Game of Thrones: StormBorn

291AC

Brienne found that she did not like Kings Landing.

Oh, there was glory true, and the tourney called to her despite the bar on her entry. Indeed, it had been the main reason she had accepted Lord Renly's invitation. It was a kind gesture on the chivalrous lords part, but she found chivalry sorely lacking in the city.

The crime and iniquity along the waterfront she had known to expect, same as the smell that touched the city everywhere. Those were just like the stories, the seedy underbelly of a place where far too much coin flowed.

What she had not expected was the same infectious villainy to have seeped into the court itself. The King was no Baelor, but a drunkard, and if rumor held he also cavorted with harlots. She could certainly believe it given the way that the Queen dressed. And the other Ladies! Oh, they were the worst, constantly tittering behind her back like a swarm of vicious songbirds. She was sure she could lift and strangle one in each hand if only she got the opportunity.

The only saving grace of the city as far as she was concerned was the Great Sept, glorious and beautiful, the Seven-Sided Dome stood above the filth of the city, and separate from the pettiness of the Court. Each day after the tournament she took to praying in its tranquil halls, and while the Septas sometimes tries to warn her from her warrior's path she knew it was of the kindness of their hearts and not the vicious desire to tear her down that was the norm at court.

Still, she was in some capacity representing her father, and a guest of Lord Renly besides. She was staying in the Red Keep, and she was expected to attend all of the feastings, to show her presence, and that of her house.

It was a thankless task, but a knight should be no stranger to that, and so she persevered through the dinner. Ignored the mocking stares and commentary regarding her riding clothes, for not even for Lord Renly would she wear a dress. He had been courteous to her true, more than she could say of any other man, but no, she had been mocked in her childhood long for her lack of ladylike graces, and she would not pretend that she cared enough to don such clothing again. Now she was a warrior first, and a lady second if ever, and Warriors did not wear dresses, women or no.

She wished she could call herself a knight instead, but no Lord would create a woman-knight, and no Septon would accept her oaths. Instead, she would likely always be but a warrior, and the court was no place for her.

So she sat and she ate a little bit, and she tasted some small amount of the wine, less than a cup so as to keep her senses and not embarrass Lord Renly any more than her presence alone surely did. She knew the alcohol might dull the embarrassment, but it was not her way to be so careless.

When the feasting broke down into more of a social occasion, however, men and women breaking off into groups of their peers in a way that must have been pre-arranged for it to be so smooth, she found herself utterly alone. She had no peers here, no one who would treat a young woman who in their view played at being a warrior with anything but disdain. Save Lord Renly and perhaps Loras his squire, but they were off talking to great lords, and she did not wish to interrupt their conversation.

No, she stayed, and she circled the hall, and she ignored the whispers that were sometimes directed towards her as best she could.

Eventually, though, she simply couldn't take it anymore. In a fit of cowardice, she left the hall behind, making instead for a balcony on the ocean-facing side of the Red Keep. It might be an embarrassment to Lord Renly that she did so, but she found she simply could not stand the harsh gazes and whispers of the court ladies for even a moment more.

She found a wooden seat and sat down in the growing darkness, breathing heavily despite the lack of physical exertion. What she had done was tantamount to cowardice, fleeing the conflict presented to her.

She gazed out over the Blackwater Bay, cast in a reddish light by the setting sun. She thought she could almost see her home in the distance from so high up, but that was foolish imagination. She was at court and had embarrassed herself greatly.

Should she return and face the whispers once more?

She simply didn't know.

"Ah, pardon me, I hadn't realized anyone else was out here."

Brienne whirled around, turning back towards the keep. Only to breathe a sigh of relief as she realized it was only a child, not some new viper come to mock her looks or attire.

"Oh…" the child pressed a hand to his chin, his eyes appearing calculating, though his face was difficult to make out in the shadow. "You are… Brienne of Tarth are you not? Greetings my Lady."

Brienne stared down at the boy a little dumbfounded, was she so recognizable?

"I hope I am not disturbing you, I just found the feast to be getting somewhat insufferable, I will move to a different balcony if my presence offends you."

"I…" Brienne squinted at the child, trying to discern his face, but in the darkness it was pointless, then she noticed the silhouette. There was perhaps only one child in a costume so ridiculous and flamboyant at the feasting. "Ah, my apologies young Lord Baratheon, I did not recognize you." She dropped into a light bow immediately, it was slightly more than etiquette dictated of her, but he was a prominent lordling, and it would hurt her house greatly to offend him.

"Oh, that's nothing to apologize for, and you need not bow to me, it's dark, and I only made you out by the look of your figure and the lack of a dress. Besides, you were here first, I should be the one apologizing."

She shook her head, a little surprised by the lack of scorn in the boy's voice. "I could hardly ask that of you, you may go where you wish after all."

The boy seemed to snort at that, but spoke no more of leaving. "I take it you are here with my uncle's retinue?"

"Yes." She wondered how he knew that but then he was Lord Renly's nephew, so perhaps the Lord had mentioned her to him. "Your uncle has been kind to me, far beyond what is necessary, and for that, I am quite thankful."

"Indeed? That doesn't surprise me, though I met him for the first time I can remember only a few hours ago. He seems inclined towards kindness, far more than many of my relatives here."

