Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Brienne knocked on the solar door as loudly as her little fist would allow, her heart thumping. She had been summoned by her father, this time without Septa Roelle.

Often they were there together to settle some issue the increasingly disgruntled Septa had with her charge. Brienne was afraid that this time she had done something serious to displease him; she gripped and ungripped her hands nervously.

But when she walked through the door at his low greeting, their twinned blue eyes met and he smiled warmly. “Come Brienne, let us take a walk together” he declared, already striding across the room and past her out of the door.

Tension easing, Brienne followed her father from the room. They walked together from the Hall, across the courtyard, and started down the dirt road to the little port of Edgton below.

The sun was high, and the strong sea breeze was blowing the grass in all directions across the hillside. When they had gone only a short distance, Selwyn stopped to take in the view back to Evenfall Hall.

“Do you know Brienne that, as my only child, you are my heir. That means you will be the Evenstar after I am gone. All of this will be yours to rule.” he said, gesturing with his arms towards both the hall and the town.

Brienne looked at him seriously with her eyes wide. “Of course, father” she replied, although if she was honest she hadn’t spent much time considering this. She had only ever pictured Galladon in the role of Evenstar, even after his death.

Selwyn continued “You are seven now Brienne. Do you know that it is up to me to find you a suitable marriage match for suchtime as you are a woman flowered?” Brienne nodded. “Do you wish to wed Brienne?”

She considered this for a moment, imagining herself as the storybook maiden falling in love with the gallant knight. “Oh yes father”, Brienne nodded earnestly.

Selwyn’s face fought to look pleased through a veil of melancholy as he thought of how grown up his little girl had become.

“I have arranged you a betrothal with a boy from House Caron. He is ten. You will wed him as soon as your first flowering is upon you”. He paused to take in her reaction. “How does that make you feel Brienne?” he asked, his brow creased.

She had been memorising noble houses with the Septa, and had learned that House Caron had a reputation for producing warriors and singers. This sounded to Brienne’s young heart like a perfect blend of excitement and romance.

“Oh I am so happy father!” laughed Brienne, dancing with delight. Selwyn let go off the breath he had been holding and laughed along with her, relieved.

Selwyn had known that Brienne would need a betrothal eventually, and his advisors had been berating him more and more on this matter as Brienne grew. His talks with Lord Bryen Caron, Lord of the Marches, had resulted in a promise of her hand for his second son, Bryant.

Although Tarth was not one of the great houses, with need of a strong strategic or political marriage pact, there were still important aspects to consider.

The Carons were one of the noblest houses in the Stormlands, dating back to the Age of Heroes, and after the Dance of the Dragons, Lord Royce Caron had been chosen as one of the regents to King Aegon III.

The betrothal was a way for Selwyn to strengthen Tarth’s ties with a mainland house with strong history, whilst ensuring the continuation of his own house.

Although he knew he should take another wife in order to have more children – indeed, he had been firmly told as much by his advisors - Selwyn couldn’t bring himself to set aside his love for the woman he had lost, and a large part of him was afraid to open himself to the pain of potential loss once more.

So, as his only living heir, Brienne would one day be the Evenstar - and as Bryant wasn’t the heir to Nightsong, the betrothal included the agreement that there would be heirs for Tarth from any children Brienne would bear.

Also important to Selwyn (though not shared with anyone else) was the fact that Nightsong was relatively close to Tarth – across the sea but still in the Stormlands.

While he knew it was inevitable that Brienne would wed and then leave the island, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to ever let her go.

With this arrangement the betrothal would last some time, assuming that Brienne’s first flowering wouldn’t be for many years hence, and then she would - if the God’s allowed - remain within visiting distance.

Brienne herself, oblivious to these political and emotional manoeuvrings, stopped dancing so she could hug Selwyn tightly. “Thank you father.”

They walked back to the Hall together, with Brienne chattering and Selwyn smiling at her.

Once he had told Brienne of the betrothal, Selwyn sent a raven to Nightsong to arrange for the Carons to visit Tarth.

Septa Roelle was very pleased with the news and, when the date of the visit was fixed for a fortnight’s time, instructed the seamstresses to set to work on a new gown for Brienne to wear for at the feast that was to be held on the Carons arrival.

Although Brienne had had dresses made for her many times before, this time was different.

Brienne stood to be measured with the Septa looking on, bared flesh chilly in the morning air, goosebumps raising as she felt the seamstresses’ fingers criss-cross her body in their work.

