The Keeper
Chapter 82 - Wills Keeper
The field and surrounding woods were so quiet, only the sounds of the raging Trident filled the silence. The armies gathered on the shoreline outside Maidenpool's thick walls were also silent and alert. The Unsullied, the Rivermen, the Golden Company, and the Ironborn, along with the citizens watching from the battlements, were all focused on the still-dazed King in the North.
"The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. You are Jon Stark of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, the King in the North and the Riverlands. You are my king from this day until your last day."
Davos's words hung heavy in the air. He looked at Jon, conviction in his straight stance and firm jaw. He wasn't the only one. Arya's mouth curved into a satisfied smile as she looked up at Jon. Bryden's expression was stoic and accepting. Even Bran seemed at peace, a faint curving to his mouth. The only person in Jon's inner circle who seemed to take issue with Jon's legitimization was Samwell Tarly. Sam's plump body was rigid as he minutely shook his head. He held his leather pack against him like a shield, as though to fend off the unwanted events.
Brienne frowned at the tension and denial in Sam's expression. Sam was Jon's closest friend from the Wall. He knew Jon's history, the events that had caused him to join the Night's Watch, and even what happened to him at the Wall. There should be no reason Sam would deny Jon what he'd always wanted: acceptance as a legitimate member of House Stark.
Jon also seemed to have trouble accepting his new identity. He leaned back into Ghost, as if Davos's insistence was a physical force pressing against him. Jon's expression was set but he didn't have Griff's ability to hide his thoughts and emotions. Hesitant confusion and desperate longing shone in his Stark-grey eyes. The tension was obvious as his hands curled into tight fists and his shoulders shook with his rapid breathing. Then Qyburn moved and distracted Jon from his stunned shock.
"I am true to you, my king." Qyburn knelt and hung his head in a show of humility, leaving his neck exposed. "Take my head, if I have not been your loyal servant."
Jon stared down at Qyburn kneeling before him but didn't move or speak. He still had his back against Ghost, as if needing the direwolf to steady him. Jon breathed deeply, his lips parted, lost in his thoughts. It appeared he was overwhelmed by the support he'd received from Arya, Bran, Davos, and most achingly, from his dead brother, Robb.
Brynden Tully, who had knelt to Robb Stark, the first Stark king in three hundred years, turned to Jon. The knight's posture was stiff but his expression was resolute. The Blackfish drew in a deep, visible breath then faced Jon.
"Robb Stark was my king and I was proud to serve him." Brynden's voice was heavy with sadness. "He led us to victory after victory. He was only brought down by the treachery of Tywin Lannister, Walder Frey, and Roose Bolton. Their deeds were so foul, the Gods would not allow their betrayals to go unpunished. Their houses have fallen but House Stark and House Tully still stand. As the Gods judged those oath breakers, they also judged you, Jon Stark of Winterfell."
Brienne pressed her lips together as the sense of wrongness burned against her skin like the heat of dragonfire. No, Brynden's words weren't right. The Gods hadn't judged him to be Jon Stark. Only Robb and his family had claimed Jon for House Stark. The Gods knew, no matter what his name, Jon was a member of House Targaryen. He was the third head of the dragon, perhaps even Rhaegar's son of ice and fire. It went against the Gods' will for Jon to embrace the direwolf when he should embrace the dragon.
Jon's lips parted as he stared, silent and wide-eyed, at Brynden. Brienne understood that the acceptance from the Blackfish was, in some ways, even more meaningful to Jon than his family and Davos's support. Brynden was Catelyn Tully Stark's uncle. Brienne was sure Brynden must have shared Catelyn's dislike of the Bastard of Winterfell. Now that same man was willing to accept Jon as a full-fledged member of House Stark.
Jon's face softened and he blinked rapidly. He was visibly touched by the gesture but Brienne was horrified. This was not how it should be. Humanity might depend on Jon being a dragon, not a wolf. Brynden was another person encouraging Jon to move away from his true heritage. She couldn't allow it but, at the same time, she couldn't simply reveal Jon's secret legacy. Even so, she had to do something to pull him away from the Stark side of his heritage.
Brienne straightened, the tips of her fingers still grazing the heads of her dragons as she locked her gaze with Jon. "What about Lady Sansa, your Grace? You left her in charge of the North. She is the Lady of Winterfell."
"She cannot remain so," Davos disagreed. "King Robb's will excludes his sister from the line of inheritance."
"No." Jon's voice was firm as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He excluded Sansa Lannister of House Lannister. Sansa's marriage to the imp was never consummated, and Ramsey Bolton is dead. She is once again Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell and the Dreadfort."
Jon stopped speaking and his steeled gaze settled on a point beyond Brienne's shoulder. Brienne turned her head to see what had caught his attention. Eleanor Moonton Tarly stood quietly where they had left her. The Lady of Maidenpool's expression was still closed and guarded but a tight frown pulled down the corners of her mouth.
Beside her, Sam looked anxiously between his new sister and his king. He shifted his bag, holding it tightly as if fearing someone would try to take it away from him. His breathing was rapid and agitated, as if the conversation was distressing to him.
Qyburn looked up then rose when it became clear that Jon would not behead him. He followed his king's gaze to stare at the Lady of Maidenpool. Qyburn's face flushed as he glared at Eleanor. In response, Eleanor glanced nervously at Brienne, as if for reassurance. Then she raised her chin, as if readying herself for Qyburn's accusations.
"You see? King Jon acted upon the command of King Robb Stark, his king and your king." Qyburn's glare was scornful. "He is the rightful Lord of Maidenpool. You judged your king unfairly, which is not your right to do."
"I have every right," Eleanor disagreed. "How am I to trust the words of a man who is a deserter of the Night's Watch, a usurper to his brother's crown, and aligned with those who have already done such harm to me and my people? What assurance has he given that he will protect us when so many others have betrayed us?"
Qyburn flushed as he rose to his feet. "I have proven to you that King Jon is not a deserter, a usurper, or dishonorable. He will not betray his people. The White Wolf follows the commands of the Young Wolf."
"His title does not negate our suffering," Eleanor insisted. "His promises do not protect us."
Eleanor's jaw was stiff and her body rigid. The people of Maidenpool, secure behind their high walls, were silent at her back. It appeared they trusted their lady to speak for them. They, like all of the people of the Riverlands, had suffered. But these were the lucky ones. They had a leader who was willing to stand up to armies, kings, and even dragons, to protect them. Their lady stood firm, unconvinced and unmoved, in the face of Qyburn's scorn.
Brienne frowned as she looked between them. Qyburn had no right to speak against Eleanor. The Lady of Maidenpool defended her people after so many men, including her own father, her kings, and her husband, had failed them. She had the right to question anyone who demanded access to those she protected. Eleanor's gaze shifted from Qyburn to Jon. It appeared that she was waiting for Jon to respond.
Jon, however, had returned to studying Robb Stark's will. He held it out at arm's length so Davos and Brynden could also read the letter. Jon's gaze darted from the paper, to his siblings and advisors, then back to the letter. Davos's face was in deep concentration as he silently mouthed the words he was reading. The knight, who had proven his worth as advisor to his king while at Lord Harroway's Town, was so focused he didn't pick up on Eleanor's distress, either. Eleanor was alone, even in a field filled with people.
"He has arrived now and he has brought an army to protect Maidenpool. Stand aside. You will not question your king," Qyburn ordered. "Know your place, woman, before your king is forced to remind you."
This was too much. Brienne's cheeks flushed as she scowled at the men around them. They called themselves warriors and even knights, yet none of them objected to Qyburn threatening a lone, unprotected lady. The Stark guards, the Unsullied, the Rivermen, and the Ironborn all listened but no one spoke up to defend Eleanor. The Lady of Maidenpool was clearly intimidated by the warriors and weapons surrounding her and her home. No one had made a direct threat, but any intelligent person would worry if such hostility was directed at her.
Eleanor's gaze shifted from Jon to Brienne. Brienne could see the anxiety and frustration in the lady's eyes. Jon was the king the Riverlords had accepted. However, he was also the king who had sent dangerous warriors to her gates, insisting he had done so to protect her people. That same king now did nothing to curb those who threatened her.
Brienne began to rise to go to the lady's aid, but her king's voice stopped her.
