10

WALTON

Where did the fucking northmen come from?

Walton was still asking himself that as they led him through their bloody camp. Men hooted and hollered at him. Some even brandished knifes.

I had almost a hundred mounted men.

Enough to fight off the bogdevils.

Not half the bloody North!

When he ordered his men to give chase to a score of swamp scum they'd spotted at the creek's edge Walton thought he might finally have earned a reason to return to the Twins. He hated that he'd been given this duty. Sent out to fight rabble such as these animas, it had been insulting.

It was Edwyn's idea of course. To take men away from the Twins to see who they could trust. It felt like Black Walder's claws were in everything it.

Even Walton's own daughter.

Once they'd crushed these raiders he swore to return to the castle. He'd give a report and enjoy some days comfort, a serving girl he'd taken to as of late, perhaps even convince his father to send someone else back in his stead.

Then, out of nowhere, spearmen had attacked their right, charging through the trees howling bloody murder. Arrows came soon after, flying from archers who had risen up from below brush just in front of their prey.

As soon as Walton realized it was a trap he tried to retreat. There was nowhere to retreat to though. The creek blocked their left and a great number of horsemen had launched an attack from behind. The battle had been quick and bloody, his men slaughtered around him with little mercy shown for any the Northmen fell upon.

Plenty of mercy left for Walton though. While his men died nary an arrow or sword came near him. In fact a group of enemy men had even formed up around him, defending him from harm.

Despite everything else, that put him at ease. Even offered him some hope.

Until he was pulled from his horse to fall hard upon his arse.

As they dragged through a camp in the making he spotted bogdevils, Northmen and even a sigil of House Royce from the Vale. The tour ended abruptly when they reached one tent in particular, one his captors pulling aside the flaps to throw him within.

He landed face first, his nose exploding in blood and pain. He cried out and a boot slammed into his side for his trouble.

"Enough." A deep voice commanded. "Get him on his feet."

Despite the pain Walton thought he recognized that voice. He'd grown to hate it during his march with the Wolf King. He was yanked to his feet and, sure enough, he saw the old knight he expected standing before him.

"Blackfish. You fool." Walton spat at him.

To his disappointment the mix of blood and spittle missed Tully's face entirely, landing upon his boot instead.

The Blackfish marched forward and responded with an armored fist into Walton's gut. He would have doubled over had the men on either side of him not held him up.

"I was wrong, now it's enough." The Blackfish's face was stone as the guards forced Walton's face to meet his gaze.

"I was right your grace." The knight spoke to some figures behind him. "They were led by no mere captain but a Frey himself. I give you Walton Frey, son number who cares of another damned son of Walder Frey."

Your grace?

He half expected to see Stannis Baratheon himself standing before the Blackfish. Instead he found a stern looking young man next to a comely girl. She had long red hair and in her simple gown of grey something about made her seem very familiar.

Then he spotted the crown of bronze upon her brow.

"Your grace? Who is the child?"

"I am Sansa Stark. Queen in the North." The girl said and the tone of her voice had none of the appeal of the rest of her.

"The Imp's wife?" Walton laughed. "Following another wolf pup eh Blackfish? Hope to do better this time hiding behind her skirts rather than castle walls?"

Tully's hand flexed on his sword hilt but he made no move to strike. Something else was moving though. It came from behind the so-called Stark girl and her companion. A giant wolf had now emerged from the shadows and Walton drew back away from it.

No, we killed it.

We cut off its head! Took it's pelt!

It took him a moment to overcome his terror enough to see this was a different wolf altogether.

This one was white as snow but just as massive as the one they killed during the wedding. Its bright red eyes were the worst thing about it, for they had locked upon Walton and had a hungry look about them.

It can't know what we did, he thought, it's just a stupid beast.

The wolf bared its teeth in a silent snarl.

"Keep that thing away." He struggled with his guards but they held firm. "Just keep it away."

"He is of a size with you ser." The young man placed his hand upon the beast's head. "His armor and cloak would fit well."

My armor?

Are the Starks outlaws now?

The Blackfish grunted and the youth came walked around Walton. Suddenly the man was grabbing roughly at his bound hands, pulling his fingers apart. One by one the rings Walton wore were ripped forcefully from his fingers and tossed at the Blackfish who caught them with ease.

"These will help too."

They have become bandits.

That meant they were desperate and Walton felt a surge of hope. If they were so eager for armor and gold then perhaps they'd be willing to ransom him.

"Are you sure?" The Blackfish eyed the rings warily.

"I'm sure of nothing. She said as much of the man that made him look as others see him."

That confused him. When he'd let his men loot corpses they mostly argued about the quality of the gold. This lot should be arguing over how much his ransom could be. Walton prepared himself to lie about his value when the questions started.

"How many men are at the Twins now?" The Blackfish moved to a brazier where a brand lay heating upon the glowing coals. "Answer Frey."

Walton puffed his chest out and tried to sound braver than he was.

"Two thousand, hungry for battle."

The wolf snarled again, oddly silent and took a menacing step towards him. Walton had seen first hand what those beasts could do to a man and feared it more than any branding.

Where did they keep finding such foul creatures?

"He lies." The ring thief said as he went to stand beside the girl. "It would be better to answer truthfully. How many men?"

"Ask Tully, he saw our army and ran."

The Blackfish made a sound like a laugh and lifted the brand from the fire. It burned a bright orange at the end and the Blackfish's eyes narrowed upon that.

"Remove his armor and coverings." He commanded.

Walton's hands were no sooner undone then the guards went to work stripping him to his small clothes. The girl did not look away, apparently his nudity did not bother her. He'd always said the northerners were little more than savages but it did not comfort him much to be proven right.

As soon as it was done his hands were bound again, in front of him this time.

"Leave us." The Stark girl's words caused the guards and to bow and leave the tent.

The Black twirled the brand before Walton, smirking some at his distress, before tossing beside the brazier.

"Won't really be needing that. But I'll need your help with my armor Snow." The Blackfish said as he began to remove his plate. "Niece, I'd have you avert your eyes."

"Of course uncle." The Stark girl said, turning her back to them as the young man helped the old knight to strip away his armor.

Walton thought to run then but the wolf snapped in the air, reminding him he was still under guard. So Walton watched feebly as the Blackfish's armor was piled in the corner of the tent, shaking as much in fear as from the chill of being almost nude. When Tully began to remove his clothing as well he got a sick feeling as well.

It is too foul for him to do.

He'd heard sometimes men would be used as maids as a way to get information from them. When Tully was down to just his small clothes Walton shook his head in disbelief.

"Blackfish…you wouldn't…all those years you never took a wife but I never thought…"

"By the seven you Freys disgust me." The old man shook his head as he walked to the pile of Walton's clothing and began dressing in them.

What is happening here?

He watched as Tully dressed as him, even donning his armor with the Northman's help. Then the rings they'd taken from him were put on the old knight's fingers. Walton's fingers were plumper than the knights so they were changed to larger fingers.

Tully walked back over to his own pile of clothes, searching his pockets until he pulled up a silver bauble of sorts which he tucked into his new garb.

"You're supposed to wear his possessions." The Northman protested and the Blackfish scowled.

