The Keeper
Chapter 73 – Stand Keeper
The center of the holdfast was still standing and mostly undamaged. The scorch marks on the walls, holes in the ceiling and the burned edges of window sills betrayed the sorry shape of the rest of the keep. Wind whistled in the halls around them, but this room had no windows. Even as Brienne watched, Company men rolled out leather tarps on the floor above to cover the holes. It looked to be the same material they'd used on the deck of the Sea Keeper. The leather had made the deck more flame resistant when they had fought off pirates on the Narrow Sea.
Fires already burned in the hearths at both ends of the hall and from torches lit along the walls. Now that the ceiling holes were being covered, the space would soon begin to warm. Brienne led Podrick and the dragons to where Griff stood with Varys. The five eagerly flew over her head to land in front of the roaring fire. The Company men had brought the dragons' bedding from the Sea Keeper. It took the five only seconds to settle into the cushions.
As was their habit, Ardayn and Serdun bedded next to each other, but left space between them. Catren and Gallan shared a nest, curling up together. Podrick sat down beside Allwyn, who generously shifted to allow him to share its cushions. As Podrick made himself comfortable, Allwyn curled around him. Of the five, Allwyn was the one who most wanted to be held. It always seemed to find ways to do so, despite Griff's attempts to discourage excessive cuddling.
"I see you," Griff warned, eyes narrowed on the pair.
Podrick flushed, looking sheepish. Allwyn merely closed its eyes and snuggled in. It knew as well as they did that Griff wouldn't do anything but scold. Griff was equally likely to wake up with a dragon curled up against him. Brienne calmly sat down between Ardayn and Serdun and waited for Griff's reaction. Griff merely sighed. Varys moved closer, distracting him.
Varys bowed to his king. "If you will excuse me, your Grace. I'd like to speak to Thoros and Lord Beric. They may have news my little birds have not been able to verify."
Griff nodded, dismissing the Spider. Varys slipped away and Serjeant filled his place.
"The keep is secure, as is the stable and the cellar." Serjeant reported. "Our men guard the halls and the turret. The lookout point gives us a clear vantage over the area."
Griff nodded. "Good. We hold a defendable position. We can respond swiftly to any attack." He looked around. "Where's Lord Ned?"
"He's directing the men securing our position. He's been in the area before and knows the lay of the land." Serjeant nodded approvingly. "Ned Dayne is a good soldier and becoming a skilled commander."
"That he is," Griff agreed. "I believe he has a remarkable future ahead of him, once we win the Great War. He'll be a fine lord and an even greater leader."
Griff smiled, clearly proud of his look-alike cousin. While they shared the same silver-blond hair and fine features, Ned's looks were even more Valyrian than Griff's. Griff had the indigo eyes he'd inherited from Rhaegar. Ned had true violet eyes, as had his Aunt Ashara as, presumably, a trait of House Dayne.
Brienne did a quick survey of the men around her. Even with the addition of the Stark men, their group fit easily into the space, given that many Company men were on patrol. The keep was a far more defensible position than the Sea Keeper. That coward, Ser Quincy, had proven it when he'd locked himself inside while his people were massacred.
Ardayn and Serdun raised their heads, perhaps picking up on her anger and disgust. She stroked her most devoted guards to assure them she was well. Brienne waited for them to settle back into their bedding before she continued her review of the room.
She saw Varys slide into the shadows behind the small cluster of Stark guards. The Spider had a special skill for disappearing while in a crowd. He appeared almost undetectable as he listened in on the guards' conversation. Though Varys cultivated little birds all over the world, apparently, he wasn't averse to spying himself if the opportunity arose.
Many Company men were gathered near the hearth at the far end of the hall. Brienne could see a cooking pot had been set up over the fire. Buckets and plates were stacked up nearby. Soon, the hall would be filled with the scent of cooked fish, hot stew, and flatbread.
Moqorro and Thoros stood together near the far wall. The two watched the activity around them while they spoke to each other, as though sharing observations. Brienne blinked rapidly at the realization that both men were Red Priests, faithful to R'hllor, the God of Fire. They even shared physical characteristics. Though their skin colors were different, they both wore their hair and beards in the same style, creating a halo around their heads. They even stood in similar poses, spines gently curved and their hands tucked into their sleeves, as if always ready to bow to their Lord's will.
"We all represent the Lord of Fire," Moqorro insisted. "Each of us who hold faith with the Lord of Light are his. I did as he commanded me."
"What did he command you to do?" Brienne asked.
"To keep faith with those who kept my Lord's dragons," Moqorro explained.
Moqorro had joined them because the God of Fire had commanded it. He said R'hllor had given his priest multiple visions. Moqorro insisted those visions were additional guidance for Brienne, for she was his Lord's warrior. He'd even come to join them after they'd left King's Landing without him.
Moqorro nodded to Griff. "Your Grace, my Lady Ser. Please forgive me for my absence. I was in deep meditation. My Lord had new messages for me. I searched for you as soon as my Lord released me. Sadly, your ship had already sailed before my Lord had fully shared his wisdom with me."
Serjeant came to join them. "He found me three days after you left."
Podrick's eyes were huge. "You meditated for three days?"
"Not entirely." Moqorro smiled his sad smile. "Deep meditation requires time and tranquility. I went into the Kingswood to serve my Lord. I am but a servant of the Lord of Fire. He had much wisdom for me to share with the Gods' warrior. He bade me to stay with his champion."
Moqorro had stayed with her while Thoros had stayed with Beric Dondarrion. Thoros had asked R'hllor to bring Beric back each time the lord had died. Clearly, Beric had an important role in the Gods' grand plan. Not only had he defeated death multiple times, he was also the owner of Lightning, a Valyrian steel sword so important that the Gods had reminded her of it in several dreams.
