Chapter Text
- She must go to King’s Landing.
- What? Who?
- Brienne of Tarth. She must go to King’s Landing.
- Why?
- She must.
Sansa sighed. She knew that asking further questions would not bring better answers. Trying to argue with Bran would be equally pointless. He would not relent, he would not explain, he would not ever try to make these conversations easier for her or help her work out the details of what he wants to be done. She bit her lower lip for a second, then sent her maid to find Brienne.
Brienne came quickly, as always. She was breathing rather heavily and her cheeks were red.
- Apologies, my lady, - she bowed her head. – I have been training the new guards.
Sansa nodded, slightly biting her lip again.
- Ser Brienne, you are to travel to King’s Landing. You may choose your horse and pack your bag; I will take care of the provisions.
- As you command, my lady. My purpose?
- My brother thinks you must. Brienne turned to Bran, alarmed and apprehensive.
- I never ‘think’. I know, - he said in his quiet, frighteningly even voice.
- Must Podrick go with me?
- No.
- Very well, I… - she stopped herself and just nodded instead.
It took Brienne about an hour to pack and leave instructions to Podrick. On Sansa’s insistence, she took a quick bath, ate a large meal and went to her chamber for a short sleep, while Podrick prepared her armor, her sword, and the best horse he could find in the stables. When everything was ready, Sam knocked on her door to wake her up and show her the contents of a bundle he brought with him. Clean linen cloth cut into long ribbons and wrapped around a stick, a needle and a thread in a strange glass jar filled with liquid that smelled like wine, wound salve, a small bottle of milk of the poppy and another, with essence of nightshade.
- Remember, no more than three drops. Well, ten, if you want someone dead, - he chuckled lightly.
- I don’t want anyone dead, - she said. – Not anymore. But I thank you anyway.
Farewells didn’t take long.
***
She stopped only when she knew that the horse needed rest. Villages along the King’s Road had been mostly abandoned, and the death of her horse almost certainly meant her own death. The wolves roamed freely in the North, and she was able to find a safe place to camp for a few hours of sleep only when she reached the Neck. That respite, however, came at a price, because now she wasn’t able to stop thinking about the reason why Bran wanted her to go there. Was she supposed to save someone? Or kill someone? Or simply die for some important reason she would never be worthy of knowing? She thought of Arya and Jon, - they were Starks, after all, and maybe there was something human in Bran still to want to help one or both of them. She tried her best to not think of Jaime, because she couldn’t see why would Bran send her to save him and she could not bear the thought of fighting him, but every time she saw something glisten in the snow or in a puddle, she had to get closer and check if it was his golden hand. He was desperate enough to ride his horse to death, she thought every time she heard a wolf howl. Or would she catch up to him? It was not entirely impossible, especially if he was somehow delayed along the way. What would she say to him then? He would never believe Bran sent her; he’d think she followed him just to cry and beg again. She was able to hold back tears, but her face would flush from a wave of shame every time she remembered that night. She must have looked so ugly, so weak, so disgusting. She had never been defeated in combat, but his words rendered her powerless and in so much pain that she felt she was being flayed alive. She thought, and thought, and thought about it, and she still couldn’t understand how he could be so cruel after being so tender, how could he claim that he had never cared for the innocent after telling her about Aerys and after jumping into the bear pit for her. He traced those scars on her neck with his fingers so gently, so softly. One night, he whispered in her ear that he came to the North because of her and that he couldn’t stand the thought of her dying alone on the battlefield. And then he changed, everything about him changed, when he heard the news. And he said what he said.
***
She saw people flocking to the city gates from a distance. She knew she had to follow, but she was too big and tall to not be noticed, and there was a lion’s head bobbing over the sword sheath on her hip. She made her way to the siege camp instead, where everyone knew her by sight, and asked to see Tyrion. There was such fear in his eyes when he saw her that she knew instantly that he had seen his brother.
- What is happening here? – she asked.
- Mayhem.
- I can see that. Have you seen… - she meant to say ‘Arya’, but Tyrion didn’t let her finish.
- He’s been captured as soon as he arrived. But he… escaped.
- Escaped? On his own?
- Be quiet. Nobody knows yet that he escaped.
- What is his plan?
- He is to ring the bells in the city. It would mean surrender.
- And?
- Isn’t that enough? You’d prefer the city to burn?
- He did not come here to ring the bells. He came to save his sister.
- I can’t tell you more.
She stayed silent for a moment.
- How do I get into the city if not through the gates?
- Why?
- I don’t know, but I know I should be there, not here.
- You are not going to?..
- No.
- If I tell you, may I expect you to not betray my trust?
- I can swear I won’t tell anyone, if that is what you mean.
- And you won’t interfere with his plan.
- What is his plan?
- Promise you will not interfere.
- If the plan is stupid, I might.
Tyrion gave her a long look and nodded slowly.
- He is to save Cersei and take her to Pentos.
- So there is a boat somewhere.
- Yes.
- And there is a way to get to the boat from the Red Keep?
- Yes.
- Which means it would work the other way too. Where is the boat?
- I cannot tell you…
- You already told me most of it. Where is the boat?
- Promise me you will not interfere.
- I cannot promise that.
- Promise you won’t fight him.
- You know I won’t.
- Even if he tries to kill you?
- I don’t think he will.
- To save his sister, he would kill me, and you, and the entire city.
- Is that what you think of your brother?
- I love him dearly, but yes. Yes, that is what I think.
They both looked away from each other. Then Brienne said, slowly and carefully:
- Bran told me I must go to King’s Landing. I don’t know why. But probably not to spend time talking to you. I may be of use in the city.
- Bran. All of this nonsense started because of fucking Bran.
- Tell me where the boat is or I am going to your Queen and telling her that you helped Jaime escape.
- Blackmail? You?
- Where is the boat?
- Can you even get there alone? It’s a treacherous little cove, you need to be good with a boat.
- I’m from Tarth, how do you think I spent my childhood?
- I don’t know, needlework?
She couldn’t help a half-smile.