Brienne III

Brienne could feel the sun gradually disappearing, darkening the throne room more and more as the minutes passed. The night seemed to be falling earlier these days, and she wondered if it was some sort of bad omen, a premonition of what was happening in that capital of an imaginary kingdom. A fantasy for everyone except one man.

"Bring forth the traitor," King Renly ordered as he shifted uncomfortably on the Iron Throne, ready to dispense justice in front of the ever-dwindling court. The king had already cut himself once on the forearm and another time on the thigh since he first sat in that metal monstrosity. The maester had urged him to try to move less while sitting there, but his words fell on deaf ears. Like all those directed at the king in recent times.

Brienne hated having to witness this, but due to some cruel whim of the gods, she always seemed to be present at these sessions. Or at least that's what she preferred to think. The reality was that given the prolonged shortage of personnel in the Rainbow Guard, the few active members left were forced to work double shifts to ensure that the king was protected at all times. Ser Robar Royce had insisted on several occasions, both to the king and the Lord Commander, on the need to recruit new members for the Rainbow Guard to fill the positions of the deceased Ser Parmen and Ser Guyard, especially since Lord Bryce had left for the Riverlands and Ser Loras' injury showed no signs of improving. He would have achieved his goal if it hadn't been for the Betrayal of Harrenhal, or rather, the Harrenhal Disaster, as it was called behind the king's back. After that, all other matters had been overshadowed.

The war was lost. It was an obvious truth for everyone inside and outside the court. The lords and knights who had managed to escape the city before Renly ordered the gates sealed would have sworn loyalty to Stannis by now, or taken refuge in their castles awaiting the inevitable end of the conflict. For the unfortunate ones like her who still remained at court, the end couldn't come quickly enough.

When? When did our dreams turn into nightmares? It was a thought that had been plaguing her lately, even more so in recent days.

With the death of Lord Tarly and the desertion of most of the troops, much of the nobility still loyal to Renly had hoped to engage in peace negotiations with the king's brother. Victory seemed impossible, but that didn't necessarily mean that their defeat had to be humiliating. Renly's loyalists controlled the Stormlands and much of the Crownlands, including the capital. They still had enough troops to force the Dornish and the Northerners into a costly siege. These were enough bargaining chips to make Stannis sit down at the negotiating table, but those hopes had been shattered within a few days.

King Renly had categorically refused to engage in any peace talks, and anyone heard discussing surrender was immediately thrown into the black cells. However, the threat of imprisonment had not only failed to silence the surrender advocates, but the rumors had grown louder with each passing day. Lord Mathis Rowan, who had been named the new Hand of the King once Lord Tarly's death was confirmed, had done his utmost to prevent the troops from losing heart and to maintain order in the city. Yet, he had secretly drafted a proposal for Lord Stannis, outlining possible terms for a surrender. However, the messenger who was supposed to deliver it to Riverrun had been intercepted while trying to leave the city, exposing the conspiracy.

His replacement in the position, Ser Ronnet Connington, had lasted even less. Under the pretext of inspecting the condition of the city's gates and walls, he and part of his entourage had made a run for it, heading to Griffin's Roost. Others said he had fled to Harrenhal, hoping for pardon and protection from King Stannis.

But Mathis Rowan hadn't been so lucky. Brienne watched as the guards dragged a gaunt Lord Rowan to the foot of the Iron Throne. Stripped of his jewels and fine clothing, he didn't look like much. Nevertheless, with his wounds still fresh from the lashings he had received from the jailers and his deplorable condition, Brienne thought that the Lord of Goldengrove held more dignity than anyone present, herself included. At least he had dared to defy the king's orders, even knowing where it might lead him.

"Lord Rowan, not so long ago you swore in this very hall to uphold my will and be my most loyal advisor. Yet, you stand before me now as a traitor," said the king.

"I swore to serve you loyally, and that's what I did," Mathis Rowan replied defiantly. His legs failed him, and he struggled to stay upright, but his voice didn't waver in the slightest. "The war is lost. I merely tried to salvage what I could before everything fell apart. It's not too late yet."

