The Evenstar's Daughter

Years and years had passed now since it happened, but the face clung to her thoughts through it all, following her wherever she was bound, like a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon. Brienne had to remind herself she wasn't truly mad as everyone believed. But the memory was so vivid, and felt realer than the pit she found herself in. There he was, her beloved Renly, standing formidably in all his beautiful glory…only to be felled by some wicked foreign magic. Even now, her head was filled with shadows spilling the blood of better men. He was so perfect…and kind. Imagine the world with him it's King…she pondered her murdered beloved until tears flooded her eyes.

Then she grew angry once more. I will kill him for this, I swear it, by the old gods and the new. I'll swear to his God too if need be. Her life was a small price to pay to see Stannis into the ground for his crimes. But she wasn't sentencing a soul whilst cooped up in the dingy dungeon of Last Hearth. At the least, she thought Sansa Stark would press her release but the girl wasn't stupid, Brienne knew. Of course, with the slightest second of a chance to put a blade through Stannis, she would have, and the Stark girl knew that all too much. The pretty little idiot likely thought she was doing her a favour, sparing her life, but she knew nothing of Brienne's qualms when it came to her vengeance.

She is her mothers daughter it seems. Though Lady Catelyn swore she would never stop me if I had a chance to avenge my King. Then she realised Sansa had said no such thing and spat at her own oaths. Upon saving the Stark girl, she accepted that perhaps she truly did serve the Starks, and more bizarrely, at the orders of a Lannister. Ser Jaime's memory brought a smile to her lips, before a wretch in her belly ruined it.

So far, the great Umber's of Last Hearth served a watery, milk coloured, broth, cold as The Wall, an hour shy of curdling, for breakfast. It was slop, in every way but name. In the evenings, black bread, fresh with maggots, with dry potatoes and a slab of tough meat, tasteless on the tongue. Just when I thought The North couldn't be blander, she mocked to herself. Her belly jumped from throbbing with pains of starvation, to a rank, dire feeling that her meals were begging to come back up.

After weeks of near darkness, pig shit for food, and not so much as a word from anyone, Sansa Stark finally decided to grace her with an audience. She came donning wolfskin furs around her pale, swan like neck, that crowned a deep navy dress. Her long auburn hair danced in shining ringlets down past her shaped, womanly torso.

'Lady Brienne, I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. His grace would not allow it,' she dared say, after days and days of nothing.

'You call him grace? That man is no King. You're a fool to plea with him,' she spat, livid at the girls reluctance to visit, and plain lack of gratitude.

'Without Stannis, The North wouldn't think Jon strong enough to join him. Their support only exists because of him. We need him if we are ever to go home.' The girl rolled her eyes as she seated herself upon a stump wooden stool. 'And, he is Jon's King, I am Jon's sister, things are expected of me. I haven't been gifted the art of the sword, I am a lady. My role in it all asks me simply to flutter my eyelids, look pretty and make the men feel better.' She reached under her dress and pulled out a wine skin. She handed it to Brienne after sipping at it.

Brienne sucked at the end, expecting to lace her dry throat in sweet summer wine. To her misfortune, it was a dark, bitter mead, that roused her stomach some what more. Before she barfed at the feet of her lady, she tossed over the bitter to Podrick, who drank it dry.

'Water would have sufficed, my lady,' she said. 'And as for the men…curse them all. I would put them all to the sword, like I were carving soft cheese,' she proudly exclaimed.

All her life she'd been putting men who thought a cock made them better than her into the dirt. The fabled Kingslayer she'd fought on the bridge proved to be no better than a stable boy. The Hound was an arrogant one, but he fell to her anyway. Even The Knight of The Flowers was no match for her, just another famous name, with overwhelmingly biased stories. The boy from Highgarden had never even trekked a toe onto a battlefield.

'Do you know what that man is, Lady Sansa? Clearly not if you trust him.'

'I have heard the rumours, yes. I know what he is. Stannis is a killer…same as my brother, Ramsey, all of them. I do know what he is, but it makes no matter. I will never trust him, but I will use him get what I need.'

