Brienne II
The Red Keep seemed monstrous to her. Certainly its walls were not as thick and massive as those of Storm's End, or as majestic as those of Highgarden, but it certainly had a certain aura that inspired both grandeur and terror. As she walked through the long corridors, Brienne could not help but think of Maegor the Cruel, and how according to the stories he had the castle's builders buried within those very walls.
Brienne looked around. The walls of the throne room, from which hung the coats of arms of King Joffrey when his forces entered the castle, were now adorned only by the crowned stag of the Baratheons, with no trace of the golden lions. The castle was bursting at the seams. Every corridor was guarded by some guard, either from outside the Stormlands or the Reach, and the gates in the walls were guarded day and night. There, in the throne room, the knights, squires and lords who had accompanied King Renly in his victory vied for a privileged spot from which to witness the audience. But beyond the walls, the city was trying to come back to life. For five days and five nights, the king's army had sacked every building in the city, leaving no stone unturned. The first time the soldiers entered a house, they took all the money, gold and jewelry they could find, and usually settled for that, eager to find more loot. The next ones, less fortunate, would unburden themselves by raping and killing those who lived there. If they found it empty, they would just burn the building, and delight themselves in watching it burn.
It had been the most horrible sight Brienne had ever seen.
I thought I knew what men were capable of, Brienne thought, unable to stop thinking about the dying city. I was wrong. You were right, father, you were so right.
When she had put her sword in Renly's service, every soldier from knight to lowborn had laughed at her, but she had not minded, for their taunts were no crueler or cleverer than those she had heard all her life. The cruelest thing she had ever felt was to learn that Ser Hyle Hunt, Ser Edmund Ambrose, and Ser Ben Bushy had bet on which of them was to take her maidenhood, which was still without a winner. She had even come to believe that it was all her fault, as Randyll Tarly had told her more than once, and that if she were gone those men would go back to being worthy and noble knights like those in song. Would that she had been right.
Ser Ben Bushy and his men had plundered every store and tavern they could find in the Street of Silver while Ser Hyle Hunt, who had tried to woo her by giving her a book and a silk cloth, was now known to have raped a woman in every brothel in the Street of Silk. Ser Edmund had not fared so well, for he was on one of the barges that had been sunk during the attack by the Kingslayer's fleet, and now his corpse was being eaten by fish at the bottom of Blackwater Bay.
Though perhaps it was better this way, Brienne thought ruefully. Better to die a knight than a monster, like all of us. That was what they had all become, including her. How could she judge anyone when she had done nothing to prevent the pillage? She had stood by while the city burned around her, uncapable of doing anything but watching impassively.
The trumpets of the heralds announcing the king's arrival brought her out of her reverie. From the front of the gallery, Brienne watched as Ser Loras Tyrell, resplendent in his rainbow cloak and green and silver armor, led the way. From that distance, no one would notice him, but Brienne could see how he carried his arm close to his body, limp as a sack. The Kingslayer has crippled him, Brienne observed, recalling her fight against the Lannister in front of the city walls. A one-armed protector for a king without a kingdom. Behind Renly and Queen Margaery was the rest of his Rainbow Guard, or at least what was left of it. Ser Parmen Crane had died by the Kingslayer's hands during the battle, and Ser Guyard's lifeless body had been found by chance in an alley in King's Landing with a massive number of stabs after three days of looting.
The king ascended the stairs to the throne, while the queen took a seat in an ornate chair beneath the dreadful throne. Renly wore his crown of golden roses from which protruded the head of a stag, and wore majestic robes of golden velvet with black motifs. Given his grandeur, no one could imagine that this man was responsible for everything that had happened in that city. Another Tywin Lannister, but in deer's clothing.
"The duty of a king is to impart justice. To punish the disloyal and reward his faithful vassals. Let us begin. Lord Randyll, step forward," Renly proclaimed loudly.
The lord of Horn Hill, sheathed in his armor and with his Valyrian steel sword slung across his back, stepped forward proudly and knelt before the throne.
"My lord, your loyalty to me and your valor in battle should be rewarded without question. Your blade ended the wicked life of the Kingslayer and saved countless lives. That is why, in the absence of news of my father-in-law, and the possibility that he may have died or been captured, I have decided to appoint you my new Hand of the King" proclaimed the king.
"It is a great honor for me and my house to accept such a position, your grace" said Randyll Tarly rising to his feet. "I swear to serve you faithfully, you will have no more worthy and loyal ally."
Lord Tarly took his seat beside the queen, at what Brienne supposed must be the council table, now entirely empty save for Lord Tarly and a maester Brienne had not heard of, as the king continued with the rest of the announcements and proclamations.
