Stormlands, Bronze Gate.
The city had just endured the fires of battle, but since its walls had collapsed and its defenses crumbled almost instantly, the bloodshed was not as widespread as it might have been. Ralph Buckler had already surrendered and sworn loyalty to Samwell, causing the last pockets of resistance to melt away like snow under the scorching sun.
By late afternoon, the sounds of combat had nearly vanished from the city.
This was, in large part, thanks to Samwell himself. Flying on Cleopatra, he patrolled the skies above, instilling fear in the Stormlanders and breaking their will to resist, while also reminding the Reach soldiers not to harass the locals or commit needless violence. With plans to claim the Stormlands under his rule, Samwell already had a sense of "ownership" over it.
After he had just executed a soldier for attempting to assault a local woman, Samwell soared back into the air, greeted by cheers from grateful townsfolk.
Seeing that dusk was nearing and that order had mostly been restored, he was preparing to return to the castle when he noticed a crowd of soldiers gathered by a lone tower near the western gate. They surrounded the structure, not attacking but instead laughing and shouting cheers, as if egging someone on.
Curious, Samwell guided Cleopatra down to land.
"Lord Caesar," the Reach soldiers greeted him as he dismounted.
Before he could ask questions, he heard the clash of swords from inside the tower. Then, with a cry, a Reach knight stumbled out, hands and feet scrambling as he crawled across the ground.
His helmet had been knocked off, his sword broken, and blood dripped from his mouth. The horn of plenty emblazoned on his chest plate marked him as a knight of House Mullendore.
The gathered soldiers erupted in laughter, throwing out taunts like, "Can't even beat a woman?"
"What's going on?" Samwell asked, frowning. "Are there still enemies in this tower who haven't surrendered?"
"Yes, my lord," answered a knight from House Hightower. "There's a woman in there who refuses to surrender. Ser Mark Mullendore was the first to attempt capturing her, but he came out beaten and bruised. Then Ser Hyle Hunt went in and got thrown out, and then Ser Emmon Cuy…"
"So you've all been standing here playing some kind of game with a woman?" Samwell's frown deepened.
"We could easily storm the tower or smoke her out with fire, but…well, she is a woman…"
"Oh, so you all do have some sense of chivalry?" Samwell remarked, his sarcasm obvious.
The Hightower knight's face flushed in embarrassment.
They were, truthfully, more upset about being bested by a woman than concerned with chivalry, each one attempting to prove his own mettle. But the result was clear enough: the knights of the Reach had thoroughly disgraced themselves today, and now none dared to challenge her again.
Seeing Samwell, they all turned to him with hopeful looks.
Sporting two black eyes, Ser Mark Mullendore spoke up with his mouth barely able to form words. "Lord Samwell, it's Brienne, daughter of Lord Tarth of Evenfall Hall—'the Beauty' Brienne. Don't be fooled by her being a woman; she's a menace! We've tried taking her, but she's too fierce. Go in and show this Stormlands wench what the strongest knight of the Reach is made of!"
Samwell had already guessed who it might be; in the entire realm, there was probably only one woman capable of doing this much damage to knights: the "Beauty" with the dream of knighthood.
The daughter of Lord Tarth, Brienne was the heiress of Evenfall Hall. Despite her ungainly looks, her noble birth had brought her many suitors, but she had refused all three engagements her father arranged. The girl dreamed of becoming a knight, a dream that had no place in this world.
And yet, Brienne had devoted herself to that impossible dream. She trained in swordplay, learned to ride into battle, and fought like any man, becoming something of a pariah for it. Her nickname, "the Beauty," was only ever spoken in mockery.
Despite being rejected by the world around her, Brienne could perhaps be called one of the truest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, if not in title, then certainly in spirit. In her, Samwell saw the only genuine knight in Westeros who wasn't one.
He walked forward, pushing open the heavy oak door to the tower and stepping inside.
