Chapter Text
Disillusion:
“There are times when I love the world and love everyone, and I want to talk to everyone, and other times when I feel really disillusioned, and like none of this is real, nothing is real around me,” Tali Lennox.
It was perhaps the greatest horror in this version of her life, that Brienne of Tarth realized that Catelyn Stark was not the woman she had known.
The thought of the Lady Catelyn she had known made her mourn. It would always make her sorrowful. For she had clung to her image for nearly a decade. There were perhaps, aspects of her. Parts of her embedded in this young woman. The future version of the Lady of the North had not been completely different from her. But there is some things that are missing. Somethings yet to become. Or perhaps Brienne is now aware of absences in her in a way she had not before. Her stubbornness is different, not a determination as she had seen before, but instead a mulishness of her opinion. She gives console in authority, without quarter and with the arrogance of someone foreign to Brienne. Or perhaps Brienne is more familiar of her Queen, more familiar to her evenness, her calm, her willingness to hear the opinions of others, that she sees the faults she had ignored in the Lady she had served but briefly.
She is certain of the harm that Catelyn Stark can inflict on her children.
She is certain of it and also helpless in preventing it by honorable means. She is a stranger to this younger woman and has no power of dictating anything in her charges’ sides officially. She is also certain, however, if need be, she would indeed help Queen Sansa and Princess Arya flee the North. If another Stark girl must be taken for her own sake, I will do so for my queen. How much that led to parallels between the two girls and their tragic aunt, Brienne tried not to think of it.
And wonders with her knowledge of King Jon, the Baratheon drunkard of a King, and wonders at the decision.
She cannot blame Lyanna Stark for seeking escape. Had not Brienne done the same when Renly had offered her a place on his Rainbow Guard? She can blame the long-dead girl for the consequences of going half-cocked, however. And she knows it is those similar consequences that will prevent Sansa from doing the same if the need arises. She is many things, but one to shriek her duties is not what Queen Sansa Stark does. However, she defines her duties, because she is a queen.
“The Tyrells adore you. The heir has become interested in you,” insists Catelyn Stark.
She has stopped looking at her Lord husband. Taken his questions and reprime with silence, with ruddy face humiliation, but had not directed a single word to him. Only let him speak his fill before she had whipped her furious gaze to Sansa. Her jaw worked, tightly, and Brienne thinks she is either about to cry or scream.
Sansa’s lips curl.
“I do not believe that Lord Willas is infatuated with a child, mother,” returned Sansa. Face serene, “In fact, I find that his gaze lingers on you.”
All her anger is simmering, writhing, Brienne can see. She wonders if anyone else can see it. Or do they only see the placid face, the even tone, and think her Queen calm?
"He is the only match for you-"
Even Brienne could argue against that. Sansa Stark was the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark, beautiful and fair, and she could marry any Lord from the North to Dorne. She doubts any offer made for her hand would be given a negative. On parchment, perhaps, Lord Willas was indeed the best match that Lady Sansa could make without any legitimate young heir to Robert Baratheon’s. But there is more to consider, and if Brienne can see that, ill-versed as she is in politics, she does not know why Catelyn Stark cannot see it.
"Father has given his ruling, Mother. I will wed whom I please when I please. I plead you to stop your foolishness."
Catelyn Stark snarled. Snarled at Sansa. Brienne felt her entire body tense, and her hand went to her sword unconsciously. Because the face the Lady made was eerily reminiscent of the Stoneheart. Brienne cannot help but recall the horrible way her hair had caught flame, the shaking hand of Queen Sansa as she dropped the torch atop her body. Brienne shuddered. And felt her breath come in quick, short bursts. Brienne had blubbered like a child that day. Blubbered and wailed while Sansa could not. It was only later when the Red Witch had scolded the men that had followed behind Lady Stoneheart for not bringing Lady Stark back at all, had her tears stopped. And only then her horror had gathered and turned to fury in quick succession.
"Enough," said Lady Stark, "I have played this game enough with you, Sansa!"
Blue eyes flashed.
