The Keeper
Chapter 76 – Inn Keeper
"Their discipline and form are amazing." Arya paused from her constant surveillance of their surroundings to nod at the team ahead of them.
Brienne looked forward from their position at the rear of the procession. She, Arya and Podrick marched behind the group with Serdun and Ardayn. Unlike yesterday, Griff led the marchers with Serjeant and Brynden at his side. Lymond and Petyr were only a few steps behind while Catren and Allwyn flew above their group. Serjeant, who was comfortable with the dragons, watched the path ahead of him, the woods to their right and the riverbank on their left. Brynden and her cousins were stiff shouldered and tense, looking up frequently when Catren and Allwyn called out to Gallan, flying above them all.
The Stark guards and Bran, in his cart, followed the king, keeping distance between themselves and the dragons in front of them. Behind them were the captives, surrounded and carefully watched by members of the Golden Company. The Company men, at ease with the dragons, watched their prisoners instead of their surroundings. Even so, they marched with precision and focus.
Brienne automatically held herself taller as she observed the Company men. Years of ridicule had taught her to round her shoulders to hide her height. But no longer. She needed to display the same strong disciple and form the men did. They were all members of the Golden Company, the greatest private army in the world.
She smiled and held her chin high. "As Lord Loth said last night, this is the Golden Company. Everything they do, they do well."
"I didn't mean the Company. I meant the dragons," Arya corrected. "Two guard our approach and two guard our rear. The blue dragon scouts from above and communicates with the others. How did they learn to do that?"
Startled, Brienne observed the dragons more carefully. Catren and Allwyn watched the path ahead while Ardayn and Serdun focused on the marchers. Gallan flew above the treeline, then skimmed over the prisoners. On each descent, it cried out to the other four, keeping all five in sync. It wasn't just random play or the blue dragon's natural curiosity. Gallan was coordinating while the others guarded. Arya was right. The five were working hard to protect them all. The dragons were as disciplined and focused as the human members of the Golden Company.
"The dragons trained with these men," Podrick explained. "They are also members of the Golden Company. What they do, they do well."
Deep pride welled up inside Brienne as she observed the five. The intense training they'd had, as members of the Golden Company, had made them strong, steady, and united. She wanted to call out praise to them but resisted. It would distract them when they were clearly focused on their duty to guard their family and their Company.
They had begun their journey at daybreak, when there was enough daylight to light their path. Now the sun was high in the sky and they'd nearly completed their march to Lord Halloway's Town. The market-town was a collection of homes and shops on both sides of the Ruby Ford. It also had a busy inn to allow weary travelers a place to rest and eat while journeying to the four corners of Westeros.
A small group of Company men accompanied them on the journey. The remainder maintained their temporary shelter in Saltpans. Her uncle had not protested much when Brynden had suggested Patrek, still recovering from imprisonment, remain at camp. Jason had chosen to stay with his injured heir, entrusting his nephews to represent House Mallister in his absence.
Tormund, on the other hand, had protested strenuously at being left at the keep. At least, he had until the dragons had hissed and puffed at him. They'd made it clear to the Wildling that they didn't want him near their mother. The Red Priests, Varys, and Beric had decided to remain at their camp. Ned, focused on strengthening their defenses, had also declined to join the march.
Arya returned to scanning the trees and shoreline. "We're being watched."
Brienne and Podrick both looked to the treetops. Silver eagles perched among the branches. Brienne had been watching them since they'd left the remains of Saltpans. It was hard to tell how many birds were in the flock, as they all looked so similar. Constant study had helped her determine that two were smaller and one larger than the rest. The birds were always in motion, moving from branch to branch, seemingly maintaining surveillance. Their heads turned to scan their surroundings, mimicking Arya's actions.
"I think the smaller birds are the ones Lymond and Petyr use," Podrick offered. "Those eagles seem to watch them more than our surroundings."
"It's likely, but it's not just the birds watching us," Arya noted. "Look to the ground."
Brienne was careful to keep the sympathy out of her expression as she glanced at the younger woman. Of course, Arya searched at ground level. Nymeria, if she was still following them, was on foot. Brienne hadn't forgotten the desperate hope in Arya's eyes when she'd first learned her lost direwolf was close by. Was the wolf pack still following them when they were so close to populated areas? Nymeria was the size of a horse, but the wolves were small enough to be killed by men.
A glimpse of movement drew Brienne's gaze to the base of a fir tree. A small boy peeked around the foliage from the shadows of the woods. Though the morning was chilly the child was dressed in meager rags that barely covered his skeletally thin body and wore no shoes on his feet. She drew in her breath and looked more carefully into the shrubbery. More children, dirty, wide-eyed, painfully thin, and some with visible bruises, hugged the trees.
"Mother have mercy," Brienne whispered.
Beside her, Podrick shuddered but said nothing. Brienne knew her squire's history. If not for the grace of the Gods, Podrick might have been forced to live a life like these children. His parents had died, leaving him alone in the world at a tender age. Podrick had been one of the lucky ones, able to distinguish himself with his service and loyalty. Now he had gold and a family to protect him. These children, orphaned or unwanted, didn't have family, wealth, or even food and shelter.
