Chapter 106

Podrick was trying, valiantly, to stay awake. The early light of dawn just beginning to lighten the horizon, the world still coated in darkness. He yawned, the last rotation of the night was the worst. But a round of the yards in the cold winter air would wake him up enough to finish the shift. And Lady Brienne liked to have a report of any goings on from the castle during the night when she woke up.

He shuffled to where Robert would be on the wall. He ran things around the main gate of Winterfell. "Morning."

"Ah, Pod, you on the last rotation again?" Robert shifted from where he'd sat on a barrel near the gatehouse.

Podrick gave a nod. "Aye, last one of the week. Somebody has to do it."

"Well, all quiet here. Had a few idiots get drunk and stumble in after the last of the taverns closed down. That black wolf, Shaggydog, he went out around moonrise, hasn't come back in though. Nearly scared the shite out of me. Can't see anything but its damn eyes at night." Robert gave a shiver.

Podrick didn't mention he found Ghost far more alarming, something that big shouldn't be that silent. Oh, the beast was gentle as a lamb for the Starks, but he'd seen it and the rest of the pack ripping apart an elk just outside the walls. "Certainly are something."

"They are at that. Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of the damn things." Robert shook his head. "But don't you go worrying, it's been quiet, bit 'a snowfall but tha's about it."

He nodded. "Thank you as always."

"You just help keep our Queen alive and terrifying as fuck." The man chuckled as he spoke.

Which, well, Sansa Stark really had grown into a terrifying woman. Podrick couldn't really disagree about that. Even if he remembered her four and ten and sad, unable to stomach lemon cakes. He didn't think she ate them at all now. A thing that struck him as terribly sad. But it wasn't his place to comment on such a thing.

Podrick gave a wave of his hand and then trudged back into the dark. He thought perhaps he could see the soft color of the sky spreading. Not a lot of time then. A rooster was crowing somewhere, the sounds of the servants whose tasks required them to be up early just beginning to shuffle out. It was a long walk to the courtyard near the stables where Fitz's workshop and the blacksmiths were situated.

As he got closer he could hear the hammering. The light from the fires spilling out onto the snow-covered courtyard was beautiful and made it easier not to accidentally trip. He frowned slightly as he got to Fitz's workshop, the metal sounds were…off? Podrick knocked on the wooden door before ducking.

"Fuck, mornin already?" Crann looked up from where he was sweating and working on…the weirdest looking thing.

Podrick nodded. "Aye, light just hitting the sky." He'd learned to say 'aye' not 'yes'. His southern accent already stood out too much. Small changes in phrasing let him blend in better. Easier. "What is that?"

"I don't rightly understand it." Crann frowned. "But we're makin' a thousand rods, and they all have to be perfect." He shrugged.

He cast a look at where Fitz was bent over a table, the feverish madness that had seemed to ease back, ink splattered across his face. "Any changes?"

"Not really." Crann kicked at the ground. "Order'll drag him to his quarters tonight if we're still here."

The two shared a look, it wasn't really an 'if', they would be there. With Fitz like this, he wouldn't be leaving without force or threat of it.

Podrick patted Crann's forearm. "Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks." Crann's voice was dry. He grimaced. "If her Holiness drops by for a night or somethin' could you tell her he's not going well?"

Podrick nodded. He knew some of the men weren't entirely sure if their god was here more than they knew. From what he was aware, she wasn't sneaking in. But saying one way or another wasn't his place. "I'll see the guard knows to pass the message on if they can."

Crann sighed, he knew how weak that was. But he turned back to continue with his work.

Closing the door behind him, Podrick turned to make his way back to the royal wing. He'd asked what needed to be asked. Just had to report in and then he could sleep. Sleep sounded amazing, and the uneasy feeling the mad god touched man's presence faded. Reminded him of the feeling near Cersei Lannister back in King's Landing. It felt dangerous, and it felt unpredictable. He didn't wish to linger near the man.

As he slipped back into the walls of Winterfell the warmth was a relief. He walked through the halls, they were mostly empty save for the occasional man at arm or still waking servant. Podrick liked the halls at this time, he was invisible, just another face in a sea of half-asleep people doing the work the important people didn't bother with. And, frankly, he preferred this to pouring wine for Tyrion. Or paying whores or brushing out velvet doublets, fetching delicacies, or whatever his Lord had needed from him. He'd liked to serve Tyrion, and found it an honor. Had enjoyed it. But this felt…better. Like what he did here mattered.

