The very afternoon of the soothsayer's execution, Tyrion, looking for some reprieve from his thoughts, looked out at the unusual activity on the beach, near the colossal battering ram. The Seafang had been beached, and the marauders were rolling dozens of barrels from the Seafang's hold to an elongated wooden structure being erected under the Wolf's supervision. He walked there, grateful for the distraction.
"Ser Wolf, what's going on?"
The Wolf turned.
"Old custom among the tribes of the Norsca. We hold a great feast before the raiders set out, in the not-unlikely event it's the last one they share."
"You are invited, of course."
Tyrion started.
"As is the Dragonqueen, and any she should wish to bring with her, though I expect them to refuse so as not to compromise themselves with the lower orders."
"You think that's why she wouldn't come?"
"There'll be strong drink, grilled meat and singing. Nothing too different from her days with the horse-lovers."
Tyrion turned to leave, but the Wolf continued speaking.
"Oh, if you see the big woman guarding your brother, tell her to come along."
Tyrion gaped a few times, shook his head and went back to the castle. Poor Brienne would still not be free of amorous attentions from large men.
Tyrion entered the chamber. The queen was staring out of a window overlooking the beach with a distasteful expression. The sky was grey and overcast, which doubtless did not help her mood.
"My queen, have you heard? The Wolf is-"
"Getting his sailors good and drunk, yes."
Danaerys looked from the beach to Tyrion, though her expression did not change.
"The more I see him the less I like him. Why did you hire him as your bodyguard?"
Tyrion looked to the side.
"I thought his loyalty might hold firmer with gold. At least we know he's here and not proposing his services to Cersei."
"Why?"
Tyrion looked up.
"Why do such... such barbarians inspire so much loyalty? I came across the sea to reclaim what was mine, to bring freedom to the people, to break the wheel, and now half the continent takes up arms against me. And he..."
Danaerys gestured towards the window.
"He has only to show up, to be louder and crasser than anyone else, to revel in the violence he causes, and yet they think him all the better for it. Look at the bloodriders who sullied my banner, he bought them from me, insults them and drills them harsher than I ever did, and now they seem to have been his for years. Just like... just like the Baratheon who murdered my brother. Who tried to have me murdered."
Tyrion stayed silent, feeling she was not actually questioning him.
"His advisor betrays him, and he gives him up for execution without an instant's hesitation. Look at how long it took you to report Varys' treachery to me."
Tyrion struggled to keep his mouth shut. He'd promised himself to tell Danaerys if ever she were to slip into tyranny, and here she was starting to become blind to her faults.
"Is this the way the world will always be? Can you break the wheel if the sufferers want to return underneath it? Is my kindness and generosity wasted on them, and will they only give their respect to those who drive them into the ground?"
Tyrion shrugged.
"There are men who emulate what they are not, and admire what they cannot be. Many a squire thinks that he is apprenticed to a hero. And the Wolf is hardly the first man to win over followers with sheer strength. Drogo-"
"He is nothing like Drogo."
"Drogo was kind, he could be gentle, this oaf seems to delight in trampling roughshod over everyone he meets, as if he needed to pick a fight with them."
"I think he does."
Danaerys looked at Tyrion.
"From the number of those skulls, and his repeated assertions that he wants strong enemies to fight... I think he really does try to pick a fight with everyone he sees, in case they might provide him with a good battle and a trophy."
"Even those who obviously can't? You can't tell me you've never wanted to hit him."
Tyrion shook his head.
"Oh no, I feel that often enough. I even had to stop Jaime from going after him at Winterfell."
"And yet you stay with him?"
Tyrion shrugged again.
"If he's with me, he's not under your feet or saying gods-know-what to Drogon. And at least he doesn't make dwarf jokes."
Danaerys fell silent, while Tyrion tried to find a more cheerful subject.
"How are things with Jon? Are you..."
"Jon? I am Jon's queen. That is all."
There was a world of bitterness in Danaerys' voice. Tyrion almost pressed the matter, but shut his mouth.
"Tyrion, I want you to be at that feast."
Tyrion said nothing.
"You say that you drink and know things. I want you to drink little, but by tomorrow I want you to know more about the Wolf. What is he here for? What does he plan to do after the throne is mine? How does he speak to my children?"
"The last one at least he claimed is a gift from the gods. And with his attitude... I wonder if it isn't something that makes it easier for him to pick fights. As for the rest, it will be done."
Tyrion hesitated.
"He... he said you were invited."
Danaerys goggled at him.
"But he fully expects you to ref- turn it down."
"Did he say it was because as queen, I have for more important things to do?"
"Not... quite. He said it was so as not to lower yourself among the soldiery."
"So he's used to working for high-born."
Danaerys turned back to the window.
"Find out what you can about him. Loosen his lips, he might be more talkative if he feels in charge."
"As you wish."
Tyrion turned around, leaving Danaerys to look out the window. He shook his head. Missandei's presence would have been a great boon to the queen. Now, having lost her lover, her friend, and her spymaster in short order, she had only him to rely on.
"Ser Wolf. I have received your... invitation."
Brienne stood before the Wolf, still in armor, her hand on the hilt of Oathkeeper. Tyrion had warned her against it, but she had no intention of letting yet another man mock her face-to-face. The giant was sitting on an empty barrel turned on its side, the iron bands visibly bending under his weight.