Ablaze with nervous energy, Brienne couldn’t help but daydream about her betrothed as she stood there. I am to be married! She still couldn’t believe it. What will he be like?

Picturing the handsome knights from her history books and herself a bride made her blush deeply, the colour pinpricking its way down her cheeks and neck, settling around her collarbone.

The seamstresses worked tirelessly and a few days later, the dress was ready.

The skirt was azure blue velvet, with a loose bodice of silk in the same colour and buttons at the back. The neckline was high, and soft sleeves fell to her waistline. The collar was studded with small sparkling jewels.

It was the most beautiful item of clothing she had ever seen, and Brienne was thrilled it was hers. “Oh thank you all!” she smiled happily.

“Try it on Lady Brienne” said the Septa, and Brienne didn’t need much encouragement. She quickly shed her layers and the seamstresses buttoned her into the dress.

Turning herself about in front of the long mirror, Brienne could hardly take herself in. With this gown I could be the heroine in a legend or a song.

On the day of the Carons arrival, Brienne was helped into the gown and her long blonde curls were styled by the maid with a rose pink ribbon.

Brienne and Septa Roelle waited in the courtyard to greet the visitors, who were being brought from the port on horseback where they had been received by her father.

The Septa ran through one last time the things that she had taught Brienne to say and do on their arrival. “Remember Lady Brienne – you must curtsey, address them with their proper titles…”

Brienne was only half listening. She was biting her lip nervously, impatient to meet her betrothed.

Then at last her father came through the gates, ushering the visitors in. They dismounted and walked towards the main door where Brienne and the Septa were standing.

“Lord and Lady Caron, this is my daughter Brienne, and her Septa Roelle.” “Pleased to meet you my lord, my lady” smiled Brienne as she curtsied to them, eager to please.

Next to them stood a shy looking boy, with straight dark hair falling to atop his ears, and a small mole on his upper lip. “This is Bryant, our youngest son.” said Lord Caron.

Bryant stepped forward to Brienne and handed her a small decorative cushion, the main panels yellow and embroidered with elegant black nightingales, the sigil of the Caron house.

“Pleased to meet you my lady” He said as he bowed. They smiled at each other uncertainly, unsure what to say next.

“Well then, looks like all is going well with the betrothed!” bellowed Lord Caron and laughed uproariously, slapping Selwyn on the shoulder. He was a stout man, and stood a head shorter than Selwyn.

His lady wife smiled thinly.

“Come, let us proceed to the long hall, where we have a feast laid out in your honour” said Selwyn. Brienne smiled at Bryant and motioned for him to follow her.

It was a small affair - there were other guests already in the hall, members of the household and one or two of the more important townsfolk Selwyn had invited.

They sat in their allocated seats, Brienne next to her father, and Bryant at the other end of the table by his mother, each shyly chancing a glimpse at the other when they could.

After they had eaten their fill, their party moved into the upper hall where Maryn the Merry was preparing to perform for their entertainment.

“Brienne, show Bryant some of the dances you have learned” said the Septa, pushing her forward. “Of course, Septa” Brienne said, catching his eye and smiling.

He looked unsure but when the music started she took his hand and moved them into the center of the hall. Their parents looked on approvingly as Brienne and Bryant danced together slowly.

As Brienne looked into his face, she imagined they were grown and this was their wedding feast.

Bryant seemed shy, and kind. As they danced, Brienne daydreamed of the day they would wed: both older, smiling shyly, standing in the Sept with their wrists bound by ribbon.

A day or two later, when the Carons headed back to the mainland, Brienne felt her tentative grasp on this new future slipping away with them, her happiness now a fledging bird in their hands.

-

Seizing the opportunity, Septa Roelle informed Lord Selwyn in no uncertain terms that, as a girl now betrothed, Brienne needed to focus on learning the duties of a highborn lady wife. This had to take priority if he wanted Brienne to be a proper lady and not a laughing stock.

As always, Selwyn wanted what was best for Brienne, so he allowed the Septa more control over her daily routine. The Septa told Maryn the Merry was told he was no longer required at the Hall, and after so many years of service he left Evenfall Hall.

Now in her element, Septa Roelle became even stricter with Brienne. As a wife, Brienne would be expected to manage the household, and look after her husband and children, and this was to be the main concern of their lessons until Brienne was flowered.

