A servant rapped twice on the door and entered, offering a deep bow, "Your Grace."
I dismissed Jaime with a wave of my hand, "Go, fetch her when she's ready."
I watched Jaime leave, and turned to the servant, beckoning him to speak with my gaze, "Lord Paxter is here to see you, Your Grace."
I nodded, "Yes, yes. Let him in."
The servant nodded, left, and a few moments later, Paxter Redwyne strode into the room. He looked appropriately haggard, with dark bags under his eyes and his few remaining tufts of orange hair appropriately ungroomed. Nonetheless, there was an air of self-satisfaction about the man. Paxter offered a decidedly tired bow, "Your Grace."
I smiled at his appearance. Clearly, he had not shirked his duties, "Lord Paxter! Are you well, my lord? Come, sit."
Paxter pulled out a seat and collapsed down into it as gently as possible, "I am, Your Grace."
I nodded, "I presume you are here about the fleet?"
Paxter nodded, "Yes, Your Grace. We have assembled all the ships - more than a hundred, all told. Warships, the lot of them."
I frowned. That sounded like a lot of ships, "And the reserves? How many remain in the Arbor?"
Lord Paxter nodded, "I felt ninety ships would suffice, Your Grace. The coasts of the Arbor are quite defensible, and ninety ought to prove sufficient for patrolling the coasts of the Reach."
"Very well. I will defer to your judgement on this matter." I rubbed my chin, feigning thoughtfulness, "And I gather you are ready to leave?"
Paxter nodded, "As you commanded, Your Grace. We leave for Dragonstone on the morrow."
"And Garlan?" I asked. "He is also ready to leave?"
"He is, Your Grace. And eager too. He is confident that he can take the island in no more than a month once a siege is established."
"That's good to hear," I said. "And you are aware of my orders, yes?"
Paxter again nodded, "Ships departing Dragonstone - carrying dragonglass, specifically - must be allowed to leave freely. But not returning. Only departing."
"And my orders for the mines?"
"Once captured, the mines are to be kept functional, and as much dragonglass as can be possibly mined and shipped to the Wall should be."
I smiled, "Excellent, Lord Paxter. Truly exemplary what you have managed in so little time. And with so little trouble, too. I am most pleased."
"You are most kind, Your Grace," Lord Paxter chirruped, no doubt feeling thoroughly pleased with himself. Then, he frowned, as if from confusion, "Your Grace, may I ask exactly why we are shipping dragonglass to the Wall?"
I nodded, "You may, Lord Paxter." Then, I began to lie through my teeth, "You see, if I can make peace with what remains of my family at the Wall, then I'd rather do just that. Make no mistake, I am furious with my uncle over his claims on my parentage, yet he is my blood still. And, as I am sure you would agree, I am no kinslayer."
"Of course not, Your Grace."
"The dragonglass is vital to the process," I explained curtly. "It's serves as leverage."
Paxter nodded, his expression still uncertain, but unwilling to press the issue further, "I see."
"Tell me, Lord Paxter, which of your two sons would you say is the most martially capable?" I asked, changing the subject.
Any trace of mirth or joy in the man's face promptly soured. Paxter's body appeared to stiffen, limbs becoming still as his jaw tensed and some of the colour left his face. No doubt, the mention of his sons had set him in a knife's edge. After a long moment of tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice suddenly hoarse and uncertain, "Horas, Your Grace."
"Very well, then. I think the time has come for Horas to be returned to the Arbor, wouldn't you agree, my lord?"
Paxter's lips split into a grin, the tension slipping from his form to reveal an exhausted relief, "Yes, Your Grace."
I smiled back, with as much grace and dignity as I could muster, "Of course. It shall be done after my wedding day. I'll have him write you."
Paxter, for some reason, seemed thoroughly pleased to hear it. He stood from his seat and departed from the chambers, offering a deep bow as he left, clearly eager to stay on my good side. After he had gone, Jaime reentered my chamber, a nervous Brienne behind him.
She looked positively miserable, stood there like that.
She had been dressed in women's clothes again, but the dress at least fit her well. It was a pale blue colour, and as simple as it was possible for a lady's dress to be. Though, I noticed, the seamstress had made a job of... emphasizing, some of Brienne's more womanly features, or at least the few that she had. Her corset pinched her waist tight, and seemed to give her breasts and hips both far more prominence than I suspected her armour ever did.
She actually looked comely. It didn't hurt that a bit of Gwendolyn Christie bled through. Though, her look of discomfort did not do her any favours.
No matter, she would be in armour again soon enough.
She gave an awkward bow, "Your Grace."
I smiled my most gracious smile, "At ease, my lady, at ease. I apologise for your internment - and for it's length as well. Ser Loras took some convincing to believe the truth of your innocence. And things have been rather busy in the capital - you understand."
She nodded, not quite satisfied with my excuses, but unable to challenge them, "I do."
I gestured to Jaime, "My uncle tells me that you could not possibly be guilty of the crime of which Ser Loras has accused you. Not that it is much of a crime - slaying a pretender to my throne. Nevertheless, he says you could not have done it."
Brienne shot Jaime a look, a mixture of suspicion and gratitude. Jaime gave her a cheeky smile in return, "Wench."
Brienne scowled, "My name is Brienne, not wench."
"Blue is a good colour for you," Jaime suddenly observed. "It goes well with your eyes."
Brienne looked down at herself, flustered, "Septa Donyse padded out the bodice, to give it that shape. She said you sent her to me." She lingered where she stood, unwilling to advance further into the room, and afraid to leave. "You look..."
"Different?" Jaime managed a half-smile. "More meat on my bones and fewer lice in my hair, is all. The stump's the same."
"Not quite the same," Brienne pointed out.
Jaime brandished his gilded hook rather lamely, "Oh, this? Just a little gift from His Grace."
I cut in before this little and back-and-forth they had could continue any longer, "I hear you swore an oath, my lady - to Lady Catelyn?"
Brienne hesitated, and looked to Jaime for reassurance, "To return the Stark girls home, yes."
I looked back at Jaime, "And she is a good fighter, is she?"
"She's okay," Jaime said with a half-smile, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eyes. "Clever enough to beat Loras in a fair duel."
I looked Brienne in the eyes, "And she is honourable?"
Jaime nodded, "Oh, yes. Almost foolishly so."
"If I were to ask something of you, Lady Brienne, could you swear it to me?"
Brienne's eyes flickered to Jaime, her expression profoundly unsure, and then settled back on mine, "It would depend on what you would ask, Your Grace."
I smiled, "Oh, my lady, nothing more than to ask you to honour your own word. And you would be richly rewarded for it, as well."
"I desire no reward save freedom, Your Grace," she demurred.
I quirked an eyebrow at her words, "But you have always wanted to be a Knight, no?"
Brienne looked up at me, half-shocked, half-outraged. "It was a title I intended to earn, Your Grace," Brienne said, rather defensively.
"And earn it you will, my lady. All I'm offering is an opportunity."
Brienne stared at me, eyes narrowed, silent for a long moment before she spoke, "How?"
"You know Arya Stark?"
Brienne's face twisted with ill-thought fury, "I will not harm my lady's daughter for a knighthood-"
"Peace, Lady Brienne, peace," I cut her off, hands raised in a placating manner. "You see, I have her in my custody, and when the time is right, I intend to return her to her family - or what remains of it, at least."
...
If you want to read ahead of the public release, or just want to support me.
you can join my p atreon :
p@treon.com/Nolma