"I must admit," I commented to Lord Stark, "this reunion does remind me of old times."
The man's injuries seemed to be healing well, though he wouldn't be doing much exertion for a bit longer. He sat in a chair comfortably and could breathe without laboring. Brienne was beside my own chair, standing with her hand on the hilt of Tidebreaker. I wasn't sure if she did that to be ready for some unforeseen attack here or if she just liked holding on to her Valyrian Steel sword that I had awarded to her and her house.
Ned's long face was grim as he nodded in greeting. "Princess Myrcella."
"My uncle is still bitter about the Stormlands, I see. Though I am somewhat surprised that he didn't equate my parentage with Joffrey and Tommen."
"He could not be certain, and his honor demanded that he be before condemning you. The King had nothing to do with whatever happened in the Eyrie."
I nodded. "I thought as much; if he believes we may be kin, he would be hesitant to have me murdered in cold blood."
Eddard frowned. "That didn't stop you from levying the accusation that he tried to have you assassinated."
"My lord, surely you know by now that my words are designed to maximize my own benefit while minimizing my uncle's. Regardless of the truth, the reality is that I was with Tywin when that shadowy demon came. It did try to strike at me as well – should I absolve my uncle for his negligent use of sorceries that nearly killed me?" I looked toward Brienne. "Take off your helm."
Brienne did so, revealing the scar the shadow creature left on her visage.
"The ephemeral blade it wielded parted steel like silk. I was not inclined to give any grace to my uncle after that."
The Lord of Winterfell sighed, "It was all for naught – would that His Grace had never consorted with the Red Lady. I did not approve of it."
Stark was a man wedded to his honor. I wasn't sure how to best play this, but the more we talked, the more I could glean some useful information.
"You've given your word to your King, and you don't seem to be the type of man to break it easily."
"I am a Stark. Our word is our bond."
"Your house once swore fealty to the Targaryens. Yet you broke that fealty, as did Jon Arryn."
Stark's eyes widened. "Stannis is no Mad King."
"Yes, but we've established that under the right circumstances, that bond that is your word is not unbreakable. If Stannis demanded you gather up all your children and wife and then have them burned alive, would you obey said order?"
I saw Eddard pause.
"He wouldn't do that."
I struggled not to roll my eyes. "This sort of evasion doesn't suit you, Lord Stark. Can your honor not handle a hypothetical?"
"Are you attempting to goad me?"
"No, I am attempting to reason with you. I am attempting to get you to understand that honor is itself not sacrosanct above all things. Is your honor so fragile that it cannot handle a hypothetical scenario?"
Eddard sat and thought for a bit. I resisted the urge to say anything more. Finally, he gave a sigh.
"You are right – if Stannis ordered me to murder my family, I would not obey."
"Excellent. What if it was just one of your blood? Would you break your oaths if he just wanted Bran killed? Or Sansa?"
Now he scowled at me. "What is this prodding, Myrcella? Get to what you are after."
"You were ready to resign and leave the city over my father's wish to murder the Targaryen child. Yet you would accept the King's command to kill just one of your children?"
"I did not say that."
"Ah, so you would break your oath if commanded to murder one of your children?"
Eddard grimaced. "My loyalty is not fickle, but it was given to a man who would not do such things. If he did demand I commit that kind of personal atrocity, he would not be the same man I swore those oaths to."
I laughed. His sophistry was incredible! What a delightful loophole he had made for himself.
"Forgive me, Lord Stark, but I find your reasoning amusing. But I'm glad we have established common ground. What if your King's actions led to the deaths of your children? What if instead of ordering you to murder your child, he sent your child on a task that would certainly lead to his death. Would you disobey then?"
He shook his head. "I see what you are doing, and it will not work, princess. You seek to incrementally push me to a point where it would seem appropriate to break my oath to save my children from a likely fate. I will not do this. My son rules the North while I am captive. What you are attempting to do will never work."
I pursed my lips. "You seem oddly reticent to this discussion. Is your honor rooted in such unsteady ground that you could not converse with me for an hour or two without attempting to cut short our discourse?"
It was Eddard's turn to give a half-chuckle. "It is never wise to underestimate you; your tongue has a way with words that it almost seems sorcerous."
Shit, that phrasing was a landmine I didn't want to touch.