'It's not just the men that are killers, my lady. When the chance comes, to kill Stannis, I shall tak-,'

Immediately stern and shouting, Sansa lashed out at her. 'No, Brienne, you will not! Stannis is a King, with an army all around him. I need Stannis and his men to take back Winterfell from the Roose Bolton. What happens to Stannis after that, I truly do not care, but if you are to be released, you must settle you woes with the man. Otherwise he will execute you. You can hardly protect me if you are ash.' The girl was plumper than she remembered. Her body grew more shapely with every passing moon. Despite all that, her face boldly wore her misery, resembling a sulking whipped hound.

She clinched her teeth, till it hurt, cursing silently, mentally condemning Stannis to a matter of painful deaths that she so desperately wanted to execute herself. But she took her orders from this girl sat before her. A girl in need of help…dammit Brienne, pull yourself together. Look at her, she needs you. Changing the subject entirely, Brienne asked her a simple question.

'Are you okay, Lady Sansa?' She was angry at her, yes, but she was bound by oath to care for the girl, whatever the circumstance.

The girls eyes dropped in an instant, and her hand promptly crept over her belly, before she cupped the faint hint of a bump. Brienne knew then Sansa was with child. And far worse than that, it was Ramsey Boltons child, most likely.

'M-my lady…you must not tell a soul. Nobody can know. Mothering a Bolton would have me and my child fed to the hounds,' Sansa welled up as she choked on her words.

'I would never…you have my word.' She meant it. But Sansa was no longer safe, even with her brother at her side. I cannot protect her in here…nor if Stannis has me burned. Curse him to the gods, let them call judgement on his crimes. He'll burn in the seventh hell, with Ramsey, his father and all the rest.

The girl stood, soaking her tears into her sleeves. 'My brother will see you to discuss terms of your release. Pod too. I beg you to forget Stannis, for now. There are bigger wars to win, and I need you at my side when they begin.' Sansa peered over her shoulder as a guard entered, prompting her leave. 'I wish I could stay longer but I have a cloak to prepare before Jon departs for The Karhold. Good day, Brienne of Tarth,' she finished with, bowing before her, then exiting swiftly.

Gods damn her, she rued, as the guard escorted her away and bolted up the door.

Pod broke his silence, when no ears were around to hear but her own.

'My lady,' he said confidently. 'Sansa is right. Stannis can wait, for a time. Better to use a man's assists before killing him and sacrificing a greater cause. You may have no love for him, I doubt there are many who do, but he can help the Stark's reclaim their home.'

She couldn't help snap at his voice. 'I bloody know that, Pod! Of course I know that.' She stood for the first time in days. Her back and her legs ached from hard sleeping and sitting still for so long. She paced around the dismal cell to stretch her legs, buffing out the stiffness in her knees with each step.

'The sooner we are released, the better. I'm not one for confinement, Podrick.' A lump creeped into her throat, trying to fend off the words she was about to say. 'I'll never forgive Stannis, never, but I must hold my oaths to Sansa over my own. I swore I would kill him, and I will. But for now, I must honour my lady's wishes. She's not safe up there, not with all those snakes probably eyeing her up for a betrothal, or worse. I must protect her, in honour of her mother.'

She swallowed the lump and sat down once more, hoping it was the last time in this frozen pile of shit, trying to forget Stannis Baratheon existed. But the gods were cruel, and to her own disarray, the man himself so happened to be their next guest. The King no one wanted came to them just after sundown, she guessed. The distinction between day and night was a mystery to her down here.

He entered alone, despite a guard's council. Ushering the man away, assuring nothing will happen, the King on Dragonstone donned a ridiculous golden antler crown. Placing a firm fist around the pommel of his blade. Despite her wishes, Brienne knew she was too weak to kill a pigeon, let alone an armed man with guards posted on the door outside. Her breath went in his presence, and she could not comprehend a minuscule idea of what he could want from her. For years she had prepared a speech of sorts for when she would finally meet him, yet it didn't seem fitting now, given her circumstances, so she opted with saying nothing at all.

Stannis sat where Sansa had, only two paces, at the most, away from her. I could do it. Right now. A quick snap of the neck and I could do it. Before he could even draw his sword. She was tender and her flesh now sunk into her bones but she could summon all the strength she had left for one swift strike and it would all be over. But she didn't, her conscience echoing the wishes of Lady Sansa. She could only watch as the man eyed around the bleak black prison, looking plain bored, wearing an almost smug smirk on his stone lips.

