The Keeper

Chapter 74 – Bloodline Keeper

Brienne stared at the men gathered in the doorway. House Mallister of Seaguard was the house of the silver eagles who had hidden a secret dragon. Allyna Mallister Tarth had been born with silver hair and indigo eyes yet had been raised as an eagle, ignorant of the dragonfire in her bloodline.

The men, dressed in the colors and bearing the sigil of House Mallister, stood in a tight group. The dozen men were no match for the disciplined, organized Golden Company, but they were unified. Even so, they remained quiet, looking to the oldest man, the one who had spoken, for guidance.

"Who are you?" Arya demanded.

The tiny warrior had picked up Needle and held the rapier out, as if ready to use it to defend Brienne. It was a considerate but unnecessary gesture. Brienne was surrounded by dragons and guarded by the Golden Company. The dragons, all six of them, barely paid attention to the newcomers. They were focused on Brienne's burnt hand, still submerged in the cold water. The Company men, however, faced the newcomers who stood in the hallway, just outside the welcoming warmth of the center hall.

The tall man who had first spoken shifted aside, allowing Brynden and Ned to move ahead of him. Once they did, the other Mallister men entered the hall, but stayed in a tight group. Their eyes were wide and shocked, either by being confronted by intimidating force of the Golden Company or by seeing the dragons. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

"What happened?" Ned demanded, moving closer to the Brienne. "Why is everyone gathered?"

Brienne's back ached from twisting to see the doorway while Griff held her hand in the bucket of water. She turned around to reassure her king, her squire, and the dragons that she was fine. They were all crowded around her, anxiety apparent in their stiff bodies and, in the case of Podrick and Griff, their tense expressions.

"My hand feels better," she assured them and tried to pull it out of the water.

It had been the shock of being burned, not the pain, that had stunned her. She was a warrior. She knew how to deal with pain and injury. Now that the shock had passed, she could again focus on what was truly important, caring for her family.

Griff, still holding her wrist, resisted her efforts. "Are you sure?"

Brienne nodded as Ned strode forward. The Company men parted to allow the Lord of Starfall to pass through. Their defensive stances relaxed visibly when Serjeant and the Company men who had accompanied him came back into the hall, behind the Mallister men.

"Your Grace, Lady Ser Brienne," Ned came to loom over them. "What happened?"

Griff released Brienne wrist and rose to his full height. Gallan, who had been tucked under his arm, shifted to be closer to Brienne. Griff shook his hand to rid it of water and nodded back to Brienne.

"Brienne has been injured," Griff explained.

Brienne tried to rise but Gallan, Ardayn and Serdun pressed tightly against her, keeping her with them. Even Podrick, who had his arms around Catren and Allwyn, leaned closer. At least she was able to remove her hand from the water. She held it up to show Ned her injury.

"I burned myself."

Brienne tried to speak calmly and factually, but she couldn't prevent her voice from quivering. How was this possible? How could she, who had emerged uninjured twice after being fired on by Drogon, burn now? Had she somehow failed in her duties to the dragons or the Gods? Why else would they take away her ability to withstand fire? Could she still be the dragons' keeper if she wasn't immune to their dragonfire?

"Burned?" Ned stared at her hand then shook his head, disbelieving what he was seeing. "You cannot be burned. You're the mother of dragons."

"Which, according to this man, isn't enough." Griff turned to glare at the tall, brown-haired man who appeared to be the leader. "Isn't that what you said?"

The man nodded but made no attempt to come closer. "Aye, your Grace. As I said, it is an extraordinary honor to be the mother of dragons. However, birthing dragons did not turn her into a dragon. A woman does not change her own bloodlines when she births a child from a different bloodline, even when that bloodline comes directly from dragons. Lady Ser Brienne remains the union of the House of the Silver Eagles with the House of Light."

Brienne gave up trying to rise to her feet and sat on the floor, allowing the dragons to gather around her. "Who are you, sir?"

Brynden shifted back to stand beside the newcomer. The Blackfish cleared his throat and nodded to Griff. The Mallister men all turned their focus from Brienne to the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Brynden put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Your Grace, may I present my old friend and Lady Ser Brienne's uncle, Jason Mallister, the Lord of Seaguard."

"Your Grace." Jason bowed to Griff then nodded to Brienne. "My Lady Ser, your mother was my eldest sister."

A sudden ache throbbed in Brienne's heart, causing her to gasp. The dragons, sensing the deep longing she felt for her lost mother, gathered even closer. It was almost as if they were reminding her that she still had a strong family, even without the mother she'd loved but never known. She hadn't known Allyna but this man had.

Her uncle had known her mother, had memories and stories of the woman Brienne had yearned for her entire life but couldn't remember. Even if Allyna hadn't shared Jasons's father's blood, she had shared their mother's. Allyna had been raised as a Mallister, as sister to the current Lord of Seaguard, even thought she'd been born a bastard of the Mad King.

"My Lord Uncle." Brienne nodded her head. "Please forgive me for not rising. The dragons are upset."

Jason's gaze moved from her to the five around her. Unlike most people, when they first met the five, Jason didn't appear frightened, or even shocked, to see living dragons. Still, he made no effort to come closer. Instead, he nodded to the young man standing beside and just behind him.