"Have you, Mother?" Queen Sansa did not yell. It was never her way to escalate an encounter. She smiled. Cold and every one of her teeth, "I am not a child. Be what I look like, I am twenty namedays in mind. I have lived five years without you, and you do not command me. It is father, as you have thought to constantly throw into my mind when I was a child. It is my father who determines my fate, and later my Lord husband. You are neither."
Catelyn flinched. Flinched.
"I am your mother."
"And my father has declared that the North is not for sale. I am not for sale. "
"Sansa-"
"What will you do, for a handful of grain? The North is not poor, and the Reach is too internally volatile for us to make a permanent alliance. The Tyrells have royal ambitions, so Margaery will not be open for a marriage to Robb, and what minor lady would you throw at Jon?! The North already has thought itself slighted by House Stark once before because of your marriage to Father, Lyanna's betrothal to King Robert, and Uncle Benjen running off to the Wall. At least one of us will have to marry internally, and Robb has already set himself to the task."
Brienne hoped he found love. Love, for that, was what her Queen Sansa’s brother deserved. But he had resigned himself to only a lady of the North, and not to seek out his previous bride. To leave her peace whilst he strengthed the ties within the North. There was a sacrifice in that, Brienne knew. But she thought it was enough for the Starks to only sacrifice one of their children for their safety and assurance. Sansa had long paid that price, twice over, and she wondered how Catelyn Stark, any version of her, could demand such a thing from her queen again.
Lady Catelyn’s fists clenched. Her jaw worked furiously-
“I will take Sansa far away before another marriage is forced upon her,” she blurted.
Lady Catelyn whipped around. Her mouth dropped.
“And who are you, my lady, to take such liberty with my daughter?! A stranger-”
“You tasked me once with you daughters.”
“I-”
“After all of this, do you truly not believe your own child? Do you truly think her a liar, fanciful? Do you not see her eyes, and not see the horrors she has lived through? Do you not see me, stranger, who has thrown herself North, miles from home, without contact with your daughter, with the same memories of a time that has pasted but not yet, and not understand?” Brienne’s chest heaved, and she realized with a start she was on the verge of tears.
“Lady Brienne-”
“I am Ser Brienne. I have earned that title at your daughter’s feet. I have served my Queen in the end of Autumn, through the harshest of Winter in living memory. I may not be able to use it openly, but I will use it here.”
Catelyn stared at her. Her eyes were wide with her disbelief. Brienne breathed, sharply, forcing tears away.
“Would you be as cruel as your daughter’s captors? The Catelyn Stark I knew died to bring her children home. The Catelyn Stark in front of me seems determined to do the very opposite.”
Catelyn Stark shuddered.
“I- It is the duty of a parent to determine the matches of their children-”
“No,” spoke Lord Eddard Stark, voice firm and unyielding, “It is the Lord who drafts such alliances. You have over-stepped, Catelyn. At best, if the Tyrells take insult, they will decide to make their produce as hard to purchase as possible. At worst, my lady, if they take insult, they will close their trade to us completely. They can survive the Winter without us, in that case. What if the magic of the Night King does not end the Winter?! Last our legends tell us, the Winter of the Long Night lasted a generation, and that was when they successfully beat back the White Walkers! We must have their grain to shore up our stores and give us room for our glass gardens to supplement, not completely supply us in that coming Winter.”
“The solution will be for Sansa-”
Eddard Stark was much like the Queen. Not quick to anger. Hardly one to raise his voice. It was part of the reason Brienne found herself glad to know of this man. Stranger that she was, as Lady Catelyn had pointed out, even she was shocked by how Lord Eddard slammed his palms on his desk.
“OUR CHILDREN WILL NOT PAY FOR OUR MISTAKES! SANSA HAS ALREADY LIVED THROUGH THEM!” he roared, his voice breaking in emotion.
Lady Catelyn took a step forward.
“Why did it have to be her!?” cried Lady Catelyn at last, voice sobbing, mouth twisting, “Why did it have to be Sansa to suffer all of this?! Why did my girl have to become a leader in this, Queen of the fucking North, and suffer the mantle of her brothers?! If she were to marry Willas if she were protected in the most fruitful of the Realms. She would- she would be safe.”
Catelyn Stark burst into tears.
Queen Sansa let out a breath. And in that moment, Brienne saw the anger leave her completely. She strode forward, and carefully touched her mother's arm. Lady Catelyn only sobbed harder.
