Chapter Text
Bran crept down the hallway of the Keep. Old Nan had chased him back to bed twice, but he was far from tired. Word had arrived of the visit from King Robert, and all the North was in a frenzy. The king and his escorting party were to arrive in a fortnight.
Tiptoeing down the hall, Bran heard the muffled voices of his parents inside their chambers. Bran hoped to slink by their room unnoticed and escape down the back staircase into the yards. Moving lithely down the hall, Bran inhaled sharply as he stubbed his tone on the edge of stonework that jutted out unevenly.
Holding his breath and swallowing the pain, Bran heard his mother’s raised voice.
“It isn’t safe for her, Ned!”
It wasn’t often that his mother raised her voice to their lord father. Bran’s curiosity was peaked, and he moved closer to the door. At his approach, Bran could hear his father speak calmly.
“What am I to do? She is already ten days out.”
Bran listened intently as his mother sighed. “It isn’t safe for her here with Robert soon to arrive. Gods, Ned. The last time we saw her, she had Rhaella’s pale features despite her father’s size. Robert might see some of Rhaella in her. He’ll kill her and we swore to protect her.”
Ned sighed. “Robert will not see Rhaella’s daughter in that child. I hate to say it, but the girl is homely, Cat. He will see little more than Selwyn’s unwedable girl. By the gods, their House is a vassal to Storm’s End! If Robert hasn’t questioned her by now, he won’t upon this visit.”
“Notice her!? Ned, she’s taller than anyone here save Hodor!”
“Exactly. Robert will see another of Dunk’s bastards when he looks upon her. The girl is all Tarth. And by the gods, tell Old Nan to stop with the stories when the king is here.”
Bran kept his ear pressed to the door. Inside, he could hear his mother sigh before speaking again. “I’m worried, Ned. We promised Old Nan and Lord Selwyn to protect this secret. What if the girl’s looks were just an awkward phase? What if she has changed and looks more her mother now?”
Ned chuckled. “Cat, come now. That would be much change. I don’t think the gods have that much energy in them.”
Bran could hear his mother slap his father’s arm. “That’s a horrible thing to say. Be kind to the child. Lord Selwyn said the boys made a grand show of it at that ball years back. Then the last broken betrothal really made her the laughingstock of the island. She’ll never find a match.”
Moving away from the door, Bran’s mind ran wild.
Brienne is a Targaryen? Not just any Targaryen… Rhaella’s daughter? How?
Thinking better of sneaking out, Bran crept back to his room. He would forgo escaping into the yards that night, and instead wake early the next day to speak with Old Nan. He wouldn’t directly ask after Brienne’s lineage. After all, mother hated nothing more than sneaking around and spying. This felt different though.
It wasn’t as though I intended to snoop. I only meant to get outside, and they wouldn’t keep quiet. It’s hardly my fault. I can’t be blamed for overhearing and seeing things as I move about my own home.
When Bran found sleep that night, he dreamed of Ser Duncan the Tall. Old Nan always told tales of her favorite knight. The knight who everyone assumed to be Nan's lover from whom Hodor descended, though whether that relationship was true or not was an answer lost with time.
Near a fortnight later, Bran stood outside with his family to greet the escort from Tarth. At Old Nan's request, Brienne and Hodor were brought together from time to time. She missed the legendary knight, Ser Duncan, and she enjoyed seeing his line live on.
Bran craned his neck to see the incoming escort. The Tarth sigil flapped in the wind, but Bran couldn’t see a carriage. Then he saw her. Riding ahead of her escort with her hair blowing in the wind and cheeks pink from the cool, northern air, Brienne entered the courtyard and dismounted quickly.
The staff promptly saw to her horse as Brienne approached nervously, offering a weak smile at Bran’s parents. Bran gasped at the size of her. In the time between visits, Brienne had grown impossibly taller. She also appeared much more homely than Bran recalled.
Brienne was taller than most men fully grown, and she had pale features that stood out in stark contrast to the Northern landscape. Her lips were too thick, her face pale and dotted in freckles, and her light blonde hair cropped shorter than most noblewomen would dare consider. The only redeeming feature she possessed were her stunning blue eyes.
Bran watched as Brienne approached and swallowed thickly. She bowed before Bran’s parents and mumbled a formal greeting. At the sight of her bow, Sansa snickered from down the line. The reaction was loud enough to reach their parents and Brienne.
At the response from Sansa, Brienne’s face heated and she averted her gaze to the ground. “Apologies my lord and my lady. I fear my attempts to curtsey have only worsened since we last met.”
Catelyn forced a smile, but Bran could see the strain in his mother’s features. Her eyes filled with pity for the girl before her and Ned grimaced at Catelyn’s side. A pang of sympathy spread through Bran.
Bran was a sensitive boy and hated seeing others made to feel poorly of themselves. Sansa could be harsh to those who didn’t conform; namely Arya. Arya and Bran were close in age and shared many interests. As frustrating as it was to see Arya outshine him when she crept into the yards, Bran loved his sister dearly and often took offense on Arya’s behalf when Sansa was in one of her snooty moods.
With a pointed glare at Sansa, Ned stepped forward and smiled at Brienne. “It’s good to see you Lady Brienne. Let me reintroduce you to the children. It has been some time and they’ve grown quite a lot.”
Guiding Brienne down the row, Ned introduced them all. Robb and Sansa appeared stunned at Brienne’s appearance, but Arya had an excited energy about her.