"This is my son, Patrek," Jason introduced, then half-turned to the men behind him. "These are my nephews, Lymond and Petyr, and our guards."

Like Jason, the other Mallister men were tall and lean, with brown hair and beards, but without the streaks of grey. They also shared Jason's high cheekbones and fierce blue-grey eyes. They all bowed to Griff while keeping their distance from the dragons. They murmured polite greetings then studied the dragons with undisguised interest.

Griff nodded in acknowledgement then turned back to the hearth. He strode past the ruined, still-smoking tunic to pick up his rapier. He re-sheathed the sword, his movements deliberate and unhurried, ensuring the Mallister men saw the sword sheath strapped to his naked back, the knife sheaths on his bare arms and the two irreplaceable swords, Dawn and Blackfyre, at his hips. He didn't need words to convey his power and position. He was the Sword of the Morning, the rightful King of Westeros and just as deadly as his fire-breathing children.

"Lord Jason." Griff shrugged back into his heavy leather jacket, covering his naked chest and the various weapons strapped to his arms and chest. "We welcome you all to share in our shelter and hospitality."

"Thank you, your Grace." Jason moved forward, closer to the center of the hall.

The Mallister men moved with him, keeping their group tight. Lymond, Petyr and the guards touched their sword hilts, but made no move to unsheathe them. It was an unconscious gesture most warriors made, to reassure themselves when in uncertain circumstances. Patrek didn't make that gesture, his attention still fixed on the dragons. He moved away from the group and Brienne noticed he walked with a noticeable limp.

"Patrek, are you hurt?" Brienne asked quietly.

She pressed her own injured hand against her side. The chill from the cold water had begun to wear off, causing her hand to throb. It was more annoying than painful. With the ease of previous practice, she pushed the discomfort away to focus on her cousin. Patrek was near to her own age, equally as tall as her but hollowed out and frail, where she was solid and strong. He looked like many of the starved smallfolk she'd seen, too long deprived of proper food and sleep. But how could that be, when he was the son of the Lord of Seaguard?

"Aye, but it will heal." Patrek's voice had the musical lilt of the of the Northmen but with a hard edge. "I'm still recovering from the hospitality of the Freys."

"The Freys?" Brienne repeated, dumbfounded.

The Freys were not hospitable to anyone but their own. The previous Lords of the Crossing had become rich from taking tolls to cross the Green Fork of the Trident. House Frey had been branded traitors after they broke guest rights at the wedding of Edmure Tully to Roslin Frey. The Frey men had slaughtered King Robb, Lady Catelyn, and the Stark bannermen in a disgraceful event known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as the Red Wedding.

"Patrek was a captive at the Twins," Brynden explained. "He was taken hostage at Edmure's wedding."

Arya, who had replaced her sword and moved to stand beside Bran, gasped. She left her brother to come closer to Patrek, skirting around the dragons to approach him. Color flushed into her cheeks and her Stark-grey eyes were dark and fathomless as she stared at the heir to Seaguard.

"You were with my brother?" Arya demanded. "You fought with Robb?"

Patrek turned to face Arya. He studied her carefully, his eyes darkening with remembered pain. Arya touched the dagger at her side and waited for Patrek to speak.

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I rode with Robb Stark."

Arya continued to stare at Patrek but didn't urge him to continue. Her lips parted and an expression, half anxious, half agonized, crossed her face. It was almost as if she couldn't decide to ask for more information or spare herself the pain of hearing about her family's last moments. Patrek made the decision for her.

He drew a deep breath, matching color rising into his cheeks. "I was there when the Freys and Boltons betrayed him. I was already subdued when I was forced to watch Roose Bolton stab the Young Wolf through the heart." Patrek took a step closer to Arya. "I saw Black Walder cut your mother's throat. I heard their final words."

Arya gasped. Even Bran responded to Patrek's declaration. The remaining Stark son closed his eyes and ducked his head, as if he didn't want to see what was before him. Arya looked at her brother then turned back to Patrek.

"What did they say?" she asked quietly.

Patrek's blue-grey eyes were sad and haunted. "King Robb's final word was 'Mother.' The last words he heard was Roose Bolton telling him 'The Lannisters send their regards.' Then Bolton stabbed him. He died beside his lady wife, Queen Talisa."

Arya took a deep breath and steadied herself. "What about my mother?"

"She didn't have final words," Patrek explained. "She watched her son die then cried until Black Walder killed her."

Arya swallowed visibly but nodded. Her features hardened into an expressionless mask. Brienne couldn't tell how the tiny warrior felt about hearing about her brother and mother's final moments. Even so, sympathy welled inside her. She knew the pain of losing loved ones, of watching them die before her eyes.

"Before he died, Lady Catelyn begged for your brother's life. She told Old Walder to kill her instead. The Freys murdered them both." Patrek gritted his teeth and hissed out his breath. "I swear to you, Lady Arya, if I could have, I would've killed Walder Frey and his sons myself."

Arya went very still, like a wolf sensing nearby prey. She didn't speak, didn't flinch, didn't even blink her eyes. If Brienne didn't know better, she'd swear Arya didn't even breathe. The tension stretched out between the two, broken only by Patrek's harsh breathing. Finally, Arya nodded curtly. She turned sharply and strode back to Bran. She stood over her brother, her features still a hard, cold mask.

"Patrek, you've been a captive of House Frey since then?" Griff asked quietly.