Brienne impulsively took a step towards the boy, even as far away as he was. She nearly flinched when she saw him stiffen in terror at her action. The children, already skittish and scared, bolted into the shadows of the deeper woods. She turned, ready to follow them. Ardayn and Serdun squawked from above her, preventing her from changing her path.
The Company men closest to them turned at hearing the dragons' squawk. Gallan swooped low, also checking on her. Brienne shifted her course and continued to march forward. She nodded to the men to assure them she was well. Gallan, also reassured, returned to its surveillance.
What had she been thinking? The children wouldn't have allowed her to approach them. They were used to being alone, abused, and afraid. They didn't know she wouldn't hurt them. Plus, she had dragons with her. The natural fear of the most dangerous creatures in the known world protected the five but terrified those around them.
"My Lady Ser, we're approaching Lord Harroway's Town," Podrick observed quietly.
Brienne looked ahead. She could see the top of the stone roundtower in the distance, along with curls of smoke from various chimney fires. This town appeared to have survived the savagery and devastation that had destroyed Saltpans. People still lived and worked here. Some people had food and shelter, but not everyone. Her gaze again strayed to the darkness at the base of the trees.
"Ahead is the inn where we stayed last, my Lady Ser." Podrick pointed to a two-story structure taking shape further ahead. "When we were searching for Lady Sansa."
The Inn at the Crossroads was a central point in the Riverlands. Both the Kingsroad and the Riverroad crossed it. All travelers going into the North, south to King's Landing, east to the Vale or west to the Westerlands passed by it. The inn was the best place in all of the Seven Kingdoms to share information, allowing news to travel in all four directions at the speed of whispers.
Brienne nodded. "You told me not to mention we were looking for her. However, I knew Ned Stark was admired and well-respected, and the people might be our only chance to find her. They were eager to help us recover his daughters. The baker boy told us about seeing you, Arya."
"He gave us a loaf of bread shaped like a wolf. He wanted us to give it to you." Podrick flushed. "But we ate it. It was months ago."
Arya's mouth curved into a slight smile. "It's fine. I met him before I went to Winterfell. He fed me well and told me the Boltons had fallen. If it weren't for Hot Pie, I would have gone south instead of north."
Podrick's brow wrinkled in confusion. "How did eating hot pie make you change your plans?"
Arya's smile widened. "Hot Pie is the baker's name." Her smile faded. "He was my friend and part of the reason I survived captivity at Harrenhal."
Captivity. Brienne watched Arya's eyes harden and her expression chill. Arya's hand touched her sword. It was the instinctive reaction all warriors made when they were threatened or felt vulnerable. They did it to reassure themselves that they weren't defenseless and were armed for battle. Arya had been held prisoner at Harrenhal. That explained why she had such a visceral reaction at mentions of the ruin.
Brienne also had terrible memories of her time at Harrenhal. It was where she and Jaime had been taken by Locke after he'd cut off Jaime's hand. The baths were where Jaime had nearly succumbed to infection after revealing why he'd really killed Aerys. She'd bullied Jaime then to keep him alive. He had repaid her effort by jumping into the bear pit and saving her in return.
Brienne considered asking Arya more about her time in the ruins. The stubborn set of Arya's mouth and the silent rage in the tiny warrior's eyes discouraged it. Arya was allowed to have her secrets, as terrible as they must be. Anyway, now was not the time. They'd arrived at the inn.
Griff stood across the path from the front door, the lords and her cousins close behind him. The Company men shoved their prisoners closer together, keeping them in a contained circle. Catren and Allwyn squawked as they flew over Griff. Almost instantly, people began to pour out of the building. Many were casually dressed and some even held utensils in their hands. It appeared they had all rushed out upon hearing the King of Westeros and his dragons' arrival.
The people inside pressed against the windows of the inn, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as they stared at the dragons. Catren, Allwyn, and Gallan landed in a straight line between Griff and the inn's inhabitants. The rumble of voices and the thunder of rapid footfalls came from the path leading to Harroway's Town. The residents were also hurrying to greet the king.
Brienne strode past the prisoners to stand at Griff's side. Podrick, Arya, Serdun, and Ardayn followed her. Ardayn and Serdun joined the dragons' defensive line while Arya and Podrick went to stand with the lords, a few feet behind Griff. They all surveyed the rapidly growing crowd.
The residents from the market town stopped a safe distance away. They were close enough to see the king's entourage but far enough away to maintain distance from the dragons. The people gasped and pointed at the five. Excitement, fear, and awe fought for dominance in their expressions. Brienne glanced down to see how the dragons reacted to the attention. They were alert and attentive but showed no signs of aggression.
Griff walked past the dragons' defensive line but stayed within their fire range. He held himself tall and straight, his Targaryen silver-blond hair shining in the sun. His deep indigo eyes swept over the people assembled before him.
Someone bowed and, as if they'd just broken free of their mesmerized reaction to the dragons, everyone knelt to the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Their surroundings, which had been alive with energy and noise, became still and quiet as the people displayed their respect for the Dragon King.
Griff surveyed the people before him with a clear gaze, before commanding them in a strong, steady voice. "Arise!"