"Your place," Griff scoffed as he rose from his crouched position. Then he raised his voice to carry over the quiet field. "Why do Northmen continually try to force women only into the roles they want for them?"
There was a casual, taunting quality to Griff's voice that caused Eleanor to flush, either from anger or humiliation. Again, she looked to Jon, checking for his reaction. The King in the North was clearly not focused on her struggle. Eleanor grimaced and shook her head. Brienne saw the disappointment and frustration tighten her features.
Griff straightened and nodded as Eleanor, and everyone else, focused on him. He stood tall and strong, glowing in the sunlight, his extraordinary Targaryen beauty drawing their attention. The hairs on the back of Brienne's neck rose as she watched Griff seize the moment. While Jon was lost in his own struggles, Griff was present and alert. He had also seen Eleanor's concern and would call out the inaction and prejudices of the men around them.
"We Dornish do no such things," Griff continued. "We believe in the power of women. In Dorne, women do not lose their inheritances to younger brothers nor they do not lose their lands to their husband's whims." He paused for effect. "In my kingdom, women do not even lose their names, unless they so choose."
Eleanor drew in sharp, audible breath. Brienne recalled how stiff Eleanor had become when Jon had addressed her as Eleanor Tarly.
"Lady Eleanor Tarly?" Jon questioned.
The woman's jaw thrust out, as if she was trying to control her response. Finally, she nodded. "I am Eleanor, daughter of Lord William Mooton and Lady of Maidenpool."
Griff smiled his cool Martell smile, also seeing how Eleanor responded to his words. "I am the son of Elia Martell. Her mother was the ruling Princess of Dorne. Even though my grandmother married, she never gave up her name. House Nymeros-Martell was her birthright, just as House Mooton is yours."
Eleanor's lips parted but no words emerged. She stared at Griff for a moment, then she clenched her hands into such tight fists, her knuckles appeared white. A tremor passed along her body as if the lady was forcing herself to stay calm.
"And you, Aegon Martell Targaryen, as the rightful King, would have it so I would reclaim my name and realize my rights to Maidenpool?" Eleanor stood very still, her eyes narrowed. "You will give it, when I have had no such reassurance, nor my mother, nor any other daughter before us?"
Griff nodded. "More than that, Lady Eleanor. As your king, I will proclaim that you, and any landed lady under my protection, will retain her lands, titles, and family name. Once I have my crown, I will send it in a proclamation to all the Lord and Lady Paramounts under my command."
"Lady Paramounts?" There was an audible tremor in Eleanor's voice. "You will have women as leaders in your kingdoms?"
"I've already done so," Griff informed her. "A Lady Paramount leads the Westerlands, a Liege Lady serves on my council, and the Gods' warrior guards my back. I do not judge people on their gender, Lady Eleanor. I judge them on their ability and their honor."
Once again Eleanor's gaze darted to Brienne then back to Griff. Even from that brief glance, Brienne could see the want in Eleanor's eyes. Brienne knew what it was to be judged only for her gender and her appearance. She'd spent a lifetime fighting against the prejudices of the narrow-minded lords and knights of Westeros. But Brienne had been given support that Eleanor had been denied. Selwyn Tarth had allowed his daughter to learn to fight and find her own way in society.
Eleanor had not been so supported. Her father had given her – and her rights to Maidenpool – to House Tarly. Now, the Lady of Maidenpool was the only defense for her people, the one they trusted to protect them. She'd done so even after being denied her rights, her agency, and her own name. After years of being treated as chattel to be passed from man to man, Eleanor wanted to be more, to command her own fate.
Griff also glanced at Brienne. His indigo eyes flared briefly before he looked back at Eleanor. He had read Eleanor's desires just as clearly as Brienne had. The rightful King took another step closer to the Lady of Maidenpool. Eleanor shifted her body, facing Griff, as if not wanting to miss a single word he spoke.
Griff nodded to Brienne. "My sworn sword is considered by many to be the most noble knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms. She stands with me because she wants to serve an honorable and just king. I am, of course, proud to have her at my side."
Brienne ducked her head, her cheeks flushed with embarrassed color. Even so, warmth bloomed inside her. Though she knew her king valued her, it still sent a jolt through her when he praised her before others. This was so different from her days with Renly's army, when the men refused to even speak to her, other than to ridicule her.
Griff shifted and took another step closer to Eleanor. Catren and Allwyn squawked in protest but allowed Griff to leave them. Brienne raised her head to see Sam and Gilly stumble away, looking from Eleanor to the dragons. Their shifting positions were not just physical, they were symbolic as well. Griff, ever the strategist, moved to physically push Sam aside and align himself with the Lady of Maidenpool.
It was a familiar strategy, one that Griff had used before to great success. He had done the same when he'd first met Lord Jason and the Mallister men. Then, like now, Griff had closed the distance between himself and the people he wanted to draw to his side. Eleanor had proven herself to be an asset to her people. Griff presented himself as an ally who would support her and said what she wanted to hear.
"You will remain Lady Eleanor Mooton, the Protector of Maidenpool. No husband will take that right from you. Your firstborn daughter, if the Gods so bless you, will follow in your footsteps. It will be the same for Brienne. She will become the next Evenstar of Tarth. She is her father's heir, not her future husband." Griff glanced at Brienne briefly but kept his focus on Eleanor. "She will not lose her name, her lands, or her family title to a man, just as you won't."
Brienne watched as Eleanor drew in another deep breath and leaned towards Griff. Even without consciously deciding it, the Lady of Maidenpool was shifting to Griff's side, swayed by his promises, his physical presence, and his aura of power and control.
Griff knew he'd won over Eleanor. Brienne could see it in the straightening of his spine and the curve of his mouth, noticeable only to those who knew him. Cool satisfaction shone in his indigo eyes. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms took another step towards the Lady of Maidenpool. Now he was close enough to touch Eleanor, if he wanted.
"If a Liege Lady chooses to marry, her children will carry her name, just as my grandmother's children did," Griff continued. "Her lands and holdings will remain hers, ever after marriage. Upon her death, her holdings and title will pass to her heirs, as she proclaims it."
Eleanor's gasp could be heard across the quiet field. Her eyes softened as she stared at Griff. The king had announced that she, and all the other women left to defend their families and people after yet another terrible war, would never again be stripped of their homes, their heritage, or their dignity.
"The North is no different." Arya's voice cut through the cold morning air with the sharpness of her Valyrian steel blade. "We also have women who lead houses. You're sworn to King Jon, the King in the North and the Riverlands. He will honor your claim to Maidenpool."
Eleanor's eyes cooled as she turned to look at Arya. "Will any of those women keep their names or their lands if they marry? Your sister had to escape one husband and kill another to call herself the Lady of Winterfell. A title she was given only because her younger brother rejected it."
Arya stilled and looked over at Jon. Her brother was still staring at Robb's letter, his eyes chasing over the lines, reading and rereading, as if expecting the words to change if he looked away.
"Jon!" Arya called sharply. "Tell her."
Jon looked up from the letter, his eyes unfocused. He frowned at his sister, clearly still lost in Robb's last words.
"Tell Lady Eleanor you'll honor her claim to Maidenpool," Arya insisted. "You are her king, not him."
Jon handed Robb's letter to Davos with visible reluctance. He walked away from Ghost, past the dragons, to join Eleanor and Griff. Now freed from the letter's allure, Jon regained his focus and raised his chin. He stood tall and strong, as the King in the North and the Riverlands should. His Stark-grey eyes glittered as he glared at Griff.
"This is no time for your power plays, Aegon Targaryen," Jon snapped. "We're preparing for war against the greatest threat we have ever faced. Instead of helping us, you persist in playing your political games."
Griff pivoted to face Jon, his eyebrows raising in his startlingly Daenerys-like manner. Jon's face was flushed with annoyance while Griff's expression remained cool and composed. The dragons were still calm, even as they sniffed the air, trying to find the source of the tension between their father and their uncle.
"Games?" Griff repeated, allowing a slight sneer to mar his beautiful features. "I don't play games, Jon Snow. I'm also preparing Westeros for war. Do you think the moves I've made in the Riverlands, the castles and territories I've stabilized, have been only to stroke my ego? Do you not see their strategic importance?"
