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CHAPTER 22

BRIENNE

It took an inordinate amount of persuading, but once the Lady Dustin finally admitted that she held Sansa she promised to release her to Brienne and the men. The widow of Barrowton didn't seem to keep the girl hidden so much because she didn't want anyone to leave with her so much as she seemed convinced that someone had sent Brienne and her party to find her. Brienne had to point out that she was right—she had a letter saying as much from the Lannister boy king, Tommen.

The next morning, Lady Dustin brought them all into the yard. It had snowed during the night, just enough to cover the horses' hooves, and the air from the clear blue sky was crisp.

"How did you explain us?" Brienne asked. She felt astounded that she was moments away from meeting Sansa Stark after searching for her for such a long time, and a little worried what the girl's reaction would be upon finally meeting her.

"I told her what you told me. That you are knights come to her aid. She was naive enough to believe it."

"Naive? Excuse me, my Lady, but that is the truth."

Lady Dustin ignored Brienne. "Here she comes," she said, and they turned their attention to the stablehand leading a white horse and a girl into the yard.

For just a moment, Brienne thought it was the Lady Catelyn brought back to life.

It was the Lady Sansa. She was too young to be Catelyn, but she had her mother's figure and reddish hair, which along with her lips and cheeks looked vibrant against the snow. Her eyes were lighter than Brienne remembered the Lady Catelyn's being, and the clean lines of Sansa's face and her solemn features must have come from the Stark side of her family. Brienne thought they gave her a timeless beauty. All her life it will be hard to tell her age.

Brune nodded next to her, the signal that this was the right girl. When Sansa came up to them Brienne took the knee. The others followed her, but only Brienne removed her helm. "Lady Sansa Stark, I am Brienne of Tarth."

"Oh!" Sansa gasped on seeing Brienne's straw-blonde hair spill free. "You are a lady knight." Then she giggled, her voice lilting as a songbird's. "I feel safer already. And who are these—men, I presume?"

"These men make up your envoy."

"You command them?"

Brienne could not blame her for looking skeptical. A 'lady knight' was one thing, a lady commander was another. "All of us come by order of the king."

"What do you mean? My brother is dead, and everywhere I go his enemies seek to accost me."

"I swore an oath to your lady mother to protect you."

"You did?"

"It was at Riverrun," Brienne explained. "I swore fealty to the Starks, and your mother sent me to find you and your sister and keep you safe. I fear your sister died at King's Landing, but I have spent this long time since seeking you out to fulfill my oath."

"If you were truly sworn to my mother then we are well met, but my sister is not dead. You may rise." Jaime had said the girl was dead, so how Sansa could know that she was not Brienne could not begin to suspect, but she wasn't about to argue with her liege so soon after meeting her. Instead, they mounted up. From the back of her horse Sansa turned the Lady of Barrowton.

"Lady Ryswell," she said, using the widow's married name. "You've done more than you promised. Thank you."

"It was not I who supplied them. They came here on their own." Looking Sansa over, she added, "You should take it as a warning."

"More sage advice, and all of it I keep close to my heart. You may not have ordered these men—and this woman—but if nothing else, your counsel helped me find my way." It would not have been out of place as a subtle comment about what few supplies their party left Barrowton with, but Brienne couldn't sense sarcasm from Sansa's words. They sounded of genuine thanks.

All the same, there was something sinister in Lady Dustin's response. "May the Gods old and new go with you, Princess Sansa. I will pray for you to make it home. And if you don't, at least you will have someone to take your bones north, as no one did for my Lord Husband."

Brienne didn't think Sansa would need anyone to take her bones north, because she had every intention of taking her alive to Jaime at Moat Cailin. The girl would be safe there, and safe now that she had Brienne and the others to look after her. They already had arrangements for a ship at a southwestern port to take them inland.

Sansa turned her horse and Brienne and the men followed her. "We'll take the north gate," she decided.

"My Lady? The west is closer—" and nearer to the port, but Sansa was already trotting off.

What a willful girl, Brienne thought. She could feel the cold stares of Bronn and Brune on her back as they hurried off course. No matter—there was a crossroads ahead where they could get back on track, and time enough between here and there to convince Sansa of the sense in turning west.

Once they were out on the road Lucion and his squire led the way while Bronn and Brune brought up the rear. "With me, Brienne," Sansa said, and Brienne pulled her horse closer to ride abreast with Sansa, who asked how she came to find her.