The people straightened to look at the beautiful Targaryen king. Griff took another step forward. Catren and Allwyn also moved forward, breaking the defensive line, to keep Griff in their fire range. They both squawked, calling out to him. He looked back at them and shifted to the side.
The captives, carefully guarded by the Golden Company, jerked and shuddered at hearing the dragons' angry cries. Someone in the crowd pointed to the prisoners. Brienne watched as, almost magically, the townspeople's awe and excitement morphed into shock, fear, and rage. Even from the distance she could see their clenched fists and narrowed eyes. Their hatred of the men who had attacked the Starks and their guards was so powerful, even she could feel it.
The dragons, far more sensitive to emotions than humans, hissed and turned to the source of the aggression, fear, and hatred they sensed. The people shuddered visibly, trying to push back the way they'd come. The walls prevented the inn's visitors from retreating while the sheer mass of people along the path kept the townspeople from fleeing. Brienne and Podrick knelt to calm the five. The dragons allowed themselves to be soothed but maintained their defensive line.
The crowd beside the inn's door shifted. A young man with curly dark hair, wearing a smudged apron and worn homespun cloth, peeked around the door and gasped.
"Arry!" he called.
Arya turned to look at him. "Hot Pie?"
Hot Pie shifted to stand in the doorway. Brienne frowned as she looked at the young baker. The boy she remembered had been plump and jovial. This boy was thin, with pinched features and dark shadows under his eyes. Apparently, Arya remembered him differently, too. She narrowed her eyes as she moved closer to the inn.
"Hot Pie, what happened to you?" Arya demanded. "You look as if you haven't eaten in weeks."
Hot Pie flushed and glanced fearfully at the captives. Then he looked at the dragons with even more fear. He tried to kneel to Griff but, in his trembling state, he fell to his knees. Arya hurried across the dirt path and pulled him to his feet.
"Hot Pie, why are you so afraid of these men?" Arya demanded. "What did they do to you?"
"They…they're our protection." Hot Pie's voice quivered. "We…we pay them and they keep us safe."
"Safe from what?" Arya demanded. "What's worse than them?"
Hot Pie's eyes darted between the captives and the dragons. "There's more of them. They said, as long as we paid 'em, Harroway won't turn into another Saltpans. We give 'em all we got."
Brienne whirled to glare at the captives. These men were the reason that Saltpans was now a burned-out husk? The captives, already wounded and defeated, hung their heads and remained silent. She remembered what Bran had said about the destruction and the dishonorable knight who had done nothing to help his people.
"Ser Quincy shut the castle gates and ignored the screams of the people massacred here," Bran explained. "Men were torn apart, women raped and children mutilated. He did nothing to help his people. One woman cursed him before she died, wishing him the same painful death she was forced to endure."
"These men are responsible for the horror that occurred at Saltpans?" Brienne clarified. "They massacred the people and burned their homes?"
"N..no. These are the men who protect us. They keep us safe." Hot Pie's quivering voice and ragged condition belied his words.
Brynden came to stand beside his niece. He glared at the shivering young man, then at the silent, sullen prisoners. The scowl on the knight's face indicated that he didn't believe the young baker, either.
"They may protect you, but they attacked us," Brynden informed him. "We defended ourselves."
"Now they're our captives." Serjeant chimed in, voice smug with satisfaction. "These are the few who survived the battle."
Hot Pie gasped and his eyes widened. "My Lord, you spared them?"
"We have not spared them," Griff corrected firmly, looking closely at the young man. "We've brought them to face justice before the people. Those who harm our citizens will be dealt with harshly."
The murmur of indistinct voice rose among the townspeople. With Griff's words, excitement swiftly crackled in the air, like the charge that occurred before a lightning storm. The notion of these men facing justice they deserved was met with a mixture of relief and excitement by those gathered.
"Before we begin, who manages this place?" Griff questioned, looking out across those gathered in front of him. "Where is the innkeeper?"
An older woman with frazzled hair, a thin face, and gaunt features separated herself from the crush of people pressed against the walls. She came a few steps closer to stand in the middle of the path. Even so, she stayed well away from the dragons. The woman curtsied stiffly to Griff, her back curved meekly.
"I'm the owner, your Grace." Her voice was small and she spoke to the dirt at her feet. "I'm honored by your presence."
"Arise, innkeeper. What is your name?" Griff asked gently.
The woman rose awkwardly then blinked rapidly, as if she didn't understand the question. She blushed and dropped her head again. "Masha, your Grace. My name is Masha Hiddle."
"Hiddle," Griff repeated. Then he smiled. "Was your ancestor Ser Long John Hiddle? Did he not build this inn after being crippled in battle?"
"You…you know the history of such a lowly family as mine?" Masha's head jerked up. She blinked rapidly again. Color flushed her cheeks, adding welcome warmth and animation. Then she shook her head, as if to clear it. "Aye, your Grace, that was my kin."
"As king, it is my duty to know about my people," Griff answered. "I also know that he built a three-headed black dragon sign to hang in front of the inn. Lord Darry, then overlord of these lands, tore down the sign and hacked it into pieces before throwing it into the Trident."
