the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

A few weeks have passed since Alanna was last in Milliways. Happy weeks full of the relaxation and relative quiet that comes with warm weather, when most members of the court return to their homes outside the city. George watches Alanna and Jon with thoughtful looks, but for the most part everything is as it always was, and the trio has had many an entertaining night at the Dancing Dove.

Alanna is happy.

She arrives in the Bar with half a mind to find Carol so she can report that everyone -- by which she means Jon and George -- is behaving with respect and honor, but it's Brienne she sees first. Brienne, to whom she had promised to tell the truth the next time they crossed paths. Alanna hesitates, because years of caution are hard to overcome, but remembers what she'd just thought about Jon, George, and honor. She will act honorably and keep to her word. Even if it's hard.

Alanna waits until she catches Brienne's eye and gestures to the back door with a smile, then exits. She doesn't wait to see if the other woman follows, because she doesn't want anyone else to get too curious about what she has to say. Outside, she leans against a tree and works on not looking nervous.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Brienne is dressed in a tunic and breeches provided by Bar, with Oathkeeper strapped to her waist.

When Alan gestures her outside, she follows, curiously, and waits for Alan to speak.

Alanna clears her throat and scuffs her boot into the dirt, trying to keep the color she can feel creeping up her cheeks from turning into a red that matches her hair.

"Hello."

Beat.

"I like your sword," she blurts out.

Well.

This is awkward.

Brienne blushes too. Lots of awkward! "Thank you. It's of Valyrian steel. I named it Oathkeeper."

She stops herself before she starts babbling about Jaime and Ned Stark's sword Ice.

"Oathkeeper!"

Alanna manages not to let out a shrill laugh, but it's a near thing.

"That's a good name. I should keep mine."

Beat.

"My oath, not my name."

Beat.

"Well, I'll keep that too," she grins. "Have I mentioned that madness runs in my family?"

"I--" It takes Brienne a moment to realize Alan is joking, and she ventures a shy smile. "Some would call me mad, too, for running about in mail with a sword."

"Then they are mad to think you shouldn't," Alanna replies, heatedly.

Well.

Now or never.

"Have you toured the stables yet?"

Or, you know. In a few minutes.

"Not yet," Brienne says. She's not a seer, but she can tell when someone's hemming and hawing and dodging a subject. On the other hand, she doesn't want to press Alan to share his secrets before he's ready. "I would like to see them."

Excellent. The stables are quieter than the bar and, as long as she takes a moment to ensure they are alone, relatively private. Plan in place, Alanna smiles, nods, and starts walking in that direction.

Except she makes it all of five paces and stops dead, turning to Brienne and blurting out:

"I'm a girl."

It comes out like a grumpy, mulish challenge. Alanna feels her stomach drop and makes a face, annoyed at herself all over again.

"...oh," says Brienne, blinking. "I thought you might be--I thought you might be Sansa Stark, you see, though her hair is auburn and yours more red, but you might be her age and you have no beard...but then I could tell you were not she, and I assumed you were probably what you seem."

Brienne looks at Alan--which is probably not her name--more critically. It's easy to see now how she might be a girl, but also easy to see how she might pass for a boy, with her slimness. "You're dressing as a boy to become a knight, then?"

This was not a path Brienne had ever considered. She would have had to leave her home, go where no one recognized her, invent a lineage, or else go where no one knew Lord Selwyn of Tarth had no sons, and she didn't know where that might be...

"That's very brave," Brienne says finally.

Giving up on the stables for now, Alanna veers to the left and leans against a tree, checking back over Brienne's shoulder to make sure they weren't followed.

At first she stiffens when Brienne says she had suspected the truth, but Alanna soon starts to relax. It makes sense. If she'd come here looking for a redheaded girl in need of a disguise, Alanna would seem a viable possibility. It helps, oddly, that she'd managed to convince Brienne she probably was what she claimed to be.

"I'm not sure it's brave so much as foolhardy," Alanna says, blushing anew, "or even outright stupid. I could be killed if the truth were discovered."

Again she looks back toward the bar.