"Mother," her voice was soft. Gentle.
"I- I just wish to protect you. Who's to say you will not be dragged further into horror if you remain North? Who's to say that you will not be hurt again?!"
She dropped to her knees before her daughter. Desperately clung to her wrists. Queen Sansa barely flinched.
"And whose to say I will not be hurt if I go south? Who's to say that Lord Willas would not bid me to leave with Maergery to the Capital once we are wed? Whose to say that Petyr would see me in a Tourney and plot to upend my life for a pretty, younger Catelyn Tully to be at his side again? Life is full of questions, full of uncertainties. But I am certain that all I want is to stay with my family. Family, Duty, Honor. I want to stay. Once all I ever wanted was to leave- but not now. Not yet."
"Oh, Sansa."
Sansa drew her mother into her arms. Soothed her softly as she collapsed into her chest.
“I just wish to protect you…”
“I know. But it is this desire that has caused strife in our family before, Mother. Please. Please consult us.”
“I cannot bare the future you come from.”
“I know, Mother, I know.”
Brienne breathed easier.
Perhaps there is some of the Lady Cat I knew after all.
"Please. Please, let me keep you safe-"
"There are so many ways for me to be safe. I cannot escape the North like Aunt Lyanna attempted. This is not my course, Mother."
"My marriage was-"
“Was built stone by stone. Made good by the esteem and understanding between you and father. Would you truly let me marry a strange at the simple chance I will not suffer as I've before?"
Catelyn sobbed. Queen Sansa sighed.
"Father will have much to discuss with you. I will tell you one last piece of advice, Mother. You cannot decide this alone. If you cannot understand this, I cannot trust you."
Queen Sansa pulled away. Looked at her father. Face tight.
"I believe it is time to discuss the topic of girlhood friends," she said, simply.
Brienne blinked. It was cruelty to bring the matter of Baelish now when Lady Cat was so obvious emotionally wretched. But Brienne could see her queen simply wishing to gauge her mother when she was so vulnerable. Cruel, but all too pragmatic. Sansa was never cruel without purpose.
"... Cat. Cat we need to discuss Petyr Bearish," said Lord Ned, voice soft.
Lady Cat stilled. Her red-rimmed Tully blue eyes went wide.
"What of him?"
"Chaos is a ladder. That is his creed. That will always be his aim," said Sansa, "He will not hesitate to use any means to achieve his goals. Murder, bribery, to throw even you away, Mother, despite his claims of loving you."
Lady Catelyn frowned.
"And what would we do? What on Earth do you propose-"
"To kill him," said Lord Ned, voice growing hard. Almost a snarl, really, “To put the mad bastard down.”
Queen Sansa nodded, serious.
Catelyn Stark took in a shuddering breath. Stilled so completely that Brienne was reminded of the dead waiting for a command from their Other.
“You wish to kill the Master of the Coin? That will sow chaos,” her voice is steadier than before, softer as well, “Would it not be best to… Unseat him?”
“He has the information of most Lords in King’s Landing. He owns most brothels from the Reach until the Vale, Mother. We cannot unseat him for those secrets he has gained alone. None officially in the Riverlands because your Lord Father loathes him, Dorne does not interest him, and none this far North,” she smiled slightly, “Best that he has tried. The Madames of the North do not want him nor to give him his cut.”
Lady Catelyn spluttered, red as rose. Eddard Stark gave a long-suffering sigh.
“Sansa.”
Queen Sansa laughed, amused at their scandal.
“We have a whore-house in Wintertown, and Baelish’s spies are mostly his sex workers, I would be remiss if I didn’t check. Best I am able to see, only Lord Varys has managed some spies here in the North, in our orphanage, with new ones from the Reach trying to establish themselves as traders. I am not inflatable however, I could have missed some.”
“...So we must kill him,” concluded Lady Cat, voice sad.
“I am sorry, Mother. I know he was your friend.”
Lady Cat sighed and whipped quickly at the tears in her eyes.
“If it will spare the Realm blood, if it will allow Lysa to live a little longer, I will think the boy I loved dearly as only memory. Dead on Brandon’s blade. What must I do?”
Queen Sansa smiled.