Masha swallowed visibly. "One of the heads washed up on the shores of the Quiet Isle, red with rust." She wrung her hands in agitation. "Some saw it as a bad omen. They said it was a sign of House Blackfyre."
Griff frowned and pulled out his sword. Blackfyre, the sword of Aegon the Conqueror, and the symbol of the break in the houses of the dragons, gleamed in the morning sunlight. The people gasped and pressed into each other, as if trying to find safety in each other.
Masha cried out and fell to her knees in the dirt path. Tears filled her eyes and her shoulders shook as her fingers curled in the dirt. She shied away like a beaten dog, wanting to escape but knowing there was no safe place to run to.
"Please, your Grace, I meant no disrespect! I'm a stupid old woman. Please, spare me," she begged, clasping her hands before him.
Brienne drew in her breath as Griff stiffened minutely. It was a gesture only noticeable to those who knew him well. This poor woman was so used to the brutality of those in command that even the sight of a sword terrified her. Masha didn't know King Aegon would never abuse his power and hurt his own people. His swords were tools to protect them from those that wished to harm them, to keep them safe, and to secure their future.
"I will not hurt you, Masha Hiddle." Griff tightened his jaw as he stepped back and drove Blackfyre into the ground. "Do you recognize this sword?"
Masha's eyes widened and she hesitantly shook her head.
Around her, a few of the inn's visitors leaned closer, trying to see the king's sword. Some may have recognized it, if their wide eyes were an indication. The murmur of voices rose like the buzzing of a dozen bees.
"This is Blackfyre." Griff stroked the hilt of the sword and raised his voice to be heard by all. "The sword of the first Targaryen King of Westeros. It's also the sword of House Blackfyre, of those who stood against House Targaryen. Now it is mine. I have the sword that symbolized the separation of the houses of the dragons."
Griff paused and looked around, shoulders back and strong. Everyone, including the subdued captives, was listening to their rightful king speak. Griff smiled faintly and continued.
"I also have Dark Sister, the sword of such fabled warriors as Queen Visenya and Aemon the Dragonknight." He looked back at Brienne, his mouth curling into a small smile as he winked at her. "Show your sword, Brienne."
Brienne silently removed Dark Sister from her belt and drove it into the ground beside Blackfyre. The swords, made with priceless rubies and even more invaluable Valyrian steel, reflected the sunshine, casting streaks of light in every direction. The three dragon heads and the flame licks shimmered with a golden glow.
It was as if they were alive, commanding the people's attention almost as much as their king and the actual dragons.
Griff gestured to the swords. "Both swords have returned to House Targaryen. They are proof that, black or red, a dragon is a dragon. As with these swords, the houses of the dragons have reunited. The dragons will not war against themselves again but will join together to defend you all. That is my vow to you."
Griff walked past the swords and held his hand out to Masha. The innkeeper was still kneeling the dirt. Her eyes opened wide as she stared at Griff's outstretched hand, then up at his beautiful face. Griff continued to hold out his hand.
Masha drew in a deep breath and scrubbed her hand on her worn dress. Her entire arm shook visibly as she hesitantly placed her fingers in Griff's palm. He closed his fingers around hers and lifted her to her feet.
Around them, Brienne heard the exclaims of amazement. The people were shocked by the sight of the king touching his subject.
No, not just touching but lifting.
The king had lifted up a lowly innkeeper. Brienne didn't even try to hide her smile of pride. The people might be shocked by Griff's action, but she was not. She remembered Griff's promise the night when he had tended to her wounds after the pirates' attack.
"A strong leader is here to guide Westeros forward. No longer will the people have to endure mad, cruel, or incompetent rulers. They will soon have a king who will put the people first. I won't make men or dragons smaller." He cupped her cheek, his long, elegant fingers sliding into her hair. "Brienne, are you with me? Will you join me in leading Westeros to a great and glorious future?"
A great and glorious future. A king who saw the people, not as subjects he would control but as men and women he would serve. One who didn't limit his acceptance only to those who matched some perfect ideal, but would embrace those least wanted and most abused by society. A good man with honor, who understood the value of oaths and honesty, who ruled with kindness, who would never force those under his command to make impossible, dishonorable choices.
This was the king she'd prayed for and, thank the Gods, the king she served. Griff was keeping his promise. He gave value to all his people, not just to lords, knights, and sycophants. The dragons, sensing her pleasure and pride, squawked and ruffled their wings. The people closest to them shifted away, including Masha. The captives, carefully guarded by the Company men, also looked around, picking up the changing mood.
Masha, now closer to her inn than the dragons, gazed at Griff with a mixture of disbelief and hope. Her features were tense and strained. She looked down at her hand, the one the king had used to raise her. Then she looked at Hot Pie before turning to look at the other inn staff. They were gathered near the doorway, easily identified by their worn, patched clothes and thin frames. Her gaze moved from them to the captives, cowering under the sword, bows, and glares of the Golden Company. Masha drew in a deep breath and raised her clasped hands to the king.