"You make it seem an ill thing to try to find a peaceful resolution to our problems. If a silver tongue can prevent needless deaths, is that a problem?"
Eddard exhaled heavily. "We are past that. This war ends with Stannis on the throne or dead. I will not aid you in his defeat. In truth, you terrify me more than Tywin Lannister. He can bring forth torment onto my body, but you can twist my thoughts to odd directions and make me doubt all that I know to be true. No, Myrcella, I do not wish this conversation to continue further."
Unfortunately, if Eddard refused to engage, I really couldn't keep chipping at his honor. And I honestly didn't have the time. It was always a long shot anyway, but like my attempt with Lord Royce, worth trying.
"I am disappointed that you will not even consider my words or further discussion, particularly because it may save tens of thousands of lives, but as you will. Do you need anything else to improve your comfort while your men fight and die for you?"
He gave me a cool look and simply shook his head. I exited his room somewhat annoyed, before heading to where they were keeping my mother in the Royal Apartments, Brienne on my heels.
There was a heavy guard of six Lannister soldiers in crimson. They were not the only ones I passed on my way, but no single door was this guarded.
"I've come to see my mother."
"Yes, Lady Myrcella, would you like a guard to accompany you? She is prone to fits of violence."
"I believe that I can handle her, but thank you for the concern. Brienne, you may wait out here."
The guards looked at each other. "Very well, but if you need any help, just raise your voice, and we will come swiftly."
I gave my thanks and entered the room. I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't Cersei sitting calmly by a table laden with food. The savory smell of roast duck mixed with freshly-baked pastries greeted me. As I entered, Cersei stood up, a smile on her face.
"Oh, my little lioness, I am so happy to see you."
She moved forward and opened her arms for an embrace. I granted it and hugged her, wondering if my expectations of Cersei's state of mind had been deliberately depressed out of a sense of caution. As anyone in a customer-facing position knew, you always strived to under-promise and over-deliver. By making Cersei's condition seem dire, anything better than that would be a positive surprise. This sort of manipulation was well and good, but not something I would have thought my grandfather or the Red Cloaks would partake in.
"Let me look at you – how you've grown! I've missed you terribly."
"Cersei, you look well."
A smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "They took your father and brother from us, my sweetling. But we'll have our retribution. I'm told we have one of the usurpers prisoner. The Wolf Lord. Father won't let me have him executed, but together we will convince him, yes?"
I shook my head, "No, he's more valuable alive."
Cersei looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she twitched her head in negation and let the matter drop.
"Come, let us sit down; if I know you, you haven't been eating well. Some duck?"
"No, thank you, I have much to do at the moment, and I've already eaten."
"But Myrcella, you can surely spare a few moments with me. Please, my daughter, they don't let me see Tommen. I am unused to not seeing my family."
I was getting a bad feeling about this. Cersei was acting oddly. I could tell that she was nervous. Nonetheless, she was still my mother, and it made sense for her to spend some time with me. And I wanted to know more details about my father's assassination. I figured that it would be best to play the kind-hearted daughter for now. I could always threaten complete separation from Tommen if she didn't play ball, but we'd see how good cop worked first.
"I can do that much, Cersei." I took my seat.
Cersei took several gulps of what looked to be red wine, and then took another bite of the duck.
"The servants tell me all sorts of fanciful stories. They say you even fought in battles! What have you been up to?" Cersei asked.
"I have, though I try my best not to. Sometimes my men will fight harder if I am nearby."
"Yes, you always did fancy riding your pony and waving about your swords. What was the pony's name again?"
Waving about swords? Was my mother addled in the head?
"Flyta was her name. I couldn't take her to the Stormlands, so I suspect she should still be in the stables. With so much else on my mind, I haven't bothered to check."
Guilt was a wasted emotion, but I did feel a bit of it momentarily. When I got through my list of tasks, I would ask about her.
Cersei was staring at me openly now, a slight tremor in her hand. Had the deaths of Jaime and Joffrey shattered her? Something was terribly off about her, and I couldn't precisely determine what. Her green eyes looked away, and then she picked up her cup again.
"Do you remember how you used to play with Joffrey?"
"No, we did not play together very often. Recall, we did not get along very well, despite my efforts."
Something flashed in her eyes. Her red lips curled in a smile.
"Yes, I must have forgotten. When someone precious dies, you forget some of their faults and only focus on the good."
