AN: Be warned that this chapter covers several heavy topics.
Thoros of Myr cursed, as one of his feet had just stepped into deeper-than-expected mud.
And just when I'd finished cleaning off my boots…
If he was alone, Thoros would have sat down and taken the time to properly clean that boot again. But he was travelling in a group with companions who wouldn't look kindly on any delay.
Therefore, he simply snatched up a few relatively dry leaves from the ground, then spent a few seconds using them to scrub the mud off his boot. Not long enough to make it properly clean, but short enough that he wouldn't fall behind the others.
A lady on a grey horse rode past Thoros. She turned and looked at him balefully for a moment.
Thoros shuddered. He dropped the leaves, straightened up and resumed walking.
…Even after her recent defeat, Lady Catelyn is as imposing as ever.
The lady wore a long dress of faded blue wool and over that a grey cloak with a hood. This attire concealed most of her body, but it did not conceal the grey-green marks of decay on her face and hands. Nor did it conceal her many open wounds: ragged scratches on her face, a deep gash on her throat.
No normal woman, or man, could continue to function in this state. Catelyn Stark only persisted due to her own iron will and, of course, the power of the Lord of Light.
But for what purpose has she been brought back? 'Twas vengeance at first, but then…
Memories of people collapsing, one after the other, came unbidden to Thoros' mind. These were interspersed with memories of a man screaming in agony, yet also laughing in triumph.
Thoros shook his head. If he recalled those memories now, he wouldn't be able to keep walking.
Then he felt a tap on the shoulder from behind. "You've stopped again, priest," said a mocking voice.
"Thank you for the reminder, Ser Hyle," Thoros said graciously. "I will be sure not to do so again."
Thoros resumed moving, as did the man behind him. Said man was a twenty-three-year-old of average height and looks, with a small scar on the left side of his face. He wore a white surcoat emblazoned with a brown deer, the sigil of House Hunt of the Reach. He brought up the rear of their motley group.
This group had been travelling eastwards for over two months now. It hadn't been an easy journey. They couldn't simply follow the roads, often needing to divert into forests or hills to avoid bandits, Frey soldiers or Lannister soldiers. Bad weather, such as the storm from yesterday, made the journey slower still. Finally, they had insufficient horses and most of their group had to move on foot—and a group only moved at the speed of its slowest members.
But we have never been menaced by wolves. Odd, that, when the wolves of the Riverlands have become vicious as of late, often attacking travellers.
Now, they could already see the silhouettes of mountains in the distance. It wouldn't be long until they reached the Vale.
There is no guarantee we will find who we seek. But I pray to R'hllor that we do… both for Lady Catelyn's sake, and for the sake of the lady who is also a knight.
Aside from Thoros, Catelyn and Hyle, the group contained two others. One was a nervous-looking boy of thirteen. The other was a woman who, despite technically being a young maiden, had the muscular build of a knight and wore armour to match.
From what I hear, Lady Brienne has been searching for Lady Sansa for months, chasing after false leads and running into dead ends. It would be too cruel to her, if the Vale should prove yet another dead end.
But Thoros believed they might find success. If Sansa Stark was still alive, then the Vale was one of the few places she might find refuge. It was where her aunt ruled—until said aunt's recent death—and there were multiple lords there who had been friends with Eddard Stark. Lastly, he had a particular reason to believe Sansa was in the Vale, though not all of his companions shared it.
The walk continued for about three more hours. Then the sun was nearing the horizon, so the motley group of five came to a stop and set up camp.
Wood was gathered and used to start a campfire. Wild tubers and berries were gathered and, together with bread and cheese from their packs, made up tonight's dinner. Logs and large rocks served as seats.
As dinner was being heated over the fire, Thoros examined each of his companions in turn.
Ser Hyle commented snidely on the crude living conditions. At the same time, he was paying close attention to the skewers of food around the campire, turning them around often to avoid any food burning.
Podrick Payne, the nervous-looking boy, was tending to the horse. He was quite thorough in his work, possibly to minimise the chance of talking to anyone else.
Catelyn simply sat on her log and stared into the fire. She showed no interest in the food, lacking the need, interest or even ability to consume it anymore. She also did not try to converse with any of the others.