Brienne told her about the Blackfish, but Sansa, who had never met her uncle, worried about how fast the rumor of her location had traveled. She had only been in Barrowton for a few days.

"Do not fear, for you have a company to protect you now," Brienne reassured her. "In truth, I was relieved to find you unharmed in Barrowton, for the rumor of you and the Hound was dark."

Sansa slowed her horse so that Brienne lost pace with her, and when she turned in her saddle the girl met her questioning look with an intense stare.

"He has been more true to me than any other man."

Brienne felt a twitch of guilt. She had met the Hound yesterday, and did not think he would be chasing after Sansa anymore. "If you say so, my lady."

"That's the third time you've made that mistake," Sansa went on. "I am not just a lady anymore. Since my brother declared himself a King, I am a Princess here in the North."

"I apologize . . . your grace," Brienne said, but the words felt fat on her tongue. Brienne did not think it likely that the Lannisters would let her stay a princess. It may be more difficult than I thought to get her to meet with Jaime, Brienne thought. But what girl does not dream of becoming a Princess? Let her have her fun. She thought that she might have to promise Sansa whatever she said she wanted until the girl became more reasonable, for whether Sansa wanted to admit it or not the Lannisters could protect her far better than she could protect herself.

They rode for a time without speaking and came to the edge of the Barrowlands, hills with valleys that looked punched into the tall earth instead of mountains rising out of flat land. They were coming up on the crossroads that would take them back around to port or north into the Barrowlands, and that was where Brienne saw that she was wrong about the Hound.

He sat a black horse at the crest of the first hill overlooking the northern path. She knew him from his helm. The rest of his armor made him look like a fool in motley—he had managed a full set, but it was mismatched. Thrown together piecemeal, of different colors and material, he wore grey and black and copper, steel alongside cheaper iron, and a breastplate that looked stretched to fit.

"Look at that! A regular Ser Florian," Bronn laughed behind them. It made Sansa, who had been staring up at the Hound with what Brienne was unnerved to find could only be described as adoration, turn back to him in a huff.

"Damnit, Brienne!" Brune lifted up his visor and shouted at her. "I thought you took care of him!"

Brienne thought she had, too.

"Taste my blade, Hound!" she had shouted yesterday when she met him in the stable, descending on him with all the fury of a tigress. She slashed out with her sword, but the Hound ducked and rolled away, and his head stayed on his shoulders. She came at him again with an overhead swing in the same movement, but a pail he threw hit her in the face of her helmet and the next thing she knew he was on his feet swinging the combed end of a rake at a joint in her armor. Brienne stepped back and parried the blow, her Valyrian steel sword slicing through the wood like it was a stalk of grass.

He scrambled away from her, pushing open the door of a horse's stall to slow her down, but she just went around it. Brienne couldn't blame him if he was in a panic. He had on no armor, not even chainmail, and any weapon he chose would be powerless against her sword. He was faster than her, a good fighter, and fighting for his life, but it made no matter. He had nowhere to go. The entrance to the stable was behind her, in front of her was a pile of hay and the stable's back wall.

The Hound grabbed a pitchfork off of it and hoisted it at her. "Who the fuck are you!"

"I am Brienne of Tarth," she answered. He deserved that much. "I come on behalf of Lady Stark."

"The bitch of Tarth, more like," he sneered. "And there's some bullshit if I ever heard any. Sansa's got nothing against me. You're a bounty hunter dressed up as a knight."

"This is not about reward money. This is about justice."

"Or Lannister gold."

Mentioning the Lannisters made her bristle. She readied her sword. "Everyone knows you kidnapped and raped her."

"And everyone knows you killed Renly," he growled.

She thrust. He caught the blade between the teeth of the pitchfork and twisted. For just a moment, she lost her grip on her sword. The pommel spun around in her hand and Brienne thought that she would drop it. The Hound had wrenched it away from her. But then the soft steel ends of the pitchfork screamed against the sharpness of her Valyrian steel and the force needed to overpower it. The pitchfork's center tine snapped off, and she was free.

She gripped the pommel tight again, as tight as the fear that had just gripped her. The Hound could not keep her at bay anymore. She could kill him, she knew. He slumped against the back of the barn. His shoulder was bleeding, but Brienne didn't remember making the cut. She pointed her sword at him.

"If you kill me, I'll never tell you where Sansa is."

"You will tell me to answer for your crimes. Then, I will kill you. May the Gods judge you justly."