Beric was sitting on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, beside the two Red Priests. He, like the priests, was watching the activity around them. Unlike the priests, Beric didn't seem interested. His eyes were open but appeared to be unseeing, while his features were slack, almost as if he were on the verge of falling asleep. Brienne couldn't tell if he really was uninterested or if his multiple returns had sapped the life energy from his soul. She saw his hand was steady on his sword hilt, even as the rest of him appeared boneless and relaxed.
"Why are there guards only out in the halls?' Arya questioned. "Shouldn't they be patrolling the grounds?"
Brienne turned her head at hearing Arya's voice. The tiny warrior appeared suddenly, as she'd often done at Winterfell, silent and unseen. Now she leaned against the wall, beside her brother. Bran was seated on the floor close to the hearth, his eyes fathomless and almost sightless in the flickering firelight.
"The halls give them some protection from the wind and possible attack," Serjeant explained. "They're close enough to alert us immediately if anyone approaches."
Arya scowled, her hand resting on her Valyrian steel dagger. "By then it will be too late to mount a defense. We won't know of an enemy attack until they're already in the keep."
"Which will trap them in hallways guarded by the Golden Company and dragons." Serjeant's grin was savage. "They won't stand a chance."
Arya looked at Serjeant and her scowl eased. She paused, as if considering his words, then nodded. The corners of her mouth turned up in what could almost be a smile.
"So, you don't repel attacks. You prefer to capture and end your attackers." Arya surmised.
Serjeant nodded. "That's the Golden Company way. We don't leave our enemies alive to attack us another day."
Arya nodded back, as if she agreed with that philosophy. Brynden frowned at his grand-niece, as if he didn't agree with their thinking. The lauded knight, a veteran of over half a hundred battles, probably knew more about war, conflict, and bloodshed than Arya and Serjeant put together. Even so, he remained stoic, even as he carefully watched their exchange.
"Speaking of attackers, where are the men you captured?" Brynden asked.
The Blackfish had just joined their group with Tormund a few steps behind. Brynden shifted, so that he was standing between the Wildling and the unwilling object of his affections. The new Lord of the Crossings used his body to create a physical barrier between Tormund and Brienne. Even so, Tormund's height advantage allowed him to grin at her from above Brynden's head. Brienne sighed at the Wildling's ever-present interest and looked away.
Griff frowned as he looked from Tormund to Brienne then took a step forward, also blocking Tormund's access to Brienne. Griff glared at Tormund with narrowed indigo eyes. The Wildling raised his chin, almost in defiance. Brienne stiffened. Tormund was known for his bravery, not his intelligence. He had fought at Jon Snow's side in the battle for Winterfell and was a powerful leader. Griff could not alienate him, simply because Tormund had an unexplainable attraction to her.
"They're tied up in the cellar below us," Griff explained to Brynden while watching Tormund. "Plus, we've barricaded the door to ensure they don't escape."
"It's cold down there. What if they freeze during the night?" Arya questioned.
Griff raised his eyebrows. "Are you concerned for their well-being? Don't be. They're the worst of scum, rapists, murders and scavengers."
"I'm not worried about their well-being." Arya's mouth tightened as she pulled out her needle-thin sword. "I'm worried they won't survive for their executions."
"They'll survive," Serjeant assured her in a curt tone, his scowl revealing his disgust for the attackers. "There's enough of them in there to keep them warm, but not comfortable."
"Good." Arya pulled out a worn oilcloth from inside her jacket. "They'll be allowed last words and a clean execution, as the Old Gods demand."
Another shiver slid down Brienne's spine. The Old Gods. Those were the Gods worshiped in the North. The Faceless Men, however, worshiped the Many-Faced God, or death itself. Did that mean Arya wasn't a Faceless Man? Then why was she such a fierce and fast fighter? How did she know how to come into the keep without a Company man or a torch to guide her?
Brienne hadn't had much opportunity to interact with Arya while they were at Winterfell together. Arya was adjusting to the changes in her childhood home while Brienne's focus had been on returning to her dragons as quickly as possible. Griff had warned her Cersei was trying to hire the Golden Company. Brienne had put her full focus into getting the message to Sansa and Jon, to prepare them for Cersei's machinations.
Arya has slid out of the shadows the same way she'd slid into their lives at Winterfell. She'd just shown up one day. Brienne had first seen Arya when coming out of the training yard with Podrick. Arya had been pushing Bran's wheeled chair and Sansa had walked at their side. They'd come back from the godswood, where Bran normally spent his time. Sansa had looked so happy, tears glinting in her eyes, to have her sister back home, to have regained another piece of her family.
Brienne recalled the feeling of her own throat tightening at seeing all three of Lady Catelyn's living children reunited.
"Catelyn Stark would be proud." Podrick turned to look at her. "You kept your vow."
Brienne couldn't look away from the trio as they made their way across the courtyard. "I did next to nothing."
"You're too hard on yourself, my Lady," Podrick insisted gently.
"I'm not a—" Brienne stopped herself from uttering the familiar phrase. "Thank you, Podrick."
While Sansa had been joyful and Bran as detached as usual, Arya's reaction had been muted. She hadn't appeared overjoyed but she had seemed content. Even then, there had been a sense of distance between Arya and everyone else, keeping her apart from them. Clearly, she had suffered during her time in Essos and now kept barriers, physical and emotional, around her.
Tormund guffawed as Arya began to clean her sword. She glared at him as she settled beside her brother. Bran turned his head to look at the Wildling but his face was expressionless.
"Are you planning to execute them with that tiny stick? Little girl, you'll be hacking at them for hours." Tormund pulled out his own blade, bigger and wider than hers. "I can lend you my sword."