Cersei took a side of mashed potatoes and put a helping of it on her plate.
"'Tis an odd thing to not be allowed to have servants do this for me. They bring the food, but don't set my plate. This is something else you'll need to speak with father about."
My attention turned back to the table. It was amazing how she kept her figure if these were her normal meals. It was a variety of food, from the roast duck, potatoes, a pie, berry tarts, apricots, a pitcher of milk along with the wine, and even some lemon cakes drizzled with honey. That Westeros did not have any chocolate or coffee was one of the cruel indignities that Being X was no doubt responsible for. Lemon cakes with honey would never be the same as chocolate, but it was my favorite dessert.
"I can try, but I do have some questions for you about whom you worked with when planning and carrying out my father's assassination."
Cersei blinked rapidly. "Eddard Stark and Stannis Baratheon committed that crime."
"You know that is not true. You know that I know that is not true. Let us dispense the lies – this is important."
It likely wasn't that important, but if there were other parties willing to commit that sort of treachery, I wanted to know. Cersei looked at me and slowly nodded.
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt." She took another bite, and while she gathered her thoughts and chewed, I took one of the lemon cakes and bit into it. Ah, quite tasty. The hasty march to King's Landing on horseback did not allow for many good meals. Portable dried meat, dried fruit, and bread was about it.
I swallowed and felt my throat begin to constrict. I saw Cersei's face split with a wide-eyed grin.
"He was right! Your pathetic duplicity ends here – my daughter would never act like you. Myrcella loved me, but now she's dead, and I'll be DAMNED if I allow you to walk around pretending to be her."
Fuck! Shit! What the hell was this. I sprang into action – I needed to figure out what I had just consumed. My reflexive enchantment came to life, and I quickly picked up the pastry and ran to the door. I opened it swiftly and pointed to it and then to my throat. I stuffed fingers down my throat, but they were stymied – whatever poison was used had forced the inside of my throat close.
Brienne shouted at the guard, "FETCH THE MAESTER NOW – SHE'S BEEN POISONED!"
From inside the room, Cersei was laughing, "It's too late!"
Brienne left my side as two guards went running down the hall. I could hear her threatening Cersei, demanding to know what had been given to me. Meanwhile, I was going through my mental catalog of poisons and their effects. Shit, this one was most likely the Strangler. A rare poison from a plant grown only next to the Jade Sea. It constricted the airway at the neck level by creating a localized muscle contraction.
First things first. I had to give myself more time. I had not been breathing heavily. Back as an Imperial Mage, you created your own oxygen at higher altitudes. Typically, it was created in the space directly in front of your face so you could breathe it in, but why should location matter all that much? I used the oxygen formula and put a small amount directly into my lungs. This would allow my blood to remain oxygenated a bit longer. I couldn't do anything about CO2 build-up, so it probably only gave me an extra minute or two.
One of the guards tried to pat me on the back, and I stopped him with a glare that made him back off. Chemically-induced muscle contractions that needed to be stopped within the next several minutes or I was done for. How to fix that? I debated trying a tracheotomy, but the lack of pens or straws in this world made it seem an unlikely solution. Plus, even with those materials, it likely was not nearly as easy as bad TV shows made it out to be in my first life.
Muscle contractions – I have to get my muscles not to do that. I know analgesic spells work, surprisingly well, in fact. Why not modify it for other substances?
My brain raced forward, thinking of the various things I'd tried in my experimentation phase. Benzodiazepines, often used in modern drugs like Valium, could be the solution. I filled my brain with those chemicals, working faster than any intravenous intake could ever work. Immediately, a wave of drowsiness took hold. I felt myself teeter over onto the ground as my legs stopped working properly.
I forced my mind to stay awake through willpower as opposed to magical meth. Increasing neurostimulation chemically could impact what I was doing. I distantly heard Brienne's panic cry of my name. My throat was still closed; pain was radiating from my lungs as my body felt the CO2 buildup. I added a bit more – this was nearing overdose range – and there it was, a small sliver of exhalation squirmed past my constricted throat.
I was roughly put on my back as a panicked Brienne felt for a pulse, the way I'd shown her. I was so incredibly drowsy, but I knew I had to stay conscious. The airway was still almost completely occluded. Focusing was hard now, but I added a tiny bit more of the drug to my system and felt my neck muscles finally unclench. My body exhaled violently, but breathing in was now difficult, as the overdose of what was essentially Valium was inhibiting my normal lung function.