'Brienne of Tarth,' he said, finally engaging his gaze at her. 'How are you enjoying your stay?' A foul jest in her eyes, not even a glint of remorse, and in poor humour given circumstances.

'Brother Killer,' she spat back, venomously, though it just made him smile. She held her burning glare, whilst her blood began to boil, quietly begging the gods to grant her the strength.

'You have a tongue sharp as your Lannister sword,' he mocked, in ill fashion. She despised the notion of him questioning her loyalty, of all people. 'It was quite the performance you put on back there. Many of the men believe you have gone mad.' He looked at Pod, who just averted his eyes until it was all could do not to attract attention.

'I know what I saw. Let them mock me.' Her bitterness flushed in her voice.

'And what did you see, Brienne of Tarth?'

She had told the story many a time, to Margery Tyrell, to Sansa, and others but not a soul had believed her, all claiming it had been her who'd slain Renly. She recalled the boy King Joffrey even praising her for ending the degenerates life. So many had called her so, it was hard for Brienne to convince herself she wasn't mad. Lady Catelyn was the only witness, and she was dead. They would have branded her mad too, no doubt. Only Stannis could put her mind to rest now.

'I saw a shadow with your face murder my King, in cold blood…' The words stuck in her throat slightly, and a tear fell from her eye from just remembering her Renly's beautiful face. 'You used blood magic to kill him…do you deny it?'

Stannis sighed out what seemed a long awaited breath, as if he just released all the weight of the world from his chest. Then rather casually, he confessed. 'I did. I'm not proud, admittedly. He was my brother. I loved him once, the boy he was. But the man he grew to be…he didn't deserve to die the way he did, I regret that much at least.'

Brienne gulped in her throat, sounding like she'd swallowed a frog, croaking its way down her gullet. She was overwhelmed, despite the confession she had been looking for all this time. It was just a shock to her he so openly yielded. Is that all it took? She looked to see Pod's reaction, but his eyes hadn't left the floor.

'I want you to say it…I want you to say you murdered my King.'

He sighed once more, deeper this time, as if he actually felt some remorse. It still wasn't enough for her though; nothing would be but nicking Stannis's head from his shoulders. With a long pause, he finally uttered the words she had so long ached to hear.

'I murdered my brother…gods…god, I don't bloody know.' She watched as he clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together, doing all he could to not make eye contact with her. He found his gaze aimed at the torch on the wall, the flames sparkling in eyes. 'All I have done, I've done in the service of R'holler. He whispers in the flames, The Red Woman hears, then she whispers in my ear, but nobody knows if it's real. She promised me a son, too… but I've got nothing but blood from her and her God.'

'Then why go on? Why carry on burning people at the stake?'

'Because I am the Prince that was promised…the Lord of Light has burdened me with that title, and so I must do my duty. One day you must do yours.'

Prince that was promised? And they said I was mad. Stannis is a bloody fanatic. Perhaps it's the Red Woman who is so dangerous.

'Does that make you feel better or worse, Brienne of Tarth?' His hint of a smile was ugly, ever smug, yet slightly remorseful. His eyes though, they were as ever intent on the fires blooming from the torch.

'One day, Lord Stannis, I will avenge him. I will drive Oathkeeper through you, I vow it,' she spat back bluntly, her heart full of promises. She caught his eyes attention once more at least.

'And that is your duty. Right now however, your duty lies elsewhere. You serve the Stark's, and the Stark's are in need of you,' he told her.

'I serve Lady Sansa,' she said, adamant and stubborn. 'Only Lady Sansa. Not her brother, not not the Lannisters and certainly not you.' She eyed him with disgust, her hatred running deep.

'Lady Sansa is a Stark, is she not?' He raised an untamed, almost grey eyebrow.

'She is, but still, it is her I take my orders from, no matter what titles you hold. I will serve her until my dying day. If that day is when I execute you, then so be it. I would gladly give my life to take yours.' Threatening the life of a King was death, but Renly was her King, so she would never kneel to his brother for the sake of loyalty, above all else.