"I'm bloody wearing them. And I'm not leaving this either. We'll have to hope your red magic is just that good." He gestured to a bag at the young man's side. "You have them?"

Answered with a nod Tully turned his attention to Walton again.

"How many men are at the Twins?"

"I told you." He said through chattering teeth. "An army."

The knight glanced to his companion who shook his head.

"I warned you." The young man said. "Ghost."

That word was the only warning Walton had before the beast jumped up to claw into his chest and snap its jaws a hair away from his face. He cried out and fell backwards onto his sore arse. The beast did not follow his fall but began to pace directly before him.

"How many men?" The Blackfish asked again.

"I'll never…"

His words became a scream as the wolf's jaws were on his leg. The pain was a blinding flash as the beast wrenched his leg back and forth. He screamed and kicked but the jaws held firm and were soon coated in blood.

Through all his cries someone spoke and the teeth were suddenly gone.

"Oh maiden save me. Mother save me." Walton writhed in agony on the ground. His leg below his knee was a mangled mess. "My leg…."

"Tell us. How many men?"

The wolf moved above Walton's face now, blood staining its snout and dripping from those fangs. He had seen the other wolf tear men's throats out.

Imagine what it can do to faces.

"Three…three hundred."

"Why so few?"

"More than enough to hold a castle such as ours!"

The wolf snapped at his face again and he released his bladder in the terror. He was cringing away, snivelling with fear but noticed the Stark girl watching. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Speak Walton. Before we let you bleed to death." Tully warned and Walton realized he did feel faint.

"Hunting outlaws...Emmet wanted a host to patrol the Tully lands to show strength…the Mallisters aren't trusted…one last harvest…" He let it all flow out. "Too many problems not enough men!"

More questions followed. Less about the defences and more about who was at the castle. Strange ones about who was related to who, how Walton was treated, things of that like. All the while his leg sat bleeding while the wolf watched hungrily.

"I believe him." The Blackfish said looking to the girl. "I think it is time."

"Then do as you must sers." She replied.

The northman pulled two items from his bag. They looked to be bracelets, each with a single bright red ruby on it. He went over to the brazier and rolled up his sleeve to hold his arm above the fire. The Blackfish joined him, taking a knife out and grasping the young man's arm.

"Go ahead."

The Blackfish needed no further encouragement before cuting quickly across the other man's arm.

What is this? Torture?

Is he a prisoner too?

Walton took notice the cut was not too deep, enough for blood to begin leaking into the fire. The bleeding man held the two bracelets under the wound until each had been bled upon. Walton wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or his fear but the rubies seemed to glow.

"First on him, then you." The boy said after a few moments of his blood falling into the fire but the Blackfish was unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure enough to bleed for it, go on."

The Stark girl came forward with a cloth, touching it to the cut man's arm as the old knight walked over and grabbed one of Walton's wrists.

"What are you doing?"

"In a small way I hope nothing." The Blackfish said before clamping a bracelet down upon Walton's wrist.

He was cold and growing weak, but he swore the bracelet felt warmer than it should. The Blackfish hooked the other bracelet around his own wrist and then did nothing. The knight simply crouched there beside Walton's bloody leg, staring at the bracelet.

A glance to the others showed them watching the old knight, as if waiting for something. Walton was beginning to worry they'd gone mad when he saw it.

At first he thought it was the dim light in the tent.

Perhaps even the loss of blood making him see things.

For the Blackfish was changing before his eyes.

It wasn't just the old man. The air around them both seemed to be shimmering but no fire cast this light. As he watched the knight's body began to take a different form. His shoulders rounded, his lean frame widened and bulged some while his grey hair changed style and then color.

Seven hells his face.

That's not his face.

The Blackfish's face was being transformer as well. His nose narrowed and grew to a familiar shape and he seemed to shrink a little.

It was over before Walton could say it begun but as the Blackfish rose it was no longer the Blackfish staring down at him.

For now Walton was staring down at himself.

"Gods…uncle…" The girl sounded terrified herself and paled.

"I take it I have become uglier?" The other Walton asked in a different voice, turning to face them.

"Indeed ser." The other man answered. "You are what we need you to be."

Not Walton nodded then turned his own eyes on the trembling, bleeding Walton on the floor. His face seemed to darken.

To see his own face looking at him with such hatred caused Walton to forget all else. He rolled to his stomach and began to drag himself to the tent flap.

"Then his part is done." Other Walton said. "We've no need for him?"

"Not as long as you wear what you do."

His leg was a screaming wreck but he urged himself onward. Another few moments and he'd be without. Away from these monsters.

"Your grace, I'd ask you look away."

"No, I won't…I would see this. It's on my command."

Walton could almost reach the flap. His fingers close to touching it when he heard the word.

"Ghost."

The wolf.

He'd forgotten the wolf.

He looked back just in time to see flash of the teeth as they came at his throat.

Other Walton was there, watching.

Then the man born as Walton Frey saw nothing more.

JON

"There they are. Won't be long now."

The Blackfish pointed ahead at the castles in the distance. Except he wasn't really Brynden Tully anymore. His face was different. His body was different.

Even his voice is different, Jon realized, can he hear that as well?

To the others it would look as if it was Walton Frey riding beside him. As far as they all knew the Blackfish was scouting other approaches to the castle.

This Frey a mere traitor.

"Galbart was right. An army could never take those things." He said, squinting ahead at the castle which appeared formidable even this far out. "How long do you think? Within the hour?"

"Likely. Took about that when I rode south with King Robb." The Blackfish said with a grimace. "When he had to pay homage to Walder Frey before crossing that damned bridge."

Jon caught the strange look shared between Willem and the other man riding with them.

Walton Frey never rode south with Robb.

"Your grandfather is quite the monster. Like the rest of your family." Jon said quickly, willing the Blackfish to understand.

The man jerked around upon his horse, appearing ready to spit an insult back at him before catching himself.

"You're right…of course…lost our way." The Blackfish shot a glance at the others who scowled that Walton would dare to look their way.

It had taken some convincing from Sansa and Howland for Maege, Galbart and the others to accept that Walton Frey had been a spy the whole time. He thought it unlikely Yohn ever would have believed it no matter what they said. For once he was glad Sansa had sent him back to the sisters to gather his men, just in case things in the south went poorly.

And they surely could

Even Robb's original army of almost twenty thousand wouldn't have been able to take that castle by storm. Sansa's army only numbered a tenth of that.

And they're two days behind us four.

We're on our own.

"I wish you well on your journey brave knights." Sansa had said before Willem and he were to ride out of camp. "You all will be in my prayers. All of our prayers."

"I'd rather be in the Twins sitting on Lord Walder's chair when you lot come bursting in." Willem had joked but even his good humor couldn't break a smile upon her face.

It shamed him to be glad Sansa hadn't a chance to say a farewell to him alone, to think it better she had to do so with others about. He hadn't wanted to see her cry. Not again.

Not like in his dreams.

Those had been strange dreams.

The night after leaving he'd dreamt of Sansa laying upon her furs, weeping and cradling him against her. Jon had wanted to comfort her, to stop her whimpering but he couldn't speak. Only watch, and allow her to muffle her sobs against him.

When he'd awoken in his tent he'd half expected to be beside her. Instead he'd found himself sharing a tent with the other three men. The damp, cold had made him wish Ghost was there, the wolf often warmer than a hearth, but he'd left his friend behind as well.