"Lord Mathis Rowan, Ser Ronnet Connington, step forward" called the king. They both approached the steps of the throne and took the place where Lord Randyll had been moments ago. "As I said a few moments ago, it is time to reward those men who have served me faithfully. Lord Mathis, the kingdom needs to be rebuilt, and for that it needs gold, and a Master of Coin to administer it. Will you accept this duty, Lord Mathis?"
"I would be honored to do so, your grace," replied the Lord of Goldengrove.
"Perfect," said Renly, "Ser Ronnet, when I summoned my vassals, you were among the first to heed the call, and you have faithfully accompanied me until now. I would like to appoint you Master of Laws, and may you continue to serve faithfully at my side for many years to come."
"There is no greater pleasure than to serve your highness. You honor me with your generosity," replied her once betrothed and, together with Lord Mathis, made his way to the Small Council's table to take his place. Seeing him sitting there, so happy and proud, Brienne wondered why the gods had not seen fit to send Red Ronnet to the bottom of the Blackwater.
My turn...
As much as Renly felt like putting on this pompous and ostentatious show, what was going to happen was an open secret. Some of the new positions on the Small Council had been decided even before they took the city, and the only news were going to be the rewards of those who had been especially brave in battle. Only a week ago, to be there would have been her greatest dream, but at the moment it seemed to her the emptiest honor she could have received.
"Brienne of Tarth," the herald announced. Brienne pushed her way through the crowd and advanced with all the solemnity she was capable of in that situation towards the Iron Throne. Brienne raised her head and walked towards that iron monstrosity, neither too slowly nor too quickly, as protocol demanded.
"Your Highness," she said after kneeling before the fearsome throne. She felt all eyes on her, although, for once, she did not notice any laughter.
"Lady Brienne," Renly said solemnly. He rose and descended the stairs one by one until he was right in front of her. "You have more than proved your courage in battle and your loyalty to me and the realm. Ask me for whatever you wish and, if it is in my power, I will grant it."
Let the war end, she would like to have said if she could've mustered the courage, or the stupidity to speak her thoughts aloud. To return to Tarth and forget all this ever happened.
"There is no greater honor for me than to serve you, your grace," she said even as she felt the words catch in her throat. "For me there is no greater reward."
It was for barely a blink, but Renly showed some surprise at that statement. That was not the response he had expected and had planned for this act before all of his lords. It didn't matter much either, as Renly laughed and showed a big smile. He was about to utter the sentence Brienne had expected to hear almost all her life, but no longer. She no longer wanted to hear that.
"I am pleased to hear that, Lady Brienne, but your valor deserves to be rewarded. My Kingsguard is somewhat short of members. Brienne of Tarth, would you accept the great honor of joining my seven, my Rainbow Guard?"
No, please I just want to go home, I just want my nightmares to end, Brienne thought most regretfully, though she already knew of the king's offer, for Lord Mathis had informed her the morning before. And rejecting the king's offer in front of the entire court was not an option, not if she wanted to get out of there in one piece and go home.
"I..."
"Your courage is unparalleled, my lady," Queen Margaery added as she noted her hesitation. "Please, I would feel so much safer in these perilous times if I knew that someone like you had my back and my husband's" she continued with sweetness in her voice.
"For me it would be the greatest of honors, your highness" Brienne lied.
"Speak the oath then. Do you, Brienne of Tarth, swear to give your life for me, to protect me from all evil, until the day of your death?" asked Renly. His voice echoed throughout the room.
"I swear it," said Brienne, in a voice so faint that even the nearest attendants would have had trouble hearing her.
"Rise then, Brienne the Blue, of the Rainbow Guard."
Brienne rose, almost reluctantly, and turned around facing the gallery so that the king could clasp the rainbow cloak over her shoulders. As she looked at the servant who brought it, she noticed that it was completely spotless, either because it had been washed thoroughly or perhaps a new one had been embroidered.
Nothing can wash away the blood of the thousands of innocents that stain it, Brienne thought as Renly tied it to her shoulder pads. I should have … I should have let him…
She knew for a fact what she should have done, but she refused to admit it. She couldn't. When the war was over she would do everything in her power to make up for the damage she had caused. When the war is over, the people will forget what had happened here. Just like they forgot about Tywin Lannister's sack decades ago, won't they, foolish girl?
She stepped away from the throne and stood beside her new brothers of the Rainbow Guard: Robar Royce the Red, Bryce Caron the Orange, Emmon Cuy the Yellow, and Ser Loras, the Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard. How grand and glorious those names had sounded to her until not so long ago and how insignificant and empty such titles seemed now. They were no more than a shield of cloth. Pretty and impressive, yes, but useless. Ser Jaime Lannister had defeated three of them without much difficulty, and he was only one man, hated large and long the continent. The Mountain, Randyll Tarly, the Blackfish, the Red Viper... there was a whole list of names that could defeat them without shedding a drop of sweat. And too many of those names were on opposing sides on that war.