Stannis sighed once more. 'I cannot bring my brother back from his grave. I will not give you my life either.' He shook his head, as if he were fending off voices within his skull, arguing amongst themselves. 'For the murder of my brother, I will grant one request, if it is within my power, it is yours. Then I will hear no more. A knighthood perhaps?' It was purely an insult, yet he had not a clue.

'Do you think that will stop me? Do you really think I would sell my honour, abandon my quest to avenge Renly for a bloody knighthood?' She almost turned red, with steam bubbling out of her ears. But she thought about potential conflicts that would surely arise in the wars to come. At some point, I may have to cross swords with a man I think I love…he was not Renly but a truer knight than anyone knows. Then she knew what she wanted from this snake usurper.

'Then not a knighthood, make it a proper hot meal and bath, if it would please you only for an evening. Perhaps your early freedom.' Too easily the King was frustrated with her.

'Fine. You want my cooperation and I will give it to you, because that is what my lady demands. Spit on your knighthood and spit on your meal. But you won't like my price,' she promised, feeling the guilt run down her neck as she swallowed her failed oaths to Renly.

'You need only name it,' he replied.

'When this is all over and the battles won or lost, I want Ser Jaime Lannister pardoned and unharmed. And at no point in this war will I swing a sword at him, in honour of the debts I owe him,' she demanded, proudly.

'The Kingslayer?' Stannis almost laughed to himself, shock if anything, it seemed.

'You owe him as much a debt as I. You would never be in line to be King had Ser Jaime not drove his sword through The Mad King. And the city you want to sack would only be a pile of ash had he not of acted. You would be the King of corpses otherwise.'

'He murdered a man he was sworn to protect. He lies with his sister in the bed of Kings and you want to stray him from justice?' Ser Jaime's sins could never be overlooked if no one knew the truth of it all, the deeds he has done in silence.

'And you murdered your brother. Yet when he committed his foul crime, thousands were spared and gruesome death. Though, a love for burning men alive is something you and the Targaryans have in common,' she would never let him forget, and she intended for him to fully well know that.

'Fine. The Kingslayer will be pardoned for his crimes, crimes washed out by his good deeds to the Seven Kingdoms. This is what you demand in return for a sue of peace between us. So that is what I expect. You hold your honour in high regard, so it would be almost a crime to do otherwise.' With business done and dusted, he got up to leave almost immediately. 'Jon Stark will see you soon, he has a quest for you.'

'Tell him don't bother, send someone else,' she said, telling herself she wasn't a servant at the Stark's disposal.

'There is no one else, only you.' Before he left he stopped. 'The Mad King was exactly as he is dubbed…but I met Rhaegar, once. My brother was a fool, but Rhaegar was loved from Dorne to Riverrun. If he had defeated my brother at The Trident, perhaps Westeros would be a better place. He may have made a finer King than any of us, even Renly.' He didn't wait for her reply. She took not a thought on what he said, she only listened to his footsteps as the ascended up the stairs, fading quieter after each step.

Pod chimed up. 'Do you think he'll really pardon Ser Jaime?'

'I don't know. Stannis has a reputation for not taking his word lightly. I heard his Hand had his fingers taken by Stannis himself. Ironic, but strange. We shall see.' She believed Stannis would hold his word, if she held hers. An easy task, it was not, since she wanted his faced torn from his skull every time she saw it.

Newly made Stark, Jon, Sansa's half brother came to visit her next. Northerners were more or less renowned south of Riverrun for their relentless dullness stewed with a distinctive bleak grimness that rivalled the regions own landscape, and Jon Stark did more than don that reputation. His face was pale and gaunt, with snowy white sunken cheeks, topped off with a fresh coal hint of a beard. But it was his eyes that held hers. They looked scared, and passed that, nothing at all. She wondered if his loyalty to a man like Stannis was merely honour bound. Or perhaps pure desperation. Stannis is no man worth any friends, she spited.

'Lady Brienne. I wanted to thank you in person for bringing my sister back to me. I can't imagine the trouble doing so has brought you,' the new Warden of The North grabbed a nearby stool and plonked himself down on it, as Stannis had, and his sister before him.

'Jon Snow,' she threw back, offended. 'And I am no lady. You shan't see me galavanting around in a foolish shiny frock, acting the dumb bloody idiot at the joy of up jumped men.'