The direwolf had been beside Sansa during their farewells and Jon hoped he'd stay there throughout the march. There was no place for Ghost at the Twins and Sansa promised to keep his friend with her at all times. It wasn't really necessary, lately Ghost had been happy enough to be near Sansa when Jon could not be. She said many nights during the chilly march south the wolf had come into her tent and slept beside her. He believed she could have no better guard while he was gone.

Ghost can be her shield for now.

I must be her sword in this.

"Remember my sword bastard." The Blackfish interrupted then, speaking in a hushed tone so that the others would not hear. "Do not think to betray us in this. If I get one hint of you hoping to raise yourself up by giving over the Queen to the Freys…"

"You'll kill me." Jon finished for him. "If I did betray Sansa I imagine they'd do much the same once the deed was done. Why would a family that cares so little for honor care to honor a deal with a bastard?"

When the Blackfish glared instead of answering Jon answered for him.

"They wouldn't. So I'll keep my word and do my part."

"And if they put you to the question?"

"Then I'll keep my tongue…or bite it off if I can't."

He spoke sincerely in that, for he'd already expected the castles ahead could hold such a fate.

If not worse.

The Blackfish grunted then took a glance at Jon's face.

"You can take a punch, that's for certain. How do you fare?"

In truth, poorly.

"I am well."

Jon sported a broken lip, swollen eye and a cut over his cheek. The eye bothered him the most. With his bound hands he reached up to gently touch his swollen face.

They had been well away from camp when he had asked the Blackfish to do what needed to be done. Sansa would have been pained to see it. If their story was to be believed and Jon captured during a battle he must have injuries. Wounds the old knight had obliged to give him with little restraint.

With bare knuckles, thankfully.

"I fear I am still prettier than you."

At that the Blackfish actually chuckled a bit. They travelled with little talk the rest of the short journey. The Blackfish only speaking again when the castle on their side of the river loomed before them.

"They will send riders soon. Everyone remember your parts to play in this mummer's show."

"We know our parts well Frey." Willem said with disgust. His hand went to his sword hilt. "It's your family with the history of forgetting its place. Do well to remember yours."

They did not have long to wait for the riders Ser Brynden expected. When they were well within range of the archers standing along the castle walls a party of riders rode from the gate towards them.

He counted six of them, with a hard, ferret faced man in heavy armor leading the way.

"Walder Rivers, damn. He's a harsh one." The Blackfish murmured quietly. "Be wary."

Jon was too busy praying to be wary. Hoping against anything these men saw a Frey beside him and not the Tully knight. The party reined up before them, only Walder Rivers rode on, circling Jon's group.

"Walton!" The man barked with little warmth and less welcome. "What are you doing here? Where are your men?"

"Walder, I left my men where they were needed. Watching for more raids, I had safe enough escort with these two good men." The Blackfish gestured to the Vale men at the mention of good men and then jerked his head towards Jon. "I have a prisoner for our lord and news he must hear. Now bring us into the castle."

"Do not presume to give me orders."

"Do not presume to forget which one of us is a trueborn Frey!"

As the Frey bastard glared at the Blackfish over that insult Jon's face pulsed in pain, someone worsening under the stress. The waiting was the worst agony of all but after a few moments Rivers turned his horse back towards the castle and waved them on. The rest followed after with the Frey men surrounding the group.

We're in, he thought, we actually made it in.

Why doesn't that make me feel better?

The answer was plain enough as they crossed the moat. Jon saw archers on the walls and spearmen at the gates. More awaiting within the castle, all in depressingly formidable positions.

If anything goes awry we would die before we had a chance to run.

Within the courtyard the others began to dismount as Jon spied another Frey arriving through stone archway, flanked by two guards. He hoped this was another the Blackfish knew by sight. He'd claimed to know most of the Freys well enough but admitted knowing all of them was impossible.

"Welcome back uncle!" This Frey called happily, clearly more disposed to the Blackfish than the other. "Home so soon, good news I hope!"

The man held out his hand and the Blackfish shook it with just a hint of hesitation.

"Yes…Edwyn…Edwyn! Good news indeed! I have brought guests." With that he made the introductions. "May I present Ser Willem Royce in service to House Royce of Runestone. I met him on the Kingsroad escorting a caravan from White Harbor through the Neck to the Westerlands. They seek a crossing."

With that the Blackfish leaned in towards Edwyn.

"And they're willing to pay for it."

Edwyn smiled and went forth to greet the Royce men. After that he took notice of Jon still atop his horse, beaten and bound.

"And who is this?"

"This? Why this is Jon Snow. Bastard of Eddard Stark, half brother to Robb Stark and leader of a force of bog devils. I crushed them two days ago and brought this half wolf back so he could answer to our lord."

With that the Blackfish yanked Jon bodily and threw him to the ground. He landed hard in the mud and his breath flew from him as laughter erupted from all around him.

He still hadn't recovered when he was pulled to his feet by two Frey men-at-arms. Willem gave him a concerned look and Jon hoped his friend could accept this treatment was necessary. The guards held him firmly between them as Edwyn Frey regarded him with disdain.

"A bastard Stark. That family is just about done for isn't it? We'd better show our lord your prize and introduce your guests." Edwyn beckoned them to follow and the guards forced him along behind the Blackfish and the others.

They were led into hall where several weasel-faced men looked to be holding a meeting of sorts. They surrounded a massive black chair carved into a likeness of two towers linked by a bridge. There sat an ancient, pale looking man.

With a grey, wolf pelt warming his lap.

It took Jon but a moment to realize the old wretch was Walder Frey. Another to accept where he had gotten that pelt.

Greywind, he fumed, by the gods have they no respect?

If Ghost was here they'd learn some.

"My lord, your grandson has brought good tidings!" Edwyn announced as he moved to stand beside the old lord, elbowing another Frey from that position.

"Which one?" Lord Walder asked, squinting at the newcomers. "Oh, Walton. Kill some frog eaters? A great warrior you are. Heh."

"I did my lord!" The Blackfish did his mummery well, bowing and all. "And I…"

"Have returned without your men." A hobbled man interrupted, his voice thick with distrust as he handed some parchments off to a maester. "To lead a company out only to return without it. How strange."

"I did as was ordered Lothar. I came upon a force of bog devils, over two hundred I'd say. I crushed them and took their leader captive." With that the Blackfish gave a wave and Walder Rivers pushed Jon forward. "May I present Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark and brother to the dead Robb Stark."

"Ned Stark's bastard. Heh." Lord Walder pointed a gnarled finger at Jon while shaking the pelt with the other. "Your mother look like this?"

"I'd rather that be true than be a trueborn Frey!" Jon roared before spitting towards the monster.

It had been a stupid thing to do but his fury stripped his reason. He was surrounded by Robb's murderers and wanted to insult them, no matter how feebly. They answer was anything but.

A fist slammed against his cheek and his vision blurred for a moment but the guards held him up.

"Should've killed him where you found him Walton. Saved yourself the trip." Lothar asked. "What's a bastard to us?"

"He commanded the bogdevils which attacked us. I believe he fights on behalf of House Reed." The Blackfish answered before shrugging. "And we usually bring Starks here before we kill them."