"No one can know. Well, a few know. Quentin, Charles, Tavi, and Carol, but I would appreciate it if you acted as though I am simply Squire Alan all the same."

Alanna tries to put as much feeling as she can into her words. It's important.

Edited 2015-08-31 22:03 (UTC)

Brienne nods at once. "Very well, of course I shall," she says. "Your people would kill you if they knew? Truly?" It's not hard for Brienne to imagine. She supppose Tortall has its Randyll Tarlys, too.

"That makes it braver still. But if none of your people know, in your world, that must be very lonely." Lonely enough to be a woman who fought when all knew she was a woman, but to hold such a secret, and keep it for years...

"Thank you."

Alanna nods.

"The King might, particularly as I'm so close to his son...

"Who knows. Jonathan knows, so at least I'm no longer lying to him." Her chin lifts. "He picked me for his squire after he learned the truth."

It is a point of pride.

(So long as she ignores how he found out.)

"It is," she admits, coloring slightly. Again. "Lately more so than ever. That's one reason I thought to tell you. I'd be honored to call you friend."

A friend who understands, who she wouldn't have to lie to all the time. Alanna won't tell Faithful he was right, but.... he was right.

"If your prince knows, then you have the best ally possible," Brienne says, feeling happier for Alan(?)'s sake. "And if your king is good and just, surely he would hear his son's pleas on your behalf?"

At that last, Brienne blushes. She's not used to friends--not friends who like her in earnest and aren't playing unchivalrous jokes. "The honor would be mine," she manages.

"It's lonely for me, too," she adds after a beat. "All know I'm a woman, but...they do not like it."

Alanna bites her lower lip.

"He's not a bad king," she hedges, unwilling to be outright disloyal to her liege, "but he is... set in his ways. Or the ways of all the nobility's conservatives."

Though they are one and the same, for the most part: noble and conservative.

"Why?" she asks, forgetting in the moment whether or not they have already addressed this. "Is it just because they think women aren't capable or because they think it... unnatural? Or blasphemous?"

Any of the aforementioned options make Alanna see red.

Brienne nods. "It takes a brave king to defy the ways of his fathers, and his nobles." Brave like Renly was, to make a woman part of his Rainbow Guard, despite the scoffs and the grumbles of all.

She sighs. "They think women aren't capable, but even after they see that I am..." She thinks of Ser Goodwin, and Hyle, and Randyll Tarly. "Some change their minds and accept that I, at least, am capable, and won't interfere, or will fight alongside me...but a few others will then insist I'm unnatural, and blasphemous, and shouldn't be allowed to fight even if I can."

"It does," she nods, "but kings should be brave."

Her scowl deepens.

"That is what is said in Tortall, too, and I do not suffer any illusions that I'll change more than a few minds."

What will matter more is if she can inspire other girls.

"Noble daughters are sent to convents to learn how to catch husbands when they go to court. Noble sons have more choices. That's how I was able to pull it off." Here, she starts to smile again. "I have a twin brother, Thom. He didn't want to be a knight. He said I was the one who liked to fall down and whack at things, while he wanted to learn magic."

It's only then that she remembers she hasn't told Brienne her real name. Sheepishly, she pushes her hair back and says, "I'm Alanna. Lord Alan was our father."

"With us, noble daughters are educated by septas, who are dedicated to the Faith," says Brienne. "Noble sons--yes, they have more choices, they may be knights, or maesters, or septons, or simply learn to rule...but noble girls, they marry."

Brienne feels relief once again at the thought that she's escaped this fate.

"It's an honor to meet you properly, then, Alanna," says Brienne. "But are you telling me--you switched places? With your twin?"

It sounds like a tale from a song.

A relief Alanna shares, if her face is anything to go by.

"And you, Brienne." She smiles, more at ease and clearly proud of her scheme as she says, "I did. The Daughters at the convent train boys in magic before they go to the Mithrian priests, so really it was only a matter of dressing Thom in my skirts and me in his breeches, and replacing his name with 'Alan' in the letter placing me in Duke Gareth's care for training."

In retrospect, it really had been absurdly simple.

"Our father was not the most observant of parents," she adds, dryly.