He moved to stand in front of Brienne, as if to protect her from Patrek's painful story. The dragons were still gathered around her and Podrick. The five were more sensitive to emotions than humans. Even if Arya and Bran didn't show their reactions, they felt them. Given the way the dragons were burrowing into Brienne and Podrick, the five also felt their emotions.

Patrek nodded tiredly. It was clear that the young heir to Seaguard had not yet recovered from his ordeal. Jason came to his son's side and put a comforting hand on Patrek's shoulder. Patrek nodded to his father then turned back to look at Arya and Bran.

"The Freys used my captivity to force my father's loyalty to the bastard Lannister kings. They would taunt me and their other hostages with their superiority and cunning." Patrek's mouth curled, as if he'd tasted something foul. "It meant nothing. I would have died for Robb Stark."

Bran, head still bent, spoke. "It was not your time to die. You still have a role to play in the Great War."

Patrek shuddered visibly and stared at Bran's downturned head. Arya also looked down at her brother and put her hand on his shoulder.

"How could it have been King Robb's time to die?" Patrek demanded. "The Freys only defeated us with deceit and treason. Until then, we had won every battle."

"Except for the last one," Bran said quietly. "Robb could not see beyond what was before him. But you can, Patrek Mallister, and you must."

Patrek gasped and took a step back, shock evident in his defensive reaction and wide eyes. Jason put his hand on his son's shoulder to steady him.

"No one could have seen what evil the Freys would do," Jason insisted. "No man, before Walder Frey, had been so dishonorable. May he and his sons burn in the seven hells."

Behind him, his nephews' mouths tightened. All the Mallister men scowled. Brienne understood. The Frey's weren't superior or clever. They were traitors, grasping for power in any way they could get it. Their greed and betrayal had cost them dearly. House Frey had been destroyed, its wealth looted, its sons killed and its daughters scattered.

Patrek shook his head, his voice throbbing with remembered rage and pain. "They had a feast after they forced Edmure to turn over Riverrun, then another a fortnight later. That was when the Twins fell silent. No more taunts, no more ridicule, no more abuse. Just silence."

Brienne drew in a deep breath as she looked from Patrek to Arya. As she expected, Arya's face revealed nothing. The tiny warrior was as tightly strung as an arched bow but stood perfectly still. The dragons, able to sense what Arya hid from the humans, growled and shifted. They moved away from Brienne and Podrick to stand beside Griff, forming a defensive line between their family and any possible threat against it.

Brienne knew about the silence. Qyburn had gloated about it. She recalled him telling them how he had been the architect of Cersei's downfall and had taken House Frey down with her.

"My little birds informed me a girl had killed Walder Frey's sons. They said she was so quick and light, she moved like a dancer. The only assassins who move like that are Braavosi and the only girls who can kill like that come from the House of Black and White. I told my little bird to greet the girl with 'valar morghulis.' If she replied 'valar dohaeris' the bird was to tell her where to find my tonic and how to use it. A few days later, House Frey paid for turning to the Lannisters."

"The silence was broken a few days later, when Ser Brynden came in with my father and their men." Patrek managed a small smile for the Blackfish. "That was when we were all freed."

"By the time we arrived, the men of House Frey were long dead." Brynden took up the tale. "The women had barricaded themselves in a storage vault. Rats, insects, and crows had attacked the dead men's bodies. The stench was terrible."

Beside her, Podrick shuddered but Brienne didn't share his revulsion. The men of House Frey had no honor in life and deserved no honor in death. They were traitors who, like the scavengers who had feasted on their corpses, devoured anything they could grasp.

"We talked to some of the women," Jason continued. "Most of them were too frightened to tell the truth. One daughter said Old Walder had gone insane and poisoned his men himself. She claimed Old Walder tore off his own face in his madness."

"Another daughter said it wasn't Walder at all," Brynden's voice was suddenly thicker, as if it hurt him to speak. "She said Old Walder did rip off his face, but only to reveal another."

"They use blood magic to assume the identity of the dead," Varys explained.

"You mean they wear the dead person's face as a mask?" Podrick looked even more disgusted.

"Not as a mask, as an identity," Varys stressed. "It's said a Faceless Man takes on the memories, the characteristics and even the dreams of the face they wear. A short person becomes tall, a man becomes a woman, an old crone turns into a young lad. Their magic allows them to become the person whose face they wear."

Brienne looked over her shoulder at Varys, as his voice rang out in her mind. He had explained the religion of those who served in the House of Black and White. Varys stood further back, beside the priests of R'hllor and Beric Dondarrion. The Spider was silent but listening intently. Brienne turned back when Brynden sighed.

"She said it was a young woman with cold, dead eyes who'd come to avenge House Stark." Brynden's voice shook, revealing the depth of his pain.

Brienne looked from Brynden to Arya. The youngest Stark daughter still didn't show reaction. She took her hand off Bran's shoulder but was otherwise unmoved. Bran looked up and opened his eyes. They had a glazed, unfocused look about them that told Brienne while his eyes were open, Bran wasn't seeing them.

Brienne turned back to the Blackfish. "Why did she think that, Ser Brynden?"

"She said the woman told her what to say when people asked her what had happened," Bryden answered, his voice heavy with sadness.