When Brienne settled in for her lessons after the Carons visit, Septa Roelle said “Lady Brienne, we will start with needlework today. It is highborn tradition for a young lady to sew and embroider to make ready for her married life. You will prepare needlework and sewing and fill a chest that will go with you when you wed”.

Brienne was unimpressed with this idea. As much as she loved to take out her mother’s sewing box, Brienne had found that needlework was far from the fun task she had imagined herself doing.

Brienne found it hard work to concentrate on what she was doing, her mind wandering, and then making mistakes which the Septa would scold her for.

But what would Bryant and his family think if I go to Nightsong without a chest of my own? Wanting to do the right thing, Brienne steeled herself. “Of course Septa Roelle”.

A wooden chest with a carved lid was commissioned from the carpenter. It was slow progress, but as she completed each piece and stashed it away, she could feel her hope for the future settling and growing like a seedling planted inside her heart.

Brienne had placed the beautiful yellow and black cushion Bryant had given her inside the chest, so each time she lifted the lid she was reminded of the way she’d felt as they danced together.

The work of the needlework chest took many moons.

As she worked, the Septa would tell Brienne of other things a wife must know – how best to manage your household servants; how to plan food supplies for winter; and the importance of providing many children to be your husband’s heirs.

In particular, the Septa would mention the things that a husband would have of a wife after the ceremony, in order to make an heir.

They wouldn’t discuss it openly, but every now and again in the course of their lessons the Septa would say something about a husband’s expectations in the marriage bed.

If Brienne questioned her directly, Septa Roelle would draw herself up and hold her breath, before announcing that “a woman should expect to endure rather than enjoy marital relations” or “a husband should never be denied his rights”.

These statements mystified and frightened Brienne, who couldn’t imagine what this horrible act must entail.

Brienne’s fairly sheltered existence had not very adequately prepared her for such things, although of course she’d seen the frenzied coupling animals would make before they had young.

I must be strong as my mother was, to make a child Brienne told herself. All she could do was to hope that life with Bryant would not be like that. She couldn’t imagine shy Bryant behaving as the Septa described.

When these conversations became too much, or if Septa Roelle was on the warpath, Brienne would seek solitude by rowing her dingy to a small stony cave, hidden round the cliffs from the beach under Evenfall.

Brienne had stumbled across it while sailing, and thought it the perfect place to hide when life became overwhelming. Here, able to be alone with her thoughts, Brienne would sit for hours, knowing she couldn’t be found.

Sometimes she would sing to herself, envying the characters in the songs their strange, wonderful, complicated lives in faraway lands. But most often she would bring a book to read, propping herself against the damp rock wall.

Brienne’s appetite for reading was still voracious, and had now extended to the history of Westeros, and other scholarly texts on top of her favourite legends and tales.

But of all that she had read, the history of her own house, and the kings and knights of Tarth past, were especially fascinating to Brienne.

She could see the strong noble bloodline stretching down the years that even included Targaryens, and would read about the many daughters had by her ancestors who had played their part in Tarth’s legacy by marrying into other noble houses.

Brienne could see herself following this path with Bryant, the boy who would become a knight, giving him children and grandchildren, and it all recorded until the end of days in the histories of Houses Tarth and Caron.

Brienne wanted to fill the pages of her own book more than anything. Not only had it been her younger self’s dream to marry a knight, but there was now also a growing awareness about being Selwyn’s only heir that filled her with a sense of duty.

She knew from the history books that it was important to protect each House’s legacy, and that this was now solely down to her.

This felt like a lot of responsibility, especially coupled with the Septa’s proclamations about marital relations, but Brienne was determined she would see it through. For father and for Tarth.

Over the past year, Selwyn had started a new association of his own, in the form of a beautiful Essosi merchant who had come to Evenfall on the way to Westeros and never left.

Brienne wondered now if perhaps she wouldn’t be the only heir for long. Perhaps her father would marry and have a son, and her obligations would become less complicated.

If Galladon were here, she realised, this duty would be his and not mine.

Whilst Brienne was still happy to be betrothed, she would have liked to have been able to see Bryant again, and to see how he was faring as he grew.

She was changing as she aged and he must be too, but as more time passed since she had seen him, Brienne’s image of Bryant became less certain in her mind.

She longed for her first flowering to come to her so they could marry; so she could leave childish things behind and truly begin her life.

-

“Excuse me my Lord” said Maester Lesset, bowing his head as he entered Selwyn’s solar late one evening. “We have received an urgent raven from Nightsong”.