"Lighter grey and white," Qyburn said. "It was as large as the other direwolf, Grey Wind."

"Nymeria?" Jon gasped. "Nymeria is still alive?"

"I don't know its name, your Grace, but it led me to Lady Catelyn's body," Qyburn explained. "From the marks on the body and the marks on the ground, the direwolf pulled Lady Catelyn's body from the river."

Brienne remembered that exchange in King's Landing. A shudder passed through her body. The shock was so strong that the dragons cried out. All three circled in the air to catch sight of Brienne, saw that she was well, and continued with their guard duties. The Company men and Ned, ahead of them, also looked back. Brienne forced herself to smile and nod calmly.

"Lady Arya and I were discussing her late mother," Brienne explained. "It's a sad topic."

Ned nodded understandingly and even Beric sighed heavily. Thoros glanced back at them then up at the dragons. Seeing they were calm; the Red Priest turned his attention back to the trail in front of them. Some of the Company men also looked up as they continued at their measured pace, keeping watch over the prisoners and the woods around them.

Brienne glanced over at Podrick. His eyes were as wide and shocked as hers probably were. Arya had described the same event as Qyburn had. Qyburn had said Nymeria's pack had guarded the Starks' bodies, and that there were marks indicating the direwolf had pulled Catelyn's body out of the water.

Could Arya truly dream as her direwolf? If so, could Nymeria also dream as Arya? Could they be connected in some magical way? If Arya could do it, could Jon Snow do it as well?

"Have…have you communicated with your brother about your mother, Lady Arya?" Podrick asked. "Did he tell you he located her body?"

"What?" Arya gasped. She looked at the cart in front of them. "No, I haven't spoken to Bran about it. He didn't say anything about Mother's body to me. He knows things, but I didn't ask him. What good would having her body do us now?"

Once again, Brienne and Podrick exchanged stunned glances. Qyburn had taken pains to find Robb, Catelyn, and Talisa Stark's bodies, just as the wolfpack had taken care to protect them. The wolfpack had even insisted Qyburn take Grey Wind's body, too. They were four corpses among the thousands who had died during the brutality unleashed by the War of the Five Kings. But unlike many who had lost their lives, House Stark's dead were safely stored.

Jon Snow had said he would send them on to Winterfell, to lie with the bones of their family members. So many families would never recover their loved ones, never know what became of them. Why had the Stark corpses been discovered and kept safe?

"Are you saying that the Night King wants Talisa Stark as his queen? That he'll use her baby, the unborn son of King Robb Stark, for a sacrifice? Or bring it back as a Wight?" Podrick whispered. "But they've been dead for nearly a year."

A terrible feeling of dread came over Brienne. "Qyburn experimented on the dead. That's why the Citadel took his chain. He was able to bring Ser Gregor back to something nearly living. He told us he found Robb, Talisa, and Catelyn Stark's bodies, as well as Robb's direwolf. Qyburn hid their corpses at Harrenhal before he came to King's Landing with Ser Jaime and me. He loved Talisa enough to destroy House Lannister to honor her memory. What would he, a man who prefers the dead over the living, do to her body?"

Brienne took deep breaths to keep her heartbeat steady. Arya didn't know Qyburn had found her family's bodies or that Jon had sent them to Winterfell. Arya dreamt as her long-lost direwolf, had seen Nymeria retrieve Catelyn's body, but didn't know Nymeria had also found the rest of her family. Nymeria had even found Arya and kept her safe during her journey through the Riverlands. Now, Nymeria had taken Ghost, the other living direwolf of House Stark, away for an unknown reason. Brienne knew the Gods had a divine plan. The dragons were part of it and now it seemed the direwolves had a role to play, too.

"The War of the Five Kings has brought great suffering and destruction to Westeros," Brienne said quietly. "I'm sorry for all that you've lost, Arya."

Arya scowled and looked away. "Not everyone suffered. Some people benefited from the war. One got so strong she sat on the Iron Throne and became the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, maybe the whole world."

"Cersei is dead now, Arya," Brienne assured her. "She died powerless, after being stripped of the Iron Throne, her dignity and even her sanity."

Arya's eyes glittered in the rapidly deepening twilight. "I wasn't talking about Cersei, Brienne. I meant you."