Griff looked beyond Jon to Davos and Brynden, as if expecting the older men to have a deeper understanding of his actions than Jon did. Davos and Brynden looked uneasily at each other then back to Jon. All three men then stared at Griff in confusion. Griff snorted, not bothering to hide his disgust at their collective inability to perceive what he believed to be obvious.
"You said the people who cannot fight will be sent south," Griff reminded them, speaking slowly and clearly, as if Jon and his advisors were dim-witted. "Where will those people go?" He paused then continued without waiting for a reply. "I'll tell you. Once they slog through the Neck, the people will seek refuge at the Twins, will they not, Ser Brynden?"
Brynden Tully, who had taken the Twins with the support of the Golden Company, jerked at being addressed directly. Griff had offered to make Brynden the new Lord of the Crossing, a role Bryden had refused. Brynden opened his mouth but Griff continued before the Blackfish could speak.
"Once the Twins have no more capacity, or if the dead march past the Neck, our first fallback position will be Seaguard." Griff shifted his burning indigo gaze to Jason Mallister, the Lord of Seaguard. "A castle so formidable, it has never been breached, despite the Ironborn reaving along their shores, the Freys casting their avaricious gazes, or even when Lannister men crawled through their lands."
The Riverlords, standing nearby, murmured amongst themselves. Yara stiffened at Griff's words but said nothing. Jon and Davos stared at each other, then at Brynden, clearly startled by this revelation. Lord Jason stood very tall, his nephews strong at his back. Even his injured heir stood taller, showing their Mallister pride. Brienne recalled what her uncle had explained about his castle, the first night they'd met him, in the remains of Ser Quincy's keep at Saltpans.
"Seaguard is the only keep in the Riverlands that was untouched by the War of the Five Kings," Brynden noted. "Why is that, I wonder? Even the Freys didn't attempt to attack it. In fact, I think the bronze bell of the Booming Tower has only rung once in three hundred years."
Brienne looked over to Griff to gauge her king's reaction. Griff was quiet and still, his indigo gaze missing nothing. When it became clear that the Mallister men did not want to speak further, he spoke up.
"The bronze bell?" Griff prompted. "Do you mean the bell that was only rung to call the people to the safety of the castle when threats were sighted?"
Brienne wasn't the least bit surprised that Griff knew about such a minor detail as the bronze bell of the Booming Tower. He studied and learned, and kept extensive notes. He knew information was a power. While Brienne wasn't surprised by Griff's knowledge, it appeared the Mallisters were. They exchanged startled glances then looked at Griff with what might be the first hint of approval.
"Yes," Jason admitted. "The great bell that was installed before the reign of Aegon the First. It was rung only once, when the Ironborn were sighted after Balon Greyjoy foolishly decided to declare war."
"And that was the only time," Brynden noted. "Seaguard was attacked by the Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion but easily defeated. They barely even left a mark on the castle."
"A sudden storm came through, damaging their fleet and allowing us an easy victory," Jason explained.
"That was fortunate," Serjeant noted. "Normally, warships don't engage during poor weather. I might be a new seaman but even I know that. They were attacking a castle. Why wouldn't they have waited for a better time?"
"Because there is no such thing as a good time to attack Seaguard," Jason admitted. "Our castle has never been breached."
"Never?" Ned repeated. "Seaguard is directly across from the Iron Islands. The Ironborn were known for their raiding and reaving, before Yara Greyjoy's rule. Yet they've never attacked House Mallister before the Greyjoy Rebellion? Nor have they since? How can that be?"
"Seaguard is protected by more than walls and men," Jason explained quietly. "The eagles guard our shores."
"That may be, but eagles are not dragons," Griff countered. "Dragons have fire to defeat their enemies. Eagles have only their claws. Even an army of eagles could not defeat an army of men."
"Ahh, but what if an eagle can rise to the power of a dragon?" Jason countered.
Brienne stilled as she recalled her conversation with her uncle. She knew that Seaguard had an important role in Griff's grand scheme to claim the Seven Kingdoms. Her king had emphasized it himself the various times he'd asked about House Mallister when they were still back in King's Landing.
Initially, she thought Griff wanted to protect House Mallister because of her. Had that thinking been arrogance on her part? He'd sent the Golden Company to protect Tarth and her father for her protection, and his own. Griff knew how much she loved Selwyn. Protecting him ensured her father would not become leverage against her, thus against Griff. It was natural Griff would think the same of House Mallister, her mother's house, wasn't it?
Was it?
Her uncle and her cousins hadn't had the Golden Company's protection, until now. Not that they needed it, it seemed. House Mallister had secrets and powers of its own. Allyna Mallister's birth had been the rebirth of the silver eagles, her cousins had the gift of warging into those birds, and the eagles somehow allowed Seaguard to withstand war after war, nearly unscathed, no matter which attacker went against it. How?
What if an eagle can rise to the power of a dragon?
Brienne looked up into the trees. The eagles watched in silence, settled above them. They were not dragons but they were clearly powerful. Did they have more abilities than warging? If so, did those abilities affect her? There was so much she didn't yet understand about Seaguard. She had previously thought House Mallister was important because of its ties to her.
Instead, was she important because of her ties to House Mallister?
Griff continued to speak, drawing Brienne from her thoughts. "The next is Harrenhal. The largest and most central keep in the Riverlands, easily able to house thirty-thousand men and horses. It has been chosen as the base for the Westerlands army. Shouldn't it have a strong leader to ensure the lands will be properly maintained and utilized once they leave?"
Griff glanced over his shoulder at Serjeant, as he asked his question. Serjeant's mouth curved into a small, satisfied smirk. He nodded briefly, making the beads in his bright-red beard click against each other. Griff then turned his reassuring smile onto Eleanor.
"Utilized?" Brynden came to join them. "Harrenhal is a monstrosity, cursed and ruinous. It has been given to nearly a dozen families since Harren the Black enslaved the Riverlands to build it. None has held it for long."
Serjeant snorted. "That's because they didn't know how to use it."
The new Lord Loth of Harrenhall crossed his powerful arms over his broad chest. The movement tightened his leathers and outlined the ridge of cloth covering his wounded arm. Wounds the new overlord had received defending his people from the broken men at Lord Harroway's Town.
"There is no way to use it," Brynden insisted. "The amount of gold and blood needed to revive it is beyond a man's reach. Aye, the lands are rich but no one feels safe enough to farm them. The towers are thick but the ceilings have fallen. The walls are strong but are broken in many places. You cannot feed and pay enough men to guard them, not for long anyway."
Griff and Serjeant exchanged smiles. It was clear they knew something Brynden did not. Serjeant calmly uncrossed his arms, allowing the sunlight to bounce off the thick gold bands decorating his arm. His smug smile did not waiver.
"Aye, Harrenhal is a burden for any man who has to spend his own gold to keep it," Serjeant agreed. "But it won't be my gold that maintains Harrenhal."
Brynden exchanged bewildered glances with Davos and Jon. Brienne was equally confused but tried to keep her expression blank. Her experiences at Harrenhal had been horrific but even she remembered its dilapidated condition; the broken towers, the rotting shanties, the twisted visage of the weirwood tree, and the terrible sense of desolation that hung over the keep.
"Then who will?" Brynden scowled, suspicion clear in his narrowed eyes and tightened features.
Serjeant's smile grew even wider. "All those who have already offered us king's ransoms to train with the Golden Company, the army of the King of Westeros."
Brienne could sense the Company men around them stand to attention, pride and satisfaction radiating from them in waves. The dragons, picking up on their swelling emotions, squawked and also stood to attention. Brienne smiled. The five were Company, too. She remembered Griff telling her about how eager men - and women - were to join the Golden Company.
"Word had gotten out that we have a female officer. Several women have contacted us to purchase commissions."
"Purchase commission?" Bronn repeated as he gingerly sat down. "People pay you to fight for the Company?"
"They do now." Serjeant confirmed, a satisfied smile on his face. "We're the finest private force in the world. The Golden Company put House Targaryen back on the Iron Throne."
"Brienne put the Targaryens on the Iron Throne," Jaime corrected. He looked at the dragons. "Brienne and the dragons."
"Brienne is an officer of the Company and sworn to Aegon Martell Targaryen. He holds the throne of Dorne and the loyalty of four of the seven kingdoms of Westeros." Serjeant reminded him. "We're now helping him gain the rest. The Golden Company are kingmakers."