Lord Walder answered that with a hacking laughter, one others in the room soon joined in.

"Walton…I don't remember you being so clever. Killing crannogmen suits you." Lothar quipped as he hobbled forth to inspect Jon. "His head could be a good gift to send King's Landing. They weren't pleased we kept the wolf boy's…"

That was too much.

And Lothar came too close to let it go unpunished. Jon's used his guards' hold for leverage to drive his knee forward and up into Lothar's groin.

The man doubled, falling to the floor wheezing in pain. Jon didn't get to enjoy the sight for long, the guards lashing out themselves in vengeance.

Their fists left him bloodied and hanging between them, unable to gain his feet. He fought to stay awake but could not focus on the conversation around him. Barely taking notice when they began dragging away.

For how long they carried him he couldn't say, his senses returning quite slowly. His feet scrapped along the stone floors as he tried in vain to regain his footing. Soon they were descending, down a winding staircase, the air becoming dank and foul along the way.

When they reached bottom they were in a very dark place with few torches offering any light.

"We've got another Northman for you Kevron!" One of his guards yelled and Jon realized were in a dungeon.

Barred cells lined each side of the passage, dark shapes moving within them. Even worse things moving without.

An ugly, scarred man wearing a bloody apron marched towards them from the other end of the dungeon. He grinned with a green rotting set of teeth as Jon was dragged to meet him.

"Good, haven't been allowed to touch the Northmen for some time." He blew rancid breath in Jon's face. "Too valuable they say."

"Be careful, Lothar just had his balls shoved up into his throat getting that close. This be Robb Stark's bastard brother."

"Jon Snow!" A powerfully loud voice bellowed from off to the side. "No lad no! Not you! Leave the lad be you cowardly cunts!"

A huge bearded man had pressed himself hard against the bars of a cell, trying to force his manacled hands through them. Even with his face as filthy and pale as it was Jon recognized the man well enough.

Lady Stark scolded this lord often as feasts for being too loud.

The Greatjon.

His hair and beard were wild and matted with a filthy bandage covering the side of his head. Yet the man lived. And threatened.

"I'll tear your fucking hearts out with these hands! I swear it!"

"You keep that up and you'll be losing another ear Umber!" The Kevron man spat at the Lord of Last Hearth before beckoning Jon's guards forward.

They took him into a dark, stone walled room not far from the cells. There was nothing in the room save a brazier, a table with tools upon it and chains hanging from the ceiling.

As his guards undid his bindings Jon tried to struggle and earned more bruises for it. They chained his hands above him, stretching him so his feet barely touched the floor. The guards spoke to his gaoler then and Jon could not hear their words.

"Merl! Get in here!" The gaoler yelled as the guards left. A stringy haired brute came into the room then and eyed Jon cruelly. "Get that shirt off him."

After it was cut away and he hung bare-chested at their mercy Kevron went to the table and tossed a whip to Merl.

"Now we be having some questions for you."

"You'll be having no answers from me." Jon replied.

Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself for whatever would be coming. He thought of the man who had been his father. Of Robb. Of Sansa.

Brave little Arya.

Merl sneered as he walked to take a place at Jon's back.

"Oh we will. Everyone knows something."

Kevron took a poker to the brazier, smiling as he moved the embers about. Jon, despite his fear, some humor in that statement.

"Truly, I know nothing."

BRYNDEN

"This is our chance Walton! How can't you see that?"

Edwyn Frey grasped Brynden by his shoulders and shook him.

His skin crawled at the man's touch, struggling to stop himself from beating the Frey to death even now. He could have easily done so.

Save for Walder Rivers they were alone in the chamber, Edwyn and he. The bastard would've been a challenge but Brynden had killed better men with worse odds.

Yet he stayed his hand, for these two had had brought him here for a reason and his interest was peaked.

"I don't Edwyn." He spoke truthfully. "I don't follow."

Brynden had no idea what the man was talking about, nor why it was so urgent. After they'd left the Frey hall he'd wanted to follow after Jon Snow. These whoresons had led him here instead.

"Think Walton!" Edwyn urged. "Black Walder is far away south. Most of the men loyal to Lothar and him gone as well or in the western castle. You must see this is our chance to get them before they get us."

Walder Rivers grunted in agreement.

"Don't be a fool Walton, you know full well this was always the plan."

"He's not a fool, we're all together in this after all. We all know this is the only way." Edwyn clapped his hands together. "Our chance to act and take leadership of this house!"

Edwyn's words slowly dawned on Brynden.

"You wish to take the castles?" He asked. "Take them from the Freys…I mean ourselves?"

"Just like we planned." Edwyn nodded.

They plot against their own kin?

He was as surprised as he was disgusted.

But such tidings could only help Brynden and his goal. He'd done well so far but more help would always be needed. Somehow he'd managed to convince Walder Frey to allow Ser Willem's caravan through the crossing.

It was a feat that shocked him still.

Willem had done as Sansa had bid him, producing a parchment with Yohn Royce's seal and offering gold in exchange for being permitted to cross at the Twins. The Freys had listened, Lord Walder eyeing the knight greedily before commanding the Royce men to wait without while they conferred amongst themselves.

Which meant bicker like cutpurses.

"We have many enemies and few friends now, why should we let these Vale men through?" Lame Lothar had asked in the hall, still wheezing as he recovered from Jon's knee.

Brynden had to admit he'd silently cheered the bastard lad's attack.

All the while Edwyn argued in favor of his ploy.

"Having few friends is exactly why we should let them through. House Royce is a powerful one in the Vale. With Lysa Tully dead we should hope to make a friend of such a House."

"The Vale is ruled by Littlefinger…our new overlord at Harrenhal…that a man with no sons should rule over me. Mayhaps the finger that counts be too little. Heh." The disgusting wretch that was Lord Walder mumbled to himself. "That Lysa bitch, no beauty like that sister of hers. Best part of killing her was finally seeing that body she kept covered up. Heh."

The self-control it took Brynden not to draw his sword and do for that smiling rat was something he'd steadily developed over years.

"And the Royces hate him!" Edwyn said suddenly. "The two outside told him as much. Imagine having them on our side against Baelish? As if that upjumped shit should act as our overlord. It's us who belong as the lords of the Riverlands!"

He stole my lines.

Words very much like Edwyn's were meant to have come from Brynden, given to him by Sansa and the others. Yet the Freys were proving more helpful than they could have dreamed. Edwyn was lying about what Brynden had told him but that meant little as he was watched Lord Walder nod in agreement.

"Yes…yes…but we have few enough men here. They will see that. Mayhaps they get ideas." With those words Brynden thanked the gods for Walder Frey's deviousness.

He had been prepared to do his best to sway to the argument in their favor and hoped Walton was not such an idiot that it would seem suspicious. In truth he knew little enough of the man whose image he wore.

"Then I'll bid them cross at night. They'd see little and I could have my men ride behind them in case of treachery." Brynden paused then, acting as if he was coming up with all this on the spot. "We could put serving wenches along the walls and they'd look like archers."

"You and your serving girls…" Lord Walder chuckled before coughing and pounding upon his chest, finally prevailing is spitting out a thick green glob of filth that he spit on the floor.