And Brienne… she too was staring into the fire. When Hyle remarked that he was the only one doing the cooking, she began turning the skewers too. However, she did little more than that. She sometimes glanced at Catelyn, only to soon look away.
Brienne looked completely and utterly exhausted. She'd been the same ever since they began their march to the Vale.
It is no wonder… after the loss she has suffered.
Over two months ago, Thoros had been part of a much larger group, but with a more sinister purpose than rescuing a maiden. Said group, the Brotherhood Without Banners, had captured the trio of Brienne, Podrick and Hyle. Seeing them as minions of the Lannisters, the Brotherhood had prepared to hang them. Only one thing had stopped them: a plot to make Brienne kill Jaime Lannister, using her two companions as hostages to force her compliance.
Many of my former brothers saw her as the "Kingslayer's whore"… someone who'd broken her vow to Lady Catelyn by serving the Lannisters. At the same time, her royal writ, and her Lannister-gifted sword of Valyrian steel, suggested she might have enough influence to take him by surprise.
And it had seemingly worked. The Brotherhood's scouts spotted Brienne and Jaime riding towards their base. They launched an ambush, causing Jaime to viciously curse Brienne for her treachery.
And she wept incessantly… for her own betrayal, we thought. Oh, how we were fools…
To distract himself from that line of thought, Thoros gazed into the flames of the campfire. Unlike the others doing the same, he had a specific purpose.
"Oh, R'hllor, the one true god…" Thoros prayed. "Show us, your loyal followers—"
"Most of us are still followers of the Seven, old man," Hyle interrupted.
"—that which we seek. Show us the whereabouts of young Sansa Stark and Arya Stark."
For a moment, the campfire continued to be nothing more than mere tongues of orange light. Then he saw another image within.
"I see…" Thoros said solemnly, "a maid with blue eyes and hair black as night, with a silver-plumaged bird spreading its wings above her, as if in protection. And yet… the maid seems fearful of the bird as well."
Hyle clapped his hands in obvious sarcasm. "Thank you, o great priest. You've done well, seeing the exact same thing you've claimed to see for two months."
"Do you doubt the Lord of Light has true power?" Thoros said. "Even after seeing it firsthand—hmm?"
Thoros looked into the flames again. He saw another image, this one completely unfamiliar.
There was a girl with dark hair and eyes, though some might mistake her for a boy. She was in a dark room filled with sacks, crates and barrels.
If I recall correctly, young Arya takes after her father in appearance, not her mother…
Then Thoros saw a strange island, one dotted with hills—no, not hills, pyramids built from bricks. The space between the pyramids was filled with low-lying buildings and countless people, many of them in iron collars. Without warning, the collars turned to black and red cloth. A moment later, the cloth collars rotted into fragments that fell to the ground.
Those were slaves, for certain. But how could iron turn to cloth?
The dark-haired girl slipped through the alleys between the buildings, avoiding the crowds of former slaves and their former masters. She paused briefly to watch something flying in the sky above.
What is that creature? Birds do not have such long tails…
Then the girl boarded a ship, hiding within its hold once more. Finally, the image was replaced by a bluish fog.
Thoros continued looking into the campfire for a while longer, but he saw no further visions.
"P-Priest Thoros?" Podrick said. "Did you see something else?"
"…Yes, but I do not understand the significance," Thoros said carefully. "I will tell you what I saw…"
Thoros described his later vision in as much detail as possible. His description of Arya caused Catelyn to look up in surprise.
"Why did you not see this before?" Brienne asked.
"I can only admit that I am not sure," Thoros said. "This power belongs not to me, but to the Lord of Light. It is by his will that I may glimpse distant sights."
"And speaking of distant, just where in the world are there pyramid-shaped buildings?" Hyle asked. "There's none in Westeros, unless those wildlings beyond the Wall are better architects than we know."
"I remember being told of pyramids once," Brienne said. "It is the architectural style of the Ghiscari, a people from Essos."
"From southern Essos, to be specific," Thoros said. "Ghiscari live in and around Slaver's Bay, a region so named for… its major industry. Though I have never visited it myself, I recall hearing of the pyramids several times."