There was no denying Serjeant's statement. The Golden Company had sheltered and protected Brienne and the dragons. Then Brienne and the dragons had claimed the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. Company men had secured the Reach and the Stormlands and were working to stabilize the Riverlands. The Golden Company not only made kings, they made alliances, reputations, and dynasties.
This was another example of Griff's far-thinking and strategic nature. He knew the Riverlands would only be as strong as the leaders and castles they led. Griff was ensuring that Harrenhal, so large and centrally located, would be a benefit to its kingdom, its lord, and its king.
"Harrenhal will not be a private house," Griff expanded on Brienne's thoughts. "It will be an army base and a school."
"It won't work." It was Brynden's turn to cross his arms, visibly rejecting the idea. "Aye, the Golden Company can hold it as a base, given how rich you already are." Brynden nodded at the gold decorating Serjeant's arm. "But there aren't enough men wanting to pay for commissions to keep up your coffers."
"Men and women," Serjeant emphasized. "We've gotten dozens of requests from across Essos, Soyhoryos, and the Summer Sea. We also have inquiries from women in Dorne, Volantis, and Naath now that it's known the Gods' warrior is amongst our ranks."
Everyone turned to stare at Brienne. She could feel her cheeks grow hot as she ducked her head. Ardayn and Serdun, dutifully guarding her, hissed as they absorbed her embarrassment. The other dragons also puffed and extended their wings, reacting to their mother's emotions. The people around them, except for the Unsullied, the Golden Company and Jon, looked at the five uneasily.
"Warriors are not the only people who will use the services offered at Harrenhal." Griff's deep, melodious voice pulled the attention away from Brienne and back to himself.
Brienne drew in a deep breath as the tension eased from her shoulders. The dragons responded in kind. They relaxed and folded in their wings. The people around them, except for the Golden Company, also drew easier breaths while still eyeing the dragons nervously. The Company men, accustomed to the five, were not threatened by the most dangerous creatures in the known world.
"What do you fight for?" Griff demanded.
Brynden's arms fell to his sides and his mouth fell open, betraying his confusion at Griff's question. But Griff wasn't focused on him. No, her king looked beyond the Blackfish. Griff had directed his question to the Rivermen gathered near the Trident's bank. His voice was loud and commanding, his indigo eyes burning, as he focused on the rag-tag group of men.
The Rivermen's reactions were similar to Brynden's. They looked amongst themselves then back at Griff, brows drawn and mouths open, confused by his question.
"Do you fight because you want to die?" Griff strode closer to the men. "Or do you fight because you want to live?"
The men snorted and some even sneered. They seemed to consider Griff's question to be absurd. Then they all began to shout out their replies.
"Is a king or a court jester?"
"Of course, we want to live!"
"We fight for what is ours!"
"Our homes have been stolen from us!"
Brienne frowned as she observed the Rivermen. Their voices rose until they became a jumbled, furious cry. They had a right to their anger. The fact that they had joined Jon was reason enough to believe they wanted to fight to live. Why was Griff questioning them?
"What do you want after war?" Griff continued, undaunted. "Do you wish to carry your steel across the countryside, taking whatever work or coin you can find? Or do you want to use your skills to rebuild your lives and your kingdom?"
That stopped the angry cries. The Rivermen fell silent and again began to look at each other, this time uneasily. The War of the Five Kings and the treacheries surrounding it had taken everything from them. Yes, they knew they didn't want to die but they had no idea how they would live.
"Can one man, working alone, rebuild a home, a farm, or a community?" Griff came even closer to the men. "Would you be more successful if you worked together, in peace as you did in war? What if you had a central location to build up your strength, skills, and your coin? A location with lush fields to farm, strong walls for protection, and work for those coins?"
It didn't take a genius to know which central location Griff had in mind. Harrenhal. A wave of excitement passed over the Rivermen, so strong it caused the humans to shift, feeling the rush of energy. The dragons and the eagles, far more sensitive than the people around them, squawked at the sudden spike of human emotions. The people were beginning to understand King Aegon had a strategy to uplift the people. Griff didn't plan for Harrenhal to only serve the Golden Company. He intended to open it to anyone willing to rebuild the Riverlands.
While the Rivermen were buoyed by Griff's ambitions, Brynden was not. The knight, who had lived longer, fought more battles, and had seen more events than almost anyone else present, was still stiff and resistant. He crossed his arms again, his jaw and back firm.
"It can't be done," Brynden insisted. "You haven't seen the destruction and disuse. The Black Dread burned Harrenhal with such ferocity that even stone melted together. Your namesake's thirst for conquest made the keep almost unusable. You'd have an easier time if you finished the job properly and started again."
Griff smiled his smug Martell smile, undeterred by Brynden's scorn and doubt. "That is exactly what I intend to do."
Once again, Brynden's arms fell to his sides in his confusion. He stared at Griff then at the young dragons around them. The Blackfish looked to Jon and Davos, who looked equally bewildered, before turning back to Griff.
"You intend to burn it down? How?" Brynden demanded. "Balerion was said to be so large it blotted out the sun. These five are barely enough to hide stars. Even your aunt's dragons are not big enough to destroy that wretched place."
Griff's smile didn't waiver. "Jon Snow has the solution."
Everyone turned to stare at Jon. He blinked rapidly, his lips parting, betraying his confusion. It was clear he was unprepared for Griff's assurance or his schemes. Jon scowled at his secret brother and put his hands on his hips.
"What do you mean?" Jon demanded. "I know nothing about your plans for Harrenhal."
"Wildfire," Griff explained succinctly. "You've brought the wildfire from King's Landing."
Jon's face flushed with color. "That wildfire is to help us fight the Army of the Dead. It's not for you to use to create your intended kingdom."
Griff remained calm. "Why not? You currently have the wildfire stored at Harrenhal. What will you do with it after the Great War? Will you allow the Westerlands armies to have it? Do you trust them with such a dangerous weapon?"
There was a distinct menace to Giff's taunt. He knew how the men around them felt about the Westerlands army. As expected, the Rivermen immediately began to protest.
"No! The Westerlands armies destroyed our homes!"
"The Lannisters killed our families. They can't be trusted."
"They'll betray us and turn the wildfire on us."
"Lannisters and Freys are oath breakers!"
Griff allowed their protests to wash over him. His arms were relaxed at his sides and his stance was easy. Jon's form, in contrast, was rigid, betraying his annoyance. He scowled as he looked over the angry Rivermen. He put his hands up in appeasement.
"I will not allow the Westerlands army to keep wildfire after the war," Jon tried to reassure them.
"Then what do you plan to do with it?" Griff questioned. "You've seen what's left of the Sept of Baelor. You know you cannot allow the wildfire to exist after the war. It will only become more potent with time."
Davos, who had suffered at the Battle of the Blackwater, shuddered visibly. "No, you cannot allow it to remain in existence, your Grace. I saw firsthand the devastation wildfire can cause. It must be destroyed."
"Exactly," Griff agreed. "We'll use up the wildfire to tear down Harrenhal, piece by piece, and rebuild as needed."
"Wildfire is dangerous," Davos warned. "You cannot control it."
"We can, if we use it in the right concentration and place it properly." Griff nodded towards Qyburn. "Your maester stabilized it with tallow, didn't he?"
Qyburn pressed his hands together and nodded. "Ex-maester but yes, the wildfire is stable."
Griff nodded. "You've been to Harrenhal, Lord Qyburn. Is the wildfire there sufficient for controlled demolition?"
"Controlled demolition," Brynden repeated. "What does that mean?"
"We don't want to destroy everything at once," Serjeant explained. "We'll take down sections at a time and use the demolished stone to rebuild. We'll have the material to rebuild, lands to farm, and gold to trade. Now, we only need people willing to work."
Serjeant stepped up beside his king. His height, physical strength, artificially red hair, and bulk made his appearance even more arresting than Griff's. Lord Loth didn't have King Aegon's striking Targaryen beauty but he did have gold, power, and his king's confidence. He had even already proven he was a man of action.
"Harrenhal will need much work to be truly useful to the people of the Riverlands," Serjeant took up the explanation. "Stone masons to fortify the walls, brick makers to rebuild the castle, stable masters and grooms for the horses, farmers for the fields, cooks, cleaners, tailors, and so many, many others. How many of you can do more than hold a sword or shoot an arrow?"