"I ordered that we would under no circumstances surrender to my brother, and you did just the opposite. Is there a better definition of treason?" Renly asked.

"I suppose not. In that case, all of us gathered here are traitors. Wasn't your nephew Joffrey the rightful heir of King Robert? And if your brother's claims were true, wouldn't he be the king according to the realm's laws?

No one said anything, although everyone present knew that it had been true from the moment they had sided with Renly. Each had their reasons: some did it out of sheer disdain for Stannis Baratheon and Tywin Lannister; others because they were wary of seeing the throne and the court occupied by Dornish barbarians, whom some still considered guilty of the decline of the Mad King's reign. However, most did it out of ambition or loyalty to their lord, be it Mace Tyrell or Renly himself. She had done it for love, love for a fantasy that only existed in her head and that cruel reality had shattered every time it had the chance.

Why am I still here then? Why didn't I flee when I had the chance? She could have gone back to Tarth with my father or even escaped to Essos, but every time she had the slightest opportunity, she had chosen to stay by the king's side. Was it duty that pushed her? The oath she had made to Renly and Queen Margaery? Or was she simply waiting for a miracle? For her luck to change and everything to return to how it used to be? Perhaps it all came down to simple cowardice.

"Brave words," the king said. "Coming from a dead traitor. Mathis Rowan, I, Renly of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, condemn you for treason and sentence you to die. Mount his head with the others."

"You're not the king! You never have been! The realm rejects you! The throne rejects you! Kill me if you wish, but you can't silence the truth!" Lord Rowan shouted before one of the guards struck him in the ribs.

"What are you waiting for? Kill him already!" ordered Renly Baratheon.

"My lord? Wouldn't it be better to take him outside?" the man asked, puzzled.

"Do as I command. Every second he keeps breathing is an insult," the king said, red with anger.

The soldier's sword pierced through Lord Mathis's chest, and he collapsed to the ground, leaving a trail of blood beneath him. It took him a few seconds to die, and he released dry groans from his mouth as his body convulsed slightly. People looked at him with a mix of horror and sorrow, and the only moment their faces brightened a bit was when a couple of servants carried the corpse out of the room, and the king rose, ending the session.

They think they might be next. They fear him, Brienne noticed. This didn't surprise her, as these thoughts haunted her day after day as well. She was the only person from Tarth who had responded to Renly Baratheon's call to arms, even when he was at the peak of his power. Letter after letter, her father had refused to send a single man to his cause, although he hadn't supported any of the other two kings either. Finally, Renly had grown tired of his insolence and had declared him a traitor shortly after taking the throne and hanging the rainbow cloak on her.

If he wins the war, will he pardon him, or will he make me execute him like that boy as a show of loyalty? She pushed that thought out of her mind. It was highly unlikely that would happen, not because the king wouldn't dare, but because she couldn't comprehend how Renly could emerge victorious from this conflict.

"Tarth, you're dismissed for today. His Grace won't need you until well into the morning," Ser Loras said as they escorted the king to his chambers.

"Lord Commander, with all due respect, I was assigned the night watch today. No one has informed me of any change."

"I'm informing you now. I will take care of protecting His Majesty tonight," Ser Loras replied, visibly annoyed. She had been blind to the real reasons the king and the Knight of Flowers spent so many nights together for a long time, but her eyes had been open for a while now. She had discovered that it didn't matter what the king felt for Ser Loras or how indecent that was. She knew she mustn't leave the king unprotected. Renly Baratheon had a long list of enemies, and it only kept growing.

"Don't worry, Brienne. No one will dare harm me tonight with Ser Loras by my side," the king interjected.

Why do I still bother? She thought. And why does it even matter to me?

"Go and take care of my dear queen if you wish. Her safety is as important as mine," Renly added.

"I shall, Your Grace," Brienne responded with a brief nod. The king and Ser Loras were already walking down the corridor when she lifted her gaze from the ground.