In the end the Frey greed prevailed as well. They sent for Willem to return and when he did Lord Walder, the greedy sot, demanded two wagons of his goods as a toll for crossing. It was a high price and Willem acted wroth and even argued a little.

All as he had been told to do before accepting the price in the end.

"And you'll allow my men to inspect the wagons before entering the castle!" Brynden had added. "To ease my lord's mind."

Lord Walder had nodded his assent to that. Ensuring it was Brynden's false force tasked with doing so took such an action away from the actual Frey. The meeting finally ended and the two Royce men departed, Brynden hoping to as well.

Instead he ended up in this room with the earlier events turning out be but a prelude to a greater bit of treachery.

"If we can get word to your men to ride into the east castle and seize it as they do so I can have our men in the west take men loyal to Lothar into custody!" Edwyn's spittle landed upon Brynden's face he was so excited. "We'd have the castle with almost no bloodshed!"

Walder Rivers, the piece of filth, proved himself to be more sensible

"What of the Vale men marching through? If fighting breaks out they may think they are under attack and strike."

Brynden cursed him for sound thinking. He was so close to having these Freys do half the work of taking the castle for them. Edwyn no longer looked as certain as he had when as idea struck Brynden.

"When I send word to my men I can also send word to the Royces. If they help us take the west castle we will allow them to keep their wagons. You saw how angry he was to lose them!" As he said the words the hope sprung again into Edwyn's eyes again and even Walder appeared impressed.

"Send the rider then! At once!" Edwyn rubbed his hands together and he seemed such a desperate man then. "Walder, you command the west, see that no harm comes to our allies and take it as quickly as you can help in the east. Put all of Lothar's men on one wall or something. Yes…yes that would work. Do that and Walton and I will be in the west to surprise the others."

Thank the seven for this man's stupidity, Brynden thought, or his greed.

Whichever helps us more.

Edwyn looked ready to continue on but Brynden had to put a halt to his. A vow he'd made to Sansa was pounding in the back of his mind every moment they remained here.

"I will Edwyn…we can talk more later but I'd see to my prisoner first. If there's any surprises awaiting us from the bogdevils I'd know."

"Yes yes, but see it done soon Walton." Edwyn turned to Walder and began speaking quickly as Brynden left.

Sansa had made him promise to keep that lad alive.

The girl looks too much like Cat to disappoint her.

Not after failing her mother like I did.

He'd visited this castle several times in his life and knew it reasonably well. Somehow it seemed darker now, as if the crimes committed here had drained it of what good it once held. The thought of Cat dying here made him reach instinctively into his tunic.

There he found the old silver keepsake he'd refused to abandon for this sorcery.

He hadn't let go off since he was still a young man. It was all he had of his love.

Brynden clutched it all the harder now as he continued his search for the bastard.

It was a small comfort he'd managed to convince the Freys to question Jon Snow rather than killing him. The boy was taken away to the dungeons and he still had a faint remembrance of where they were from his time here almost half a lifetime ago.

It was hard to reconcile Cat's harsh words regarding Jon Snow with what he'd seen of the bastard so far.

Maege and Galbart had heaped praise upon him. Yohn Royce had gone so far to knight him and that old warrior was a hard man to impress.

At worst he presumes too much with Sansa, he thought, but she encourages it.

Her loneliness shields her to what Snow's proper station should be.

Whatever it is, it's not a dungeon I know that.

As Brynden descended the staircase he hoped they hadn't beaten the boy too badly. He'd acted loyal enough to his great niece and had comforted Jeyne as she lay dying. That memory was hard to think on so he pushed it away.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs a pair of guards nodded to him and pushed open the heavy door towards the cells.

Then he heard the shouting. And the screaming.

"Gods damned Freys leave him be!"

Brynden recognized the Greatjon's voice. Sure enough the captive lord was off in one of the cells, bellowing through his bars. But the Greatjon's shouts were different than the cries of pain echoing down the dark corridor.

Those belonged to another voice he recognized.

He moved quickly, practically throwing a guard out of his way as the man swore. A room just beyond the cells was the source of the cries and he wrenched the door open.

Merciful mother…

"Stop! Stop now!"

Brynden's shout froze the two men in place as they held the limp, bloody body between them. One backed away from the brazier leaving the other one struggling to support their prisoner.

"We were told to get answers…"

"Not to kill him! This is my prisoner! Leave him!" Brynden tried to control his rage and not sound as offended as he was.

The scarred man shrugged and waved at his friend. The fool tossed the wreck of a lad to the hard floor, Brynden wincing to hear the wet smack of his flesh upon it.

He glimpsed the bloody whip on the table as he came to ensure the young man still lived where he lay. A quick inspection proved him alive but Brynden drew away in disgust at what had been done to him.

"He said nothing to the lash so I went to the flame next to…"

The torturer's words were cut off as Brynden grabbed him by the collar and yanked the monster's face towards his own.

"He survives the night." He growled. "Or you don't."

He held him there, staring fiercely into the ugly man's eyes until the monster nodded. Brynden felt a strong urge to stay in the dungeons to ensure his commands were kept yet he knew better.

You can stay no longer. It would seem strange.

"I will return in the morning. Remember my words." Brynden said as he left. "He lives. Or you don't."

He lives or I have to explain why to my queen.

As he passed the cells a hand reached out to grab at his arm. His reflexes were good and he avoided the attempt easily enough, spinning to face his would be attacker with his hand on Walton's blade.

And he was shocked at the face peering back at him through the iron bars.

"Olyvar?"

Robb Stark's former squire was much skinnier than he remembered. His clothes were tattered and his Frey face covered in bruises. Little was left of the passionate youth Brynden remembered.

"Walton! Please my brother and sister, are they well?" Olyvar asked fiercely. "I beg that of you! Any word!"

Brynden was at a loss as he tried to remember which of the dozens of Freys were Olyvar's relations.

Perwyn, he remembered, Perwyn Frey is his brother.

And his sister was…oh seven help me.

"Roslin? Is Roslin here Olyvar?" Brynden asked without masking his desperation.

The girl was his nephew's wife. Carried his child. His heir.

"Tell me is she here with you?"

It was Olyvar's turn to be shocked.

"In the dungeons? Of course not! She was in her chambers last I knew but please Walton, is she well?"

Brynden prayed she was.

SANSA

"I beg your pardon, you were saying something?"

Sansa realized that Maege had been speaking to her and she was lost in her thoughts again. Or her worries.

Their two horses were quite close together while the rest of her army stretched out before and behind her. Howland was commanding the front while Galbart the rear, Maege held the center where Sansa rode as her side.

And it was a rude thing to ignore her companion.

Yet the lady was untroubled, she even smiled at Sansa.

"I made some comment about the weather, something to take my thoughts off my worries. Yours are worse than mine I fear."

"I have never liked this plan." Sansa admitted, fighting the urge to call it Jon's plan. It was little comfort to pretend she hadn't agreed to it. "Too much depends on putting so much I care about in danger."

"Your brother was nervous as well the last time we rode this way. Much at stake then as well." Maege said. "He hid it well but I've seen more battles than most young men. Just remember that he too worried and yet went on to win a great victory."

But he still died, she thought, and we sent Jon to his killers.