He shook his head. "No need for the Gods. You've already done that."

She brought the tip of her sword nearer to his throat. "Tell me."

"Why should I?" Clegane growled. "What do you want with her, anyway?"

"I told you. I swore an oath."

He dropped his head and shook, and it took her a moment to realize he was laughing. "If you're telling the truth we have no quarrel. You could have told her yourself a moment ago—she only just left. Sansa's gone to the keep at Barrowton to meet the widow. Thinks she'll help her, being as she's heir to the North. Tell me—if I kept Sansa as a prisoner, would I let her leave my side?"

Brienne did not believe that he would let her go, but if he had ransomed her, why not just say so? Maybe he never had her. "You could be lying."

"Except that I'm not, you daft wench!" He sounded angrier about that accusation than about her threatening to kill him. "You'll find her at the keep. The girl goes her own way. Though I'm a fool to believe that you're really here to help her, I don't have much choice with that sword of yours pointed at my throat. Do you think I'd tell you where she is if I had a reason to keep her away from you?"

Brienne hadn't known what to answer to that. She felt confused. She was sure the Hound would lead her to Sansa; and so he promised, but could she trust him? None of it seemed to fit. His story could be a ploy to dissuade her, but then why not plead ignorance instead of argue? The only way she would know if any of it were true, would be to stop wasting time here and find Sansa.

She put her sword away. "I'm going to find her, and you're going to leave her alone," she said. Then she slammed a mailed fist into his groin. He doubled over and she left.

The Hound had not lied, and Brienne had found Sansa. But there he was at the top of the hill.

When Sansa saw Brune's face, she screamed. "You!" Her horse caught her nervousness and danced in place, turning round to face him.

"My Lady, please," Brienne beseeched her. "You are making a scene." She was worried the horse would bolt. She reached out, but Sansa pulled on the reins of her horse and the beast sidestepped away.

"What is he doing here!"

"We all come by order of the king. I told you. Here—" Brienne took out her letter and handed it over.

Sansa snatched the parchment and scanned it. When her eyes reached the bottom her lips curled into a snarl. "This is a letter from King Tommen."

The men ignored her, focused as they were in anticipation of a battle. Clegane was waiting for them to make a move. "We'll take him. Come on, Walder." Lucion spurred his horse and his squire followed him up the hill.

Sansa balled the paper into a fist and threw it in Brienne's face. "You vile, scheming bitch!" she shrieked. Brienne was too shocked to say anything. Sansa gathered the reins of her horse. "Winterfell!" she screamed, and her horse reared up. "WINTERFELL!"

At the top of the hill, Sandor Clegane readied his lance. He spurred his horse and charged down the slope at the men racing up to meet him. The point of his weapon slammed into the squire with such a force that it threw the boy off his horse, and half of it broke off inside his chest. Clegane threw the shattered lance away from him and took out his sword. He parried Lucion's cuts like he was swatting a fly, and brought his own sword down savagely against the knight.

"They need help," Bronn said. "That squire's dead."

"So help them!" Brune shouted. "You're the one always carping on about the reward money. Go earn it."

"Gladly." Bronn road to help. Sansa went hysterical, screaming for someone to help Sandor Clegane. She almost rode out herself, but Brienne blocked her path.

"Brienne, help him! He's going to die!"

Clegane had fared well against Lucion alone, but Bronn was a better match for him. The former sellsword was a vicious, calculated fighter, and quickly showed the knight how they could take advantage of their greater number. One of them would force Clegane to defend a cut, creating an opening for the other to bash at him with the length of his sword.

"If you had really sworn fealty to my family, you would not consort with my enemies," Sansa asserted. "You would not plot to take me back to the Lannisters! You would take out your sword and kill the men you ride with!"

"That's enough out of you, girl." Brune had snuck up behind her. He lifted her out of the saddle. Feeling her rider's struggles, Sansa's horse reared, spilling her, kicking, into Brune's lap. Then it galloped away.

Brune fought to bring Sansa into the seat in front of him. She kicked and beat against him. Brienne thought the use of force excessive, but the girl was fighting like a wild animal. This quest was done. All I wanted to do was see Jaime.

Sansa was screaming and trying to bite. Just before Brune got his hand over her mouth, she looked at Brienne and screamed.

"OATHBREAKER!"

The word cut deep into Brienne's heart. She touched the pommel of the sword Jaime had given her. Oathkeeper. Its name was Oathkeeper, or it was cursed.

She drew it.