I just want to sleep!
I would be damned if I gave in though. I used my oxygen spell again to fill my lungs, and then the pressure in my lungs naturally exhaled it.
"She's breathing!" Brienne cried in triumph. "Myrcella, say something!"
Not helpful, Brienne!
Focusing was still incredibly difficult. I gently administered some stimulants directly into my brain and felt the interior muscles in my neck start to quiver. The irritation and complex math I was calculating kept me from drifting into sleep, and likely death. I had to focus, I had to keep the process going.
It was touch and go for the next several minutes, when the old Maester finally arrived. He immediately recommended purging, which was unceremoniously completed by Brienne forcefully gagging me. That was not pleasant, as my nervous system was still quite depressed, but after several attempts I heaved the contents of my stomach. While I was being manhandled, I kept my oxygen creation spell going directly into my respiratory system.
"Do we know what the poison is?"
"Cersei wouldn't say even after I caused pain – I don't think she knows!"
"Seven Hells! This is bad; she's aware of her surroundings, which is good, but without knowing what she was given, I could do more harm than good."
I was dimly aware his normal, ponderous rate of speech was now gone, and he didn't endlessly interrupt himself with 'ahems'.
"You have to do something!"
Pycelle snapped at one of the guards, "Run, as fast as you can and enter my chambers. On the right wall, there are five vials on the lowest shelf; these are antidotes for several poisons. Go, run!"
I could barely lift my hand, but I managed to draw Brienne's attention. I began to move one finger across the ground in the shape of letters.
"How long since she consumed it – do you know? Do you still have what she drank?"
"The lemon cake, and look, Grand Maester, she is spelling something out," Brienne replied.
They examined my hand, and I spelled out the Strangler as clearly as I could.
"No… that can't be right – she would be dead by now."
He felt around my neck, "The muscles feel odd, but they should be fully tense. No, this is something else."
I wanted to scream. I was fed the antidotes for things like wolfsbane and knew that they shouldn't exacerbate my current condition. It was rather difficult to get them down my throat, but they managed. I had to look an absolute mess at that moment, which was quite annoying, given the effort I took to maintain professional appearances.
I slowly reintroduced some stimulants into my brain, and this time I did not feel the now-familiar tightening of my neck.
"She's getting some color back, Seven be praised!" Brienne spoke with relief.
I was still unnaturally tired; the benzos in my system were partially responsible, but I suspected it was also due to magical exhaustion. With an attack liable to occur in the next day or so, this was not the time! Still, I needed the rest; I closed my eyes and let my body get what it needed – the blissful oblivion of heavy slumber.
***
Bran's dreams were troubled. He wanted to learn more about the potential treachery of the Reach and Highgarden, but his dreams would not cooperate. Instead, it felt as if he dreamt about everything except that. Those dreams were not pleasant.
In one dream, he saw the image of the perfect princess, Myrcella. She appeared like she had in his dream of her in the Vale, bar the horrid smile. A small spider climbed up her dress and then bit down on her neck. Like a marionette with its strings cut, she collapsed to the ground. Bran did not know if she was dead or merely injured, but he was terrified for her.
The dream of a manticore shaking the world was another one that bordered more on nightmare than vision. Then there was the dream of a great tower being swept aside by a great tidal wave. He dreamed of Jon, holding a burning sword, fighting large spiders. Was that the fear from true visions leading him to worry about spiders, or a true vision itself? He did not know, and that was perhaps the worst of all.
The army had reached King's Landing. Wood from the Kingswood had been used to make battering rams and ladders for the eventual assault. From conversation with Robb, he knew that the Tyrell host had completed the surrounding of the city. Three more armies were coming – another Tyrell force, the Dornish, and Myrcella's host. His old ser would be there, and he prayed for the honorable knight's safety, even if they were on opposite sides of the conflict.
Tyrek Lannister was a prisoner, but Stannis had handed him over to Robb's keeping. Robb had made sure he was comfortable and well provisioned. He allowed Bran and Tyrek to speak and even spar under the careful eye of several of his best.
"Seven Hells, Bran. You've gotten even better; I don't think I'll take another spar again."