Brienne stared at Arya, so shocked she was almost numb. She would have stopped walking if Podrick hadn't nudged her. Her legs moved but her mind had trouble functioning, barely able to process what Arya had just suggested. Why would Arya make such an outlandish suggestion? Brienne knew who she was. She was a warrior and a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It was her duty to serve, not to lead.

"Me?" Brienne gasped. "I…I'm the Gods' warrior. I follow their will. I'm not powerful."

Arya snorted. "No? You're the woman who led dragons through King's Landing to take the Iron Throne. Then you used your dragons to destroy that same throne. No one else can claim that. Name anyone more powerful than you."

"King Aegon the Sixth," Brienne answered immediately. "He is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

Arya snorted again. "No man, not even a king, can equal the power of the mother of dragons."

"I'm not the Mother of Dragons," Brienne insisted. "Daenerys Targaryen holds that title. She birthed Drogon who, in turn, birthed the young dragons. I'm merely their keeper."

"You're not 'merely' anything, Brienne," Arya insisted. "Daenerys didn't lead those dragons through King's Landing. If she had her way, they'd probably still be entombed under the Great Pyramid of Meereen."

"What are you saying, Lady Arya?" Podrick demanded, his voice a shocked whisper. "Queen Daenerys put chains on her dragons?"

"Yes," Arya confirmed. "She put two of them in chains and locked them in the dungeons at the base of the pyramid. The third one escaped before she could imprison it as well. That was the one that flew over Braavos."

Brienne was stunned speechless. She stumbled forward automatically, unable to reply. The dragons looked back at her, sensing her emotions but continued their guard duties. Brienne looked up at them to assure them she was well.

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.

Griff had stressed how important it was to never chain the dragons. Imprisonment would slowly kill them and their magic. While Griff had worked hard to instill discipline and train the five, he'd never restrained them. He had trusted the dragons' intelligence and love would keep them loyal to their family.

"They died off because my ancestors believed it was their right to control everything, including the dragons." Fire flared in his eyes again. "They locked up the dragons in pits, denied them sunshine and freedom, limited their movement and kept them from flight. Like any chained creature, they weakened in captivity. The kings feared they couldn't control the dragons so they suppressed them, causing the dragons born to become smaller and weaker. Finally, the dragon eggs no longer hatched. The so-called wise kings were so bloated with their own power, they diminished the magic of the dragons."

Brienne remembered wondering why Rhaegal and Viserion were physically smaller than Drogon when she'd seen them for the first time. All three dragons had been hatched in the same pyre. There should be no reason why Drogon was so much larger than the other two.

Were they smaller because Daenerys, their own mother, had betrayed them?

Had she truly shackled her children, left them in darkness? The captivity must have weakened the dragons and slowed their growth. That explained why Drogon had laid its eggs so far away from Meereen. Had Drogon feared Daenerys would also imprison it and perhaps take away its eggs?

How could Daenerys do such a thing?

She had cried over Viserion's death, mourned for her dead child. But she had also inflicted lasting damage on that same dragon, potentially permanently stunting its growth. She had also pushed Drogon away, so much so, that the dragon had chosen Brienne to be the newly-hatched dragons' protector, instead of its own mother.

That explained why Drogon hadn't laid its eggs in Meereen, in Daenerys's care. However, it didn't explain why Drogon had chosen Brienne as their protector instead of Griff. He was a true-blooded Targaryen with an army at his back. She'd only had a Valyrian steel sword and her own wits to protect the newly-hatched dragons, at least until she'd gotten the Golden Company's protection. She'd wondered the same in the Company's office in Tyrosh.

"Tell me about the dragon's visit," she ordered again.

"The time it came to Braavos, it landed in our fighting pit." Griff admitted.

"Why? What did it do?"

"Nothing." Griff shrugged, careful not to dislodge the dragons. "It just watched us."

Brienne scowled. "Watched you do what?"

"At first, nothing." Tristan had gone back to stroking Ardayn with a single finger. "We froze, scared stiff while our balls crawled back into our bodies. Then the pretty boy here stepped up, maybe hoping to dazzle the dragon with his fine looks."