Catelyn scowled. For the first time tonight, she pressed a hand over her slit throat and emitted a series of harsh, guttural sounds. The others froze and listened intently.
"Arya… in Slaver's Bay? She is but a girl of eleven… if they dare put her in chains…"
Catelyn's distorted speech was difficult for most to comprehend, thanks to the damage to her throat. But she could still write with her hands, even if it was slower to convey information than speaking, and in this way she could teach others how to understand her words. The four here had all learned how to understand her.
"My lady, I will accompany you as far as required to find both of your daughters," Brienne said.
Catelyn narrowed her eyes, causing Brienne to flinch. Even now, after everything that happened, Catelyn hated her for perceived betrayal. She hated any attempt by Brienne to claim continued loyalty.
"I'm afraid I can't say the same," Hyle said, shaking his head. "I agreed to help rescue the Stark girls, but that was under the assumption they're in Westeros. If one of them is now in Essos…"
Brienne glared at Hyle—Thoros could tell there was a bad history between the two. "Ser Hyle, you were never required nor asked for. You joined this search solely for your own gain. If you wish to leave, you may do so now." She then looked at her squire with a kinder gaze. "Podrick, I will not ask you to travel so far—"
"I… I'm no coward, my lady!" Podrick shot back.
"But you accompanied me to find…" Brienna glanced hesitantly at Catelyn, "your master, who may not be anywhere near Lady Arya."
Thoros clapped his hands to gain attention. "Before we consider what to do with Lady Arya, perhaps we should focus our attentions on Lady Sansa, who we know to be much closer."
"A fair point…" Catelyn hissed. "How much longer until we reach the Vale…?"
"Two or three days, if all goes well," Hyle replied. "Though it might be another week before we reach the Eyrie, where your elder daughter presumably is."
"And that assumes the roads are good," Thoros warned. "I've heard tales of the Vale's mountain clans becoming much more dangerous as of late."
"We must find her… no matter the danger…" Catelyn insisted.
"L-Lady Stark," Podrick said hesitantly. He began shivering when Catelyn looked at him, but he added, "The silver mockingbird is L-Lord Petyr's sigil, you said e-earlier. We know he's now lord of the Vale, but… c-could you tell us more about him? I-If you please…"
Catelyn looked at the ground for several moments. She'd been asked this question several times before, but never answered. Clearly, she had complicated feelings regarding her childhood friend, who was now Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Trident, and Lord Protector of the Vale.
After a few moments, she let out a tortured sigh. "Very well… I may as well tell you…"
Thoros and the others leaned in closer, not wanting to miss a word.
"Petyr… came from a tiny strip of land, the smallest of what are called the Fingers… and so some call him 'Littlefinger'… He was raised in Riverrun, as a ward of my father… He developed feelings for me, but I could not answer them…"
Perhaps Petyr Baelish now cared for Sansa due to his love for her mother. But Thoros had seen much of the horrors of the world, and during his time in King's Landing, he'd also heard terrible rumours about Baelish. He wondered just what motivations were driving the newly made lord.
"Years later, he was made Master of Coin… In more recent years, he served the Lannisters…" Catelyn's voice was filled with venom as she spoke that word. "They rewarded him with Harrenhal, as well as a title that belongs to my family…"
"And he became Lord Protector of the Vale by marrying Lysa Arryn, its widowed lady," Hyle said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Lady Catelyn… do you know what her feelings regarding him are? Or rather, were?"
"Lysa… I know that she loved him… Hearing that she married him was not a surprise… But her murder?" Catelyn hissed. "They say a singer pushed her out of the Eyrie… I know not if Petyr returned her feelings… but at the very least, he is guilty of not protecting his wife…"
"Do you plan to meet him personally?" Brienne asked. "My—Lady Catelyn?"
"If he has Sansa… certainly… and if he has done anything except protect her…"
Catelyn picked up a stick and snapped it in two. This was at the limits of what she could do with the strength of her rotted body. But it still caused Thoros and the others to shudder.
"W-When we reach the Vale, we should have a plan, I th-think," Podrick said. "The… lord I once served, he often talked of the need to… to build a power base, those were his words…"
That was a good point. However Petyr Baelish had gained lordship over the Vale, the fact was that he had at least some influence there. Thoros' group consisted of just five people, one still a child. They would need to make local allies to accomplish anything.