The Rivermen again began to speak at the same time. Many held up their hands, others nodded eagerly, and some even smiled. Their sense of relief washed over the entire field. Their optimism was understandable. After hearing the grim, relentless talk of the Army of the Dead and what stood against them, it was a comfort to see a glimmer of what could be, after the Great War.
While the Rivermen were buoyed by the idea of opportunities after the war, Brynden and Arya were not. They scowled and glared at Griff. Even Jon and Davos frowned. Jon opened his mouth to speak but Griff continued.
"Harrenhal will not be the only place that will grow and prosper. There is also Maidenpool." Griff gestured to the tall city wall. "It's the only port city on the east side of the Riverlands, thus where any supplies the Iron Fleet brings will be distributed."
Griff nodded to Yara and Theon. The pair exchanged glances then nodded back, confirming Griff's summation. Griff turned back to speak to the group at large.
"Given how important Maidenpool is, it also needs to be managed by a strong and capable leader. One who has the loyalty of her people and the determination to rise again and again, even after she has been brought down by lesser men." Griff looked directly at Eleanor, who stood as straight and as strong as any man present.
Eleanor's eyes widened at hearing Griff's words. Her combination of shock, cautious hope, and defensive disbelief sliced through Brienne. She understood Eleanor's feelings because they were her own. Brienne has also been dismissed and dragged down by lesser men, had constantly fought for recognition, and still had difficulty believing admiration and acceptance when it was given.
Griff turned back to Jon, lifting his chin as he stared down his nose at his secret half-brother. "Not all warriors fight with a sword or spear, Jon Snow. There are many who will support us with us without ever picking up steel. Lady Tanda sits on my small counsel and leads the lords of the Crownlands, including the new lords of Rosby and Rook's Rest. They are feeding the needy, creating work for the people, and making their lands flourish under her guidance."
The Rivermen and the people watching from Maidenpool's walls began to whisper amongst themselves. Their multiple conversations made their words unintelligible but their surprise and interest still transmitted. Davos came to stand beside Jon. The knight, now firmly back in his role as advisor to his king, looked around nervously at the building dissension
Griff also looked around, but his stance was calm. "She isn't the only one. Lady Genna works feverishly to rebuild the supply lines from the Westerlands to Riverrun and Harrenhall. That was what kept Tywin Lannister's armies replenished when they came to the Riverlands."
The Rivermen, who had been listening intently, now began to protest. Brienne understood. Tywin Lannister had sent his army and his monster to brutalize the Riverlands. The deaths of the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Mountain Who Rode did not erase the suffering they had caused.
"They will not stand against us." Griff raised his voice to be heard above their comments. "The Westerlands armies have joined us in the Great War. They fight with us. Lady Genna works to transport the grains and vegetables harvested from the Reach. They have already been delivered to Lannisport. Most supplies the Ironborn bring will go to White Harbor to feed the fighters in the North. Thus, it falls upon the Lady Paramount of the Westerlands to channel food for the people here in the Riverlands. We must provide for those who cannot provide for themselves."
There was silence for a moment as the Northmen, the Unsullied, the Ironborn, and the Rivermen all looked amongst themselves and at each other. The dumbfounded expressions on many made it clear they had not considered the needs of the smallfolk, and the others who could not fight, when thinking of their war plans. From behind them, the murmur of voices rose from the people at the walls of Maidenpool.
Griff frowned at the armies, not bothering to hide his disgust. He shook his head. It was apparent he was appalled by their lack of foresight, and, more importantly, the sheer ignorance they displayed. It was apparent in his twisted mouth and flared nostrils.
"There is no point in winning this war if we're not prepared for the aftermath," Griff continued to press his point. "Women such as Lady Tanda, Lady Genna, and Lady Eleanor may never carry weapons but they will fight just as hard as those on the front lines."
The chatter behind them faded away. Even the Unsullied, watching quietly from the sidelines but not participating, were intently focused on Griff. There was no denying the truth of his words. No one in the Riverlands had been spared the horrors of war. Death, decay, and despair were all around them. Sometimes it seemed the dead outnumbered the living, with many of the living in conditions close to death.
Griff gestured with his hands, drawing their attention to the people and the woods around them. "You've all ridden through the Riverlands. You've seen what war does to the people left after the fighting. They won't survive without strong leaders to stand with them and for them."
The voices began again at the city walls. The warriors for the dawn looked to them. Here were the people they were fighting for: women, children, the injured, the elderly, and the infirmed. People who had worked hard their whole lives and only wanted peace in return for their labors. They didn't conspire to take power, sit on thrones, or become lords. They simply wanted to live.
Griff went to stand beside Eleanor. Her face was flushed but her stance remained strong. She looked at Griff with a combination of gratitude and relief. Brienne understood her feelings for they had been her own. She knew what it was to have honor and recognition after a lifetime of disrespect and discouragement.
Griff turned to face Jon but stayed at Eleanor's side. "Women such as Lady Eleanor will become some of the most consequential and influential leaders in the battle for the dawn. You dismiss them at your peril, Jon Snow."
The implication was clear. Griff believed in women and had powerful women at his side. As their king, he would defend the rights of those who still stood to defend the innocent and the helpless. He was telling the people that the Northmen would not give their defenders the recognition and positions they deserved.
Arya hissed in her breath, clearly resenting Griff's stance. Even so, it was Jon who stood toe to toe with his secret brother. Jon's face was flushed and he leaned aggressively into Griff.
"I don't dismiss them," Jon snarled. "I know that the people must have strong leaders to support them during and after the war. That's why my sister, Sansa, is the Lady of Winterfell. She's the smartest amongst us. Lady Sansa Stark leads the North."
"And I am prepared to lead the Riverlands in your name, King Aegon," Eleanor called out.
Jon and Griff both turned to look at the Lady of Maidenpool. Eleanor's cheeks flushed with color and her blue eyes shone with resolve. The dragons, with their abilities to sense emotions and understand intent, squawked as they absorbed Eleanor's determination. The force of her will was so strong that the people around them, even with their inferior sensory abilities, shifted. Even the humans could understand her relief and determination.
"The people of Maidenpool trust me," Eleanor continued. "We've taken in the survivors of the massacre at Saltpans. We send food and supplies to the Crossroads Inn and to Darry. We have already learned that Lord Loth destroyed the broken men who had plagued our shores. I vow we will work closely with him. I will serve you well, my King."
Eleanor took a deep breath that didn't disguise the tremor that passed through her body as she stepped closer to Griff. Brienne felt Eleanor's emotions as if they were her own, because they were her own. She understood Eleanor's relief, sense of gratitude, and the bone-deep need to prove her king was justified for having faith in her.
Griff smiled. "Thank you, Lady Eleanor. We are grateful for your support and assistance."
Once again, Griff's cunning, understanding of human nature, and ability to grasp wider concepts had served him well. What had seemed like lucky circumstances and chance victories had been carefully planned strategies, created to give Griff command of the strongest castles in Riverlands. Brienne recalled her king's conversation with the Dornish lords when they'd come to King's Landing.
"The current plan is to take my aunt's armies north to man the empty Night's Watch castles," Griff explained. "That will put them as the first line of defense if the Army of the Dead breach the Wall. The Northern armies will gather near Winterfell, as the second line of defense. Jon Snow should put the Southern armies south of the Neck, near the Twins and Seaguard to secure fallback positions."
Brienne barely resisted the urge to shake her head at Griff's audacity and maneuverings. He had come to King's Landing, all those weeks ago, prepared for kingship. He had a plan to prove his claim to the Dornish throne, an army to secure his hold over the southern kingdoms, and now a strategy to tighten his grip on the Riverlands. Maidenpool and Harrenhal were his to command, while the Twins were held by Golden Company men. Seaguard belonged to House Mallister, her blood kin. How long would Lord Jason's pledge to King Jon last if it was Griff who continued to build up the houses and people in the Riverlands?
Arya hissed in her breath and came to join them. The youngest Stark warrior came as close as she dared, mindful of the protective dragons. She glared at the Lady of Maidenpool.
"You do not answer to him. Jon Stark is your king." Arya spoke through gritted teeth.
Griff's glance at Arya was cool and dismissive. He clearly didn't see Arya as a threat to his plans to claim the Riverlands. Jon shook his head and frowned at his sister.