"We went back to practice." Griff held out his free hand to Gallan and Serdun. This time they deigned to sniff his fingers before going back to their guard duty.

"The dragon stayed for hours, just watching us." Tristan continued. "It didn't burn us or attack us. It just watched our drills."

"That's why we thought the dragon was a scout for the Dragon Queen." Griff explained. "We were sure she'd sent it to determine if we'd be good allies for her. Now we know the dragon wanted us to protect these little ones."

"Do you think the Dragon Queen knows about these dragons?" Brienne frowned.

Griff considered it. "I don't think so. There's no way she would trust strangers with her dragons, especially new, helpless dragons that can be stolen by anyone."

Brienne stared at the five. "Does that mean the dragon is acting independently of its queen? Is it hiding its babies?"

"The Dragon Queen has been having trouble holding the slave cities. Maybe the dragon knew it was best to keep the babies away from Slaver's Bay," Griff suggested.

Brienne thought about that. Why had the dragon hatched its eggs so far from the Dragon Queen? Were the eggs already in the Disputed Lands, forcing the dragon to go to the eggs? Or had the dragon decided to keep these eggs away? Were dragons controlled by destiny the same way men were? Did the Gods guide the dragon as they guided her? Was that why her destiny intertwined with a dragon's?

"Drogon chose to lay its eggs in the Disputed Lands instead of Meereen to keep them safe from Daenerys." Podrick spoke Brienne's thoughts aloud. "It feared what Daenerys would do with five more dragons."

"Don't give that dragon, Drogon, any more credit than it deserves," Arya advised. "Your dragons are disciplined and value loyalty. Daenerys's dragons are wild. They only know how to kill and serve themselves."

"That's not true," Brienne insisted. "Drogon and Rhaegal came to King's Landing to fight the Army of the Dead. They did so to protect the young dragons."

"Also, the big dragons followed my Lady Ser to keep the young dragons safe when she claimed the Iron Throne," Podrick added. "They're with Daenerys now, as she leads her armies to man the Night's Watch's empty castles."

"Yes," Brienne agreed. "Daenerys leads the big dragons. They have love and loyalty to her."

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "Yet Drogon chose you to protect its offspring, not its own mother or even King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen. Why is that?"

Brienne could only stare straight ahead, unable to provide an answer. Why had Drogon chosen her? It had known where Griff was, had even landed in the Golden Company's training pit and watched their training session. Had Drogon found Griff because they shared dragon blood? If so, why hadn't the dragon laid its eggs where the Golden Company could easily protect them? Why was she the dragons' keeper? What made Brienne special enough to be given this extraordinary responsibility?

Arya turned away from their conversation to also look forward. Brienne became aware that the group ahead of them had stopped walking. The Company men again changed their formation, half watching the prisoners while the other half focused on the woods around them. Brienne and Podrick put their hands on their swords. Arya already had her sword out as she looked around.

"What's the matter, why have we stopped?" Brienne called.

"The remains of Saltpans lie ahead," Ned answered. "We're about to pass out of the protection of the trees. We see fires in the distance."

"From here on is open ground," Brynden added. "We'll be marching downhill but we're exposed to attack. Our torches and our numbers make us an easy target."

"Do you think the fires are his Grace and the Company?" Podrick asked.

Gallan rose higher, above the sparse treeline and squawked. They heard answering squawks in the distance. Instantly, the tension that had come over the group eased. At least, it eased for the Company and the Stark men. Their prisoners, the men who had attacked them, remained tense and even seemed more upset the closer they came to the burnt ruins of the former town.

"Continue!" Ned ordered. "The other dragons are ahead. We march towards the prince."

The group moved forward, slower than before. Full darkness had fallen, broken only by the light of the torches held by the Stark guards. The uneven ground and downward slope required care to navigate in the velvety darkness. The Company men did not carry torches, preferring to keep their hands free for their weapons. The prisoners, many injured, all afraid of their fates, also moved slower. A few moments later they saw additional Company men, holding torches, coming up to meet them.

Allwyn and Catren continued to cry out as the two groups came closer and closer to each other. However, they stayed with Griff, guarding their father, as they waited to reunite with the rest of their family. Gallan continued to fly high, exchanging cries with Catren and Allwyn. Serdun and Ardayn stayed low, with their team, keeping their men protected.