Brienne gives a half-smile. "Most fortunate for you, to have such a brother as an ally," she says. "I suppose your brother Thom didn't persist in his disguise as a girl? He became a--what did you call it? A Mithran priest, instead?"

At that last, Brienne feels a little sad. "Observant or not, it must have taken sustained effort to keep up such a masquerade."

"He was easy to convince," Alanna says wryly, "since he was also getting his heart's desire."

Along with the added bonus of avoiding his most dreaded fate.

"No, he went on as Thom, the second son of Trebond. He's at the City of the Gods now, training with the priests." She bites her lip. "He won't become one. That takes a level of devotion I'm not sure he could feel to anything except his Gift."

She's smiling as she says it, though. The twins were always devoted to each other. Surely that will still be the case when they meet again, somewhere less grim than their father's graveside.

"Surprisingly, no. Father never came to Court, and he was famously distracted by his books. And my mother, when she lived. I've heard." She shakes herself, far less at peace with this than she's trying to appear. "In any case, all it took was convincing Duke Gareth that Father wrote my brother's name as an absentminded mistake the few times he wrote about my progress."

Brienne nods. "What--what will your brother become, if not a priest?" She doesn't know what one does with magic. Become a sorcerer? But what do sorcerers do with their magic? So far Brienne has only seen it used to assassinate.

At the mention of Duke Gareth and Alanna's progress reports, she adds, "You learned from a renowned instructor, then? And--with other students?"

That's...very different from how Brienne learned to fight.

"A mage," Alanna answers, twisting her lips sideways before continuing. "Most likely at Court. If he becomes a black robe -- it's a rank -- he'll be much sought after, both by the king and other nobles. Perhaps by the Healers, but I have more talent for it."

Part of her wishes she could stay at court to see Thom inhabit the space she now thinks of as hers, but only a small part. Adventures await, after all.

"Duke Gareth is in charge of page training," she nods. "We had other instructors for our lessons -- the classroom kind and the weapons kind."

A fond grin crosses her face as she thinks about Coram. She'll bring him up in a moment, maybe.

"Commander Sklaw is also rather renowned, though. A renowned grump, but a talented one. He taught us well. These days, my friend Alex and I are best matched and often take our lessons alone."

There's a weird hitch when she says 'Alex' and 'friend' in the same breath.

"How did you learn the sword?"

"You have healing magic?" Brienne finds that strange: in her world, maesters and knights are totally different.

"I learned the sword and axe and other weapons from Ser Goodwin," she says in response to the question. "He was the master-at-arms at my father's castle...and I learned alone, for the most part."

Alanna nods. "It's called the Gift in Tortall. Magic. I'm not limited to healing, but it's what I'm best at. I can show you, if you like."

Now that she isn't afraid to use it.

"When I was young, our manservant Coram taught me the basics. He was a soldier." Her eyes drift toward the lake as she reminisces. "He came with me to Corus, once I convinced him I could maintain my disguise and not get us both killed, and I started practicing with his sword."

She snorts.

"It was near as tall as I was. Good thing, too, because learning to lift and handle it made me stronger than the other boys."

More determined, too.

"Ser Goodwin did not mind teaching a girl?"

"I would like to see this Gift," Brienne says. "It sounds unlike the magic I've heard of."

She gives a shy half-smile as Alanna talks of lifting a sword near as large as herself. It must be harder still for girls so much smaller than Brienne, but Brienne decides not to say so aloud.

"Mind--well, he minded. But he gave in, though he never believed I'd be able to kill in combat. He said I was too soft, for all the strength of my arms."

"It is amazing, the way they bend and twist to find ways to underestimate us." She scoffs, "Too soft. As if women don't experience more pain than men ever do and yet somehow go about their lives."

Once, Alanna had her monthly abdominal spasming and nearly punched Jonathan over the way he went on about a paper cut.

Loyalty or no, that was ridiculous.

"Coram wasn't convinced I'd succeed, but he thought I had a better chance than Thom." She grins. "It was my Gift that did the trick. He doesn't like it."