"Your Grace, I am but a poor innkeeper while you are a wise and learned king. I have faith in your judgment." She glanced fearfully at the captives again. "These men demand everything we have, including our sisters and daughters. Their protection comes at a terrible price. I beg you, let them taste Blackfyre as they have forced us to taste our own blood and tears."
Griff's expression, which had been calm and pleasant, hardened. He turned his fierce gaze onto the prisoners. His indigo eyes darkened until they were nearly black. They burned with a fire that could rival the dragons' flames. The captives crouched down, as if expecting Griff to strike them down then and there. Before he could speak, Arya scowled and stepped away from Hot Pie. She glared at Masha.
"Aegon Targaryen has no say in the matter," she snapped. "My brother, Jon Snow, is the King in the North. Edmure Tully, my uncle and the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, has knelt to my brother. That makes Jon the rightful king in the Riverlands. He will deliver justice to these men."
The Company men shifted as scowls crossed their faces. Griff gave them a steady look, the fire fading from his eyes. His expression calmed as he communicated silently with the Company men, calming them, too. The men continued to scowl but their tense postures eased. Griff did not comment as he allowed Arya to stomp over to stand beside her grand-uncle. Brynden frowned at his niece but remained silent.
Masha looked from Arya to Griff, her brows drawn together in confusion. She glanced over at Hot Pie before looking earnestly back at Griff.
"I thank the king who brought these men to justice." She raised her voice to address Arya. "And I will thank the king who serves that justice. Until then, may I offer you food or ale? Hot Pie makes wonderful bread. We still have some flour from our weekly ration."
Griff smiled and sheathed Blackfyre. "Thank you, Masha, for your hospitality. However, we've only recently broken our fast. I hope we will have an opportunity to sample your bread another time."
Brienne sheathed Dark Sister and leaned closer to the innkeeper. "Masha, who are those children hiding in the woods? Are they from Saltpans?"
Masha's face fell, her lips curving down into a sad frown. "Some of them are, my Lady. Others were left more recently." Her gaze shifted to the captives before returning to Brienne. "I…I try to leave out scraps and rags for them but there's very little left after we pay for protection. The children only come sometimes, late at night when our protectors are drunk and…" Masha swallowed visibly "…busy. Maybe they'll come out more after they see the king's justice."
Brienne stiffened and glared at the captives. She knew how terrible men entertained themselves when they were drunk and mean. Jaime had lost his hand saving her from such men. The people had been tortured and terrified by these men. The townspeople lived in fear and the children lived in despair. She would not stand idly by when children were cold, hungry, and afraid.
She looked towards the woods. Even though she couldn't see the children, she knew they were out there. She stepped away from the inn to move closer to the trees. Ardayn and Serdun hissed and she stopped. The dragons would not let her leave their protection when so much hostility and fear soured the air.
Brienne turned back to the innkeeper. "Thank you, Masha, for the kindness you've shown them."
Masha returned her smile. "I do what I can, my Lady, but it's not much. I barely have enough to keep the inn running. Maybe I can do more now that dragons protect these lands."
Brienne drew a deep breath at the pain that pierced her heart. This woman was trying to do so much with so little. Terrible wars created terrible men, whose hearts and minds had been broken, who could no longer process other people's suffering. Men who hurt and bled others for their own greed and twisted pleasures. Masha supported an inn, her staff, and orphans with what she could. Such a good woman deserved more than she had been given.
Brienne pulled up her sleeve. Her gold arm ring shone in the bright sunlight. The members of the Golden Company wore their wealth on their arms. Until recently, they hadn't had homes to store their valuables. Brienne touched her ring. She had wealth, a family, and a safe home. To her, this gold was a symbol of her acceptance as a valued member of her Company. She didn't need it to be an officer of the greatest private army in the known world.
To Masha, Hot Pie, and the orphans here, this gold might be the difference between life and death. Brienne pulled off the arm ring and held it out to the innkeeper. Masha's eyes opened so wide they threatened to pop out of her head.
"No, my Lady, I…I can't take that." Masha shook her head and stepped back.
Brienne matched the step. "Why not? It's gold."
Masha shook her head again. "My Lady, I could never hope to repay such a loan."
"It's not a loan. It's a gift." Brienne continued to hold out the ring, her jaw set firm with her determination.
Tears filled Masha's eyes as she shook her head again. The woman was too frightened to take her gift. Brienne looked over at Griff. His indigo eyes were warm with sympathy. Serjeant looked between Griff and Brienne then stepped forward. He shifted so he was between the two women, facing Masha.
"Will you accept this ring instead?" He held out a slimmer arm ring.
Tears spilled out of Masha's eyes as she looked frantically between the two. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because it's my duty to provide for you." Serjeant looked past Masha, into the crowd. "I am Jon Lothston, a serjeant in the Golden Company and Lord of Harrenhal. I am your new overlord. You are all under my protection."
He paused as the murmur of surprise and shock rose up from the gathered crowd.
Serjeant looked back down at Masha. "The repairs at Harrenhal will draw many skilled workers to the area. Those men will need food and supplies to rebuild the castle. Those shipments and that trade will come here. You can repay this gold over time."