Everyone was quiet, waiting for Brynden to continue. A hush fell over the hall. The dragons shifted back, until they could touch Griff, Brienne and Podrick. The Golden Company men and the Stark guards put their hands on their weapons, even though there was no threat to them in the warm, protected hall.

"She said 'Tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey.' Then she walked out with a smile on her face," Brynden finished. "Not a single Frey man was left alive that night."

Brienne suppressed her urge to shudder. The words were almost the same as Qyburn's on that day in King's Landing.

Qyburn's smile was as cold as ice. "Winter has come for House Lannister."

Winter is coming.

The motto of House Stark, a reminder that winter brought death and destruction, a warning of harsher times yet to come. Now death and destruction had come for House Lannister. The snows hadn't yet fallen on King's Landing but the Lannisters had. They'd fallen without even knowing how they'd stumbled. Qyburn had done what Robb Stark hadn't lived to do. He'd brought House Lannister to the brink of extinction.

Qyburn's final words chilled her blood but were, in the end, inevitable. "The North remembers."

An assassin, wearing the face of Walder Frey and assisted by Qyburn Mallister, had destroyed House Frey just as Qyburn had destroyed House Lannister. Both houses had conspired to end House Stark. Both were now reduced to a handful of members, scrambling to save what was left of their families, eager to align themselves with the new powers in Westeros. House Frey, like House Lannister, was shrouded in shame and disgrace, on the cusp of extinction but for the grace of the Gods. Their survival was unknown, uncertain even without the threat of the Army of the Dead.

"Whatever the truth may be, Ser Brynden, justice has been served," Serjeant reminded him quietly. "House Stark has been avenged and House Frey's few surviving members are scattered in the wind."

"No, they're not," Lymond growled. "They're gathering at Harrenhal, swelling the forces of the Westerlands armies. Now, House Stark's bastard demands we stand alongside Lannister and Frey traitors."

Arya reacted to that. She scowled, fury breaking through the frozen mask. Behind her, Tormund, who had been sullen and silent until then, rose at the insult to Jon Snow. He growled like an angry bear but it was Arya who spoke.

"My brother is the King in the North, your king," she reminded him in an icy voice.

"My king fought against the Lannisters," Lymond insisted. "He took up arms after they beheaded your father and released the Mountain to rape and slaughter in the Riverlands. Are we supposed to forget what they've done? The towns they torched, the men they butchered, the women they tore apart, the children they left broken?"

Petyr also stepped forward. "How can we be expected to fight alongside traitors? Lannisters and Freys gather at Harrenhal, proudly displaying their blood-soaked banners. Every day they live taunts us."

Griff left the safety of the dragons to meet the angry Mallister men. Brienne glanced at the five. They allowed Griff to leave their line without issue. Whatever anger the men had, it wasn't directed at Griff.

"The Night King can raise an inexhaustible army," Griff explained quietly. "We must all fight together to have any chance to defeat the Army of the Dead. The enemy that comes for us does not see houses or honor. It only sees life or death."

The Mallister men turned to face Griff. They looked to Jason to respond for them. Jason looked down at the calm dragons then took a step forward. He was now ahead of his son and nephews but still well away from the five, who watched him with cold, steady reptilian eyes.

"We also fought against your family, son of Rhaegar," Jason reminded him. "Your grandfather murdered Brandon and Rickard Stark. Your father kidnapped Lyanna Stark and caused the entire realm to bleed for his crimes."

Griff stiffened but his expression remained calm. Brienne stilled along with him. Speaking to the king so bluntly about his own family's faults was a treasonous act. Was that because Jason didn't see Griff as his rightful king or he felt a sense of safety as her kin? Her uncle couldn't know Griff shared his opinions of Rhaegar and Aerys. The Targaryens who had come before Griff had been weak, selfish men who'd put their own pleasures and beliefs ahead of the welfare of their people.

"I don't deny who my father and grandfather were but I'm not them." Griff's tone was mild but steady. "They were false dragons mired in their own self-importance, unable to see beyond their lust, arrogance and delusions."

Jason blinked rapidly, clearly shocked by Griff's ready agreement of the faults of the previous king and prince. Her uncle looked at his men before turning back as Griff continued to speak.

"I see clearly, Lord Jason. I see a kingdom in desperate need, crying out for help. I see people starved, beaten, and nearly defeated." Griff paused. "But I also see reason to hope. We have a chance to unite and overcome the forces that threaten us. If we come together, we can be victorious."

Jason's mouth twisted. "Bah. Rhaegar was also full of pretty words and empty flattery. You have his talent for false, useless platitudes. So far, you are no different than your sire. You even look like the very image of him."

Color flushed into Griff's cheeks but his voice remained even. "Not the very image. I'm told I have my mother's smile."

"Even so, you are still Rhaegar's son," Jason insisted. "What makes you different, better than him?"

Griff swept his hand back to the five. "For one thing, I command dragons, true dragons."

"So does Rhaegar's sister," Lymond shot back. "There are those who say they already see Targaryen madness in her. What makes you different from her or the Mad King? You carry their blood."

Griff faced Lymond with the same cool control he'd shown Jason. "I'm not only of Targaryen blood. I'm also the son of the sun. I carry the blood of Elia Martell, of Dorne, in my veins. So much so that I am the Sword of the Morning, the sword that defends the realms of men."