'Apologies if I have offended you, my lad—Ser,' the fresh Lord stuttered.

She couldn't resist tutting, but she ignored his unintended mockery.

'Yes I saved your sister. As I swore I would to her mother.' She aimed a glance at Pod, who shyly nodded his head. Despite him being a bumbling oath for a squire, Brienne had grown to trust Pod's judgement. Sansa's brother was no Stannis, even Pod could see that.

'Truly, I am grateful for your honour. More honour than most of the pretenders garbed in knights arms, to pursue your vowel even after Lady Catelyn's death.' The lad choked up slightly at her name. 'My step mother loved me not, nor I her, but I know if she were here, she'd be grateful as well.'

She eyed around at her damp, droll, stinking hole of a cell, contemplating what that gratitude was worth. 'It's nice to see how grateful you northerners are,' she snapped. The boy clenched his jaw and swallowed his words.

'Do you know what Stannis is?' She didn't care if she sounded a thousand times mad explaining the shadow she saw, the one with Stannis's face, the one that had drifted into Renly's tent and plunged only the gods knew what through her King's heart. Stannis himself had put her doubts to rest, confirming what she saw to be the truth.

'I've heard rumours. A chain of whispers some how found their way to The Wall, even if a little untruthful. But most of the letters I read said you did it?' He asked her, by the sounds of it, instead of simply accusing her, which she oddly liked. But that emotion stirred into bitterness at the very thought. And what an easy story that one is. Brienne The Beauty, Kingslayer, madwoman and liar. It pieces together like a sick puzzle.

'I didn't kill Renly. I loved him. And frankly, I don't care if you do think I murdered him. You follow Stannis, so if you come to defend him when the time comes, you'll fall as well,' she promised.

Surprisingly, a smile found its way onto Jon's lips. 'You are all Sansa promised you were. Stubborn, but loyal.'

'Loyal to your sister, Lord Stark. And her mothers memory, and to my King, Renly Baratheon. Not to you Lord Stark. Unless you're here to release me, tell me what you want or go,' her patience had hit its peak.

'Look, I don't know what happened down there. Any of it, truly. On The Wall, they're all just words scribbled onto parchment. Dark words, mostly, words to make you feel black as the raven who carried them,' he looked at Pod, shivering in the corner, before carrying on, in his grim northern grunt. 'Whatever Stannis has done, he is still the rightful King, whether I like it or not. And Renly wasn't, whether you like it or not. Renly stole the crown, so Stannis killed him…he had no rights to The Iron Throne.'

'What about right of conquest, Lord Stark? No one wanted Stannis for their King, and who'd want to die for a man like him. Renly was loved, and he loved his people with equal measure—,' she was interrupted.

'I have not come here to talk of old wars and betrayals, otherwise we would have things to discuss in there plenty. You have half my father's sword, do you not?' Jon asked her boldly. It was likely he wanted to reclaim his family's heirloom. She could not argue with that, especially cooped up in this dismal cell.

'Have it, if you will. It's purpose is fulfilled,' she sulked. Oathkeeper was a blade forged for a Stark to wield, stolen by the Lannisters when Lord Tywin believed he had ended the Stark dynasty. Ser Jaime wanted her to use it in his name, protecting Ned Stark's daughters. But deep down, she held the Knight's sentiment close to her heart, and that sword, her once glimmering sapphire armour and The Imp's bumbling squire were all reminders of how she loved Ser Jaime Lannister for the true knight the world knew him not to be. But she was adamant she'd seen the real man beneath the gold, the lions, the ego.

'The Kingslayer gave you that sword to find and protect my sisters. Not just Sansa. I admit as children, we shared no love. Her mother saw to that much.' Jon rubbed his eyes, clearly his burdens since leaving The Wall had taken their toll on the boy, Brienne noted. 'Not that I blame her. Not many men would be so bold as to bring back the only evidence of his tainted nobility into the home of his true born children. Yet my father did just that. A bastard hasn't an easy life. But Arya loved me for who I was, and I the same for her. If she is out there, I want you to use that sword to find her, and bring her home. And if I fall against the Boltons, I task you, in Lady Catelyn's name to help them flee Westeros should it be necessary.'