"I take it you wish to show your crew of rapists and thieves the fighting-woman, as the island is lacking in dancing bears, prostitutes or other forms of entertainment?"
"Quite the contrary."
The Wolf stood up, waving away one of his henchmen who was trying to get his attention.
"Truth be told, one of my crew has a tendency to overestimate his ability as a fighter, and believes he could floor you with barely an effort. I would indeed consider it a favor if you were to attend, if only to teach him the respect owed to a woman who's earned her place among true warriors."
Brienne hesitated. The barbarian's language seemed oddly cultured for a man wearing the skulls of fallen foes, he sounded more like a knight of the Reach than a Wildling.
"And are such women so rare among your kind that he doesn't know any?"
The Wolf sighed.
"Sadly, they are not so common, and so become the stuff of legend. I have seen my share of fighting, and know that skill at arms is no question of what hangs or doesn't between one's legs. It even provides a certain unfair advantage, as you'll doubtless have learned."
Brienne nodded, that at least was true.
"But he is young, and inexperienced, and therefore disinclined to believe his elders. I remember when I was young and thought I knew everything there was to know about fighting... I'm still grateful to the man who beat my illusions out of me. In time, perhaps he will too."
Brienne looked the Wolf in the eye. There was no hint of irony in his voice, nor had he made any comment about her appearance.
"And you haven't beaten him to prove your point?"
The Wolf grinned slowly.
"I could, but then he'd only learn what he already knows regarding our relative strengths. No, it was his choice to proclaim himself a better warrior than you, now he must prove it."
The Wolf looked to the side, where an argument had broken out between two of his marauders. He frowned, then turned back to Brienne.
"To tell you the truth, this is his first raid with me, and what experience he has with women involves stabbing them with something else entirely. You would do him, and me, a great service if you were to correct his misconceptions. And of course, there will be fine wines, the best that Bordeleaux and Wurtbad have to offer, if you are not of the abstemious sort who view drinking, singing and merriness below them."
Brienne looked the Wolf hard in the eye, having never heard of the places he mentioned. His face, brutal and hairy as it was, showed no duplicity. Then she nodded.
"Very well."
"Excellent! Thank you for accepting, Ser Brienne of Tarth, I will see you tonight."
The Wolf, having one-sidedly ended the conversation, stepped around Brienne. She watched him stride over to the marauders, who were now on the ground wrestling each other, and pick one up in each hand and repeatedly bring their heads together.
In the cells of Dragonstone, Tyrion prodded his former squire in the ribs to wake him up. Podrick started and dropped the keys, bent over to pick them up, dropped his sword, and dropped the keys again when he picked up the sword. Standing shamefaced in front of Tyrion, he reddened further when Jaime's voice was heard from behind the cell door.
"What's that noise out there? Are we under attack?"
"No, no, it's fine. It's me. Podrick, go wait for me outside, will you?"
"Yes m'lord!"
Podrick hurried off, the keys jangling. Tyrion watched him go, shaking his head before looking up at the narrow crossbars, the only opening in the door. He could barely make out his brother's face clearly in the gloom, but Jamie could see the top of his head.
"So? How did you get caught?"
"Never had a chance. Brienne told me I should stay, and then... I don't know what came over her, but she grabbed me from behind, pinned my arms, and had my own belt around me before I knew what was happening."
"That sort of treatment would cost a month's wages at the better class of brothel, and here you are getting the same treatment for free. You lucky man."
The brothers shared a laugh.
"So, how is your favor with Danaerys? Can you get me out?"
"On the contrary, I'm keeping you in. Can't have getting yourself killed by the guards if you try to sneak away on a ship. She's in a mood to send the Wolf after you."
"The what!? That lunatic is still here?! What is she thinking!?"
"He showed up by himself and offered his services. I..."
Even as he spoke, Tyrion felt how very foolish his actions seemed.
"… I hired him as my bodyguard in case Bronn shows up again."
Jaime pounded the bars of his cell.
"You're losing your touch. Even if he is easily manipulated, you really think you can get rid of him so easily? For gods' sakes, you've seen him butcher the Mountain, what hope do you have? He could sit on you and never realize it!"
"He scared off Euron."
"Of course he did, look at the size of him! … How?"
"As the Wolf explained it, he threatened to kill Euron then and there if he didn't sail the fleet away. And warned him that the Salt Throne was no longer his."
"And you saw this?"
"Almost. We nearly ran into the Silence, he dropped us off,and kept going towards the ship. When he came back to get us, we saw the Silence sailing away, and Euron standing on it waving at us. He's picked up a new helmet from somewhere, ugly-looking thing with spikes all over it."
Jamie shook his head.
"And how do you know he'll keep his word once the city is taken?"
"Well if he wants paying, he needs me alive. And I don't present a very tempting target to him. He really does seem to only battle those who can give him a good fight."
"And what else do you hope to do?"
"He's invited me to go drink with him."
Jamie stared at his brother. It was a look that wordlessly combined anger, amusement, and resignation.
"Danaerys thinks I should go as well. It may be a good way to get to learn what he wants."
"Other than more skulls? What happened to knowing things?"
"I do know things. By drinking, I will know more things."
Jaime said nothing. The unspoken question hung between them.
Tyrion sighed.
"Before the assault, I'll make one last attempt at saving her. With Davos' help, you'll both be in Pentos before the year's end."
Tyrion left the cells, not half as convinced of his success as he'd wanted to be.