With no one save herself for company, the days had crawled like slow roaches.
Stay as invisible as possible while keeping an eye on them, Lady Sansa’s words had rung in her ears. It was an elementary enough maxim to follow. During the days, she saw them order seafood stews and pass the time in meandering conversations. At nights, they remained huddled in their cottage, and only on occasion one guard left the house, only to return an hour later.
Shadowing men was more mundane than it was suspenseful. Most of the time, it involved a casual stare from the opposite cottage or sitting two tables behind, keeping her head as stooped as possible, avoiding eye contact and conversations. The chances of them spotting suspicious activity were so slim, Brienne sometimes wished, for the sake of change, that she defied the odds.
As the days threatened to turn into a week, Brienne felt her spirit falter, knowing that Lady Sansa’s worries were for naught. Yet, by sheer sense of duty, she had forced herself to stay awake through the night, peering through her window at the cottage opposite. Every time her eyes drooped, she forced herself to smell her stale, curdy soup, the pungent smell of which reawakened her.
The soldier had left the cottage two hours ago, yet had not returned. She clutched her sword in her hand with feeble hopes that the abnormal activity may be a sign of trouble. Her mood sank when the sentry returned, scroll in hand, knocking on the cottage door. However, when it opened, instead of him entering, he called the other four guards out.
They were chatting animatedly, although over the wind, she could hear little. But actions spoke louder, and Brienne’s intrigue turned to shock when she saw the daggers unsheathe.
There would be no time to don any armor. Brienne grabbed her sword and slipped out of her cottage. They were only a few yards ahead of her, and she thought to sneak up on them, but before she could, she faintly heard them all agree on entering the house together.
If they enter the cottage, I will have failed.
She yelled. The five men turned. Before they could react, Oathkeeper sliced through the man slowest to notice. Hot blood fell on the snow and crackled.
The other men had their guard up, but they had knives while Brienne had a sword of Valyrian steel. As she picked them off one by one, the guards, looking at their fallen friends, began to bargain and, ultimately, beg. Brienne would have none of it. She was mercilessly intent on adhering to duty.
It was only when the last man fell that Brienne feel a sting on her shoulder. The cold had numbed her senses. There is no time for that. She rushed into the cottage. “Ser Brynden!” she yelled. A groan from the corners of the house answered her.
His eyes were alert, clearly after hearing the commotion that happened outside, but his body was relaxed. “They were going to kill you,” she told him, when she found him. “Do not worry, you are safe now.”
Brienne realized how foolish the comment was when the Blackfish greeted it with harsh chuckles. “Safe?” he said. “Is that why I feel so cold and empty inside? Or is it because the men who were assigned to guard me tried to take my life?”
“I will protect you,” Brienne said. “Lady Sansa has commanded me-”
“People command a lot of things, Brienne,” Brynden said, waving her off. “They will not stop until a noose is around my throat. If I stay in one place, I will be caught, but with my leg, fleeing is not an option. Why bother myself, when it can all end with much lesser pain?”
Brynden’s newfound defeatism was beginning to vex her. “You may not find solace in fulfilling your duties anymore,” she said, “but I do. I can take you to King’s Landing, and Sansa can protect you there, but not if you prefer death and nothingness. Growing up, I heard a lot of stories about the Blackfish, but looking at you, I only see an old, craven man. Can you prove me otherwise?”
Through the blackness, Brienne saw the Blackfish’s face staring at her. He was half a cripple mangled on the floor and she had the bloody Valyrian steel in hand, yet Brienne could not shake away the worrying sense that she needed to flee for her safety. Did I take it a touch too far?
Then came the tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
*
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