Bran smiled. He was proud of his arms training; it all just felt so natural. He moved the way Ser Barristan had taught him and picked up a lot of tricks from the likes of Mormont and others.
"You've seen real combat though. I've been kept away from it."
"It isn't as grand as I thought it would be. Between just us two – it is terrifying. I nearly died; I owe your wolf my life," Tyrek replied.
"So you've said many times now. Duty knew your scent and has been around you for quite some time – of course he would protect you. It was only natural."
"Can't a man be grateful?"
Bran thought the phrase 'man' dubious, given Tyrek's age, but he didn't challenge the statement.
Tyrek let the silence linger for a moment before saying, "I mean it – that was the second-most frightening event of my entire life. I owe you and your wolf a debt, and a Lannister always repays his debts."
"Second-most frightening?"
Tyrek shivered. "I was there in the tent when Stannis's shadow demon from the hells tried to kill Tywin. A cold like nothing else chilled me. Everything happened horrifyingly quickly, but also with terrible slowness. I can still see in my mind's eye that dark blade slicing through the Tarth woman's face."
Bran had heard half-rumors of the event. He wasn't sure what to make of them – he knew Melisandre had power, but to summon a creature like that? Evidently, it had happened.
"I've heard stories – were they true? That not even Ser Barristan was able to stop it?"
Tyrek nodded. "Valyrian Steel is what ended it. Myrcella did it. Some claim she is the Maiden made manifest; she was incredible."
Bran's jaw opened slightly in amazement. He had heard that rumor… but thought it was just soldiers' tall tales. He hadn't truly believed in the shadow demon in the first place, so he had given little credence to the rumor on top of it that the once-princess had slain it. Bran knew she was fast – he had seen her training with the Red Cloaks – but the thought of standing up to a creature like that, one that even his ser could not best, was a feat above the others. It further raised his already high esteem for her.
"She is something else, isn't she?" Bran said in genuine admiration.
"They call her the Storm Queen, and I have nothing against Tommen, but she should rule the Seven Kingdoms, not him."
Bran gave him a wry look. "I imagine King Stannis is going to object to that."
Tyrek shrugged. "Your King cavorts with demons and has rejected the faith of his fathers. I don't want to argue, but he's an evil man. Meanwhile, the only reason King's Landing didn't starve was due to her. The only reason your father is still alive is because of her. The only reason you were returned to your family is her. She releases hostages back freely, she feeds the smallfolk, and they say she knows the Seven-Pointed Star by heart. She's kind – even when I was a squire to the King, she took it upon herself to try to curb her father's petty cruelties."
Bran held his hands up. "Tyrek, you don't have to convince me; I'm already aware Myrcella is perfect."
She is perfect, and can handle herself. But that dream… I hope she is well.
"Which is why she should be Queen! Fuck Stannis – convince your brother to make peace and abandon this cause. Robb is a good man and will be a fine lord – don't let him waste his life against Lady Myrcella."
Bran shook his head. "Father swore an oath. We are Starks. Enough of this – even if I sided with you, it wouldn't matter. Let's speak of other things."
Tyrek nodded. "Aye, so be it. Did I hear right that that squid is going back to the Iron Isles?"
Bran nodded. "Yes, but it won't be easy to get there. Theon is already on his way to the eastern coast. They'll have to sail all the way around Dorne and the Reach to get to Pyke. His father is dead, and the succession may be contested. Theon's Uncle Victarion is going to try to steal his place on account of his being raised by Starks. He goes with a letter from the King, making it clear that Theon is heir by dint of being the only son of Balon's left alive."
"That's a long journey; hopefully by then this war will be over and done with."
On that, Bran fully agreed. Winter was coming, and terrible events were on the horizon. Events he did not know how to interpret, but ones that made him feel that this war and all its bloodshed was just a prelude to something even worse.
***
Brienne had left Myrcella in the hands of Ser Theo and Ser Lum. Myrcella's condition had not changed since yesterday. Her normally animated frame hid how petite and lean the princess was. One could mistake her for a child of nine or ten, a far cry from the figure of vitality and confidence she normally was. Brienne hated leaving her side, but Myrcella's grandfather had summoned her. Brienne had words she needed to speak and a justice that needed to be served. It was bitter irony that Myrcella was safer on the battlefield than in places where she should be safe. Lady Myrcella had been true and loyal to all those around her, yet treachery shadowed her everywhere she went.