In all the madness at Winterfell, her mind completely blanked on matter of Arya Stark. By chance, her and Pod stumbled on to the little lady in the mountains, same way as she happened to find Sansa at an inn. Both had responded with mistrust, the lion pommel on Oathkeeper contributed to that. She wore the bruises The Hound had given her for weeks after she'd killed him. But the girl seemed contently safe with him, and as wild as any brigand she could have come across travelling through the mountains. Did I kill her only chance at survival? The Hound was a dog, but he wasn't Joffrey's. Not since the Blackwater, if the tales are true. Perhaps she was truly safe, with a Clegane of all people. She remembered the girls fierceness with a rue smile.

She had to relinquish the poor boy of his worries. So far, he seemed genuine enough for her to trust him with Sansa, despite his poor taste in company. But Pod beat her to the punch.

'M-my Lord,' her squire stuttered. 'Y-your sister…Arya, she lives.'

'Arya's alive? Are you sure?' Jon Stark stood and hassled Pod for the truth of it all. Brienne studied his reaction, to confirm her doubts or remove them. He is their brother after all, and a bastard no more, she contemplated.

'Y-yes. We went to the Eerie to find her, and stumbled upon her through the mountains. The Hound had her…but she seemed not to be his prisoner.'

'Gods, I knew it in my bones. She was always a troublesome one, Arya, but that was just how she was. She never wanted to be a lady, instead a fighter,' the choked up boy claimed. 'Is she well? I can barely remember her face.'

Brienne weighed in, mustering a slight moment of trust. 'She seemed fierce, as I was once, when I was a young girl.' She smiled remembering. 'She didn't look much a lady no, but I imagine she prefers it so. Her blade was skinny but she was keen to use it. And as her sister was, both were sharp to strangers, cautious and aware of the dangers her name could bring her. I'd bet my armour she lives still,' Brienne's smile lingered as she spoke.

Her words yielded a curious smirk to the northerner's lips, before he whispered 'Needle.' She was unsure what it meant, but the boy reeked of relief. He spoke on.

'She is alive, I know it. I just hope she finally has learned how to wield that sword.' He stood and went to the door. He sent the guard away before returning to his seat. 'In that case, I ask you a more challenging task. My sisters aside, Lady Stark was unaware her sons lived. I'm sure given the chance, she would have charged you the task of finding them too. I will urge your release, with terms you make your peace with Stannis for now—,' she couldn't let him finish, or spit on her honour.

'I've made my peace with him, for now, but I will never allow Stannis to live if I had the chance. Release me from this pit, and your King may rot in the seventh hell, one day. I will have justice for Renly's murder, Lord Stark. Whether it's sooner or later.' she argued.

'No, you will not,' Jon shouted, startlingly stern above all else. He cooled quickly. 'Not today at least. We need Stannis to fight in the long night, or everyone will die.' She couldn't resist a snort. Stannis couldn't break The Imp, he is no more fit to lead anyone.

Jon Stark's northern temper flared instantly, as he screamed swords at her.

'Do you not believe me?! The Others will march south and Stannis is the only one with the power to stop them. When your Kingslayer decides how real they are, he'll rally his men into a slaughter, more to join the army of the dead. We must work together, for the greatest of goods. And you cannot save my brother if you are hung for murdering a King.' The boy became a man in that moment, rising from his chair and drawing a torch from the wall. He stared, intently into it.

'I am charged with protecting Sansa. Not to act as your courier. And as for The Others, curse them for taking Stannis's life before me. He confessed you know, not even a few hours past. He told me how he spawned a son of shadows, sending him to wield the knife he could not. I will not forget his crimes. Nor should you.'

'If you truly serve Lady Catelyn's ghost, she would beg you to save her son. Even the bastard knows that. Here, I have something for you.' He reached under his cloak, pulling a wolf headed sword from his waist, before laying it before her. He had another, it's twin almost, strapped to his back. 'A lion head pommel would only cause Bran to react as the girls did. It is a Stark sword after all.'

She thought about it. She knew the bastard was right, Lady Catelyn cared for nothing more than here children. The thought of piercing Oathkeeper through Stannis fogged her judgement, but Sansa was safe in the company of her family. Arya was Gods know where but her sons, that were not after all burned, remained still in need of rescue. Who better than her?