Griff placed his hand on Dawn's hilt, drawing the other men's gazes to the sword of the stars. Ned moved to stand beside Griff, lending his support to his cousin.

"My uncle was the last Sword of the Morning. Arthur Dayne was known as the greatest knight who ever lived," Ned reminded them.

Jason didn't appear impressed. His scowl remained in place. "A knight who was defeated by Ned Stark after he aided Rhaegar in the kidnapping and rape of Lyanna Stark. A knight who held a young girl captive while Rhaegar dishonored House Stark and brought bloodshed upon all of Westeros. Tell me, Lord of Starfall, do you believe your uncle's last acts brought glory upon your house?"

Ned's purple eyes widened and his lips parted with his shock. He'd clearly never thought about how Ser Arthur's actions might be viewed by someone who hadn't held his uncle in high esteem. Arthur Dayne had been known as the most chivalrous and deadly knight in the Kingsguard. How had a man, known for his honor and kindness to the smallfolk, been party to the disappearance of the Lord Paramount of the North's daughter?

Ned shook his head. "There is more to that story than you know, Lord Jason. Ned Stark holds a place of honor in my family. I was named after him. I am Ned Dayne."

It was Jason's turn to be shocked. The Mallister men behind him looked at each other then back at the young Lord of Starfall. It took Jason a moment to recover and respond to Ned.

"That shows only the honor of Ned Stark, not the dishonor of Arthur Dayne. Now, your family's sword rests on the hip of a Targaryen and my own blood stands as his sworn sword." Jason looked from Ned to Brienne.

Brienne flushed and fought down the urge to hang her head. She had no reason to feel ashamed, even under her uncle's censor. She had pledged herself to Aegon Martell Targaryen because she believed in him and in the world he was working so hard to create. Her uncle and cousins would understand, once she explained it to them.

"I am sorry to cause you pain, Uncle." Brienne fought to keep her voice as calm and mild as she could. "I understand your history with House Targaryen has been painful, but King Aegon is not his father. He is fair and just and will fight to defend all of Westeros. Prophecy has told us of his coming. The prince that was promised will bring the Dawn. He is the Prince of Dorne, who will carry Dawn into battle, to fight for all of Westeros."

Jason frowned at Griff, confusion now warring with the distrust. His eyes were pinched and his gaze darted from Griff to Brienne then to the dragons guarding her. Lymond took a step forward, leaving the Mallister group and standing closer to Jason.

"Uncle, from what we have seen of his actions, this Targaryen has been fair," Lymond said quietly. "The eagles have shown it."

"The eagles?" Brienne frowned back at her cousin. "What do you mean the eagles have shown it? How do they show you anything?"

Lymond looked back at Patrek and Petyr. As one, all three looked to Jason. It appeared they were waiting for his permission before they spoke further. Jason hesitated then nodded to his nephew.

Lymond looked back to Brienne. "Petyr, Patrek and I have the sight."

"The sight?" Brienne repeated. "What is the sight?"

Though Lymond had his uncle's permission and had already spoken he hesitated. Then he looked down at the dragons and seemed to gain confidence. He stood up straighter and met Brienne's gaze directly.

"The sight is the ability to see through our eagles' eyes," he explained.

Brienne simply stared at him for a moment. Look through their eagles' eyes? Did he mean he could see as she'd done in her dream, when she'd seen Griff and the dragons as columns of flames? Was it like Arya's wolf dreams as Nymeria?

Tormund grunted and looked around. "Why are you so quiet? Haven't ya met wargs before?"

"Wargs?" Brynden repeated. "No. I don't know what that is."

Tormund made a disgusted sound. "Seems like all you crows know nothing. We got plenty of wargs north of the Wall. That's how we scouted in the cold. Our wargs used their birds."

Lymond took a step closer to Tormund, even though the entire distance of the hall separated them. Tormund straightened but made no attempt to come closer to the main group.

"What kind of birds?" Lymond demanded. "Did you have silver eagles?"

Tormund shrugged. "Mostly crows. Orell had an eagle, but it was a big, brown one. Mean and ugly thing. Not like your fancy silver birds that fly around here."

Arya's head swiveled between Lymond and Tormund, as if to observe every detail of their interaction. Though her expression remained blank, Brienne knew the young woman was eager to know more. Arya's gaze flickered down to Bran for an instant but the young man didn't show any reaction to the startling news.

"You're saying you can see through the eyes of eagles?" Arya repeated carefully, as if unsure she'd heard correctly. "Do you mean you have dreams where you can see what they see, even hear, smell and taste what they do?"

Lymond nodded. "Yes, but we don't need to wait until we dream to do so. We haven't for many years."

Arya stared at Lymond. Her face was expressionless but her body leaned forward. Brienne knew Arya wanted to find out more about this extraordinary ability but reluctant to reveal her own dreams. The tiny warrior didn't understand them herself.

Brienne asked for clarification for her. "You mean you can control when you merge with your eagles? You can control their actions?"

Petyr came forward to stand beside his older brother. "No, we're not that strong. We can influence their actions but we can't take their free will. Our eagles still retain their minds but can be coaxed. We don't know how to control them."

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.

Just as a dragon was not a slave, it seemed neither was an eagle. Brienne looked over at Podrick. His dark eyes widened as he met her gaze. Slavery wasn't committed only by putting another in physical chains. Beings could also be enslaved by losing control over their minds. Weapons such as Dragonbinder and magical abilities such as warging could also take away their free will.