I sent Jon to his killers.

"You would not be your brother's sister if you were not daring. Or your mother's daughter if you didn't do what needed to be done." Maege said, putting a hand to her chest. "May we avenge them both."

This fierce lady often spoke warmly of her mother. Sansa knew many thought ill of her mother for releasing the Kingslayer but this lady had nothing but praise, holding mother to an esteem higher than most.

It gladdened her heart on this long, sad ride.

Maege was the exact opposite of everything Sansa was. A gruff warrior woman at home in armor and commanding in nature. The young girl she had been once would have said horrible things of Maege and it shamed her. Now she saw the lady as a woman who would never let others take her prisoner without a fight.

Who wouldn't submit to being someone's plaything.

Sansa respected her for that.

Arya would've liked her from the start.

"Jon will succeed. I have to believe that." She said, willing herself to believe it. "He has never failed me.

Maege nodded at that and for some time they rode in silence, through the lands of the Freys. Swamps and bogs had given ways to fields and trees only just that day. If it was in her to be thankful to see green lands again and not brown muck she did not feel so. These were the lands of her enemies and she'd take the bogs of her bannermen any day.

"I was surprised when you arrived at Greywater Watch. I hadn't expected how much you cared for each other." Maege said suddenly looking at Sansa as if her statement was more a question. "How much you cared for Jon that is."

"Of course I care for him!"

That took Sansa aback. She had come to expect slights against Jon from the Blackfish and others who did not know the truth of him.

But not from Maege who did know the truth of Jon's birth.

The lady eyed her carefully and guided her horse to ride closer to Sansa's.

"I say so because in many ways you are your mother's daughter." Maege said quietly. "Strong, clever and lovely to look upon. In truth being so much like her I had half expected you to regard Jon as she did. And the last I ever heard Lady Catelyn speak of him was to call Jon a traitor."

Oh mother, she thought, how could you be so wrong?

Her mother's feeling towards Jon made her ashamed. Less so of her mother than herself for feeling she had to live up to them for so long. More and more she reflected on the kind boy she'd grown up with yet had scorned so often. Even mocked to her friends.

Yet he had always been good to her despite how cruel his life had been to him. It bothered her that, even know, she could not love him as she had Robb.

Or Bran and Rickon. Which was horrible of her because she knew he mourned losing his family.

But he's not my brother, she reminded herself, he's my cousin.

So what I dream of is not so vile.

"Since my captivity and Jon's rescue of me I have come to see who he is." She said earnestly. "And what he means to me."

It was the truth.

She'd stopped believing in knights that came to save fair maidens from the evils of others. Then Jon had come, his sword in his hand, and took her away from all that. During their ride from the Neck she'd find herself staring at him sometimes. Wondering how he'd look in proper dress rather than a knight's garb.

"To us he was meant to be a king." Maege replied. "Trust me we are no less overjoyed to have you as our queen but after what we learned at Lord Reed's table…afterwards I'd worried he would've meant less to you."

She paused and gave Sansa a look she thought bordered on disappointment.

"Now I think he might mean more."

She knows.

No she can't.

"Maege!" Sansa sputtered. "You think we are…how can you think such a thing?"

It was not unusual for cousins to marry, fairly common among highborns. Yet for the lady to suspect that of Jon and her was scandalous. Sansa couldn't have a scandal, not now.

"After he left that night the men saw you follow him into the swamps. Saw you return some time later hand in hand. Others talk of how you smile when he is with you and how you danced together." Maege continued to speak softly to her but shrugged near the end. "It reminded me of your parents truthfully."

"There is talk? Of Jon and I?" The idea shook her deeply.

If such gossip existed it could bode poorly for the morale of her fighting men. They did not know them cousins and thought Jon and her half siblings still.

"They think us like the Lannisters?"

At that Maege chuckled but there was little mirth behind it.

"Galbart and I have seen to any who thought so. We've corrected those who needed correcting. But yes. There are rumors."

"Why wasn't I told?" She asked, embarrassed and angry all at once. "I must be told such things!"

"I apologize but it was only a small number spreading those rumors and I am telling you now so you might think of your options." Maege pointed up her crown. "Of the powers a queen has."

My powers?

She could make laws but had no need to yet. They'd had a feast but with winter coming it would have been foolish to order another. She could command an army to march and she had done so. Sansa struggled to think of what else she could do, what Robb had done.

Then it came to her.

"You mean for me to have those men put to death?" Sansa reached up to touch the crown nervously. "To stop the rumors?"

"By the gods no!" The lady looked appalled. "Some whisper about foolishly but there's better ways of dealing with such. There is more power to a crown than ordering men's deaths. There is the ability to legitimize claims to title…to create honest men from the bastard born."

Of course that's what she meant.

Why did you not think of that?

It bothered her she hadn't. Yet it angered her that Maege and the others had kept things from her. That they could be talking of Jon and her with dark intent.

"I think this is not a matter I'd discuss at this moment my lady…nor something I'd have you discuss with any other." She said turned away from Maege. "I must command you not to."

"I meant no disrespect…"

"What you meant does not matter, you hid things from me. Things I should know." Sansa continued. "That must not happen again. Nor must you tolerate any of your men to spread such rumors. As your Queen, I must know you understand that."

Maege flushed some then and for a brief moment she feared she'd been too curt. Too demanding.

"As you would your grace." Maege inclined her head. "Any further talk will be brought straight to you."

Silence fell between them after that. The sounds of horses and men on the march truly the only thing Sansa wished to hear at the moment.

Some of Maege's comments had been welcome. The parts about the kind of queen Sansa could be had been good to hear. It was kind she of ruler she intended to be.

Loyalty and good service to her should always be rewarded.

What bothered her was that doing so meant people whispered about Jon and her.

None served as well or loyally as him. He was exactly the knight she needed beside her. Jon had become tall, strong and gallant. Who else treated her so well and was there when she had need of him. It was Jon who improved her moods when they were at their worst. While he was often quiet and sullen around others with her he became a different person.

With her he made jests.

And smiled.

For me.

Not for the others.

As much as people remarked on how her cousin looked like father she'd taken notice more and more of their differences. He was taller and leaner than father had been, his body firm and comely. Perhaps taking after his mother Lyanna. Or his father Rhaegar.

Blood of the dragon, she remembered, son of a prince.

Who better to keep a queen company?

She reached up and adjusted the crown on her head. The crown of flowers he had made for her had wilted away weeks ago while he memory of him placing it upon Sansa's head and dancing with her had stayed fresh.

He is the knight of songs and tales.

And like a crash of lightning she remembered where he was.

And what she stood to lose.

"My lady…Maege…" Sansa spoke softly, grabbing her companion's attention again. "I was harsh earlier but…I would still speak with you. Perhaps you would tell me of your daughters. It would be pleasant to know more about you and your family."

Maege appeared surprised at the request.

"Your family has done so much for me." She continued. "I feel as if I barely know them. Please let me hear of them. I think I heard one was named Lyanna."

The woman smiled then, her eyes even glistened some.

"My youngest daughter." She laughed. "I named her well. For she's a wild little thing…"

Sansa felt better to hear Maege laugh. The stories were a good distraction.

Helping her to push away the troubles of her crown. The feelings she could not yet admit to.