"Oh…" she felt her head sag slightly, remembering the public insults from the Queen earlier in the evening. She felt sympathy for the boy, he could no more control the greyscale that scarred his chin than she could her unsightly figure or the freckles that covered her face.

"Bah." She looked up, turning towards the boy. "These court affairs aren't my forte', I understand why they happen well enough, but insults don't come to my mind so easily as the vipers that nest here. Though their prattle matters little in the end." He turned his gaze towards her, and in the dark, she could swear there was a rare glimpse of sympathy in his eyes. "But look at me whining. I suppose it is worse for you than for I. Most of them haven't decided just what to think of me just yet, and my Galleon at harbor means I will always have some respect. I suppose they have already cast you out fully. Fools, the lot of them."

"I… My Lord," Brienne said, a little shakingly. "I don't quite know your meaning." though she did, somewhat, at least towards the end there. It was all odd-sounding to her ears, his words moved too fast and jumping between too many places.

"I'm ranting, don't let it bother you." the young stag turned back towards the water, his eyes glaring down across the blackwater, perhaps towards his own home of Dragonstone. "All of this politicking, it's ridiculous, if unfortunately necessary, with my own two hands and the hands of those who follow me I can turn the world on its head, mold it like clay until I have made something better, but in these parts that ugly behemoth of a twisted throne blocks their view of the greater picture. If I am ever king I will cast it into the sea, and probably this whole damnable keep alongside it."

Brienne blinked at the words which might very well be construed at treason that poured from the young stag's mouth, but then, he wasn't precisely wrong either. Certainly, the court was not full of true knights, asides perhaps from the oath-bound Kingsguard. "My Lord…" she weakly raised her hand, but it did nothing to deter the young Baratheon. Who seemed to swell like a small thunder-storm with a lofty ambition that's sheer height was beyond her grasp.

"No, when I am through the waters will be awash with ships twice the size of the Great Stag plying their trade around this sorry globe we call a world. The slaves of Essos will have their cruel bonds broken by honest steel, and the world will stand a better, freer place. Men from here to Yi-Ti and beyond will heed the call of their common humanity." The boy seemed to deflate as his words ended, turning towards Brienne with an apologetic look in his eyes. "That's my dream at least. Sorry about the monolog, it's probably not anything that interests you and I just needed to let off steam."

"Uh…" Words left Brienne as she stared down at the boy, such things were so far beyond her Ken of the world. Such great changes seemed fit only for the Seven, or perhaps the dragon kings of old, yet here they sprung from the lips of a boy four years her junior.

"Ah, I apologize… I've wasted too much of your time and spoken too much already. My parents will no doubt be fearing for my safety and I don't want to keep them."

She brushed aside how the boy could possibly feel unsafe in the Red Keep of all places as he turned to leave, and before she knew it she had reached out, her hand clamping around his shoulder. "Wait," She said, not even sure herself what she was doing. "Please stay for just a moment longer."

The next seconds were the longest in Brienne's life as she waited for his answer, it wasn't long at all, but it felt like eons.

"Uh, ok, but can you let go of my shoulder, it kind of hurts."

"Oh" she pulled back, her cheeks flushing red as she realized how harshly she had been squeezing him. He wasn't even into puberty yet and she often forgot how fragile children could be. "I'm sorry my Lord."

"Don't worry about it, I can't feel the top half of it anyway. Now, what did you need of me?"

"Ah, it's just. I have heard your dream, would it be too much to… Would you please here mine?"

The boy looked at her for a moment and then nodded, smiling. "Certainly my lady, it will surely be more feasible than my own at least."

"I doubt that, but it is only a small dream in comparison." she sighed, watching as he took one of the seats on the balcony.

And she told him, the dream that she had only told her father and Lord Renly before. Of her desire to be a true knight, in oaths as well as in manners, to be a hero like Serwyn of the mirror shield, or Ser Barristan who now stood upon the Kingsguard, and at the last to be recognized for her achievements just as a man might be. It was a foolish dream, and it seemed so small compared to the world sundering ideas of the boy before her, but it was the one she had always held, ever since she was a little girl and had first been driven by the mockery of her peers to pick up her sword. In many ways, the dream was who she was.

When the fountain of her words dried up, and she looked to the boy she was glad to find not the scorn or pity she expected, but merely a measuring look, as if he was trying to see whether she was lying to him.

Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for and nodded. "That's as good a dream as any I think. Better to try to be a hero and fail than to accept your role as one of these vipers."

Brienne smiled at the reasoning, watching even as the young Baratheon stood to leave. Apologizing once again, this time for having to return to his parents, lest they worry too greatly over him, and leaving her now alone in the stretching twilight.

Perhaps there was just something about the Baratheons at large that made them more accepting of her, though it likely didn't extend to the bullying prince Joffrey, at least if the way he had introduced himself to his cousin earlier in the evening was any indication.

Brienne thought it might be good if the young boy who had spoken to her or even Lord Renly were to be king instead, but that was as much a fantasy as her own hopes for knighthood, they were too far down the succession, and even were Joffrey childless the chances of them ever taking the throne were low.

No, whatever sublime nobility and kindness were in the house of Baratheon would be kept in Storms-End and Dragonstone it seemed, but then again, neither of those were so far from Tarth, and was not the young stag famed for his fast ships? She would see whether their dreams succeeded herself, and they would see hers.

She was sure of it.