Excitement charged through the atmosphere. Brienne watched as the people took measure of their new overlord. Not only was he physically strong, tall, and steady, Jon Lothston was rich, a warrior, and a member of the most powerful private army in the world. He walked beside the king and dragons, with no fear of them.
This was a man who could truly protect his people.
"Thank you, my Lord." Masha's hands shook visibly as she accepted the ring from Serjeant. "I'll give you good value for your gold, I swear it."
Serjeant nodded to Masha. He exchanged glances with Griff. The king nodded ever so slightly, a faint smile of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his mouth. Brienne frowned at seeing Griff's smug pleasure. She stepped backwards to his side, sliding her gold band back onto her arm. Her king was making political moves, as usual. Her thoughts were interrupted when Serjeant moved to the center of the path, closer to the townspeople.
"The Riverlands have always been the battlegrounds during the wars of Westeros." Serjeant's powerful voice boomed over the still woods. "There are no natural barriers to protect these lands or the people. The Valemen close the Bloody Gate to thwart attacks. The Northmen fill the black bog in the Neck to hamper their enemies. The Westerlands armies battle from the high ground of the Eastern Hills."
Serjeant stopped speaking to look at the people. They nodded and drew closer together, as if for protection. Serjeant was correct. Of all the kingdoms, in all the wars, the Riverlands suffered the most. Brienne recalled telling Griff of their dire conditions when he'd first arrived in King's Landing.
"The Riverlands are a graveyard. Women and children huddled together in hovels because they dare not be seen by the bands of marauders. Septons and silent brothers digging up the ground to find roots and bugs to feed the starving. Wells and streams so filled with blood that the water isn't safe to drink. Farmers who kill the hungry trying to steal what little crop they have because they're also hungry. Babies dying in the streets because they have no one to nurse them. The –"
"Brienne, stop!" Griff ordered.
Brienne stopped. She was gasping for breath but there was so much more she wanted to tell him. He was her king, he'd promised her he would take care of the people, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and care for the forgotten. He must. That is what a just king would do.
Griff had let her speak until she ran out of air. Now he cupped her face and leaned closer.
"Brienne, I know how dire the situation is," he assured her. "I've gotten reports from my spies. But I cannot help the people until I solidify my position. Without the respect and loyalty of the remaining Lords, my ideas aren't enough to feed and shelter the people."
"But you have plans?" she demanded, looking straight into his Targaryen purple eyes. "You've created a strategy to help the people?"
He released her face and nodded. "I have."
Was this part of Griff's strategy to help the people? Serjeant was a loyal, honorable man. He had great wealth, leadership skills, and the backing of the king. He was now lord of the most central, thus most strategic, castle in the Riverlands.
Was this the start of Griff's plans to lift the people out of hunger, poverty, and despair?
Brienne listened with keen interest as Serjeant continued speaking. "We may have no natural protection, but the Riverlands will soon have the best fighters in all of Westeros. The Golden Company will be based at Harrenhal. Woe to those foolish enough to attack lands guarded by the greatest army the Seven Kingdoms will ever know."
For an instant there was silence, as if the people didn't understand what he'd said. Then they erupted in clapping and cheers. The mood, which had been tense and uncertain, now lifted with Serjeant's promise. The people talk excitedly, seeming to be thrilled by the idea of powerful protection.
Serjeant looked at Griff and the two men shared a knowing glance. Serjeant nodded his head slightly, and Griff returned the gesture. Both were clearly pleased with the people's response. Lymond and Petyr looked at each other but remained quiet and watchful, like the eagles in the trees above them. Bran observed the exchange without outward reaction.
Unlike Bran, Brynden Tully, uncle to the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, frowned. Standing beside him, Arya scowled. Neither grand-uncle nor grand-niece shared the people's pleasure and expectancy. They were upset by the townspeople's eager acceptance of Griff's strategic move. Despite their displeasure, there was nothing Brynden or Arya could do. They were surrounded by Griff's army, his dragons, and his admirers.
Hot Pie came closer but still stayed far away from the dragons. He looked up at Brienne with bright, shining eyes. "I was right about you, my Lady. I mean, my Lady Ser."
Brienne looked at the baker. He was still underfed and cautious but some of the strain seemed to have eased from his features. He smiled at her with the open warmth she remembered from their last visit. Her own mouth curved up in a small smile at his earnest expression.
"In what way?" she asked.
"I knew your truth." Hot Pie's smile widened as the boy nodded his head quickly. "The first time you were here, you denied it. I understand. You were searching for Sansa Stark when the Boltons still held the North. Now she's the Lady of Winterfell, because of you. You're the Ladydragon, Brienne of the Gods. The bravest, most noble knight in the Seven Kingdoms."
"What? No, I'm me, the same as anyone." Embarrassment rushed through her. Brienne felt the blush burn her from head to feet.
She was the Gods' warrior but she was one of many. There were others, knights and ordinary citizens, braver and more noble than her. No one should single her out. She tried to explain, but now everyone was looking and pointing at her. Some even knelt, as if she were the king. Others looked at her with the worshipful expressions and reverence that should only be reserved for the Gods themselves.