Arya lifted her chin. "No, I'll keep my Needle."
"Stick them with the pointy end." Bran spoke in his odd, toneless voice.
"Yes, that's what Jon said when he gave it to me." Arya almost smiled, her features warming and softening.
Griff, who had been focused on Tormund, now looked over at Arya. His features were set in the way that warned Brienne he was plotting. Griff rarely allowed his reactions to appear in his expressions. It was how he concealed his thoughts from all but those few who were closest to him.
"Your sword was a gift from Jon Snow?" Griff walked over to her.
Arya scowled up at him, putting the sword down at her side, almost as if to hide it. It was clear the sword was important to her. She'd kept it all this time, for all the years she'd been separated from her family and from Jon.
"It isn't the size of the blade that matters," Arya insisted. "It's the skill of the fighter."
"It is indeed." Griff agreed. "In fact, I carry a rapier, too."
Arya's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You do?"
"I do." Griff unlaced his leather jacket and allowed it to fall at his feet.
Seeing him remove his jacket, Brienne realized that the hall had warmed considerably. The men who weren't on guard duty had gathered into small groups, talking, eating and relaxing. Some had even stretched out to sleep, using their discarded jackets and capes as bedding.
Griff hadn't removed his jacket to use as bedding. He'd done so to reach the nape of his neck, under his tunic collar. As he did so, his sleeve pushed back, revealing the knife sheath he'd strapped to his forearm. In a single, smooth action, he pulled out the needle-thin rapier he wore against his spine.
Brienne frowned. He hadn't been wearing the additional weapons when they'd first decided to come ashore. Griff must have strapped on the sheaths when he went back to bring their men to Saltpans. Were the additional weapons one of the reasons why he'd been so eager to return to the Sea Keeper? Were they part of the strategy she knew he was planning?
"Now you both have matching sticks." Tormund laughed heartily as he sheathed his sword. "Even joined together those sticks aren't enough to protect you against a real blade."
Brienne stilled. She looked over at Podrick and saw her own thoughts reflected in his eyes. Joined together. Her sword, Oathkeeper, which she had used to protect Sansa, and Widow's Wail, which Kinvara had known would be with Jaime, had been joined together. They had been reforged into Ice, the greatsword of House Stark.
"A rapier thrust into an eye, an ear, or directly into the heart will stop any man," Griff corrected coldly.
Tormund grunted. Griff turned his back on the Wildling and held out his rapier for Arya to inspect. She leaned forward but didn't reach for the weapon. Finally, she nodded then looked at the knife sheath that had caught his sleeve. She reached for the Valyrian steel dagger in her belt. Her gaze shifted to the dragons. Seeing they were nearly asleep and not threatened by her actions, she held up her dagger for Griff to inspect.
"How many knives do you have?" Arya asked, her eyes brightening with interest.
Griff crouched down, moving carefully but with his usual practiced grace. His action brought his height down closer to Arya's. He admired her dagger as he put down his rapier. Then he held up both arms, allowing the sleeves to fall back.
"Two on each arm. I also have two strapped to my thighs." Griff indicated by touching his thigh.
Arya frowned. "What good is that? How do you reach them?"
Griff pulled at the side seam of his breeches. "There's a double panel sewn in. It covers the slit. These knives are even easier to reach than the ones on my arms."
He demonstrated by reaching into the seam and pulling out a small but wicked serrated blade. Arya's mouth curved into an actual smile. She replaced her dagger and reached into her boot. A second later she was twirling a similar knife between her fingers.
"I keep my stilettos in my boots, one on each side," she admitted. "Do you?"
Griff shook his head. "I'm too tall. I'd lose too much time reaching into my boot then coming back up. A boot sheath is only good for someone your height, with a lower center of balance."
Arya nodded slowly as she agreed with his assessment. Her gaze went back to the rapier Griff had set down at his side. She nodded to the weapon.
"Why do you wear it on your back? Why not at your side?" Arya questioned.
Tormund, who had settled a few feet away, snorted. "The little prince king won't be able to hold up his breeches if he hung anything else."
Arya scowled at Tormund. Griff narrowed his eyes at the Wildling but remained calm. He continued to stare at Tormund as he directed his response to Arya.
"My rapier was the second defense. I only used it in the rare occasions when someone was able to take my sword from me. It's unnecessary now that I'm the Sword of the Morning. No one can strip me of Dawn," Griff explained.
"Huh," Tormund grunted. "A man's got real problems if he's more worried about a little girl stripping him of his sword than his breeches."
Griff rose to his full height so fast he startled the almost-sleeping dragons. They all raised their heads. Brienne stiffened between Ardayn and Serdun, as all five dragons hissed angrily. Around them, the men became alert. Arya froze while Brynden stumbled back. He clamped his hand on Bran's shoulder, as if ready to drag the crippled young man out of the dragons' firing range.
"No!" Brienne cried. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!"
Brienne wasn't sure if the dragons would listen to her command to stay with her, not when their father had pulled out blades and was glaring at a man he clearly disliked. She wrapped her arms around Ardayn and Serdun's necks to hold them. Podrick immediately leaned over Allwyn to keep it at his side. Catren and Gallan, who were unrestrained, flared their wings.
"Your Grace!" Brienne called out. "Stop them!"
Griff turned from glaring at Tormund to see Catren and Gallan advancing. He left the Wildling to comfort the clearly angry dragons. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms knelt and hugged his children close, easing their concern and the tension in the hall.
Brynden, who was still standing guard over Bran, glared at the Wildling. Tormund continued to stand tall, trying to ignore the dragons and the Company men around him. Brynden snorted, his mouth curled in disgust.