I should look for a ship and return to Tarth, Brienne thought sadly. Not that it would be an easy task. The Lannister fleet had withdrawn to Dragonstone, indeed, but they had taken as many vessels as they could with them in their retreat. The rest, they had set on fire and sent to the bottom of Blackwater Bay. Furthermore, the Lannisters from Dragonstone had not only refused to bend the knee to the king, even after Lord Tywin's fall, but had imposed a blockade on Blackwater Bay, preventing entry and exit to all ships attempting to sail in those waters. A small boat and a couple of oars might suffice. I just need to get out of the city, then I could find passage to Tarth in some fishing village. She had been pondering this for several days without reaching a specific decision. Silly girl, you've had plenty of chances to flee if you wanted to. Stop thinking about it, Brienne, and focus on obeying. That's the only thing you're good at. The end will come soon enough.

Her steps led her to the tall tower known as the Maidenvault, where the queen's chambers were located. Ser Loras had insisted his sister move to Maegor's Holdfast, where His Grace resided, but Queen Margaery had repeatedly refused. The official version was that she didn't want to occupy the rooms that had once belonged to the disgraced Cersei Lannister, but the reality was well known to all. However, at this stage, did another lie matter?

A handful of guards stood watch at the entrance to the Maidenvault, although none paid her much attention beyond the occasional sidelong glance. They didn't open the door, as would befit a royal guard, but neither did they prevent her from passing. They seemed more interested in their own affairs. She didn't feel offended or concerned; after all, since the king had bestowed the rainbow cloak upon her, her most frequent duty had been protecting his wife. She spent more time here than anywhere else in the Red Keep.

"Oh, Brienne. I didn't expect to see you here tonight. I thought you'd been assigned to protect my lord husband today," Margaery Tyrell said as she saw her enter. The young queen was dining at a long table with her ladies-in-waiting, most of whom were her cousins.

"Your brother sent me. There are still Rowan men hidden in the city; it would be dangerous for you to spend the night without protection," Brienne lied.

"Loras has always been very protective of me since we were children, but in the end of the day, he was the one getting into trouble. He still is, I'm afraid. Will you dine with us, Lady Brienne?" Margaery asked.

"No, I plan to have something later in the night. Thank you, Your Grace."

"As you wish. I'll have the servants save you something. Now that you're here, perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity. I understand that Lord Rowan has died," the queen said. The smile that usually adorned her face had disappeared under a layer of seriousness. Her ladies continued to chat among themselves, but their conversations seemed to have lost their intensity and merriment.

"That's correct, Your Grace. The king ordered his execution earlier this afternoon," Brienne replied.

"What a shame. His daughter was a lady-in-waiting to my mother a few years ago, and I consider her a good friend. I don't know if I'll be able to look her in the face after this."

"He was a traitor, Your Grace. I'm sure she'll understand."

"Do you really think so? Do you truly believe that Lord Rowan was a traitor?" the queen asked.

"The king—"

"The king can make mistakes in his decisions, just like any of us, like Mathis Rowan. Or do you believe the king hasn't made any wrong decisions over the course of this war?"

A lump formed in Brienne's throat. What was she supposed to respond? Was it a trap question, a way to test her loyalty?

"He's been wrong in all of them, Your Grace, starting with the moment he placed that crown on his head. Every day that passes, he becomes more cruel and foolish as everything crumbles around him. His ambition has brought us all to ruin. Every night, I pray to the Mother that the Dornish arrive soon and end this suffering."

Brienne let her pent-up anger flow. The whispers died the moment she finished speaking. The faces of the queen's ladies-in-waiting stared at her without daring to even blink, their hands fidgeting nervously with the food left on their plates.

There, I've said it. To hell with it, if they want to tell Renly, go ahead, at least it will be faster than what's coming.

"Well... you've made your point... very clear, Lady Brienne. I appreciate your honesty, and I'm sorry I pressed you," the queen said, regaining her composure. "Do you also believe there's no chance of victory? Not even a slight one?"