"If the Vale lords recognise our lady, that will be helpful," Thoros said. "But… forgive me, Lady Catelyn, but your appearance is much changed compared to before. One or more lords might fail to recognise you, or use your appearance as an excuse to not recognise you."
"Hmm… I was there two years ago… I will ensure they recognise me…"
They continued conversing for a while, eating their dinner at the same time. Eventually, they began heading off to sleep.
Thoros took the first watch. Technically, there was no need for him to do so since Lady Catelyn could remain awake throughout the entire night. But he and the others still used this system, not wanting to leave her as the only one still awake.
Both out of duty… and out of simple fear, Thoros thought. 'Tis impossible for us to forget that she is a walking corpse.
Soon enough, the night was filled with the sounds of snoring. Not all slept restfully, however.
Thoros noticed Brienne shifting in her sleep, anguish clear on her face. At times, she would gasp a certain name, one that caused Catelyn to glare at her in quiet fury. It was these nocturnal outbursts that made it impossible for the lady to ever forgive the female knight.
But I cannot blame her… either of them. Lady Catelyn lost almost all her family to the Lannisters' actions. And Lady Brienne… what happened to her love was abominable.
Even if he had the last laugh in the end…
Thoros recalled the Brotherhood's last days. After capturing Jaime, many in the Brotherhood had wanted to make Brienne watch what they did to the Kingslayer. But Thoros and a few others had objected, and eventually Catelyn had allowed Brienne and her two companions to leave—though without their horses, which the Brotherhood confiscated.
But Thoros had not had the luxury of leaving. In the past couple of months, he often wished he'd not had to watch those horrors.
I told Lady Brienne before… war makes monsters of us all… And never more was it true then on those days.
The Brotherhood Without Banners had mostly composed of victims of the Lannister—less commonly, Stark—forces. Men and woman who'd seen their fields pillaged, their homes burned, their families raped and slaughtered. They'd often vented their hatred by killing Lannister men in ambushes. And here they had one of the actual Lannisters, the first son no less.
Most of the Brotherhood's targets were killed in combat or executed by hanging—quick deaths with minimal suffering.
Jaime Lannister had not been allowed that mercy. Not until three days had passed, and only because his body could no longer endure the abuses heaped upon it.
Had Lady Brienne seen what we did to him… she would have attacked us for certain, no matter the hopeless odds…
And she would have doubled back for Ser Jaime, much as he once did for her… If Ser Hyle and young Podrick had not stopped her, then she too would be dead now.
After exacting vengeance on Jaime, the Brotherhood had planned to move on to another target: Daven Lannister, who would be getting married to one of the Freys, another family accursed in the eyes of gods and men. There would be members of Houses Lannister and Frey gathered in Riverrun for the wedding. Lady Catelyn had wanted to exterminate all the vermin in her family home, a fitting reward for what they'd done at her brother's wedding to a Frey.
And then the members of the Brotherhood had begun falling ill. At first it was three, then eight, then seventeen, and then far too many to count. Unable to walk, soon unable to get up from their bedrolls at all.
I thought it a curse at the time, R'hllor's curse on those who became just as monstrous as those they fought.
Even when Lady Brienne later told me the truth, I had trouble believing it. An arrogant and proud Lannister, famed for his skill in swordsmanship, resorting to such a tactic?
For Jaime Lannister had seen through Brienne's attempt to lure him to the Brotherhood—she was a poor liar, after all. He'd demanded to know the truth. A sobbing Brienne had admitted everything, then submitted herself for his judgement.
…He was known as the Kingslayer, infamous for being dishonourable. Yet in his final days… he saved three innocents from unjust execution, using one of the most dishonourable tactics of all…
Half a day prior to the ambush, Jaime Lannister had cut himself—small cuts on his legs and torso, so they could then be covered by his clothing. He'd rubbed mud, horse dung and a rotting animal carcass over the cuts. And then he'd warned Brienne not to touch him thereafter, ignoring her protests.