"Take care, you fool," the Blackfish hissed. "We're surrounded by men and dragons loyal to Aegon Targaryen. I won't defend you if he decides to put his rapier through your eye."
Tormund scowled. "The little prince king won't come after me. He's too busy turning his eyes to the little Stark girl." He looked back to Brienne, his expression caught between anger and pleading. "Why are you wasting yourself as his spearwife? He doesn't deserve you."
Brienne jumped to her feet. "I am not his spearwife!"
The dragons shrieked as heat flushed her body. Suddenly, the hum of conversation around the room stopped. Everyone turned to look at her. Many Company men reached for their weapons. Arya and Griff both snatched up their rapiers. Instantly, the atmosphere, which had been warm and comfortable, became cold and still. Brienne drew a deep breath as she realized how loud and angry she'd sounded. She released her breath slowly and calmly.
"I am King Aegon's sworn sword," she continued, her voice now controlled. "It is my duty to protect him."
"You got a lot of duties," Tormund observed, also rising to his feet. "You protect the little prince king, lead his troops, keep his dragons and follow his orders. Why? You're incredible, Brienne. What has he done to deserve a woman as amazing as you?"
Brienne quickly stepped in front of Griff when he took a threatening step towards Tormund. She put out her arm to restrain her king. But her action didn't stop the other members of the Golden Company. Around them, the Company men rose and shifted closer. Brienne saw the Stark guards also change their positions, now standing back-to-back, as if expecting a confrontation. That must not happen. The Starks and Tullys were not their enemies. Tormund wasn't an enemy, either. He was just blindly besotted with her, for some reason she could not fathom.
"King Aegon saved my life." She spoke slowly and clearly, knowing everyone was listening to her. "He defended me when I couldn't defend myself."
"I don't believe it." Tormund shook his head. "I've seen you fight. You don't need a man to defend you. And not a man who doesn't understand the sun rises on you."
Brienne shook her head, unable to understand the apparent sincerity in Tormund's blue eyes. The Wildling truly believed what he was saying. How could he think the sun would not rise unless she opened her eyes?
Tormund took a step closer and the dragons, all six of them, hissed warningly. She felt heat at her side and knew, without looking, that Griff was beside her. Her king was close enough to touch. Tormund ignored Griff to focus on Brienne.
"You're the perfect woman," Tormund continued, his expression fierce in his belief. "Strong enough to stand at a man's side, powerful enough to fight at his back, brave enough to walk before him and passionate enough to lie beneath him."
Brienne gasped.
"Or over him!" Tormund amended quickly, raising his hands almost protectively. "Over or under, it's your choice. Whatever position you like is fine with me."
An intense wave passed through the room, a vibration that she was sure they all had felt. It was as if everyone had drawn in their breath, depleting the air so it was hard for her to breath. Heat flared at her side and Brienne knew it could only be Griff. His emotions were so strong they felt like a physical burn against her skin.
Griff's anger was nothing like her own. She had tolerated as many of Tormund's lascivious stares and suggestive remarks as she would. She had tried to ignore him, hoping her cold responses would convey her disinterest. They had not. Now the foolish Wildling had disparaged her, tried to reduce her to nothing more than a man's possession. She was not a possession, she was a warrior, the Gods' warrior.
"How dare you?" Brienne demanded. "You have no right to decide what I will be or who I will be with. I am not property to be controlled and judged by you or anyone else. I am the Gods' warrior, the keeper of their dragons. They alone judge me."
Tormund opened his mouth but Brienne continued before he could speak.
"All my life, men have tried to limit me." Her voice shook with her life-long rage but her words were still clear. "They looked at me and decided who they thought I should be. They judged me on my physical appearance, my height, my strength, or my honor. I didn't allow them to limit me then and I won't allow you to limit me now. You don't know me and you don't know my mind. Do not believe you have any influence over me or that I have any interest in you."
She could feel the blood flushing into her face. She dared not look at Griff or at anyone other than Tormund, for that matter. She was surrounded by men who could clearly see what she was and what she wasn't. She was no beauty with thick, flowing hair, a slender figure, and delicate features. She was a warrior, the Gods' warrior. She was built for the duty they wanted her to perform, no matter what Tormund thought of it.
"I am the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will," she insisted through clenched teeth. "Their will is for me to bring together their warriors to fight in the Great War. That is my duty, that is my purpose."
"It don't have to be your whole purpose," Tormund argued. "You can be the God's warrior and a woman. You don't have to stop being you for him." Tormund glared contemptuously at Griff. "If he wants to have the little girl, then set him off. You don't got to defend him."
Griff hissed again. Arya was on her feet now, too. Brynden looked from Tormund to the Golden Company men gathering behind him. The Stark guards tightened their circle, their backs to each other, their hand on the swords. Beric was also on his feet, his posture tense, as was Thoros at his side. They were all preparing for battle. Brienne gasped. How had this gotten so out of hand? Were these men really prepared to fight over stupid words?
She was no Jonquil, that men would risk their lives for her attention. Tormund, however, was acting like Florian the Fool. His impulsive words, heartfelt as they appeared to be, were inciting anger and conflict. How could she, of all women, attract such a passionate response?
Brienne put her arm down, trusting Griff to understand she wanted to handle this situation. As with her confrontation with Septa Roelle, he knew this was an occasion where she needed to fight her own battles. How could Tormund think Griff limited her in any way? Her king encouraged her to chart her own path and even followed her on it. He trusted her and made a place for her in the future he was building. She belonged in King Aegon the Sixth's new world.
She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. Brienne hoped her calmer posture would convey to the tense men around her. Of course, they would fight for her. As Tristan had said, the Company protected their own. She was a member of the Golden Company. She belonged to a kingdom, a Company and to the dragons. She was only able to do so because of the support of her king.