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

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

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

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

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

She had seen slavery as a clear-cut issue. Taking ownership over another was wrong, be that over a person, an eagle or even the dead. The Night King was evil partially because he took free will from those who should be allowed eternal rest. But what her cousins described didn't sound like enslavement. Her thoughts were interrupted when her cousin continued.

"Our father's talent was the strongest." Petyr explained. "He knew how to be as one with his eagle. The last time they were together was when she showed us his death."

He fell silent after that and looked away. Even without seeing his expression, Brienne understood the pain he must have felt. Lymond looked at his brother sadly then finished for him.

"After she showed us our father's death, his eagle refused to allow us to enter her mind." Lymond's shoulders drooped. "She wouldn't even share her visions with our eagles until she roosted in Tarth a few months back."

"You're saying your eagles can share what they see with each other and with you?" Brienne clarified. "One eagle can see what another eagle sees and pass that image onto you, through the connection you share with your eagle?"

Lymond and Petyr looked at each other. Emotions passed between the brothers before they turned back to their astonished audience. Petyr ducked his head while Lymond sighed heavily before he spoke.

"Yes. Then last time we saw our father was through his eagle's eyes," Lymond admitted.

Brienne could barely keep up with their explanation. Her mind was whirling with thoughts and memories. That was exactly what had occurred in her dream. The eagles had allowed her to see what they saw. Different eagles had perched outside her father, Griff, Podrick and her windows. They had shared what they'd seen with her. She hadn't forced or even asked them to do it. It had been their choice.

"He was slaughtered at Harrenhal by the Mountain, along with all the other Northmen who were imprisoned there."

Brienne was jerked out of her thoughts by the rage in Lymond's voice. She stilled, recalling the evil creature who had been Qyburn's almost-executioner and later, his mindless puppet.

Arya stepped back, her grip on her sword hilt white-knuckled. Brienne frowned at her. Mention of the slaughter at Harrenhal, or perhaps Ser Gregor, had upset the youngest Stark daughter. Had Arya had her own encounter with Tywin Lannister's dog? Then another memory came into Brienne's mind.

"The Citadel made me give up my family name. But the Citadel gave me up and I've reclaimed my heritage." Qyburn stood tall, strong and proud. "I'm from House Mallister of Seaguard. My cousin was Ser Jaremy Mallister. He was murdered at Harrenhal."

Brienne had to swallow hard before she could speak. "Was your father Ser Jaremy Mallister?"

Lymond nodded sadly. "Yes, he was. We took up arms to support King Robb. Our father's death was especially cruel. Clegane tore his shirt out from under his armor then hammered it though his heart." His voice hardened. "He was sending us a message."

Brynden frowned. "Why would Clegane do such a thing?"

Once again, Lymond and Petyr exchange glances. This time it was Petyr who answered.

"We suspect it was on Tywin Lannister's orders. It was to warn us that House Mallister was no longer safe. They intended to march on Seaguard, or would have, if Stannis Baratheon hadn't attacked King's Landing."

Brynden frowned. "Why attack Seaguard? Harrenhal is in the center of the Riverlands, and of Westeros. It makes strategic sense to take the castle, even in its current sad shape. Why would Tywin Lannister single out your father?"

Lymond and Petyr exchanged looks again but this time, neither spoke. Instead, they looked to Jason. Jason's expression tightened but he also remained silent. Brynden stared hard at his old friend, his eyes narrowing. Then the older knight scowled, his eyes glittering and suddenly widening.

"Seaguard is the only keep in the Riverlands that was untouched by the War of the Five Kings," Brynden noted. "Why is that, I wonder? Even the Freys didn't attempt to attack it. In fact, I think the bronze bell of the Booming Tower has only rung once in three hundred years."

Brienne looked over to Griff to gage her king's reaction. Griff was quiet and still, his indigo gaze missing nothing. When it became clear that the Mallister men did not want to speak further, he spoke up.

"The bronze bell?" Griff prompted. "Do you mean the bell that was only rung to call the people to the safety of the castle when threats were sighted?"

Brienne wasn't the least bit surprised that Griff knew about such a minor detail as the bronze bell of the Booming Tower. He studied and learned, and kept extensive notes. He knew information was a power. While Brienne wasn't surprised by Griff's knowledge, it appeared the Mallisters were. They exchanged startled glances then looked at Griff with what might be the first hint of approval.

"Yes," Jason admitted. "The great bell that was installed before the reign of Aegon the First. It was rung only once, when the Ironborn were sighted after Balon Greyjoy foolishly decided to declare war."

"And that was the only time," Brynden noted. "Seaguard was attacked by the Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion but easily defeated. They barely even left a mark on the castle."

"A sudden storm came through, damaging their fleet and allowing us an easy victory," Jason explained.

"That was fortunate," Serjeant noted. "Normally, warships don't engage during poor weather. I might be a new seaman but even I know that. They were attacking a castle. Why wouldn't they have waited for a better time?"

"Because there is no such thing as a good time to attack Seaguard," Jason admitted. "Our castle has never been breached."