'The swords name is Oathkeeper. If I return your brother, it is Ser Jaime Lannister's honour you should thank, as much as that would shock you.' She spoke his name proud as the lion on his sigil.

He did sound shocked. 'Why would Ser Jaime care if my sisters made it home alive? They're nothing to him, no one is.' But Jon was wrong, Brienne knew.

'You know, I met him, once. Back at Winterfell. After I had heard all the stories of Robert's Rebellion from my father, Robert himself sounded a man born to don the crown. I was disappointed when I saw what he had become. Fat, red of face, half drunk. But when I saw Ser Jaime in his gleaming white armour, his crown of golden hair, I thought he looked like a man who should be King. He wished me luck before I left for The Wall, even if it so happened to be in mock. I preferred the company of his brother, however. The Imp had a sympathy for The Watch, and bastards it seemed,' he said, stood over Oathkeeper.

She cringed at the notion. The Imp had a perverse reputation of being a repulsive creature, and she found it odd so many had seemed fond of the half-man; Ser Jaime of course, Pod, Jon, even Sansa, forced to marry the thing still found him not half as horrifying as the whispers hissed. Then she thought to herself with dissatisfaction, or perhaps people just like oversell a famous name. She had thought the same back on the stoney bridge when she'd duelled with Jaime, proving him to be not as grand in swordplay as the stories. His ego was bigger than his bloody sword.

'Many will never know of the deeds Jaime Lannister has cast onto these Seven Kingdoms, dragging his name through the mud whilst carrying these burdens. A shame for him, the nickname Kingslayer stuck, when the King he felled was a barbaric madman who tortured your own grandfather and uncle. As for The Imp, Westeros is a better place with Tywin Lannister dead, so I should owe him that much. He must have had his reasons, as any man should. And he was never cruel to Sansa as his nephew was. She spoken of him fondly, if at all.'

'He shoved a boy from a window. My brother, a mere boy. A knight against a ten year old bloody boy. How much honour is that worth?' The Starks had many reasons to hate the Lords of Casterly Rock, making the Lordling a cripple was by far up there with the worse of it. Now crippled himself, how he sulked after losing his sword hand to Roose Bolton's rat faced dog. She wondered if that was redemption enough for a man like him.

'And perhaps he has paid his debt, giving him a true taste of consequences in life. What he was before, the man he was when he tried to murder your little brother…The Kingslayer died the day he lost his hand. He's felt Brandon Stark's torment. I'm sure neither will become who they were supposed anymore.'

'A Lannister always pays his debts, it is so commonly said. Rescue Bran, then maybe Ser Jaime can hold at least a shred of honour.'

It was hard to agree to the terms. Stannis drawing breath was enough to make her sick to the pit of her empty stomach. Having a second taste of that rancid northern slop she'd had for supper forced her belly to rumble, horribly.

'I will rescue your brother,' she said, reluctantly. 'But not for you, certainly not for Stannis, not even for Ser Jaime. Lady Catelyn trusted me with her life, and her family's. I may have failed to save her, but I could bring her son home at least.'

'Thank you, Lady Brienne,' he blundered. 'Be sure to keep Oathkeeper close. Valyrian steel is a rare thing, but powerful, especially north of Castle Black.'

'I'll be sure to wrap up warm. The real north can't be any worse than in here. I should think Pod and I would be glad to leave this hole.' Gods, I hate this place.

'I'm afraid he isn't going with you,' Jon announced, a sucker punch. 'The North isn't safe for a large force. And only the Freefolk know how to navigate it, you'll go with a party of them.'

She was shocked. The Wildlings were brutes. And beneath that, Pod would surprisingly be missed. But why? 'And what will happen with my squire?'

'Podrick was Tyrion Lannister's squire. Who better to sail to Myreen to pact with him.' She had no words from Pod, nor any herself. What has The Imp got to pique a Stark's interest all the way across The Narrow Sea. 'I wish you safe travels, beyond The Wall, my lady, perhaps we'll meet when I return.'

'Where are you going?' She blurted out, before he could dash out the door.

'To teach Wildlings how to hold a castle before Roose Bolton takes it from them,' he left with, smiling.