Podrick squeaked in alarm as a face was suddenly two inches from his nose. "Ack!"

"Boy!" Tormund's unkempt ginger head was there, one of his giant hands slapping down on Podrick's shoulder. "I've been lookin' for ya!" His teeth were bright as he smiled widely at him.

Podrick knew stepping back or brushing the Wildling man off of him wouldn't do anything for him. "I'm busy, my Lord."

Tormund shorted. "Fuck that Lord shite, no you're master, I've got a gift for her." His face turned dreamy. "Thought you could give it to her. She won't eat your liver for delivering it."

Podrick knew exactly what gift the daft man meant. His eyes tracked under Tormund's other arm. And there was the white fur cloak made of a polar bear's hide. The hood was its head, the teeth carefully reattached into the treated hire to look fearsome. It was the sort of thing you'd think of a legend from the Age of Hero's wearing into battle. In the privacy of his own head, he thought Lady Brienne would look fearsome in it indeed. But she'd already turned it down five times now. "It would be improper-"

"Fuck that." Tormund shoved the thing into Podrick's gut, cutting him off. "See that she gets that. Good lad." He chuckled and then vanished down one of the dark, unlit, side halls.

Podrick stood there, he'd automatically caught the heavy cloak to prevent it from falling to the ground. Well, that had happened. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. With a soft groan, he shook his head and continued on his way. Best get it over with and then he could sleep.

The royal quarters were high up in the central keep of the vastness that was Winterfell. The floor below the royal rooms had been turned into a barracks for the guard, and those attached to them. Alyn Blackwood and himself were the only squires there currently, but Podrick knew that wouldn't last for long. Alyn had the small rooms beside Ser Loras's, Podrick's own being beside Brienne's. All the various guard quarters had small attached servant quarters or in some cases storerooms that had been turned into rooms for future squires. It was nice. The floor below had some rooms and storage, Ser Connin and his new wife's rooms were there. Likely any family quarters associated with the guard would in time come to be there.

It was smart, by keeping the two floors below the royal quarters filled with the guard, and their various supplies and such to put a buffer between any attacker and the royal rooms. The Starks of old had known what they were doing, even though it had clearly fallen out of practice since the Targaryen Conquest. The practicality of Winterfell was interesting after having spent years in King's Landing.

Podrick carefully grabbed a wooden tray and set it on the table in the large common area. Filling a bowl with water from the barrel by the fire, he set it on the tray. A clean towel fetched from one of the chests and folded onto the tray beside the bowl was next. Picking up the tray he made his way into Lady Brienne's bedchamber. He set the tray on the small table in one corner of his Lady's room. Taking the fur cloak he set it on top of the simple wooden chair in one corner.

Straightening he trotted out and fetched a cup of water, and a lit candle, and trotted back into her rooms. "Morning, my Lady."

Brienne groaned, her voice deep from sleep, and disgust at being called a Lady.

He bit back a smile, he'd call her a lady till the day he died. She deserved the respect, though he knew better than to call her that too often. "Quiet night, feels like we'll get more snow though."

She grunted, swinging her legs out of bed, hands scrubbing at her face. "Starks all sleep through the night?"

"Yes, her Grace was awake till moonrise. But nothing since then, and their Highnesses were asleep before that." He reported as he stepped back. "Is there anything else?"

Brienne looked up at him through her blonde locks. "Go on, to bed with you."

He tipped his head to her, opening the door and making his way out. He was going to collapse on his bed. Sleep, it would be so nice, his bedding was freshly clean from him seeing to the bedding in his and Lady Brienne's rooms yesterday. Yawning he could feel a satisfied smile on his face. He really should have expected something to ruin it.

A muffled male scream echoed from above them.

Podrick's eyes widened, he took off at a sprint for the narrow stairway up to the floor above. He came flying out into the hall, drawing his dirk prepared to fight any threat he could find. But he wasn't needed. Screeching to a stop he gaped in horror and awe.

Because standing in the archway of her bedchamber was Princess Arya. She looked like something out of a nightmare. Her white shift was spotless save for the splatter of blood across the fabric, her narrow sword in her hand, and her face deadly and cold.

Curled on the floor, where he'd half fallen, half scrambled, was the man who'd screamed. He was bleeding, a trail of blood leading out of her room as he clutched at his bloody hand. Clearly a Wildling, from the furs to the untamed beard and hair.

Podrick gulped, and carefully, hesitantly, took a couple of steps forward.