"Direwolves do that, too," Arya noted.

Brienne glanced over at her. "Do what?"

Arya looked up to where Gallan flew above them. The sky had darkened so much that the blue dragon was no longer visible against the night sky. They could only see its outline when its magnificent wings blotted out the twinkling stars. Gallan squawked again.

"Call out to each other," Arya explained. "That's how wolves know how to find each other. Our direwolves did that when the pack was apart. Their hearing is so much better than ours."

"Hearing is one of the basic human functions," Qyburn confirmed. "Humans have weak audible range while other animals, such as dogs, can hear a wider pitch range than a man. Dragons are far more sensitive and intelligent than dogs, perhaps even than men. We know their aptitude, sensory range and emotional capability is far greater than ours. It's a reasonable supposition that their auditory ability is equally more acute."

Brienne shivered as Qyburn's words rang in her head. He'd explained why Dragonbinder was such a threat to the dragons, because their ability to hear, like their ability to feel emotions and sense intent, was greater than that of men. Direwolves, like dragons and dogs, must also have the ability to sense, smell, and hear beyond the inferior human ability.

Brienne was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize they'd arrived at Saltpans until the men ahead of her stopped. She blinked and looked around at the pitiful remains of what had once been a small town. It had still been vibrant, a small dock with a salt drying station, when she and Podrick had first set off on her quest to find the Stark girls. They'd passed through the remains of this small area while searching for Sansa, after returning from Tyrosh. By then, tragedy had befallen this small town. It had been sacked, burned, and abandoned, with only the holdfast still occupied. She looked to where she recalled the small castle being situated. Sadness filled her as she stared at the outline of the only building left standing after the burning, looting and savagery.

She saw most of the light was coming from the stone structure. It made sense that Griff had set up their camp in the only standing structure. It was a defensible position, with some shelter to protect them from steadily colder winds and possible physical attack.

Catren and Allwyn cried out to her, directly overhead. Brienne looked up to see Griff above them, leaning over a half-crumbling wall. He held his torch high, as did the other Company men around him.

"Wait for my men to guide you," Griff instructed. "The route into the holdfast is hidden and treacherous."

"Isn't there another path?" Brynden called up. "Your way will be dangerous in the dark."

Griff's smile was almost demonic in the flickering light. "That's the point, Ser Brynden. We want our position to be as protected as possible."

Brynden scowled, even though Griff couldn't see his expression in the darkness and the distance. "We can't bring the cart or horses up on such a path."

"There's a stable on the other side of the keep." Serjeant appeared beside Griff. "It's sound and can shelter the cart and horses. Follow the path around. We've already secured the area."

The next few minutes were spent organizing the men and prisoners. Brynden stepped into the cart and carefully unloaded Bran and their cargo. Two of the Stark guards joined hands to make a seat for the crippled young man. Bran, who had been silent and still until then, blinked rapidly in the light of the torches. He put his hands on each guard's shoulders to retain his balance.

Arya approached her brother. "Bran, where have you been?"

Brienne frowned at the odd question. Why would Arya ask her brother where he'd been when he'd been with them the entire time? Arya's voice quivered slightly, almost as if she was eager or possibly afraid to hear his response. Bran blinked again and looked around.

"I was here," Bran replied in his flat, toneless voice. "Before."

"Before?" Arya repeated, her features tensing.

"Before Ser Quincy shut the castle gates and ignored the screams of the people massacred here," Bran explained. "Men were torn apart, women raped and children mutilated. He did nothing to help his people. One woman cursed him before she died, wishing him the same painful death she was forced to endure."

Arya pressed her lips into a thin line. Brienne was equally distressed and clenched her hands into fists. She'd heard of the tragedy that had destroyed this town. She hadn't known that Ser Quincy Cox, the Knight of Saltpans, had been such a coward. Was he still alive? Had he abandoned his keep after he'd abandoned his people? Brienne was about to ask when Bran spoke again.

"His death was right and just," Bran said. "A gift well given."

The Faceless Men worshipped the Many-Faced God. Death was their purpose and death was their gift.