"Never?" Ned repeated. "Seaguard is directly across from the Iron Islands. The Ironborn were known for their raiding and reaving, before Yara Greyjoy's rule. Yet they've never attacked House Mallister before the Greyjoy Rebellion? Nor have they since? How can that be?"

"Seaguard is protected by more than walls and guards," Jason explained quietly. "The eagles guard our shores."

"That may be, but eagles are not dragons," Griff countered. "Dragons have fire to defeat their enemies. Eagles have only their claws. Even an army of eagles could not defeat an army of men."

"Ahh, but what if an eagle can rise to the power of a dragon?" Jason countered.

Griff stared at Jason, for once at a loss for words. The Lord of Seaguard smiled wryly at the king's bemused expression. This was something that even Griff didn't understand.

"How?" Griff demanded. "How could an eagle equal a dragon?"

"To understand that, one must go back to the tie between House Targaryen and House Mallister, where blood and duty intertwined," Jason explained.

"Intertwined?" Brienne repeated. "How do you know there is blood shared between the two houses?"

She stared at her uncle in shock. Had he known his sister had been sired by the Mad King? There was no anger or disgust in Jason's voice or his expression. Could he have known Allyna was King Aerys's bastard daughter and still loved his sister?

Jason nodded. "The story has been told to each generation, from father to son, lord to lord. Our ties to House Targaryen go back to Aegon the Unworthy. He took many mistresses, including Melissa Blackwood. He had three bastards with her, Mya, Gwenys, and Brynden Rivers."

"Bloodraven," Bran hissed.

Everyone turned to look at him except Brienne. She touched Dark Sister's hilt, lost in her own racing thoughts. Her uncle was talking about a much older blood tie. One that took them back to Brynden Rivers, one of the many bastards of Aegon the Forth. Bloodraven was the last Targaryen, before Griff, to possess Dark Sister. A three-eyed crow had taken Griff to the cave where the sword had been hidden, until the Gods had determined the time was right for it to appear again. Now Bloddraven's sword was hers to wield.

"Aye, Bloodraven," Jason agreed. "Melissa was eventually replaced and returned to Raventree Hall with her children. Mya, along with her brother, sister, and all of Aegon's bastards, was legitimized on Aegon's deathbed. She was my grandmother's mother."

"We are tied to House Targaryen through Aegon the Unworthy?" Brienne questioned. "I thought the tie was closer than that, through King Aerys."

"The Mad King?" Jason's mouth curled in disgust. "No. No member of House Mallister has been to King's Landing in over fifty years."

Brienne couldn't believe what she was hearing. Their ties to House Targaryen were through a legitimate marriage made generations ago? She wasn't a bastard granddaughter of Aerys the Second?

"Are you sure?" she demanded. "King Aerys was also known for his many bastards."

"He was but none were born into House Mallister," Jason assured her. "Even so, House Mallister did contribute to the madness of the Scab King."

Brienne looked to Griff, shocked by what she was learning. Allyna wasn't the Mad King's bastard daughter? She, Brienne, wasn't niece to Daenerys, cousin to Griff? How could she have the blood of the dragon if her ties were so distant?

Griff appeared to be as confused as she was. He crossed his arms and leaned forward, as if not wanting to miss a single word of Jason's story.

Jason continued. "King Jaehaerys had been told to marry his son Aerys to his daughter Rhaella. A woods witch had assured him their bloodline would bring forth the prince that was promised and, with him, the rebirth of dragons."

Brienne smiled at Griff before looking back to Jason. "It was true, Uncle. The prince that was promised has come." She looked at the five gathered around her. "And dragons once again fly over Westeros."

Jason nodded in agreement. "King Jaehaerys was not a stupid man. He didn't act on whims nor did he act merely on the words of a woods witch. The king had married for love. He would not order his children into an unhappy union without just cause. Allyna was that cause."

Brienne frowned. The desire to defend her mother, however unreasonable, rose inside of her. "How can you blame my mother as the reason King Jaehaerys forced his son and daughter to marry? She had no choice in her birth."

"I don't blame her," Jason assured. "Your mother did nothing wrong. In fact, her arrival was cause for great celebration at Seaguard. Allyna's birth was the rebirth of the silver eagles."

"Silver eagles?" Brienne repeated. "The birds? How did my mother bring back the birds? When did they die?"

Jason put his hands up, a gesture for patience. "I'm explaining that. We're not sure of all the details. Mya had silver-blonde hair and indigo eyes, just like her Targaryen father. However, her children and her children's children were all born with dark hair and dark blue eyes. That was when our sigil was changed to silver and indigo. It had previously been white and blue."

"To remember Mya's ties as a legitimized Targaryen?" Brienne surmised. "If her descendants didn't have Targaryen coloring, then her house colors would."

"I believe so." Jason smiled for the first time. "Then, Allyna arrived. Four generations later, a child was born into House Mallister with the coloring of the House of the Dragon. Weeks later, a silver eagle soared over the Cape of Eagles. It was the first such bird seen in over one hundred and fifty years."

Griff drew a sharp breath. "That's how long the dragons had been extinct."

Jason's smile faded. "Yes, it was said the last silver eagle died during the reign of King Aegon the Third, the Dragonbane."

"King Jaeherys learned a silver eagle had been born when a silver-haired, indigo-eyed daughter was born into House Mallister. That is what convinced him to marry Aerys and Rhaella?" Ned asked. "Why would he believe the birth of an eagle would lead to the birth of dragons?"