After that, the ceremony went downhill. A dozen soldiers and knights were rewarded for their exploits in battle. The men received honors and lands, but Brienne noticed that many of those lands were in the Reach, in the area now supposedly occupied by the Dornish army, and some even in the Westerlands or the Riverlands. Empty titles until the king wins the war. They will only get something if they stand by Renly to the end, Brienne clearly observed.
Then more than a hundred knights were anointed by her brothers of the Kingsguard. She did not take part in the act, since she was not a knight herself and, though at another time that would have hurt her somewhat, now it did not matter to her in the least. Most of those men would surely have committed horrible crimes to earn that honor, the less she had to do with them the better.
The session lasted at least another hour, and by then some of the attendees, especially those in the back rows, had already retired, and those who hadn't were yawning or dozing, leaning against some column. The only ones who seemed to maintain their composure were the members of the Small Council and the six of them, standing there. She didn't know about the rest, but she was already starting to feel pretty tired of standing there doing nothing. But the last part of the ceremony was still left.
With their hands chained in shackles the prisoners came in, forming a long line. There were hundreds of men, many wearing the golden lion of the Lannisters, but they were not the only ones. Most were gold cloaks who had fled as soon as the battering rams brought down the city gates and news of "Joffrey's" death spread through the ranks. Stripped of their glittering cloaks, they were indistinguishable from the mercenaries who followed them. They were not many, for most had changed sides as soon as the tide of battle turned, but a few continued to fight to the last, perhaps in the hope that Lord Tywin would come from Harrenhal to their aid. Leading the way were the great lords and knights. Lancel Lannister, the son of the late Ser Kevan and nephew of Lord Tywin, the aged Lord Celtigar, Aurane Waters, the bastard son of Lord Velaryon, who had returned to Driftmark. Ser Gilbert Farring and his son, Lord Renfred Rykker, some Masseys and many other knights of lesser houses of the Crownlands. Virtually all of them begged forgiveness for their treachery and promised to serve King Renly loyally from now on, and he welcomed them into the king's peace and gave them back their lands and rights. But not all of them.
Ser Lancel, who had led the desperate defense of the Red Keep for two days with the few men he had left after the city walls fell, remained defiant. His own men had betrayed him and opened the gates to Renly when they saw that no one would come to their aid. He is only a teenager, little more than a child, Brienne observed. He was trembling with fear, and yet he dared to defy the king. What makes you do this madness? You still have your whole life ahead of you, boy.
"Do you still refuse to accept my pardon, Ser Lancel?" asked Renly, imperious.
"A traitor's pardon is worth nothing. The only pardon that is worth is King Joffrey's. He will return, and along with him, all the power of the west" whined Ser Lancel. He tried to sound defiant, but it seemed to Brienne that the only one he was trying to convince with those words was himself.
"Let him come then. I'll be here waiting for him and your uncle. But you will not enjoy that privilege, Ser Lancel. I, Renly Baratheon, the first of his name, find you guilty of the crime of high treason, and sentence you to die. Brienne of Tarth, take this man to the courtyard and bring me his head."
Me? Why... why me?
The guards grabbed Ser Lancel and dragged him outside, followed by her, who was not even strong enough to look proudly ahead. Another one... Does it really matter?, Brienne thought as she made her way to the courtyard. Does more blood matter when I am stained from head to toe?
The sun was already beginning to set on the horizon and the sky had turned an orange, almost reddish color, which was darkening little by little. Except for a few curious glances and half a dozen guards accompanying her, no one else cared in the least about what was going to happen there.
Except me and the boy.
Brienne drew her sword. One of the soldiers bent the boy's legs with a kick, then planted a foot in his back to keep him on his knees, while the other placed a stump under his head.
"No...no… I..." Tears streamed down Ser Lancel's face, and his eyes were reddened as he turned his head to look at her.
"It's not too late to repent, boy," Brienne told him, in a desperate attempt to save his life. It was not guaranteed that the king would spare his life even by repenting, and even more so by doing so right with one foot in the grave, but she had to try. She didn't quite know why she was doing that, but she felt that she had to try to save the boy.
"I... No. Joffrey is the rightful king. My father died for him in the Whispering Wood, and if the gods dispose that I should do the same, so be it," the boy said, in a last foolish act of bravery. "The gods will punish you all for your treachery. End this, my father awaits me."
Brienne's sword came down, and he got his wish.