Chapter 17

5 Chapters further in all my stories here:

patreon.com/NiflheimA

Chapter 17

Brienne of Tarth

She woke up shortly before Dawn.

She dons her new armor, blue as the sky, the cobalt suit fit to her form as a dress should a lady, and a warm smile escapes her as she finishes with a rainbow cloak.

"I had hoped to gift this to Ser Barristan Selmy." Renly encloaks her, watching as she stood over many defeated foe, most prominent being Ser Loras Tyrell. "Yet I cannot help myself, with such a formidable warrior before me." His smile was true, bringing joy to her heart.

After grabbing her sword and an axe, she exited her tent, the silhouette of Storm's End visible from the camp, its nightfires had dimmed, the castle's immense mass emerging like a dream of dark stone while whisps of mist lit up from the rays of sun escaping its shadow.

She had spent many days in King Renly's court, back when he was a prince. After her third betrothal with Humfrey Wagstaff was broken once she shattered three of his ribs, her father deemed her marital status a lost cause and sent her to Storm's End in order to pave her own way.

Back then, she had to suffer constant ridicule, yet his Grace –much like that day back in Tarth- treated her courteously, looking beyond the flaws in her appearance.

She ignores stares from workers and guards as her steps echo in the silence, until she finally sights the main tent.

She nods toward the two knights donning red and yellow tinted armor –One Robar Royce and Emmon Cuy- receiving none but a scoff from the latter in return.

Were she not committed to her duty, she would have suggested a spar, here and now. This wasn't the first time she experienced scorn from men who think themselves better, even now, they call her "Brienne the Pretty" behind closed doors in an attempt to scorn her, yet for all their derision none dares say it to her face.

Upon her entrance, she finds his Grace with half his armor on. He was tall –people say near as tall as his eldest brother was- and lean and lithe, he had thick hair, black as coal that falls to his shoulder, and deep blue-green eyes that look either the one depending on what he's wearing.

He turned to her with an easy smile. "Ah! Brienne the Blue, just in time, help me arm myself, will you?" He mentions to his half worn plate armor. "This is a nightmare."

Her face flushes. "Have you not squires to help, your Grace?" Yet she already moved to follow the order, helming up a pauldron to his shoulder.

His laugh is sunny, echoing in her ears. "I wished for privacy, Gods how I get none nowadays."

Brienne simply nods, finishing her work.

As Renly was finally ready, he stood before a tall silver mirror. His armor was a suit of enameled green armor with a helm adorned with a pair of golden antlers.

Standing there, he seemed the personification of a warrior king, Brienne thought.

It was always true in her mind that whilst Stannis was his brother's heir by tradition, Renly was King Robert's true successor due to his virtues, a man that is accustomed to leadership and a fine ruler to boot.

To her, he was the only true king.

"Today is the day, Brienne." He says. "When we rout the rabble my brother calls warriors, there shall be no obstacle to the Iron Throne."

Brienne stays silent; simply staring at the fireplace, watching as a piece of parchment slowly blackens.

Renly looks at the crackling flame, he grabs a stick and stokes it to keep it aflame.

"He sent a letter, you know." He says. "In it, he calls me thankless, unknowing of duty or honor." He scoffs. "Stannis… He always expected me to be grateful, to bow to his demands, as if I wasn't also starving on that blasted castle while the sound of feasting men echoed from the walls. Thinking me a traitor, a turncoat." He shakes his head. "When Robert took what he wanted, scorning him again and again, he hadn't dared say a word. But now he treats me as our dearest eldest treated him, and he expects me to crawl back too?"

Renly shakes his head again. "No." He says. "I may have loved him, once. But now all I can feel is apathy and pity, at the sight of a man so resentful he has no issue imitating his tormentor."

Brienne stays silent, and after a while, her liege laughs again.

"I must be burdening you with unworthy problems." He says. "But no matter, let us—"

It was slight, but Brienne picked off the sound of something moving fast as if a whip on air. She didn't think, she simply pushed Renly with her left hand.

She let a scream of pain, feeling something sharp embedding itself on her left shoulder. She expected an arrow, but what she saw was a shadowy tendril piercing through her pauldron like a knife into butter.

"Wha-!" Renly exclaims, gazing at the monstrosity before him.

It was a tall being of darkness, larger than a man; black whisps enclosed its form, dissipating into the ether. But its uncanny resemblance to Stannis was undeniable.

"Brother?!" He follows.