"I defend my king because he defended me," Brienne insisted. She made sure her voice was loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear her. "He fought through fire to save me. He brought his army to guard me and the dragons. He kept us fed, hidden, and protected for months while the dragons were too small to defend themselves."
Brienne looked around as she spoke. The tension in the room began to ease with each statement. The hostility decreased as the Company men listened to her recall their commander's actions. Griff put his hand on her elbow, almost in silent support. Warmth spread from her elbow to radiate through her entire body. This was Griff's greatest gift to her, his unwavering support. He had done everything necessary to protect her and the dragons. But he had done more than defend them.
"He helped me when I had nowhere else to turn," Brienne continued. "He trusted me even when I couldn't share my secrets with him."
The heat burning against her skin eased, as did the intensity in the hall. The men around her were still tense but they were listening. Listening was good, it meant they weren't fighting. The Stark men would not survive a battle against the Golden Company. How could Tormund's rash words lead to such a dangerous confrontation?
Brienne pulled her arm from Griff's hold and stalked closer to the Wildling. She looked directly into Tormund's eyes, ensuring he could see the truth in her gaze. Tormund shifted back, his blue eyes clouding with confusion. It appeared he finally seemed to have an inkling of how much he'd upset her.
"Even so, my king's greatest support has nothing to do with his army, his weapons or his fighting skills." Brienne's every word throbbed with absolute certainty. "It's King Aegon's integrity, his compassion and his honor that has done the most for me. My king raised my dragons."
Something in her furious expression must have gotten through to Tormund. His eyes widened and he took another step back. Brienne matched his step, so focused on her words that she didn't see the shock in Tormund's eyes.
"King Aegon taught the dragons discipline, strategy, and honor," Brienne continued. "He raised them to be the extraordinary warriors you see today."
Tormund stumbled back another step. Brienne matched it, intent on truly pressing her point.
"He did that for me, for my sense of honor. He knew how much I valued my oath to Catelyn Stark," Brienne continued. "He set aside his own ambitions to protect the dragons, to hide them from the world, while I brought Lady Sansa to Castle Black."
"I…I didn't know," Tormund mumbled.
"No, you didn't know," Brienne agreed but her righteous anger didn't lessen. "Now you do. Now you know what Aegon Martell Targaryen has done for me. If I'm as extraordinary as you say I am, don't I deserve such a man? A man who sacrificed his goals for my honor, ignored his ambitions for my needs and set aside his conquest for the dragons' protection?"
She paused to allow her words to sink in. Tormund seemed incapable of a response, his mouth falling open, blue eyes wide and shocked.
"What about Westeros?" Brienne pressed. "Don't the people of Westeros deserve the protection of such a man? Don't they deserve a king who will put their needs ahead of his own?"
Her last words, filled with conviction, her faith in her king, rang throughout the silent hall. They were so powerful they even hung in the air. For a moment, everyone was still, as if afraid to shatter the moment. It seemed the only sound in the silence was her own ragged breathing.
Brienne glared at Tormund, waiting for his response. The Wildling had none. He stared at her in wide-eyed shock, his mouth half-open as blood flushed into his face. Brienne raised her chin at his continued silence. The fool finally understood her. Perhaps now he would accept she had no interest in him. More importantly, he might now think before he judged a woman in the future.
She turned sharply on her heels to return to her family. She stopped when she saw their reactions. Griff was as still as a statue. His expression, which was normally calm or blank, was almost as stunned as Tormund's. His indigo eyes were glazed, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed with color, even in the mellow firelight.
Brienne stiffened and looked to Podrick. Her squire smiled at her with fierce pride. The dragons were gathered around him, alert but not alarmed. Beyond them, Brynden and Arya looked at her consideringly, as if they were reevaluating their impressions of Brienne. Around the hall, the Company men began to relax, some grinning while others whispered while watching her.
Brienne signed and shut her eyes, as if to block out what she'd just said and done. Her anger had overridden her usual stoic self-control. Years of practice had taught her to ignore unkind or unwanted attention. But the warmth and easy acceptance of people like Sansa, Jon, Griff and Podrick had broken down the scarred tissue that had protected her emotions. Tormund's behavior wasn't as cruel or salacious as what she'd experienced in Renly's army. Even so, she'd lost her temper and expressed her frustration over Tormund's behavior.
She'd spent her entire life belittled by people threatened by her strength or ideals, who saw her successes as their failures. Why was it that men who had no right to judge her, always did so? It was ironic that the only man who had the authority to make demands on her rarely did. Griff wasn't threatened by her. He accepted and even appreciated that her first loyalty was to the Gods. She was King Aegon's sworn sword but he'd done more to protect her than she'd done to protect him.
If I'm as extraordinary as you say I am, don't I deserve such a man?
Brienne froze as her own voice rang in her mind. Has she actually said that? Had she made such an impertinent demand on her king? Hot and cold chills raced along her spine as humiliation washed over her.
"Your...your Grace, I didn't mean to make demands on you," Brienne gasped. "I spoke without thinking, to Tormund, from my anger…"
Griff didn't respond for several seconds. He continued to stare at her with glazed indigo eyes. Anxiety caused a chill to pass through Brienne, so strong it made her shudder visibly. The dragons cried out, absorbing her emotional spike. It was their response that seemed to break Griff out of his daze.
Griff reached her in a single stride. "It's alright, Brienne."
The flush eased from his cheeks and his eyes lost their unfocused look. He didn't appear angry or insulted by her tirade. Instead, he cupped her cheek as he sometimes did and smiled soothingly. Behind him, the dragons also relaxed, responding to their father's steadying reassurance.