Shock flooded her system, but not the shock of an attack. She could respond to an assault with the skill that came from years of training. This was a shock to the part of her that was still developing. She'd had such limited experience accepting praise and only from those who were close to her. Her mouth opened but she found herself unable to form words. She stepped back quickly, behind the safety of the dragons' defensive line, seeking their comfort as she tried to accept the young man's admiration.
The five shifted closer to her, sniffing the air to try to locate the source of her sudden emotional spike. Podrick, still crouched with the dragons, looked up at her with a mixture of pride and concern. Even so, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Brienne couldn't return his smile. Hot Pies's openly admiring expression, coupled with the people's undeserved reverence towards her, caused her heart to race, thumping almost visibly in her chest. She swallowed hard to calm her frantic heartbeat.
Heat burned along her side. She sensed, rather than saw, that Griff had moved closer to her. Even the Company men were alert, as if they also were ready to protect her.
Hot Pie didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "A singer came through a few weeks back. He sang songs about you. I know them all."
The young baker nodded enthusiastically and began to sing. His voice was strong and deep, projecting out the lyrics. The people around him snapped their heads towards him upon hearing the low tenor.
The Ladydragon stands before all odds,
This glorious warrior of the Gods.
See her upon the Iron Throne,
The seat where her dragons had flown.
The Others rose and she stood alone,
Against an army of evil and bone.
She will be our light, for it is known,
She who is Mother, Maiden, Warrior, and Crone.
Brienne was stunned.
Dear Gods.
This was what the people were saying about her? Why would they exaggerate and distort the truth? They made it sound as if she was the only person fighting for the living. She was just one in the army of men. They had all, the citizens, the Dornishmen, the army, the City Watch, and the dragons, had come together to protect King's Landing.
"No," Brienne managed to gasp. "That's not true. I didn't stand alone. His Grace, the dragons, the army, they all—"
Her voice was drowned out when others began to sing along with Hot Pie.
The Ladydragon stands between us and all odds,
This glorious warrior of the Gods.
Her dragons brought fire, blood, and mercy,
When a lost child cried for her company.
Know when darkness falls and daylight flees,
When the world seems lost to pain and misery.
She will stand to battle our great enemy,
And her light will lead us to victory.
The Ladydragon stands between us and all odds,
This glorious warrior of the Gods
By the last repetition of the lyrics, she found her voice. "Stop!" Brienne ordered.
She hadn't meant to speak so loudly but her demand had the desired effect. The singers fell silent, looking at each other in confusion. The people who had knelt and looked at her with such reverence now looked confused. Hot Pie frowned.
"I'm sorry, my Lady Ser," he apologized, looking down. "I'm not a good singer. The next verse is the best, even with my bad voice. It's about you wrapped in dragons and walking on cloaks of honor."
"I don't need to hear it," she snapped, her tone sharp with her mortification. She flushed even more, realizing how harsh she had sounded. Her tone was still firm but kinder as she continued. "I was there."
Hot Pie's eager excitement faded and the shadows returned to his eyes. Brienne drew in a deep breath to calm herself and briefly closed her eyes. Hot Pie was not at fault for repeating a song he'd heard. He didn't know how much she hated being the center of attention.
Brienne took a breath and looked past the young baker and saw some of the orphans at the edge of the woods. They still hugged the trees but they looked at her with hope and awe, realizing the woman glorified in the songs was standing in front of them.
They had heard the lyrics and didn't understand that the songs were exaggerated. She alone was not enough to change the world. It would take men greater than her, the king, lords, and warriors, all working together to lift the people.
Her insides tightened, squeezing her heart. Brienne drew in another breath, wheezing to push it past the constriction in her throat. The singing had drawn the orphans out of hiding. Now they looked at her as if she could somehow undo the horrors they'd endured.
They didn't know these songs told lies.
She could raise her sword to cut down a man or even the undead. She couldn't give them back their parents or their innocence. How could she, who had been ridiculed all her life for just being herself, be the subject of such unrealistic tales and expectations?
"Our time grows short and we have much to do." Griff moved in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking Brienne from view. "Is there a place we can secure our prisoners?"
To those around them, Griff's actions were those of an assertive king. He had drawn the attention back to himself and regained control. His voice was strong and steady, commanding attention. His startling Targaryen beauty was a clear focus for the people. They readily turned to hear him.
Behind his back, Brienne drew a deep breath as he shielded her from the people's avid gazes. They didn't see how his fingers briefly tangled with hers, squeezing quickly before releasing. His touch was warm and bracing, allowing her the solid focus she needed to calm her racing heart and chaotic thoughts. The reassurance had been firm but fleeting. They both knew it would draw more unwanted attention if anyone saw their brief exchange.
"Aye, your Grace." A man spoke from the crowd, face withered and hardened with age. "There's a burned-out farm just on the other side of the trees. Part of the house still stands. The family couldn't pay for protection no longer. Your captives can wait for justice with their ghosts."
The man's disgust and anger were apparent in his trembling voice. The townspeople around him also looked at the captives with less fear and more rage. The dragons, picking up on their anger, hissed and extended their wings.