"You don't know?" Jason raised his eyebrows. His gaze shifted from Ned to Griff. "Hasn't your wise and just king explained it to you?" There was a taunting note to his voice now. "You didn't wonder why he was so accepting of birds of prey large enough to kill his young dragons? You thought he sent his army to assist Ser Brynden's taking of the Twins out of the goodness of his heart?"

"You don't understand King Aegon's intentions," Brienne insisted, automatically defending her king.

She looked up at Griff and stilled. His face was set and expressionless, hiding his expressions. Her mind went back to when they'd first seen the silver eagles on Tarth.

A dozen silver eagles watched them from perches in the highest branches of the trees just past the courtyard. Their glossy silver-blond feathers reflected light as their heads flicked from the guards to the newcomers, then up to the sky. The birds were bigger than any eagles she'd seen before, with powerful wings almost as wide as the dragons' wings. Brienne looked up at the five. The dragons flew above them, uncharacteristically quiet as they observed the birds observing them.

"I saw only one pair when I was last here." She studied the powerful birds of prey. "When did the others arrive?

"Soon after we found the object," Selwyn answered. "We think they were drawn to it. The way they're always here, it's almost as if they're also guarding it."

"Guarding it," Griff repeated. His voice was curiously flat, as if he was trying to suppress his reaction. "What have they been doing?"

"Just watching," Selwyn explained. "They don't do anything other than watch or hunt. We found one nest when Brienne was last here but we haven't found the others yet. I've forbidden my people from harming them." His gaze shifted to Brienne. "They're part of Brienne's legacy."

The ache intensified as Brienne looked around at the eagles. House Mallister had hidden a secret dragon, had kept Allyna safe to birth the daughter who'd become the future Gods' warrior. Now, the weapon buried outside her birthing room had drawn the silver eagles back to Tarth. Was there more to House Mallister than she knew?

"The eagles are enormous. The dragons should see them as a threat but they aren't bothered by them." Podrick noted. "Why is that?"

He looked to Brienne but she shook her head. She didn't understand why the dragons weren't threatened by the eagles. At the same time, the eagles weren't bothered by the dragons, either. She turned to Griff to gauge his reaction. Her king had none. Griff's expression was carefully blank, hiding his thoughts. He looked from the eagles to the dragons then back again.

Griff's expression then was the same as it was now, carefully blank, concealing his thoughts. Another memory rose in Brienne's mind's eye. Griff had mentioned House Mallister when Varys had first told him Brynden had stormed the Twins.

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

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

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

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

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

She'd seen how few men he had when she'd been to Riverrun. He couldn't seize the Twins with so few fighters. Where had Brynden gotten enough men, weapons and supplies to capture one of the most formidable strongholds in the Riverlands? Had Griff anticipated this outcome because he'd sent his men to help Brynden take the Twins? To what purpose?

"Good," Griff didn't bother to hide his satisfaction. His gaze shifted to Brienne. "What about his closest allies, House Blackwood and House Mallister?"

A shudder passed through Brienne at the mention of her mother's house. Griff's gaze bore into her, his indigo eyes giving nothing away. Her eyes widened as she realized Griff knew more about her mother's family than she thought he did, more than she knew. Something about House Mallister made it important to Griff.

A heavy sensation filled Brienne's heart. Once again, her king was keeping secrets from her. He hadn't reacted when he'd first seen the silver eagles in Tarth. She had been so focused on the buried weapon that she hadn't even noticed Griff's subdued reaction. Worse, she had allowed his reaction to influence hers. She was the dragons' keeper. The Gods had entrusted her with their safety. Yes, Griff was their father and as committed to their safety as she was. The young dragons could defend themselves in a one-on-one fight against the eagles, but what if a single dragon had been attacked by multiple silver eagles? How had Griff known the eagles weren't a threat? That decision could have put the young dragons at risk.

He'd also made a point to ask about House Mallister's loyalty. She had briefly wondered what was so important about House Mallister that Griff had specifically asked about a small vassal house. She had dismissed it as Griff caring simply because it was her mother's family, thus important to Brienne. Now it appeared there was much more to House Mallister.

House Mallister's bloodlines were tied to House Targaryen by Bloodraven's sister. Their castle had never been breached. Their shores were guarded by eagles that could, somehow, rise to the power of dragons. Their house had birthed a daughter who had the coloring of the House of the Dragon. That same daughter had birthed her own daughter, who was now the young dragons' keeper. Drogon, the first dragon hatched in over a hundred years, had chosen the daughter of the silver eagles, the union of the House of the Silver Eagles with the House of Light, as mother to this newly revived form of magic.

It appeared that the eagles and dragons were entwined by more than just blood and duty. They were entwined by the Gods' grand plan. Both had important roles in the battle for the dawn. Were their wings strong enough to lift humanity from its greatest despair?

Author's Notes: Hello! Did you miss me? I'm sorry for being MIA for so long. Personal issues had me overwhelmed for a few weeks.

So, what do you think of this chapter? Did you catch Giff's odd previous reactions to House Mallister and their silver eagles? What do you think it means? Poor Brienne. It seems her blind faith in her king is constantly being tested, isn't it?

Much thanks to my beta Liv_It_Up for her editing and hand-holding. I needed it!