Ser Wagstaff, who'd come running from where he'd been guarding the hall looked like he'd been hit over the head. "Your Highness! What…?"

"That's what I wish to know." Princess Arya snapped her blade to the Wildling's throat. "Who, the fuck, are you?"

Brienne, sleep shirt, and britches barely yanked on, sword in one hand, feet bare, her voice was a growl. "Seize him!" Her attention instantly was on Princess Arya. "Are you unharmed?"

Podrick jerked forward grabbing the Wildling under one arm, as Wagstaff caught him under the other. He sheathed his dirk, ripped it, and tossed the man's dagger and just his whole belt lest there be any weapons hidden in it. Up close he could see the bleeding hand was missing a few fingers, and he'd certainly been stabbed at least twice. He grimaced, man needed a maester or he wouldn't last more than a few hours likely. Podrick had a terrible feeling that the stab wounds not being fatal in and of themselves was entirely purposeful.

"I'm unhurt." The princess's voice was cold and sharp, her grey eyes never leaving the Wildling man.

The man seemed to finally break free of the blind terror long enough to say something. "I wasn't trying ta kill you!"

"What were you doing then, climbing in through the window?" Princess Arya's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly and mouth thinning.

Brienne swore under her breath. "The fucking windows."

"To steal you of course." The man defended hotly.

Podrick stared at the man, actually looking away from the murder princess despite every instinct in his body screaming at him not to do that. Who…who was so stupid they tried to steal a royal? He was a Wildling, that's not how marriage worked for royals. Even if he'd succeeded the Queen would have let her sister's wolves feast on the man for it.

The door to the Queen's chamber opened into the stupified silence.

Podrick looked up at the Queen, who well at least she had a proper dressing gown over herself, and a shiver ran down his spine. For Ghost, lips pulled back over his fangs was behind her. A blur of snarling reddish brown fur shot out from behind her, tiny little wolf teeth bared as it skidded between the Princess and the Wildling.

"What exactly is happening?" Her voice was as cold as her sister's and twice as commanding.

A drop of sweat went down the back of Podrick's neck. Well, he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. The wolf pup Joramun decided to lunge and start trying to rip the Wildling's leg open.

He dropped his hold on the Wildling and grabbed the wolf pup by the scruff of its neck. At least it hadn't tried to bite him this time?

/

Brienne accepted the offer of Podrick's cloak, her cheeks were heated as she was able to cover her sleep shirt and the unlaced britches she was wearing. She hooked the cloak over herself, handing her sword to Podrick to hold as she did so. She gave him a sharp nod as she took her sword back.

The Wildling idiot who'd caused this horrible morning to occur was whining as he was stitched up by Maester Wolkan. Name was apparently Bolran.

"Which clan are you a man of?" Sansa asked, somehow making a dressing gown pulled over her shift look regal. The giant white wolf and growly red pup about her certainly helped.

Bolran hissed as the fabric over one calf was cut off so the little teeth punctures could be stitched up. "Clan Nightrunner."

"And you wished to wed Princess Arya?" Sansa continued, neatly ignoring the poisonous expression on her sister's face since the reason for this whole mess had come to light.

Bolran grimaced as his bloody leg was cleaned. But then his gaze turned to Arya and it was disgustingly smitten. "You're good at stabbing."

"Can I slit his throat?" Arya asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

Sansa shook her head. "No. That said, Bolran, you understand you will be punished for this?"

"For just the chance of stealing a bride like her, wha's a punishment?" Considering how much of his face was tangled facial hair he shouldn't have sounded that breathy.

Brienne's jaw twitched, this was going to take forever till she could get dressed properly.

Brienne had been right, it'd taken an hour till the idiot Bolran had been dragged to the courtyard and put in the stocks for the day and sentenced to cleaning the privies for a moon turn once his stitches came out. But, she had finally managed to get dressed. The day hadn't gotten less terrible. But she'd made it past her rotation, and she could enjoy the quiet drinking and comradery of the great hall after the majority of the castle had left for their beds.

"Any luck getting rid of your Wildling suitor?" Princess Arya asked before taking a long pull from her tankard.

Brienne had to resist looking over to where Tormund was laughing with Greatjon and some few dozen men at arms and Lords, already fairly deep in their cups. "No."

"I'll help you hide the body if you ever kill him." Arya offered, her body turned still as she spotted someone approaching their corner of misery.

Brienne followed her gaze and spotted a Wildling approaching. This one looked unfortunately similar to Bolran. Same light brown hair, pale skin, and green eyes, only this one had more of a bit of patchy bit of scruff. Her hand dropped to her sword. "What do you want?"