And the horrors tomorrow could bring.

BRIENNE

"Let sleep calm your troubled spirit and tomorrow will bring a new day. Always a new day and a chance to do good in this world my lady."

The Elder Brother's words were kindly meant but after embarrassing herself so Brienne only wished him to leave her cottage.

You wept like a child.

You came here to save Sansa Stark and ended up crying instead.

Brienne decided to blame it on the tolls of her travels and the shock of what she'd learned this evening. Realizing how much of her recent search had been for naught was a hard thing to accept.

All the time spent tracking the Hound. Praying and hoping to find Sansa Stark held captive by the fiend. Her dream of rescuing Lady Catelyn's daughter and seeing her away to safety.

It had all been a fool's errand.

And Brienne the fool to run it.

While Ser Hyle and Podrick had bedded at another part of the septry on Quiet Isle, she'd been given a small cottage to herself. It was there the Elder Brother and she spoke of her quest.

There he told her of the Hound's supposed death and dashed her hopes for finding Sansa.

"That the man once held a Stark girl captive I believe, but it was not the eldest daughter you seek, but the younger." The Elder Brother had paused at her shock to learn Lady Catelyn's youngest girl lived before continuing on to crush her. "On the fate of Arya Stark I cannot say. When I found Sandor Clegane there was no Stark alongside him and no Stark I brought to this Isle…"

"Perhaps she escaped him?" Brienne hadn't wanted her journey here to be worthless. "When he became ill maybe she fled to safety? Fled to the Saltpans?"

"And to what fate?" The Elder Brother had shaken his head. "To what darkness?"

He'd bid Brienne to return home, to return to father and leave the pains of the war behind. That's when she shamed herself and broken down in front of the old knight. That he'd come a brother of this order since and a knight no longer spared her little embarrassment.

So even now, as the old man departed, she dried her eyes feeling more the fool.

She lay upon the straw and wondered how she would tell Hyle and Podrick what she'd learned. How it was possible they'd travelled so far only to find where Arya Stark had fallen instead of where Sansa Stark awaited.

Of another folly I led them on.

More embarrassment.

More shame.

She hoped their voices hadn't carried to the other cottages near her own. Another was in use and had two quiet brothers sitting without, she imagined to tend to some poor Saltpans woman who suffered still. The last thing someone like that needed was to hear Brienne weeping over her trivial problems.

Tomorrow we will inquire of the bodies they found, she decided, about the bodies of young girls.

Brienne had never laid eyes upon Arya Stark, all she knew of her looks was her mother describing the girl as taking after her father. As she'd never seen Lord Stark either she remembered the bastard squire she'd met in the Reach. Renly himself had remarked on how much Jon Snow resembled Lord Eddard and it was his features she'd describe tomorrow.

Dark brown hair, deep grey eyes and a long face.

Brienne put those features to memory as she shut her eyes for the evening.

Yet sleep didn't come, her mind still too troubled by all she'd heard. Jon Snow's features repeated in her head again and again. How she'd react if some gravedigger could put a body to her description. The last thing she wanted was to leave this place with Arya Stark's bones rather than a living breathing girl.

It's not about what you want, she thought, it's about what your duty is.

And if you find anything of Arya Stark here, you'll return her home.

Brienne was still tossing when she heard the scream. She rose, her ears straining to confirm what she'd heard. Again it came, muffled some by the door, but now she was certain it someone outside was screaming. Quickly slipping into her boots she gathered Oathkeeper, still in its sheath and headed for the door as the screaming continued.

Those are a girl's screams, she decided, someone is being attacked.

Once outside the smell of smoke struck Brienne immediately. It took her but moment to spot the source of it, for it was not far. The cottage she'd passed earlier had smoke billowing from its top. As she neared it another scream sounded and she decided it was definitely coming from within the cabin.

Brienne was shocked to find one of the brothers still there. Standing and staring as smoke wafted out the cottage door. Making no move to enter despite the sounds of coughing from behind that very same door.

She saw the rope then, the door handle was bound tightly from without, the door thudding as someone wrenched upon it from within.

"What is happening here?" Brienne yelled at the short brother who had a face covered in burn scars. "There's someone in there! Open the door!"

He shook his head and pointed down the path, whether he wanted her to leave or await someone else she didn't care.

"Help! Please!" A girl cried out. "Please!"

It was soon followed by some hacking coughs and Brienne had had enough.

"Move aside." She commanded.

She made to push by the brother yet he tried to stand firm. So Brienne tossed him to the ground as easily as she would a sack of potatoes, him landing little differently. Oathkeeper was unsheathed and she cleaved down upon the rope. With but one slash the knots fell away, freeing the door to be thrown open by the girl inside.

Yet the door didn't move.

"Child!" She called and pushed at the door, which opened a touch more, sending smoke billowing into her face.

Brienne coughed and threw her shoulder into the wood, the force knocking the girl's coughing body away enough for Brienne to squeeze into the cottage. Within she saw the fire burning bright at the center of the room. What looked to be every blanket, fur and bit of straw in the room had been piled upon it.

She set this blaze, Brienne realized, is she trying to kill herself?

Brienne's eyes were stinging as she bent to collect the girl into her arms and lifted her out and into the night. The brother she'd knocked down was on his feet again, staring at them while she knelt down to see how bad off the child was.

"Breath girl. There's air for it now. You're safe."

Despite some ash and smoke stains Brienne saw no burns upon the girl's skinny body. She was coughing still but sucking in great breaths of the cool night air otherwise.

"Why would you let her burn? Why was she locked in there?" Brienne raged at the quiet brother. Asking questions she knew he wouldn't answer.

The girl stirred then. Her eyes widening and head jerking towards the quiet brother as well.

"Prisoner…faith coming for me…" The girl hacked and made to shake loose of Brienne's hold on her, rising to stand and glare at the brother "They're going to…give me to the High Septon…"

The High Septon?

What would the High Septon want with some girl?

Brienne was no fool, she knew some men in this world had appetites for young girls, even some men of the faith. Yet sending so far for this girl in particular didn't seem likely. She was pretty enough but not in a way that Brienne thought would catch men's eyes for some time.

Perhaps when she aged more the girl would be a beauty but of a harsher kind Brienne suspected. Her dark brown hair was cut short to just above her shoulders, her skin pale but not sickly and her face long. Almost familiar in a way.

Everything stopped for her then.

Dark brown hair, deep grey eyes and a long face.

Deep grey eyes.

She would have grey eyes.

Others were coming up the path as Brienne walked in almost a daze to pull the girl around to face her. Their eyes met and in the light of the burning cottage behind them Brienne saw what she'd hoped to see.

Deep grey eyes.

"Arya Stark?" She dropped to a knee, almost in prayer. "Be you Arya Stark? Daughter to Lady Catelyn?"

"Step away from her my lady!" The Elder Brother called as he hurried forth but Brienne did not heed him, nor did she break her eyes away from the girl's.

They were wide and full of doubt, flicking over at the group of brothers then back to her.

"I knew your mother, I swore an oath to her and another to see her daughters home. If you are Arya Stark I will protect you, if you are not I will still see no harm come to you, no matter who threatens it."

She softened her hold on the girl's shoulders and tried to think of anything else she could add to make her case.