"You have a right to your anger, Brienne," Griff assured her. "He has no right to your time or attention."
Griff looked from her to Tormund behind her. His supportive smile faded and his expression hardened as he glared at the Wildling. Brienne also turned her head, pulling free from Griff's hand. Tormund looked from her to Griff then back again, his blue eyes narrowing in begrudging thoughtfulness.
"Stay in your limits, Tormund Giantsbane," Griff warned, "or I will restrain you myself."
Tormund scowled but backed away, until his back pressed against the wall. Griff was about to speak again when Ned appeared in the doorway. The young Lord of Starfall looked around with his mouth pressed into a thin line before stepping into the room. His action broke the odd stillness in the hall. He strode across the hall to join them.
"A group of riders is waiting beside the stable," Ned informed them. "They've asked for shelter for the night and to meet with Ser Brynden. They say he knows them and can vouch for them."
"Me?" Brynden frowned. "Did they give their names?"
"More importantly, did they say how they knew Ser Brynden was here?" Griff asked.
Ned shook his head. "They said they were guided. They assured us all would be clear once they met with Ser Brynden."
Serjeant stepped forward. "This could be a trick to gain entry. They could even be aligned with the men who attacked you. How many riders in total?"
"A dozen," Ned reported. "They're armed but no match for the Golden Company."
"They may not know how many men we have. This might be a ploy to gage our defenses and assess our numbers," Serjeant warned.
Brynden paused to consider. He looked around the hall, at the Stark men, the Company men, Catelyn's children, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, his sworn sword, and his dragons. Brynden nodded slowly, as if carefully weighing Serjeant's warning.
"Your concern is valid," Brynden decided. "We cannot allow them to enter until we determine if they are friend or foe. They're at the stables. I'll meet them there."
Serjeant nodded back, his mouth curling into a satisfied smile. He was clearly pleased that his advice had been heeded. Ned, who'd been standing stiffly, also relaxed, conveying his agreement to the cautious decision.
"I'll go with you," Serjeant offered. "If they are false, they'll know their mistake immediately."
Serjeant looked past Brynden to the Company men. The men had relaxed again and gone back to their small groups and some had already bedded down again. Now they were all alert again. Several men looked up and met Serjeant's gaze. They immediately broke from their groups to join him.
Serjeant nodded with satisfaction. "Lord Ned, lead us to these men."
The group left the hall. There was still tension in the air but it was different than the resentful anger the Company men had displayed a few minutes earlier. Now their attention was focused on the group outside their door and their possible response to it. This was a familiar state for the Company men, disciplined and focused, who were prepared to respond at a second's notice.
The Stark men, though not as relaxed as they had been before, removed their hands from their weapons and loosened their group. They no longer had their backs to each other but they looked attentively to the doorway, probably waiting for Brynden's return. Thoros and Moqorro went back to their conversation. Beric slid down the wall. The Lord of House Dondarrion once again looked sleepy and uninterested, even with his hand firmly over his sword hilt.
"Thank you, Brienne," Arya said quietly.
Brienne turned to look at her. "For what?"
Arya shrugged. "For honoring my mother, for protecting my sister, for supporting my brother and for being a warrior they could all trust. If you hadn't saved Sansa, if you hadn't brought her and Jon together…" Arya looked down then seemed to gather herself. She looked back up at Brienne. "House Stark might not be standing today if it weren't for you."
"We don't know what's enough until we try, Ser Jaime. Finding Lady Sansa, taking her to Jon Snow at Castle Black, was enough. It gave the Northerners strength to fight for Winterfell, to regain their lands, to make Jon Snow their king and for the wolves to regather. Our actions were enough to fulfill and even surpass our vow to Catelyn. We, you and I, Ser Jaime, helped restore House Stark."
Brienne recalled saying those words to Jaime when she'd thought she had been about to die. She'd been prepared to sacrifice herself for the Gods' will. If she had died, Jaime would've had to honor their Kingsguard vow, to protect King Aegon the Sixth. It hadn't been her time to die for the Gods still had work for her to do. Work that she would do to the best of her ability.
"You give me too much credit, Arya," Brienne insisted quietly. "Jon and Sansa did all that had to be done. They brought together the Northern forces, they brought in the Knights of the Vale and they restored Winterfell. I did almost nothing."
Brienne saw Podrick stir when she repeated the same words she'd said that first time she'd seen Arya at Winterfell. Then, Podrick had insisted she take credit but now he was silent. He knew as well as she did of what they'd done. But there was still so much more to do.
"I thank you anyway." Arya's lips curved into a small smile.
"You owe me no thanks," Brienne assured her.
"You owe me no thanks, my Lord," Bran recited. "In truth, my family is deeply indebted to your daughter. Rest assured, should she ever require it, House Stark stands at her back."
Brienne, Arya, Griff and Podrick all turned to look at Bran. He stared back at them, eyes blank, expression calm and his hands folded in his lap.
"What did you say, Bran?" Arya demanded.
"I didn't say it, Jon did," Bran explained. "When Brienne's father thanked Jon for allowing her to serve. Jon pledged House Stark to Brienne. She holds the loyalty of the King in the North and the man in the south who claims to be king. Brienne has brought together House Stark and House Targaryen."
Brienne barely suppressed her shudder at hearing Bran's words. Luckily, the dragons had gone back to sleep. Her emotional spike hadn't been strong enough to wake them. Podrick's mouth dropped open and he ducked his head to hide his expression. Brienne didn't worry about Griff. He was normally skilled at concealing his responses and hiding his thoughts. She was the one struggling to hide her reactions to Bran's declaration.