“I heard you train with a sword! Is it true?”
It was the first smile that spread across Brienne’s face since riding through the gates. “Yes, I do. The sword, bow and arrow, and morningstar.”
Hope danced in Arya’s eyes as she looked to Brienne in wonder. “Are you training to be a knight.”
“Of course she isn’t, Arya. Like you, Lady Brienne has a duty to her House.” Bran’s lord father brought the excited inquiry to a halt. Both Brienne’s and Arya’s expressions betrayed their dejection at the words.
Bran smiled warmly at Brienne. With an overdone bow, Bran smiled to Brienne. “It’s nice to see you, Lady Brienne.”
“Hello, Lord Bran. You’ve grown quite a lot.” Brienne’s eyes were as warm as the southern sun.
Ned directed Brienne’s attention to Rickon. “This young man was but a babe when you last saw him. Rickon, say hello to Lady Brienne.”
Rickon gawked at Brienne. “She’s big.”
The tension in Brienne’s body was palpable and she winced at the comment. “Hello, Lord Rickon.”
At Rickon’s words, Catelyn moved quickly towards Ned and Brienne. “Rickon Stark! Apologies, Brienne. Children Rickon’s age have yet to master social graces. They say all manner of things.”
“It’s alright, my lady. I’m used to it.”
Bran marveled at Brienne. For someone of her size, Brienne struck Bran as incredibly meek and lacking confidence. He wondered if that translated to the yards and she would fare no better than Hodor, or if she was truly Dunk’s great-grandchild as Old Nan’s tales described the great knight.
Over the next days, Bran watched from afar. Brienne trained with Robb, Theon, and Jon in the yards. It was a sight to behold as Bran watched his brothers spend more time acquainting themselves with the mud than in all their years combined.
It wasn’t until Theon’s words that she stopped joining the older boys to spar.
‘I’d mock you for getting bested for a woman, but I do believe she’s more beast than beauty.”
Bran didn’t care for Theon. The young ward from the Iron Island had an arrogance to him that irked Bran. Despite father’s teachings, there seemed to be no humbling Lord Balon’s last remaining heir.
Soon the day arrived that Robert’s escort was observed in the distance riding through winter town and straight towards the Keep. Bran stood in line excitedly to meet the king and his family. The anticipation in the air was palpable, but his mother looked more anxious than ever. The worry lines at her eyes shone as brightly as did the dark circles underscoring them.
She had slept little in recent days. Often directing the castle staff in preparation for the king, Catelyn lacked for time to rest. Something or someone caught Catelyn’s attention.
“Brienne! Move behind Hodor, girl. Chin down.”
With a weak nod, Brienne moved towards the back behind Hodor and in line with the castle staff. She averted her eyes towards the ground; a sad expression on her face. It seemed a strange place to position a noblewoman, but Bran understood his mother’s worry.
Despite his mother’s effort, Brienne stood out like a sore thumb. Her hair shone brighter than the northern sun. Her clothing was blue where those assembled stood in their Stark greys and blacks. The young woman certainly wasn’t dressed for the weather. Where others stood in cloaks, she only wore a jerkin with the Tarth sigil at the breast.
Soon the royal party entered the gates and those assembled moved to a knee in a sign of respect for their king. Bran looked up through his lashes and appraised King Robert. He didn’t look half as impressive as the stories his father told. The king was certainly tall; shorter than Hodor, but of Brienne’s height. His belly was round from sedentary years, drink, and good food.
Unsurprisingly, it was his father’s first comment. Bran understood the close relationship between the king and his father. Proper respect was to be paid, but they had grown up together and shared a bond deeper than that of a lord to his king.
Robert and the queen made their way down the line. At Bran’s side, Arya fawned over the Kingslayer; a knight whose skill was as highly regarded as his reputation was broken.
I should like to see him fight. Perhaps I can watch him train in the yards.
The Kingslayer looked as disinterested in the proceedings as his twin sister, the queen. He looked around the Keep with a snide smirk on his face. Something about the man unnerved Bran. There was an air of superiority sitting behind his disingenuous expression as he offered a weak smile towards House Stark.
Cersei’s disgust could hardly be masked. Thinking himself a sound judge of character, Bran felt immediate dislike for the queen. She spoke with contrived pleasantries and offered courtly smiles. There seemed to be no warmth behind her eyes.
Fortunately for Brienne and Bran's parents, the king seemed to have little interest in doing anything other than moving towards the crypts to pay his respects for his former betrothed, Lyanna Stark.
With dismissal from the king, the staff returned to the Keep and began carrying the royal family’s belongings to their assigned chambers. Before moving inside to oversee the staff, Catelyn turned to Brienne and spoke in hushed tones.
“Brienne, I meant you no offense. I just want to keep you safe. Why don’t you enjoy the fresh air for a while rather than sit inside? It isn’t Tarth, but perhaps the change of scenery will do you some good.”
With a small nod, Brienne spoke quietly in return. “Of course, my lady.”
“I’ll go with you! I can show you my favorite places! There are some excellent trees to climb, and… ” Bran moved quickly to Brienne’s side.
“No climbing, Brandon!” Catelyn scoffed and shook her head. An attendant moved towards Catelyn quickly with a question and directed her attention away from Brienne and Bran.
At Bran’s eagerness, Brienne smiled warmly. “Thank you. That would be nice.”