Brienne's blood ran cold. A chill passed through her that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature. Bran had looked at Arya when he'd spoken and nodded at his sister, almost as if he approved of Ser Quincy's death.

Arya's face showed no reaction. Her features had smoothed to the cool calmness she'd shown at Winterfell, a mask that concealed her thoughts and reactions. Her hand, however, went to the needle-thin sword tucked into her sword belt. She nodded back to her brother then walked towards the keep.

Arya didn't wait for a Company man to come to her with a torch to guide her way. She moved swiftly and silently. In seconds she disappeared into the darkness. She was gone before Brienne even thought to ask Arya if she knew where she was going.

Podrick moved closer to Brienne. He looked up at her with wide eyes. "She knows this castle, doesn't she?"

Brienne suppressed a shudder as she patted his arm. Podrick had participated in their discussions about the Faceless Men and had also heard the exchange between the Stark siblings. Was he also worrying if Arya Stark could be the assassin ruthless enough to murder the men of House Frey?

Ser Brynden dropped down lightly from the cart. Company men caught the horses' bridles and guided them further around the keep. Other Company men pushed the prisoners forward, starting them along the rock-strewn path into the keep.

Ardayn and Serdun remained with Brienne and Podrick, while Catren, Allwyn and Gallan flew in the night sky. Their shrieks kept the prisoners in line, reminding them they were guarded by the dragons. The men shuffled along the path. Occasionally Brienne heard their groans or outright cries as the injured prisoners were led into the keep.

Tormund, who had kept his distance from Brienne while they walked, now came closer. Ardayn and Serdun hissed in warning, reminding the Wildling that they were also on duty. Tormund stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in the weak torchlight. He took a few steps back and cleared his throat.

Brienne looked at him but waited for him to talk. Tormund opened his mouth, as if to speak, then closed it without saying a word. He repeated the gesture twice more before he finally formed words.

"I…I like your hair, Brienne," he offered, stroking his own head as he spoke.

She reached up to touch her head. Her hair, which she normally wore tied back at her nape, had escaped the leather cord. No doubt the wind had whipped it into a frizzy halo around her face. She attempted to smooth the stringy strands, mirroring Tormund's action.

"Thank you," she said, trying to keep her tone polite. "The dragons like to rub their heads against it."

"Yah?" Tormund looked down at Serdun and Ardayn, then back up to where Griff had been. "These little dragons or the big one?"

Podrick gasped. Brienne drew her breath in on a sharp hiss. Brynden appeared at Tormund's side before she could respond. The knight put his hand on Tormund's shoulder and forcibly turned him around.

"Tormund, you're the strongest. You need to carry Bran along the path." Brynden leaned closer to the Wildling. "I'll be right behind you."

Brynden's voice was hard, almost as if his words were a threat. The knight nodded back to Brienne before he half guided, half-pushed Tormund forward. Tormund looked back at Brienne, his bright blue eyes briefly dimming, his mouth turned down, mouth half-open, as if to say more. Even so, he allowed Brynden to take him towards the waiting guards and Bran Stark.

Brienne and Podrick waited for the Stark men to be safely ushered inside the keep. The winds picked up as they huddled beside the castle wall. The night was cold and clear. She could see the stars reflect on the waters of the Trident, where the Sea Keeper was anchored at the remains of the dock.

The settlement here had been small but large enough for few shops, a dock and even a sept. But what good was it to have a house of the Gods when the knight who held the keep was a godless man? He hadn't behaved like a knight or a follower of the Faith. Ser Quincy had locked himself in his holdfast, listened to the screams of the people he'd failed to protect, then still expected to have a life after ignoring so much brutal death.

The Gods had a divine plan for the survival of humanity. Many good people, like King Renly, Lady Catelyn, and Princess Elia, had died for others to live. Had Ser Quincy, a minor knight and a callous, uncaring man, died for a greater purpose? Or had the Many-Faced God granted the dying wish of an abused, suffering woman?

Had Ser Quincy's death been planned or earned?

Author's Note: I'm sorry it has been so long since I lasted posted. Alas, life happens. The next chapter is ready but I may not have time to post it. The Christmas and New Year's holidays are coming up fast. Expect the next posting to be on January 3rd.

I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season!