She hadn't brought House Stark and House Targaryen together. Lyanna and Rheagar had done that. The result had been Jon Snow, the bastard son they had destroyed so much to bring into this world. Brienne's breath quickened. Sansa had told her that Bran knew things, had information he had no business knowing, since returning to Winterfell. Did he know about Jon's true heritage?
"Is this true?" Arya demanded. "Jon gave you his loyalty? He gave you House Stark's loyalty?"
Brienne nodded. "Yes, he did. I didn't ask him for it but he gave it anyway."
To her surprise Arya nodded and smiled. "Good."
"Good?" Brienne repeated. "You're not upset that your brother gave your entire house's loyalty to me?"
"There wasn't much of House Stark to give at that time, was there?" Arya pointed out. "And if Jon had to pledge us to someone, who better than the Gods' warrior?"
Who indeed? Brienne marveled at the Gods' divine plan, one that had given her the protection of two of the strongest houses in Westeros. House Targaryen, like House Stark, had struggled back from the edge of extinction, based on the strength and determination of two surviving members.
Brienne was sworn to Aegon but even Daenerys had been eager to accept her. The Dragon Queen had taken pleasure in calling Brienne her kin. Daenerys had given her respect and honors, including knighthood. Griff who had given Brienne his support when she'd desperately needed it. He'd accepted the responsibility of being father to the young dragons. As such, he viewed his actions as the natural bonds of a loyal family. Though she was his sworn sword, she knew he would defend her and the dragons to his last breath, if necessary.
Arya also seemed to accept House Stark's obligation to Brienne without issue. But then, not only had Brienne protected Sansa, now the Golden Company had saved Arya and Bran. That action would only strengthen the bond between the dragons and the direwolves. Arya was almost pleased that Brienne held their family's loyalty. Perhaps it was less Brienne and more the young dragons. No house, not even the newly resurgent House of the Direwolf, could stand against dragons. So, perhaps it was best, in Arya's mind, to already be on the right side of House Targaryen.
Bran knew Jon had pledged House Stark to Brienne and didn't appear bothered by it, either. But then, Bran didn't appear to be bothered by anything. He was more animated and aware than he'd been when Brienne had last seen him. He wasn't as wooden and disconnected as he'd been when he'd first returned to Winterfell. Then, he'd spent hours in front of the weirwood heart tree, unaware of anything. Now he seemed more alert but focused on some internal image only he could see.
Even an actual direwolf of House Stark had made contact with them. Nymeria had met them in the woods. Ghost was now, presumably, with her. The dragons and the direwolves were deeply entwined, even without the inclusion of Jon Snow, the leader of House Stark and the third head of the dragon of House Targaryen.
"So, King Crow turned into a kneeler?" Tormund grumbled. "Don't expect me to kneel to the little prince king. I don't follow puny kings."
Griff scowled and took three large strides. Brienne hurried to intercept him, fearing he intended physical violence against the Wildling. She, herself, was still annoyed with Tormund but she didn't want Jon's friend harmed.
Instead of going to Tormund, Griff went to the hearth. The fire, tended by two Company men, burned hungrily through a large mound of twigs and branches. Griff reached into the flames and grabbed a branch. He held the burning wood high as he stalked over to the Wildling. Tormund's eyes widened and he put his hand on his sword, but didn't draw it. Once again, the other men turned to watch them. This time, only the Stark guards and Arya seemed alarmed.
Griff stopped, close enough that the fire in his hand reflected in Tormund's wide blue eyes. Calmly, Griff extended his hand, palm up. The fire licked at the burning branch, a heat that would have turned another man's skin into seared flesh. Anyone, other than a dragon, would have screamed in pain or reflexively dropped the wood. Griff did neither.
"I am Aegon Martell Targaryen, the son of the sun and the blood of dragons." Griff spoke calmly and clearly, unaffected by the flames turning the branch into ashes in his hand. "I have come to aid the North, the Night's Watch and the people beyond the Wall. I don't do so for power or for glory. I do so because I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms. It is my duty to protect the people of Westeros, wherever they may be."
Griff paused but Tormund remained silent, starting in almost hypnotic fascination at the flames burning in Griff's hand. Griff held his hand up higher, allowing everyone to see that fire did not harm a true dragon. Even so, his focus remained on Tormund.
"Control yourself, Wildling, for you stand among those who are prepared to give their lives to defeat the Army of the Dead," Griff advised. "And defeat them, we will. When that day comes, I vow you, along with every other creature in this kingdom, will kneel to the true Protector of the Seven Kingdoms."
Brienne looked over at Tormund. The Wildling's mouth had dropped open again, shock showing in his dazed expression and sudden speechlessness. Tormund tried to speak, his mouth moving but words didn't come to him. Griff turned away and walked back to the hearth, his pace calm and measured. His face was blank of expression but the flames in his hand reflected in his angry indigo eyes.
Arya's expression was similar to Tormund's, but she'd managed to keep her mouth closed. Bran was calm, as if seeing a man holding fire in his hand wasn't unusual. The Stark guards looked around nervously, watching how the Company men reacted. The Company men, who had seen Griff fight through flames, we're bothered in the least.
Thoros watched carefully, his eyes seeming to be lit by a fire of his own. Moqorro was quiet, his expression less animated than Thoros but no less thoughtful. Beric didn't react at all, even as he watched their interactions. Perhaps a man who died as many times as Beric had was no longer moved by life.
Brienne looked back at Griff. He'd returned the branch to the hearth but flames now licked at his sleeve. He didn't appear to notice, more focused on Tormund's reaction. The Wildling remained silent, staring at the burning material as it curled and fell from Griff's arm in a rain of ashes. Unthinkingly, Brienne reached out to pat away the fire.