"It doesn't matter, Arya," Jon insisted. "It doesn't matter who has what title. This isn't about power."
Griff snorted. "Yes, it is. We have the power to protect the people. You saw what happened at Harroway's when broken men took power. We must seize control and use it wisely. The people need strong leaders like Eleanor Mooton."
Brienne's palm began to twinge, reminding her of the minor burn she'd suffered. She looked down at her hand and recalled what Griff had said about power when he'd first met her uncle, Lord Jason.
"People want order, routine and security," Griff continued. "House Tully had been dangerously weakened by the war of the Five Kings. House Frey was despised throughout Westeros, even before their betrayal. Once I knew Ser Brynden was still alive, my men made contact. He was the logical choice to lead a resistance. Someone had to become the power in the Riverlands, to stand against the Lannisters and the Freys."
Jason looked over to Brynden. The Blackfish straightened his shoulders and stood tall. He had a right to be proud of his actions. Brynden had taken terrible risks, defying the Lannister and Frey armies. He and his men had escaped Riverrun but they had been outnumbered and outmatched. He was a good leader but he'd needed help. If it weren't for the Golden Company, the Blackfish would not have regained Riverrun or taken the Twins.
"The best ways to seize power quickly and effectively are with brute force or with great wealth," Griff continued, drawing Jason's focus back to him. "The Blackfish had neither, so I provided both. Then, in a stroke of luck, we were in position to strike the Twins when House Frey fell."
Brienne sighed quietly. It was no stroke of luck that caused the Twins to fall into Griff's hands. The Golden Company had already been stationed in the Riverlands, near the Twins. They had only left their posts to trail her and Podrick when they had journeyed to Riverrun. She had failed to gain the Blackfish's support in the battle against the Boltons. It didn't matter now. The Starks had regained Winterfell while Riverrun was again controlled by Edmure Tully. The armies of men were coming together.
"We will use it wisely," Jon insisted, his Stark-grey eyes flashing. He looked at Eleanor. "I know the years and the previous kings have not been kind to your people, Lady Eleanor. But we are here now. We will defend you, and all of Westeros, from the threat that comes for us."
"What about after that threat?" Griff questioned. "How will you defend Lady Eleanor's rights after the Great War?"
Griff leaned back and crossed his arms, appearing relaxed despite the tension. Jon curled and uncurled his hands, as if fighting for self-control. He thrust out his jaw as he glared at his secret brother. He turned his whole body to face Eleanor.
"By my word. I am a Stark," Jon stumbled slightly on the name, "of Winterfell. Like my father, Ned Stark, my word is my bond. My father was an honorable man, as am I. You are aware of my father's reputation, are you not, my Lady?"
Brienne pressed her lips together to keep from speaking out, despite her desire to object. No, Jon was not a Stark. He was a Targaryen. It was a truth he didn't know, that could destroy the trust he'd worked so hard to build. How could she tell him without risking the fragile peace he'd built, both within Westeros and within House Targaryen?
At the same time, Jon could not build a relationship with his half-brother if Griff continued to try to dominate the King in the North. The coalition of men would not be enough if the dragons did not merge into a single, unified force. Griff's ambitions were a threat to the three-headed dragon. Even so, this was not the time for her to object. The tension was too high, with Jon and Griff still focused on their individual goals.
Eleanor looked as conflicted as Brienne felt. Her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was turned down at the corners. She looked from one king to the other before finally nodding to Jon.
"Aye, I know of your father's reputation," Eleanor admitted. "Ned Stark was an honorable man, just as Lord Jon Arryn was. He is now dead, as is Lord Jon. They both died in King's Landing for attempting to expose the treacheries of House Lannister. Your father lived as a good man but died a traitor's death."
Jon's mouth tightened as he nodded. "He did. Even so, Ned Stark believed in honor. He taught us the importance of keeping our vows. When enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Lady Eleanor, I could also give you empty assurances of keeping your lands, titles, and people intact but I won't."
Eleanor gasped and Jon stopped speaking. He studied the Lady of Maidenpool but his sober expression didn't alter. Jon laced his hands together, a gesture of humility and a silent plea for understanding.
"I don't make you promises, not because I doubt your abilities, but because I don't know if I can keep them," Jon continued. "I don't know if your lands or your people will survive the Great War. The army that comes for us will not discriminate between men or women, young or old, or lords or smallfolk. But the enemy will come, unless we stop them."
Eleanor looked between Jon and Griff, her eyes darkening at Jon's blunt words. Griff's face smoothed into his usual expressionless mask. He didn't contradict his half-brother. Instead, he observed Jon closely, as if using the opportunity to discover more about the man who might try to stand between him and his kingship.
Jon wasn't aware of Griff's study. He was focused on Eleanor, his expression earnest, his grey eyes dark. "Lady Eleanor, I won't lie to you, I won't make promises I can't keep, and I won't insult your intelligence by pretending the threat that comes for us is anything less than dire. I am Ned Stark's blood, as are my brother and sisters. I can only promise you we will do everything in our power to protect you and your people."
Eleanor's frown deepened. Brienne could see the elation seeping out of the Lady of Maidenpool. Eleanor understood the promises Griff made could not be kept unless, until, the Great War was won. Griff promised her the stars but Jon was keeping her firmly tethered to the ground. Brienne did not think Eleanor was an impractical woman, not after all she had endured.
Eleanor hesitated but finally nodded to Jon. "Yes, your Grace. I…I understand."
Jon nodded again and his shoulders relaxed. "Maidenpool's walls are thick and have served your people well. We will do everything we can to protect you and your castle. Know that we all fight for you. Gods willing, you, your lands, and your people will survive and thrive after the Great War."
Eleanor bowed her head. Jon's words were grim but still held hope. The army of men had great warriors, intelligent leaders, dragons, powerful weapons, and the Gods on their side. Victory was not assured but their willingness to fight was.
There was a palpable easing of tension among the Rivermen and the Starks, but Brienne could only feel worry. Jon was embracing his role as Jon Stark, a wolf of Winterfell. Not only Jon, even the men following him had accepted him as a full member of House Stark. But Jon wasn't a wolf; he was a dragon. The Gods needed him to become the third head of the dragon. How could she bring him to accept his true identity without damaging the fragile partnership of houses, free men, and Daenerys's armies Jon had built?
Brienne shifted her gaze to Griff. Her king didn't appear to be worried, as she was. Griff had a talent for manipulating people and situations to his favor. No doubt, he planned to do the same with Jon, in time. Griff had confidence that he could easily take up Jon's alliances and usurp his half-brother's authority, when the time and the circumstances were right. Even now, his indigo eyes glittered with intelligence and cunning.
"These lands and these people will indeed thrive," Griff agreed easily. "They'll not only have the strength and protection of the Golden Company,but also the discipline and the determination of the Unsullied. Pōnta jāhor emagon se dovaogēdy."
The Unsullied men, visibly startled to be included in Griff's assurances, stared at him, their faces wrinkling in confusion. Most of the men frowned in clear suspicion, while others glared in open hostility. Grey Worm hands closed into fists. Their aggression was enough to put the dragons on alert. The five turned to watch Daenerys's defenders, their small bodies tense. Beside them, the Company men also focused on Unsullied.
"Who are you to command us?" Grey Worm demanded.
The Unsullied commander didn't bother to hide his dislike for Griff. Brienne understood why Daenerys's loyal guards disliked and distrusted the rightful King of Westeros. Griff was a threat, not only to their queen's crown, but to their futures, as well. If Griff unseated Daenerys, then where would she and her people fit in Westeros?
"I don't command you," Griff assured him. "I only want what is best for Westeros and its people. All its people. Nyke jaelagon skoros's sȳrje syt ao."
It was the calm, relaxed tone in Griff's voice that alerted Brienne. While she had been watching Jon and Eleanor, Griff had switched his focus to the Unsullied. The former slave soldiers stood by silently, observers to the events unfolding before them. These men had marched with Jon but their loyalty was unswervingly with Daenerys. Judging from the slight narrowing of Griff's eyes, he was about to infringe upon that loyalty.
As expected, Jon clenched his hands in reaction to Griff's assurance. Jon's expression was a cross between annoyance and impatience as he glared at his secret brother.