"I rode beside your brother, Jon Snow, I think I know you because of how much you…"

"Jon?" An expression of excitement flashed quickly across her face. "You knew Jon?"

Brienne couldn't help but smile as well. It lasted only a moment for the brothers were coming upon them so quickly she was forced to act. Brienne yanked the child behind her as the group of men approached.

"My lady that girl is not to be trusted." The Elder Brother wheezed as a mixed collection of robed men and boys collected behind him. "She is also under the protection of the High Septon and the Faith Militant."

"Prisoner!" The girl shouted from behind her. "He means I'm their prisoner!"

"This man was content to let the girl burn in her cottage." Brienne pointed to the scarred man who took up a place beside the Elder Brother. "A poor form of protection brother."

"He did as he was bid to, we do not allow her a chance at trickery without several of us about. Brother Thomas more than most has suffered at the hands of this girl and I suspect the fire tonight caused by more of her wickedness."

A collection of nodding heads among the brothers answered the Elder Brother's pronouncement. The girl wasn't backing down though.

"I knew people had come! You wouldn't lock me up all day for no reason!"

"We did what we had to, the warriors of the faith will arrive soon but until then we could not risk…"

"Risk me finding her?" Brienne interrupted, feeling angry and betrayed by this man for doing now what she suspected he had. "You told me a story tonight, about a girl I sought. You told me you knew nothing of her. I did not think you a liar brother…"

"He is a liar!"

"I did not lie." The Elder Brother sighed at the girl's outburst. "I came upon a man and a girl, whose name I did not know, so I was truthful in that. She later named herself Mordane to me and it was only the confessions of a dying man that revealed the truth of her. Again, I was truthful. Regarding her fate? Our High Septon intends to move to her to safety somewhere else, under the protection of good men and septas, so her fate is in his hands after she leaves here. Whether the influence of good people can quell the darkness in her heart I can't say…"

"Stop saying that!" The girl yelled. "I'm not broken or dark! I just don't want to be here!"

Brienne was growing worried now. More and more men were joining the Elder Brother's group. While the brothers here were not warriors it would be a foul thing to have to fight. A harder thing to fight so many.

You must be sure, she thought, you cannot bear arms at a septry if you are not.

"You must name yourself child." She asked, keeping Oathkeeper pointed at the ground. "Please. I must hear it."

Instead of an answer she felt hands at her waist. Before Brienne could stop her, the girl had pulled free her own dagger and spun away from her.

"Arya Stark." The young lady said, pointing the dagger at the men as well. "My name is Arya Stark. Eddard Stark was my father. Catelyn Stark my mother. Just try and put me back in that cottage…"

Lady Catelyn I found her.

Jaime I've done well.

Arya's words and those thoughts did more for her spirits than anything had in some time. Yet as Arya glanced up at her and gave a quick nod Brienne was troubled. Something about the girl's stance and how she held the blade unnerved her. As if the lady had some idea of how to wield a blade and, even more unnerving, she may not hesitate to.

"Arya Stark you may be but my ladies this is not…"

"Then I am sworn to protect her." Brienne drew Oathkeeper up before her and many of the men backed away. "I am Lady Brienne of Tarth and I will see her home. No matter what it takes."

"Ser! My lady!"

Podrick's cry heralded his arrival at the top of the path. Ser Hyle was following at a slower pace seemingly winded while Pod rushed forward with his own sword in hand.

"Podrick, Ser Hyle, we have found our charge."

"Brienne what's happening here? Put your sword away!" Hyle gaped at her and the burning cottage. His eyes then taking in all the drawn blades and the force of brothers arrayed against her. "We finally have a decent place to sleep…"

"This is the Lady Arya Stark and she wants to leave here." Brienne informed her companions and warned the Elder Brother. "And we'll be helping her do so."

"You're bloody right I do!" Arya cursed at the men while Pod and Hyle appeared dumbstruck at the news. "And I want my sword back! And my coin!"

"As I begged of you earlier my lady, spare yourself this. Spare the young lady this." The Elder Brother approached them with his palms out, his voice beseeching. "When the Faith Militant arrive I will tell them all of this. How you bore steel on holy ground, how you took from us a lady to drag across a war torn land, and of which way you fled…"

"It's her isn't it? We found one of the Starks?" Ser Hyle laughed over the Elder Brother's implied threat as he pulled his own sword. "Oh we'll be going alright."

"Do not try and stop us brother." Brienne lowered her sword and reached out to lower Arya's as well, which the girl did reluctantly. "You don't have to give us your blessing…"

"But he'll be giving you shelter for the night." Another spoke, the words coming from a hunched form just arriving at the commotion. "And some food for our journey."

"Our journey?" Ser Hyle gave the old wandering septon a strange look as the Elder Brother sighed yet again.

"Septon Meribald, it will be dangerous and I fear…"

"Danger and fear have filled these lands for some time now but I wander nonetheless. You and I knew this was a risk, having Lady Brienne and this willful child so close." Meribald smiled at them all before his eyes fell on Arya. "The High Septon wished you seen after child. If it is not to be here then I will join the lady, the knight and good squire in doing so."

"I don't want anymore of you cravens!" Arya hissed at the septon and Brienne was shocked a daughter of her lady could act so rudely.

"Nor does the Elder Brother wish us to leave nor I to be chased about by warriors of my own faith. Yet here we are." Meribald nodded knowingly before walking towards the girl. "And here you are."

With that the old septon opened his robe to produce a small, thin sword and Brienne tensed. For a moment she feared he meant Arya harm with it, he'd been a squire long ago and might still be able to wield a sword. She felt foolish when the septon merely offered the sword up on his palms to the girl who snatched it quickly and without thanks.

"The Elder Brother informed me earlier of what he kept so quiet on this island." Meribald bowed his head. "And I would've been bound by our High Septon to keep it from you my lady. You would've thought this poor girl dead and to place such a burden on you would be too great to do without some comfort. I was to give you the lady's sword upon the morrow so you could at least take comfort in finding that."

Brienne was surprised the septon would have misled her. To think a sword and a false tale would be good coin for her failing in her task.

Arya however was more concerned about a different coin.

"My coin?" Arya asked after sliding the blade through a rope around her waist. "I had a coin too…"

"That coin…I have travelled far young lady and that coin…" Meribald's face darkened and he pointed out into the blackness of the bay beyond. "That coin was not something I'd have here or with you. It is gone to the depths of the bay where it can lay in the darkness it represents."

The look Arya gave the septon made Brienne uneasy again.

For it was full of malice and something else.

What had the Elder Brother said?

About darkness in her heart?

"Nonsense." Brienne said aloud without meaning to.

Arya gave her a confused look as Brienne spotted her dagger still in the girl's clutches.

"It's nonsense for you to keep that dagger. Give it to me my lady. You'll have no need of it."

The girl looked to argue but Brienne held out her hand.

"Do so and you may keep your sword. I may even teach you how to use it properly."

"My lady!" The Elder Brother protested but it mattered little, for the ploy had worked.

Arya quickly handed back the dagger, smiling as she did so.

Brienne thought the Elder Brother wrong as looked upon that smile.

For in it she saw something very familiar. It was pretty, earnest, even a little daring.

And not the least bit dark.