The people gasped, their fear once again overcoming their fury. Brienne knelt beside Podrick to calm the dragons, grounding her further as she comforted her children
The eagles, who had been quiet until then, began to shriek. Brienne straightened quickly, drawn away from the dragons, and turned to her cousins. They both looked up to the sky, where the two smallest eagles circled above them.
"What is it?" Brienne asked, voice slightly raised in concern. "What's wrong?"
Lymond and Petyr lowered their heads. Their eyes, which were normally the dark blue-grey color characteristic of House Mallister, were now white. Brienne's own eyes widened in shock and she took a step back. Podrick rose to his feet and stumbled back so quickly he nearly fell into her.
"What's happening to them?" Podrick demanded.
Brienne steadied her squire. She stared at her cousins, equally startled by their transformation. Then the brothers blinked, almost simultaneously, and their eyes returned to their natural color. Griff, who hadn't reacted to their white eyes, merely looked from her cousins to the two smallest eagles coming to settle in the branches above them.
"Wind and Rain were scouting," Lymond reported. "An army approaches, on the south side of the Trident."
Wind and Rain must be the eagles who allowed her cousins to look through their eyes, who shared their sight with them. Then she remembered what her father had said about the eagles on the first day they arrived in Tarth.
Selwyn's voice became grim. "We've been watching them as they watch us. Sometimes they come as close as the courtyard wall. Their eyes aren't always golden."
"Are you saying their eyes change colors?" Ned demanded.
"No, sometimes their eyes lose color," Selwyn corrected.
"I've seen it," Tristan confirmed. "Sometimes their eyes turn white."
"Then what do they do?" Podrick shifted closer to Brienne.
"Nothing." Tristan shrugged. "They just continue to watch."
The white eye color must be an indication that her cousins and the eagles were communicating. Tormund had called those with the sight wargs. As if to confirm her thoughts, Petyr spoke up.
"The soldiers are wearing the sigil of House Targaryen and guarding several heavy carts." Petyr explained. "It appears that Jon Snow is almost here."
Jon's imminent arrival sent a fresh wave of energy through the Stark team. Arya, who had been leaning against the cart with sullen disinterest, straightened. Her eyes brightened and her body tensed, ready to react. Brynden looked towards the river as if expecting Jon to swim out of the Trident. The guards and driver looked alert, also ready to move. Even Bran, who'd been slumped in the back of the cart, looked up. His face was more animated than he'd been all morning.
In contrast, Griff's expression became cooler and remote, giving nothing away. Brienne's mouth tightened as she recognized the look on his face. He was not as pleased as the Starks, but instead steeling himself, preparing to meet Jon, just the same. Griff's shoulders straightened and his chin lifted slightly. Brienne frowned at the way he effortlessly closed off his emotions to the public.
However, she knew her king. Jon was his secret bastard brother and the third head of the dragon. That wasn't Griff's main concern. More pressingly for Griff's plans, Jon was the King in the North. That made him a possible stumbling block in Griff's path to claim the Seven Kingdoms. He could not allow anyone to see him as weak.
Griff turned back to their audience, the very image of kingly grace. "Very well. We'll divide our team. Some will remain with the prisoners and others will accompany us to the Ruby Ford."
Brienne looked anxiously at Griff at hearing him mention the crossing. His voice was calm and steady, despite the many emotions that place must inspire. This crossing was the start of the terrible events that had nearly destroyed the House of the Dragon.
The Ruby Ford was where Robert Baratheon had defeated Rhaegar. That loss had been followed by the murders of Aerys, Elia, and Rhaenys, Rhaella's death, and the scattering of the last members of House Targaryen. It was a place that marked the start of a time of loss and horror.
It had also planted the seeds for the War of the Five Kings, once again drowning the Riverlands in bloodshed. Westeros hadn't yet recovered from that war. Even so, they were preparing for another.
The last time two potential kings had met at the Ruby Ford, one had killed the other with a hammer's blow to the chest. This time the kings could not afford to war against each other. This was not a battle for crowns, thrones, or kingdoms. It was a fight for life itself.
Life is balanced on the tip of a blade and Jon holds the sword.
Jon Snow, the White Wolf, the secret dragon, might be the key to humanity's survival. Brienne didn't know how it would happen or what Jon might do. She did know that the Gods guided her. She was their warrior, an instrument of their will. This meeting was part of their divine plan.
She took a breath and steadied herself. She was confident the Gods would reveal the next steps when the time was right. Thousands had died so Jon could be born, secreted and saved. He could be humanity's greatest defense in its darkest hour. It was time to face their future.
Both the Long Night and Jon Snow approached.
Brienne prayed they were ready.
.***.
Author's Notes: Hello, I'm back! Life got in the way. I'm sorry Jon doesn't appear in this chapter. It was already long as is, so I had to cut it off somewhere. Jon will be in the center of the action next week.
That chapter is already with Liv_It_Up124. She is, as always, an invaluable help in crafting and correcting my story. Hugs and kisses to her for her masterful beta work and to you, my readers, for sticking with this story.
So, what do you think of this chapter? Is our cagey king making inroads with Jon's people? Do you think they'll show loyalty to the King in the North when their powerful new overlord answers to a different king? I can't wait to read your feedback. That's what motivates me to keep writing!