"What are you saying?" Jon demanded. "They're not your subjects. They march with us."
Griff raised and lowered his shoulders in a lazy shrug. Brienne worried as she watched her king. It was the slight change in Griff's posture, the stiffening of his spine and set of his shoulders, that alerted her to her king's intentions. He was deliberately goading Jon, but for what purpose? Around her, the Company men and the dragons were also still, equally aware of the change in mood.
"The Unsullied are great warriors. They helped Daenerys become Queen of Meereen. Such loyal service must be rewarded," Griff elaborated calmly. "That is what I do for my people and those who fight for me. What considerations and rewards has my aunt prepared for these men who have served her for so long and with such discipline, dedication, and devotion?"
Griff repeated his explanation in High Valyrian, his voice and posture relaxed. Jon, by contrast, became more tense. His jaw was set as the King in the North looked over at the line of Unsullied soldiers. Brienne studied them, too. The men looked back, some with blank expressions, others with slight frowns, as if Griff's question was beyond their comprehension. Missandei, who stood beside them, raised her chin. Brienne knew how much the interpreter supported her queen.
However, it was Grey Worm who stepped forward. His stance was straight and unyielding, his shoulders back, his head held high, every inch the disciplined soldier. His darker skin tone didn't hide the angry flush coloring his cheeks. He thrust out his jaw and placed his hand on his sword, as if even questioning Daenerys was offensive to him.
"We serve our queen," Grey Worm insisted. "She had given us freedom. That is all the reward we require."
"Is it?" Griff raised his eyebrows in his Daenerys-like manner. "Is it enough to spend the rest of your days standing behind your queen? Don't you aspire for more?"
"Aspire?" Grey Worm frowned. "What is this 'aspire'?"
"Gaomagon ao jaelagon tolī?" Griff translated. "In Westeros, you can be something other than a soldier. Here, there are lands to farm, towns to build, ships to sail, armor to be smithed, and a thousand other opportunities for men who aspire." He nodded to Serjeant. "There will even be a school to teach all those skills and more."
Grey Worm hesitated, his frown and rapidly blinking eyes transmitted his confusion. Brienne didn't know what bewildered the commander more. Either he didn't understand Griff's words or the opportunities the rightful King of Westeros suggested were beyond the former slave soldier's imagination.
Missandei stepped up to stand beside Grey Worm. Color bloomed in her cheeks, too. She held her head high, her back rigid. Daenerys's advisor was not impressed by Griff's suggestions. Grey Worm might be confused but Missandei was clear in her understanding.
"Daenerys Stormborn is the Breaker of Chains." Missandei looked past Griff to stare directly at Brienne. "We follow her with pride. Those of us who stand with her, her family, will never betray her."
Missandei's voice was colder than Brienne had ever heard it. It was clear that Missandei was speaking to her when she spoke of familial betrayal. Brienne swallowed hard, the ache in her chest pressing up to her throat. Missandei was right in her censure. Brienne had betrayed Queen Daenerys with her silence and her secret alliance to King Aegon.
Ardayn and Serdun, absorbing her aching grief, pressed into Brienne. The other dragons, equally sensitive to her emotions, turned to her. Griff also looked at her. His mouth thinned into a straight line and his indigo eyes darkened dangerously. Griff was also a dragon, and knew how much betraying Daenerys had hurt her. His desire to defend her was just as fierce as the five's. Before Brienne could stop him, Griff whirled to face Missandei.
"And that's enough for you?" Griff's voice was sharper, his tone cutting. "You don't want a home of your own? A family of your own?" His gaze moved to Grey Worm. "Gaomagon ao jaelagon nykeā lentor?"
Grey Worm jerked, as if Griff's words were a physical blow. Behind him, the other Unsullied broke their formation as they leaned into and whispered to each other, their voices rising into an angry hiss. Missandei clenched her hands into fists as she stepped forward, as if trying to protect Grey Worm and the others.
"They are Unsullied." Missandei's voice was harsh. "They are unable to have families."
"That's not true," Griff disagreed. "They simply cannot father new children. Nothing stops them from fathering existing children. They can have families, if that is what they want. Ao kostagon mazverdagon aōha own lentor."
Griff's voice was calm and controlled, equally assured in both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian, as he easily slipped from one language to the other. His command of both dialects was so complete that Brienne barely even noticed when he switched between them.
The soft hum of conversation from the Unsullied lines stopped. The men turned from whispering with each other to staring at Griff. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms stood very tall, his startling Targaryen beauty making him almost glow in the morning sunlight. Then he smiled his cool Martell smile, knowing he had their attention.
"There is a little girl in Dorne, splashing in the pools of the Water Gardens. Up until a few weeks ago, she didn't have a name, a home, or a family." Griff gave Brienne a sideways glance but kept his focus on the men and the interpreter before him. "Now she has all those things, and more."
"Ela."
Brienne hadn't meant to speak out loud but the name slipped out anyway. The ache in her chest intensified, not with pain but with longing. The dragons, either feeling Brienne's emotions or reacting to the baby's name, all stood to attention. The five looked around and hissed at not seeing their playmate nearby. Everyone looked at the agitated dragons and stiffened.
"Yes, Ela." Griff's smile was gentle when he looked back at the dragons. "A baby who was once alone in the world, but now has the love and protection of dragons." He looked directly at Brienne. "And their keeper."
Brienne drew a deep, visible breath. The dragons squawked, failing to find their playmate. Ela had touched them, held onto them, with the same innocent love and trust she'd given to Brienne. The baby had dug as deeply into their hearts as they had hers.
"The dragons have bonded with her. She belongs with them," Brienne's voice was firm with her conviction. "I will demand, after we win the Great War, that she be returned to me. Ela may not be of my blood but she is still of my family. The Gods have willed it."
Brienne's heart pounded so loudly she could hear the blood rush in her ears. The desire to see her little Jorrāelagon was like a fist squeezing her heart. She could still feel the warmth of the babe in her arms, the soft weight of her healing body, the utter sense of rightness when Ela put her frail arms around her neck.
"Ela is mine, just as the dragons are mine." Brienne took deep breaths to ease the ache that was turning into a pain in her chest. "They saved her. In return, she protected them. The dragons have claimed Ela for House Tarth. Who will challenge their claim?"
She looked around but no one spoke. Missandei and the Unsullied men looked at her in blank confusion. The others watched with concern and some trepidation, more focused on the anxious dragons than on her. All were silent. Not that Brienne expected anyone to speak. No one would dare challenge the dragons' rights to claim their own.
Brienne nodded to the blade tucked into Missamdei's belt. "You understand, don't you, Lady Missandei? It's the same for you. Dragon's Heart is proof of it."
"You've been at my side from the day we met," Daenerys reminded her. "You've faced riots, sellswords, warlords and harpies beside me. I want you to be able to defend yourself. You're no less a warrior than I am. Our weapons are sisters, as are we. You wouldn't deny your sister's gift, would you?"
Brienne stepped closer to Daenerys's advisor, her family. Ardayn and Serdun hissed but allowed her to leave their side. Missandei looked down at her Valyrian steel dagger then back at Brienne. Grey Worm also looked at the weapon then put his hand on his own sword.
"You said it yourself." Brienne kept her focus on Missandei. "You said you were not Daenerys's blood but you wear the Targaryen sigil and carry the sister blade to her sword. The queen has claimed you as her sister. Does anyone deny you are Lady Missandei of House Targaryen?"
"I'm not Dany's blood, but I wear the Targaryen sigil and carry the sister blade to her sword," Massandei pointed out. "The queen has claimed me as her sister. Who will deny it?"
Missandei's eyes widened and her lips parted but the interpreter had no words. Brienne knew she also clearly recalled that night in King's Landing, when they had still shared the camaraderie in the darkest night.
"By that right, Daenerys claimed her own family, made her own family," Griff smoothly picked up the conversation. "If a queen can claim a sister, if a dragon can claim a bond, then why can't a mother, or a father, claim a child?"
Slowly, Missandei shook her head. She was too intelligent not to understand what Brienne and Griff suggested. Families were not just born, they were also made. Missandei had a family, unconventional as it might be. She could make it a bigger family, if she wanted.