The man, or maybe boy? He might have reached his full growth but he was clearly young. "You didn't let my brother steal you." His eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them as he pulled a knife, still in its sheath out of his fur jacket. "Thought you could use something better to stab him with next time?"

"You want me to stab your brother better?" Arya picked up the dagger, gingerly like it might bite her, But after checking the blade her brow rose. It was serrated along one edge. "This is castle steel, where'd you get it?"

The man huffed. "He's an arse. And I killed a Hornfoot who got it off a Crow."

"Should I be expecting you to try and steal me?" Arya was looking at him like she was considering trying out the knife on him immediately.

He shook his head. "Ya're too deadly for me, Princess. You got eyes tha' say death. I know I wouldn't make it past the threshold."

Brienne felt a sudden sensation of horror. "How many Free Folk might try and steal her Highness?"

"Well…anyone with eyes? Ya know?" He laughed.

Tormund strode over. "TORULAS! Get o're here ya mad fucker!" He dropped his arm over the boy's shoulders. "This fool tellin' you he's the fastest damn bastard ever born in the true North?"

"He was not." Brienne accepted they weren't going to get rid of the Wildlings unless the Princess decided to stab them.

The apparent Torulas shuffled. "We can't all be strong." But there was a smug twist of his lips. "If they can't stab you it doesn't matter."

Brienne was on her fourth mug of ale as she laughed, watching Podrick wrestling with Torulas while men laughed and called out advice. Both good and bad advice. Loras was banging his tankard on the table and shouting at Podrick to move his feet.

"You've trained the boy well." Lord Glover chuckled from where he was sat beside her. "He fights well."

She felt a thrum of pride at that, that she was allowed here, as a part of the men. And eying Podrick she could see the solid warrior that Podrick was turning into. "He's got heart."

"Aye, he's got that. Wouldn't have expected that from a Payne." Glover scoffed, shaking his head. "Damn southerners."

Brienne eyed the man. "Our Queen rules two southern Kingdoms."

Glover laughed, deep and rough. "Ya're not wrong." Shaking his head, smile on his lips and in his voice. "So, ya knighting the lad soon?"

"I can't, I'm not a knight." Her jaw tightened slightly as she refused to shrink at that truth. That she didn't quite belong.

Glover paused. "You're not a knight?!" His voice broke through the noise of the hall.

"Only a knight can make another knight, and tradition won't let a woman be a knight." She replied.

Tormund looked at her. "If I was a knight, I would knight you ten times over." He was utterly sincere in his own wild way.

Loras slammed his mug down. "Fuck that. You're Lord Commander of the Royal Guard. You're my Commander! You knock the rest of us into the mud." He stood up sharply, all puffy in indignation.

"The most honorable fucker here, and she's not a knight? That's some southern bullshite." Greatjon declared.

There were murmurs of agreement from the men in the hall. One of the men at arms, Brienne didn't know his name called out. "Why don't we ask the Queen to knight her? Nobody can say fuck all if the Queen does it."

"But, she's a woman?" Ser Jasper from the Vale protested weakly.

Tormund grabbed the front of his armor, raising a fist.

Ser Jasper yelped, raising his hands. "I'm not saying she's not good enough! It's tradition though….?"

Tormund glared before shoving the man back. And horrifyingly, he and Podrick shared a look of complete understanding.

It was…Brienne realized they meant it, they were upset on her behalf.

"Fuck tradition." Lord Glover grumbled.

Loras's eyes narrowed and he stomped over to her. "We don't need the Queen. Get up."

"What?" Brienne stared at him. He couldn't mean what that sounded like.

He drew his sword. "Get up, and kneel."

She met his gaze, and he was serious. Brienne swallowed, but she stood and dropped to one knee. Her every move felt weighted. It…if it was a joke it was the cruelest one imaginable.

And Ser Loras Tyrell, one of the most celebrated knights of the realm set his sword on her shoulder. The entire hall fell silent as every man there watched, and none opposed. His voice was steady, the glibness that so often there gone. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Brienne rose to her feet, a tremble to her fingers. This was real. There were cheers, applause.

"Get another barrel of ale!" Greatjon roared while hopping to his own two feet to go see to acquiring such a thing.

A hand slapped her on her shoulder.

Brienne turned and found herself looking at Loras.

He just smiled, genuinely. "Congratulations, Ser Brienne."

And she beamed.