"Oh!" She cried out at the sudden pain and snatched her hand away.
"Brienne!" Griff turned to her.
Brienne covered her injured hand with the other, shielding it, as if that would decrease the pain. The dragons, awakened by her sudden shock, all began to cry out. Podrick, who was seated beside Allwyn, tried to grab the blue-grey dragon. Allwyn, like the others, pulled away and flew to Brienne. The five, alert to their mother's distress, shrieked, and circled overhead. They landed around her, their wings outstretched and bodies puffed. They hissed at the people around them, ready to defend Brienne from any threat.
Griff tried to reach for her but Brienne stumbled back, pressing her injured hand against her midsection. The dragons shrieked again, unable to find the source of their mother's pain.
"Brienne, let me see," Griff ordered, his voice an angry growl.
"No, it's alright," she insisted, keeping out of his reach. "I'm fine."
The dragons shrieked again. Griff's anxiety probably added to their confusion and concern. The five were so upset they didn't understand their defensive circle kept Griff from Brienne. Around them, the Company men gathered closer, unable to help but alert, as always. They watched with similar expressions of concerned confusion. They stared at Brienne, hands on weapons, uncertain of how to react. Griff tried to reach for Brienne again. She nodded to direct his attention to his arm.
"You're on fire," she explained, still leaning away from him.
Griff looked down, hissed in frustration then viciously yanked at his tunic. The fragile material tore apart, revealing the sword sheath strapped to his chest and the knife sheaths on his arms. The burning material floated down to the floor, where he stomped on it to put out the flame. Then he stepped between Ardayn and Serdun, separating them to reach Brienne.
"What happened?" he demanded as he caught her wrist.
He tugged and she allowed him to pull her hand away from her body. They both stared at her palm. The skin, which had been pink and healthy only a moment before, was now an angry red with shiny welts.
"You…you're burned," he gasped.
For a few seconds Griff was so stunned he could only stare at her hand. Then he turned away, still holding her wrist.
"Water! Bring me cold water!" he commanded. "Immediately!"
His order broke the stillness. Podrick scrambled to Brienne's side as Company men rushed to the buckets lined up near the cooking fire beside the other hearth. Rather than waste motion by having a single man bring water, they formed a line, passing the bucket from hand to hand.
Podrick was the last in line. He put the bucket down with a loud thud. Water sloshed over the sides, but the vessel was still more than half full. Griff tugged firmly on Brienne's wrist, so that they both sunk down to their knees. Seconds later, he plunged her hand into the icy-cold river water.
The dragons crowded as close to her as they could. They were no longer puffed with aggression but still tense with concern and confusion. Podrick held onto Catren and Allwyn, the most high-strung of the five. Griff had Gallan under his free arm. Ardayn and Serdun pressed into Brienne's sides. It appeared they were trying to give their mother their strength. Brienne was aware of the five but stared at her hand, unable to understand what had happened. As the cold water began to numb the pain and shock, reason began to reassert itself.
"How can this be?" she demanded. "I shouldn't burn. I'm the Gods' warrior, the keeper of their dragons. I birthed dragons."
She looked at Griff, hoping he understood what she didn't. How could she, who had withstood direct dragonfire, but burned by a flame? A flame that had been so inconsequential that Griff hadn't even noticed it. It didn't seem that Griff understood any more than she did. His mouth was tight and his eyes reflected the shock she was sure was in her own face.
"That is so, my Lady Ser." An unfamiliar voice spoke from the doorway. "But birthing dragons, as extraordinary as it may be, is not enough to make you a dragon. You are who you are. You are Brienne Mallister Tarth."
The Company men turned to the speaker, their formation tight. It was as if they were forming a human wall between Brienne and the newcomer. The Company protected their own, especially when that member was injured, as Brienne clearly was.
Brienne twisted to look to the doorway. It was difficult for her to turn fully, since Griff still held her hand in the water. The speaker was a tall man with dark brown hair, a short beard, and high cheekbones. Brienne froze. It wasn't the man's appearance that shocked her. It was the coat of arms on his armor.
The firelight muted the colors and gave them a golden glow. However, Brienne knew that in direct sunlight, the eagle depicted would be the same silver-blond as Griff's hair and the indigo plate would be the same shade of purple as Griff's eyes.
This man was a member of House Mallister of Seaguard, the home of the silver eagles who had hidden a secret dragon. Brienne continued to stare at the man's sigil. She'd seen it many times, even at Evenfall Hall as she'd grown. Her father had kept the sigil of her mother's house, out of respect for his lost wife. The last time she'd seen the sigil was her final morning on Tarth. Brienne had been in her father's room, sharing a private farewell with him before leaving to sail north.
How had she never noticed that House Mallister's sigil reflected the extraordinary coloring, the most visible characteristic, of the human members of House Targaryen?
.***.
Author's Note: Do you remember, way back in chapter 25, I noted the scene where Robb and Talisa save Qyburn held two clues? Please review that scene at:
watch?v=YFBdUliDGCA
The first clue was Qyburn reviving when Robb talked about justice. The second clue was the amount of time Robb and Catelyn spent over Ser Jaremey Mallister's body. He was the only man whose sigil had been torn from under his armor and stabbed into his chest. Why was he singled out?
The TV show had House Mallister's colors as silver and deep blue, instead of indigo. I thought the producers did that to match Emilia Clark's eye color. She couldn't tolerate the purple contact lenses. Sadly, it turned out to be just another continuity error, not a clue to ending the Great War.
The Wiki of Ice and Fire has the sigil as silver and indigo. That is what works for my story. What do you think is the significance of House Mallister reflecting Griff and Dany's coloring?
Much thanks to my beta Live_It_Up.