Brienne made her way to where Tywin was metaphorically holding court. It was not in the small council chamber, or in the Tower of the Hand, or in the Royal Apartments. The room was thick with Lannister guards, and beyond just Varys, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Tywin himself.
"Lady Brienne," Tywin spoke as Brienne entered.
"Lord Regent, regretfully, Lady Myrcella has yet to awaken."
Tywin looked to the Grand Maester.
"Ah, well, ahem, these things are difficult to predict. Her heartbeat and breathing are normal; I suspect she will, ahem, wake up soon. The difficulty, and our good fortune, is that the poisoner in question wanted to make certain that Lady Myrcella died. My, ahem, best guess is that they used the Strangler and some other poison. It is our good fortune because if they had just used the Strangler, Myrcella would have assuredly died."
"I am told that the Strangler is a rare and difficult-to-make poison – why would someone with those means make such a simple mistake?"
The Grand Maester spread his hands. "I suspect that the poison was purchased and exchanged hands a few times; likely, the culprit is not an expert in poisons and assumed that two lethal substances would make death more certain. Their, ahem, ignorance has ensured that Myrcella lives; yet, with such a combination, I cannot say when she will awake."
Brienne raised her voice in question, "Culprit? Is it not clear that Cersei Lannister is the one who poisoned Myrcella?"
"Yes," Tywin explained, "she is. But my daughter was never allowed to leave her rooms; someone gave her the poison."
Varys and his soft voice spoke up then, "One of the cooks and two serving maids have disappeared from the Red Keep. My little birds were late in singing their songs to me, but the cook had recently come into some coin. He was a frequent visitor to one of the brothels – a brothel owned by Petyr Baelish."
Brienne cursed. "That treacherous rat! We should have pulled the Eyrie down around his ears."
"A tall order, even for my granddaughter," Tywin replied.
Brienne locked eyes with Lord Lannister, "Justice must be done, my lord. Cersei has committed the ultimate sin in the sight of Gods and men. To poison one's own child – it cannot go unanswered."
"I will attend to mine own house, Lady Brienne."
"That is insufficient. A debt is to be paid. Cersei must die," Brienne demanded.
Tywin's gaze did not seem to change, but it felt as if it gathered some unseen force around it. Brienne did not shirk from his stare and boldly challenged it. The two were at an impasse and neither spoke.
"Tempers are understandably high," Varys interjected, "but perhaps we should wait for the aggrieved party to awaken before any heated decisions be made?"
Brienne looked at the eunuch. "It should not be a burden laid upon a daughter to condemn her mother. I speak for the Stormguard – Cersei Lannister must pay for her crimes."
This one, and for Renly.
"Brienne of Tarth, you will do as I command. Myrcella's brother is the King, and I am his Regent. The fate of my daughter will be decided at a later moment. Rest assured, she has been moved to less accommodating quarters and will have no opportunity to cause further issues." His tone was stern, and he moved smoothly to the next topic. "I summoned you here because Ser Addam believes that the attack comes soon. Ser Barristan is still at least three days away from arrival. Lady Myrcella had wished for the Stormguard to lead the 'mobile active defense' of the city once the walls are breached. With her incapacitated, will her Stormguard act as she intended?"
Brienne frowned. "Yes, we will. But we will not allow Lady Myrcella to be unguarded. Nor will we allow any drink to pass her lips that has not been procured by us personally. I and Ser Theo will remain here and guard her night and day; the others…"
Brienne paused. No, that wasn't right. She and Ser Theo were senior members of the Stormguard and Ser Theo had a good head for strategy. Brienne was deeply hesitant to entrust Myrcella's safety to the hands of two new Stormguard either.
"No, forgive me. We should move Lady Myrcella to the same quarters as the King. Ser Arys is a true and valiant knight and can protect both, along with Ser Lyle. Lady Myrcella would want us out there to ensure the city bleeds the enemy properly. Can you attempt to stall, offer a parley, even open the suggestion of some terms for the exchange of captives?"
Tywin nodded. "Already done, but no response has been given. Their refusal to even discuss matters is likely another sign of an imminent attack."
Brienne exhaled heavily. "Very well, in that case, I will convene the Stormguard and move to our designated locations in preparation for the assault. But mark me, Lord Lannister, Cersei Lannister – and Petyr Baelish – will both leave this world soon."