"I don't think there's anybody in this city who believes there is any, Your Grace. Except Renly and your brother, perhaps. The king has been secretly meeting with members of the Alchemists' Guild, undoubtedly to try to make wildfire for the city's defense. Apparently, Cersei Lannister ordered a large production before the city fell, although the Kingslayer never got to use it. Maybe they couldn't prepare it in time. But I doubt that will be enough to defeat Lord Stannis, honestly. I'm also given to understand that Lord Tarly and Lord Rowan sent messages to the Eyrie, but no response has been received as far as I know."

"I had received that same information," the queen lamented. "Don't worry, Lady Brienne; your words won't leave this room, will they?" Her ladies-in-waiting nodded, some more eagerly than others.

"It doesn't matter much to me, Your Grace. At this point, I feel my hours are numbered," Brienne said. It was easy for the queen. Whatever happened, she would remain untouched and return to Highgarden after the defeat, as Stannis wouldn't dare execute the sister of the Lord of the Reach and risk a rebellion among his allies before starting his reign. But she didn't have that luxury. She was the daughter of a minor lord, part of Renly's Kingsguard, one of the biggest traitors. At best, they would send her to join the Silent Sisters, but that wasn't the ending she wanted. No, she would die in the looming battle, even if it meant fighting futilely for a cause she had long stopped believing in. That was the only ending she deserved.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Lady Brienne. Maybe peace is still possible. Maybe if—"

"I don't think so. The king seems very determined to sink this ship and take us all down with him," Brienne replied. This conversation was wearing her down and making her even more miserable than she already was. "I just remembered I have duties to attend to at the White Sword Tower. I'll be back as soon as I can. If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course, do as you must. If you have any concerns, don't hesitate to come to me. You do an extraordinary job protecting us, Lady Brienne, and I'm sure I can do something to try to ease your burdens," Margaery Tyrell said.

Hollow words, Brienne thought. We're both prisoners here, but in her case, the jailers are her brother and her husband. She just needs to sit in her comfortable cell until the storm passes.

The White Sword Tower was quieter than a graveyard. When Brienne arrived, not a soul was inside the tower, which was populated only by dust and ghosts. The only one living in those rooms was her, even though there were rooms for all the members of the Kingsguard, including the Lord Commander. Out of respect, Brienne had chosen one of the cells on the second floor, which belonged to the rest of the brothers of the Kingsguard, perhaps with the foolish premonition that at some point, Ser Loras would reclaim the rooms that were rightfully his, although there was no sign of that happening at any time.

The only one who greeted her when she entered was the White Book, which lay on the large, shield-shaped table where it had been found when she had taken the castle. In theory, it was the duty of the Lord Commander to update the pages of all those who had served in the brotherhood, but she was the only one who had touched it. There was no page for her, nor for the rest of the members of the Rainbow Guard, and she wouldn't be the one to write them.

I could be the first woman to appear on the pages of this book, Brienne thought as she flipped through the pages of the ancient tome. We don't deserve to be there. We're a farce, a mockery, something that should disappear from the annals of history. Brienne the Blue, Brienne the Fool. Maybe the only decent thing Renly Baratheon had done was not to give us a white cloak.

She drew her sword and gripped it with the blade pointed at her own neck, the tip resting on her gorget, its cold touch caressing her chin. Her hands were trembling. Ser Goodwin, her master, had told her that she should never have a trembling hand when wielding the sword, for she must never tremble before her enemy. But he had never taught her what to do when her enemy was herself.

Just one motion. One simple move, and it will all be over.

She let the sword go, and it bounced on the rocky floor. Then, she removed her armor and went to sleep, hoping once again that when she woke up, the nightmare would be over.

Hello again with a new chapter, this time dealing with the aftermath of what happenned in Harrenhal from the POV of Renly's retainers. If all goes well, expect another chapter at the end of this month.

As always, wish you all well and I hope you enjoy reading this fanfic. See you next time!