While Missandei was stunned by the possibility, Grey Worm was far less charmed. He stepped forward aggressively, so that Missandei was partly shielded by his body. His hand tightened on his sword as he thrust out his jaw. The dragons hissed warningly but Grey Worm, accustomed to dragons, did not falter.
"You tell fairy tales," Grey Worm accused. "Our queen provides us with food, shelter, and protection. Why would we leave to wander a strange land?"
"You wouldn't wander," Griff assured him. "You'll have homes, create a community, work for your food and coin, and have purpose. Isn't that why you fight? So that your future is your choice?"
"A choice." Griff looked back at her, his body leaning forward, as if to lessen the distance between them. "You gave me a choice to be something different. Before you, becoming King of Westeros was my only goal. I studied religions, read books, learned languages, mastered weapons, and lived among the people so I could learn to be a good king. Every action, every decision went towards achieving that goal. I never imagined myself as anything else. Then you came along."
Brienne shivered as the memory replayed in her mind. Griff had considered not accepting Blackfyre, the sword of kings and the symbol of his right to kingship, because of the choice she and the dragons had presented. Even Aegon Martell Targaryen, born and raised to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, had been tempted by the intoxicating allure of choice. The Unsullied, who barely had the chance to make their own decisions, seemed utterly befuddled by the idea of choosing their own destiny.
Except Grey Worm. He only grew angrier. "How? What place is there for us? Where would we go?"
"Harrenhal will welcome you," Serjeant assured. "Some of your men may want to be farmers, or stone masons, or blacksmiths, or many other things. Harrenhal is where they can choose their own paths, find their own futures. Your men can teach battle techniques and discipline while also learning new skills themselves."
"Skills?" Grey Worm sneered. "What good are these skills? Where would we take them?"
Griff shrugged. "I suggest Saltpans, as a start. The castle is strong and requires minimal repairs before it is ready for you to claim. The other buildings can be easily fixed, with help from the men at Harroway and here from Maidenpool. There is work at the salt drying stations. You and your family will soon have a strong trade to fill your coffers." He looked at Missandei. "And many young children, orphans and thrown away, who would gladly work for protection and care."
"I'd lived almost my entire life under the thumb, or rather the fist and lash, of truly vicious rulers. I know what it is to have no voice, no control and even no food or water if my master wished it."
Missandei's eyes filled with tears and her lips parted, softening her features. As a former slave, she had survived fear and deprivation. Her gentle heart had been touched by hearing of unwanted children. Grey Worm was not so moved.
"A castle," he scoffed. "Castles are for lords. Who would give castles to men like me?"
Grey Worm leaned forward aggressively so that his face was only inches from Griff's. The dragons, surprisingly, didn't hiss or try to interfere. Perhaps it was Griff's relaxed posture or the way Grey Worm had unconsciously released his sword. No matter how much he doubted, Grey Worm wanted to hear Griff's answer.
It wasn't just Grey Worm who waited for Griff's response. The rest of the people around them also listened intently. The Rivermen, battle-worn and scarred, watched with tense confusion. The Northmen frowned with visible suspicion. Eleanor's expression was more contemplative, as she studied the rows of Unsullied soldiers. They didn't yet understand what Griff was offering but she and Brienne did.
It wasn't enough for Daenerys to bring her people to Westeros. They could not all stand guard in the Red Keep. King's Landing was already overcrowded and hungry. Her people had to integrate within the Seven Kingdoms to be accepted by its citizens. The Riverlands, already decimated and deprived by war, needed strong fighters, disciplined workers, and compassionate leaders to bring it out of despair and desperation. Of all the kingdoms, this was where the Unsullied could make the most difference, be accepted, and build the best futures for themselves and their kingdom.
"The Unsullied were forced to kill infants to prove their worth."
Brienne released her breath as she recalled Daenerys's words. She didn't fault Grey Worm for holding himself stiff and still, as if readying himself for insult or rejection. Brienne had no doubt that the Unsullied commander had seen the worst of men and their depravity. He had little faith in words or promises.
Brienne understood her king wanted to integrate the Unsullied into Westerosi society, but could they envision their own potential? Were they able to see a future where they could be anything, do anything, they wanted? How was Griff to convince them that he was trying to help them? Brienne held her breath as she waited for her king to respond.
"Men like you," Griff repeated Grey Worm's words, his voice light and contemplative, his gaze steady and direct. "Do you mean men who started with less than nothing; who had to be stronger than everyone else just to survive; who were torn down and built themselves back up with only their own will and determination?"
Grey Worm blinked rapidly, visibly startled by Griff's assessment, or his understanding of the horrors the Unsullied had survived. He didn't know that Griff had lived in the real world, had endured suffering himself, and tried to do all he could to help those around him. The Unsullied commander straightened, his posture no longer as aggressive, as he studied the rightful king.
Griff's voice became stronger, sharper. "Do you mean men with the skill and discipline to serve with honor, who shed their blood, sweat, and tears, and who take up spears and arrows to fight for their cause?"
Grey Worm's lips parted as his face went slack. The angry flush melted from his features and confusion caused a slight wrinkle between his brows. Griff stepped closer, so that he and Grey Worm were within striking distance of each other. But Grey Worm didn't strike out. Instead, he watched Griff carefully.
"Are those the kind of men you are?' Griff looked beyond Grey Worm to the line of Unsullied. "Men who will work hard to earn everything you have, including gold, respect, and castles?"
Grey Worm nodded wordlessly, his chin raised in defiant challenge. It was Griff who stepped back, easing the tension between them.
"Who would give honor to men like you? I would," Griff confirmed, holding Grey Worm's gaze. "In fact, I already have. Men like you have earned themselves lands, titles, and castles in my kingdom, Lord Grey Worm."
A sharp charge ran through the Unsullied men, so strong even the humans felt the energy. The Unsullied lines, which had already begun to disarray, now fell apart as the men turned to each other, their voices rising in questions and demands. The dragons, far more sensitive to emotions, squawked and spread their wings, trying to shield their family from the sudden emotional spike. The eagles shrieked and left their posts in the trees, taking to the skies above them.
The other people in the field, the Northmen, Rivermen, Ironborn, and even the people watching from Maidenpool's walls, also cried out. The men on the field scrambled back, trying to stay out of the dragons' fire range. Brienne, Griff, and Podrick all knelt to calm the five. Ghost growled and snarled. Jon, who had been looking at the dragons with concern, turned to throw his arms around the direwolf.
Brienne hugged Ardayn and Serdun close but they remained on guard. They hissed and tried to pull away from her. She looked over to Podrick, who was having no better luck containing Gallan. Griff had a stronger hold on Catren and Allwyn, but even he struggled.
Brienne's focus was broken by the sound of bells tolling. Everyone turned to stare at the walls guarding Maidenpool. The people, who had been watching nervously from the ramparts, now began to cry out as they scrambled to get down to the ground.
"The bells!" The color drained from Eleanor's face. "The bells are ringing."
Bells only tolled where a threat was sighted, calling the people back to the safety of the castle walls. The people were already behind the castle walls. The Unsullied, the Riverman, the Ironborn, and the Golden Company were all vulnerable. They didn't have the protection of the city's sturdy defenses.
Alarm swept through the gathering. Men tightened their grips on their swords and bows. Dread seeped into Brienne's bones. The dragons responded to the spiking emotions by flapping their wings and hissing. They puffed out their bodies making themselves look bigger as they sniffed the air, trying to locate the source of the agitation. Ghost snarled, staying close to Jon's side.
Brynden knelt and touched the ground. His expression was grim when he looked up at Jon. "The ground is shaking. That means a large group. An army approaches from the west."
The bell continued to toll, amplifying the cries of the terrified, war-weary people. Their panic transmitted to the warriors gathered along the shore. They all turned to face west and the threat. An army was approaching. What was coming for them now?
Brienne stilled. The sun was rising in the sky, bathing Maidenpool in golden sunshine. Then she, like everyone, studied the horizon to the west. Her gaze traced the Trident to where the river and the sky met. Ominous grey clouds hung heavy in the distance. Her heart began to beat so fast she could feel her pulse in her ears.
Was it nature or the Night King bringing the storm?
Author's Note: Hi, Guys! I'm back. Much thanks to my beta Live_It_Up124 for the read-through.
So, what do you think of Griff's schemes and plans? Please leave me feedback to let me know you're still reading. Your input really keeps me motivated and helps me develop plot points.