Brienne acts swiftly, and quickly unsheathes her sword and swings it at the creature's neck, ignoring the pangs of pain coming from her side.

A sound of steel clashing echoes, her sword finding the being's neck as strong as a bar of steel.

The assassin pulls its tendril/sword from her wound, and in doing so, it slices her sword effortlessly.

It was then that Renly came to his bearings, and with a well-practiced blow, attempts to do the same as her, only to similarly fail.

The creature ignores Brienne, turning toward her king with unnatural speed. Brienne without thought pushes herself onto the creature, and it seemed like unlike swords, her own body sufficed in pushing the entity away.

But even so, she clearly heard a scream from Renly. It seems that the creature still managed to cut into his flesh.

While she fell with the shadowy assassin, she noticed that parts of it almost… cowered from the crackling embers from the fire, flinching in contact.

She pushes it away with her knee, and with her injured hand she grabs the stoker stick, rolling up between the creature and Renly.

Stannis' face seemed to not hold any esteem to her, only to the person behind her. Yet it lunges toward her, a sharp tendril moving at inhuman speed.

She barely dodges, and with another hand she torches the creature.

These sequence of events happened so quickly, that the guards only enter the moment the torche's fire spreads over the being's shadowy whisps like a sparkle on timber.

Cuy and Royce stare horrified at the mass of burning darkness. Stannis' face morphing into one screaming in agony, yet no voice echoes.

But Brienne does not care.

She drops the aflame stick to the ground, wobbling toward the falling form of her king.

The wound wasn't too deep, she thought, but it was long as it stretched all across his chest, the creature's tendrils ignoring his armor entirely.

But the blood… the blood didn't stop flowing. She frantically pulled his breastplate off, pushing the two sides of his doublet underneath away from the wound in order to check.

It was a single, uninterrupted line, but the flesh, it slowly blackened.

"No, no, no… NO!" She screams, pulling the hem of her cloak, pushing it at the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

Tears slip off her eyes, making for an ugly sight. Her form towered over her king's, he was still alive, if barely, letting out ragged breaths.

As the first tear falls on his cheek, his face matches hers, droplets flowing out his eyes.

"I don't want to die…" He whispers. "Please, Brienne…" He holds her harm. "I don't want to leave now…"

Her breath hitches, yet her sobs become increasingly louder.

She opens her mouth, but words do not come out, her eyes blurring as she feels herself go weak.

Her strength has left her.

She has failed.

*-*-*

When the Maester finds her awake, he also finds her unresponsive.

She couldn't cry, the aged scholar had told her still form that her tears ran out while unconscious.

He also said that whatever attacked them that night, it somehow poisoned Renly yet not her, which is why she hadn't succumbed to her own wounds.

Yet all she could think is how she was alive, and Renly was not.

'Why couldn't I protect him?' Anguish swam at her chest, bitter tears threatening to flow once again. 'I swore an oath to defend him, fought men to stay by his side, endured scorn and ridicule only due to his kindness.'

"I-- I loved him…" She whispers, yet only she hears.

It was a long time since she felt like a little girl, crouching on her bed with her face hidden in a blanket, yet once again she felt herself go back to worse days, to the first time she had to grapple with death, that her brother could no longer play with her.

"You're awake." A voice echoes from the entrance, stern and strong. "We have need of your testimony."

Randyll Tarly stood over her, steely grey eyes looking down on her.

"A shadow attacked, I failed my King." She replies with heat in her voice. "That is my recollection of events."

 "That is what Royce and Cuy said too, before Ser Loras murdered them with his own bare hands." Tarly scoffs. "An unlikely story, yet the wounds on your form do not match the king's sword or the guards', so your involvement into the late King's assassination was deemed extremely unlikely."

Brienne doesn't respond.

Tarly sighs. "It is said that your father is a good man. If so, I pity him, some men are blessed with sons, some with daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you." He says. "You have a man's strength, but your heart is as soft as any maid's. Still clinging to thoughts of chivalry told in fanciful tales and song."

"Loyalty that would balk at bowing to Stannis, yet a conscience would refuse to join the Lannisters to seek revenge." He continues. "I see you wished for freedom? Now you have it, and are now as unfettered as the beggars at our gates."

He turns to leave.

"I would suggest you leave, whilst your involvement was deemed null, you do not have many friends here."

After a while, Brienne agreed with his counsel.

She must leave.

Leave the lands and people that reminded her of her failure.

Question is, where?