The dim light within made it difficult to see at first, but he soon made out the figure of the woman across from him. The "Beauty" of Evenfall Hall was indeed not beautiful. Her face was broad and round, freckled and weathered. Her nose had been broken and reset several times. Her yellow hair looked brittle and dry, and her massive frame was clad in bloodstained, battle-scarred steel armor. She wielded a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, glaring at him with watchful eyes.
Brienne's large blue eyes, pure and direct as the open sea, were perhaps her only beautiful feature.
"Lady Brienne, Ralph Buckler has already surrendered. The battle is over," Samwell announced.
"I have not been defeated, and so my battle isn't over," she replied in a low, hoarse voice filled with unyielding resolve.
"This is Brinze Gate, not Evenfall Hall. Why are you so determined to fight?"
"I promised Lord Buckler I would defend this city."
"But he has surrendered."
"I do not surrender without a fight."
She's as stubborn as she is naïve, Samwell thought, amused. He was about to draw the greatsword on his back but, hesitating, instead picked up a shield from the ground and held it up. "All right, show me what 'the Beauty' of Evenfall Hall is capable of."
Brienne, catching her breath, didn't rush forward. She knew well who he was—the Lord Caesar, the terrifying knight who had slain three Kingsguard in a single duel.
Facing a man like that filled her with fierce resolve. Yet she refrained from attacking first. Her teacher had taught her that, as a woman, her strength was in using a man's expectations against him, making him tire himself out before she struck. This strategy had bested many a man before, and she hoped it might work here.
But her thoughts scattered as the man in front of her sprang forward, his feet hitting the stone floor with a thunderous impact.
With a towering shield before him, Samwell charged. She felt the danger instinctively and rolled to the side.
The shield crashed into the stone wall, sending shards of rock flying in all directions. Brienne's armor rang with the impact of scattered debris as the whole tower seemed to shake. His strength was terrifying.
She barely had time to catch her breath before he charged again. Brienne raised her shield, but with a clang, she was thrown back, slamming against the opposite wall.
Her whole left arm went numb from the force. She had never felt this kind of despair in a fight before.
The difference between them was overwhelming. There was no chance of winning. Yet, defiant as ever, she climbed to her feet, fighting back tears of frustration, just in time to see Samwell charging again.
Her best chance was to tire him out. Brienne turned and ran, trying to circle around the room, but he pursued her with relentless speed, knocking her down several times with ease. Her heart pounded, and she felt herself near collapse. She dashed up the spiral staircase, hoping to escape his relentless assault.
Samwell chased her up the stairs until they reached a dead-end at the top—a half-opened iron door.
Brienne threw herself through the door and slammed it shut, moving a few steps away before the door itself shuddered under a colossal impact.
Boom—
The iron door flew off its hinges and plummeted to the ground below, where the soldiers below shouted in amazement.
Watching him storm toward her like an unstoppable force, Brienne felt her fear replaced by a strange calm.
This rooftop was enclosed by rickety wooden railings. With nowhere left to run, Brienne dropped her sword and gripped her shield with both hands.
When Samwell closed in, she pivoted, spinning away from his direct attack and slamming her shield into his side. She felt his solid weight shift slightly, but she herself was thrown off balance, tumbling backward.
Her body hit the old wooden railing, which gave way beneath her weight. She was falling.
"Cleopatra!" Samwell called out.
With a thunderous shriek, the white dragon surged up from below, catching her mid-air with a gust of searing heat from its wings.
Suspended in the air, Brienne clung to Cleopatra's neck, a scream escaping her lips as she felt herself lifted back to safety on the rooftop.
Even as Cleopatra set her down, Brienne's legs shook, and she fell to her knees, still clinging to the dragon, too shocked to move.
Cleopatra, clearly disliking the touch of an unfamiliar person, shifted, throwing Brienne off gently.
"Do you yield, Lady Brienne?" Samwell asked with a grin.
Brienne rose to her feet, lowering her head as she muttered, "I yield."
(End of Chapter)