All people, whether highborn or low, Westerosi or Essosi, know to avoid infected wounds, which can easily lead to death. Yet Ser Jaime leveraged this to cause the deaths of far more than himself. Had he just fought with his sword, he might have killed one or two of us at most…
The Brotherhood had spilled Jaime's blood eagerly during the three days of torture. None was revolted by being spattered in his blood, even though that could be risky with the blood of a normal man, much less a man deliberately brewing death within himself.
Quite a few complained of him expiring too fast. In hindsight, it was because of the multiple infections he'd given himself…
Thoros could still remember each and every person who'd fallen sick afterwards. Some thought it was a supernatural curse, like Thoros. Some realised it was a scheme of Jaime's, and they cursed him in the mundane sense until their dying breaths. All had begged for Thoros' healing.
I never thought I would ever refuse aid to the dying… yet that is just what I did. To my own brothers and sisters in arms…
And so the Brotherhood Without Banners had come to an end: born because of atrocity, destroyed because of atrocity. Over half their number died to sickness, including all who had tortured Jaime Lannister… all but one.
After all, someone who'd been dead for three days could not die again, not to mere sickness.
Lady Catelyn was a much more ruthless woman now, but even she had appeared shocked at the loss of her personal army. Not only had so many died to Jaime's scheme, but the survivors had been annihilated by what happened next—an attack by the Lannister army, searching for their lost commander.
And yet I survived… Thoros looked down at his wrinkled, but still very much healthy hands. While I had no part in tormenting Ser Jaime, I still spent time around dozens of sick people. And the Lannister men killed many more when they came. Lady Catelyn and I only survived because we hid beneath dead leaves… but if they'd been more thorough in their search, even we would have died then.
Is this R'hllor's will, as well…?
If he still lived, he might as well make use of it. He shuffled over and placed a hand on Brienne's shoulder, hoping it might reassure her. At the same time, he whispered a prayer to R'hllor, asking the god to ease this woman's nightmares.
"How dare you… Thoros…?"
The lady's voice made Thoros shudder. Even so, he finished his prayer.
"She is no traitor, Lady Catelyn," Thoros murmured when he was done. "If she was, she could have ridden ahead of us to reach your daughter first. She was the one who found our sole horse, as you recall. Or if she only cared for her own life, she could have ridden away in any direction. Yet she sought you out again… despite everything that had happened."
Catelyn scowled. "But she should not be grieving for him… He was no innocent…"
"Perhaps… but love is not so simple. I have never truly loved another, not in that way, but even I know this fact."
Catelyn was silent afterwards. Perhaps she was now reminiscing about her own love.
That is good. It means less time spent stewing in thoughts of revenge…
…though if she recalls how Lord Eddard was killed, it may have the opposite effect.
Thoros continued his watch for a while. He yawned a few times—watch duty never became less boring no matter how many times he did it.
At one point, he glimpsed dark shapes in the distance that might have been wolves. Thoros gripped the hilt of his sword—though technically a priest, he'd seen his fair share of fighting.
Minutes passed. Eventually, Thoros could no longer see the wolves—if that was indeed their true identity—and he relaxed slightly.
The wolf is the sigil of House Stark, yet we have none of Stark blood in our little party… perhaps Lady Catelyn's marriage is sufficient to make her a Stark?
Thoros chuckled. He'd spent most of his life not caring for legends and fairy tales, preferring the reality of battle and drink and women.
Yet now I am a true Red Priest, able to make the dead walk again, able to see distant truths within flames. I should not dismiss the possibility of a family having affinity for wolves.
And that vision I just saw… I am still unsure what that thing in the sky was, but it seemed to be no normal creature.
Truly, the present era is one of magic.
AN: I checked the fan timeline, and Jaime being lured by Brienne to Lady Stoneheart happens almost two months before this story begins, meaning it can't be affected by the MGE crossover.
Then I thought about possible outcomes of this meeting. At one point, my plan was to have Brienne and her companions be killed too, since it seemed the most realistic outcome. I eventually decided on what you see in this chapter. My apologies to any Jaime fans who wanted to see him alive.
The idea of biological warfare is something I mention back in Chapter 14. At the time, I didn't expect to follow up on it, but then I began writing this chapter.