Her hand comes up between them and a small ball of purple light forms over her palm. It bounces there a moment before she starts moving it from hand to hand.

"He didn't mean pain," says Brienne. "He meant--killing. He thought I'd be too soft-hearted and kind to kill another."

"He was wrong," she adds quietly.

The purple light catches her eye, and she stares. "How do you do it? Is it--do you call upon a god, or..."

She frowns. "Your Coram was scared of this?" She can see why, pretty as it is, and as good as Alanna evidently is.

"Oh."

That's.... not the same. She's right.

"Then he insults his own sex saying it's easier for them to make their first kill," Alanna decides, shrugging.

Any trace of annoyance vanishes, however, as she remembers her own first kill. Pressing her lips together, she gives Brienne a sympathetic look before turning back to her ball of light.

"It's part of us -- tied to our life force, if you will. I look inward to call it forth."

She smiles and tilts her head. The light flows out and then reshapes itself into a small cat with a large mane.

"Aye, he was. Thom and I were guilty of making him see things a time or two when we were young. Like a hungry lion," she confesses, somewhat sheepish. "Thankfully for both of us he looked past our youthful pranks."

"Do you think men find it just as painful?" Brienne considers this. "I suppose some men must. If there can be women like me--and you--then there must be men with equal claim on gentleness as any woman."

Not that she's ever met any. Not even Septon Meribald or the Elder Brother.

Brienne is startled into a guilty laugh. "A hungry lion following him about? He was forgiving indeed!" She looks curiously at the cat made of purple light.

"Some are too gentle and might feel that pain," Alanna agrees. "But it can't be easy for anyone with a conscience, male or female. I was ill the first time I killed," she admits, expression darkening, "but only later. After I'd done it."

Only the evil are not bothered by killing at all, she thinks. Surely.

The purple light becomes a ball again, disappearing when she shakes her hand and sighs. "He's a good man, Coram. I miss him."

Brienne nods in sympathy. "Some have no consciences, or hearts--but most do, surely. I wasn't ill, but...my companion insisted on bringing the heads of the outlaws we killed to the lord of the place, so we could be rewarded." She shudders at the recollection. "I felt they were watching me--haunting me. But I'd rather that than feel nothing at all."

"Coram doesn't remain with you while you train?"

"Goddess," Alanna breathes. "That's horrible."

She shudders in sympathy.

"He did until I was made a squire," she explains, "but when Father died, he returned to Trebond to manage the fief in my stead."

A short laugh.

"A right that falls to Thom, in truth, but I'm supposed to be the older male twin," she says. "Besides, he has no interest in it. Sir Myles helps me manage things from Corus, and Coram does the rest."

"You have the charge of your father's lands, and you're training for a knight? But that's a heavy load indeed. You are diligent to carry it!" She shakes her head. "I'll have the charge of Tarth some day, but not yet, mercifully."

Alanna shrugs.

"I do have a lot of help, in them. I couldn't manage it alone," she says. "What manner of fief is Tarth?"

She sounds almost as curious about it as she does detached about Trebond.

"Tarth is an island," Brienne says, her gaze going distant. "An island in the narrow sea, off the eastern coast of the Seven Kingdoms. It's ruled from Evenfall Hall, my father's castle, and we're sworn to the lords of Storm's End."

She sighs. "It's called the Sapphire Isle, for the blue of its waters. It's...beautiful. Waterfalls and stark mountains and lush meadows--"

Brienne wonders if she'll ever see it again.

The way Brienne talks about Tarth is lovely. Alanna can even look past the obvious implications of island -- boats are not her strongpoint -- and imagine its beauty.

"It sounds wonderful. And warm," Alanna says, a trace of longing in her voice. It would be more, but she's aware that a closer connection to home and family other than Thom would have made her current situation impossible. "Trebond is in the north of Tortall, near Scanra's border. It's all rocky mountains and stubby brown grass. And goats."

Her nose wrinkles.

"Winters seemed to last forever."

"Warm enough, in summer," Brienne agrees.

At the description of Trebond, she frowns. "It sounds like a hard land. But how many winters have you seen?" She's from a world where winters last for years.

"Me?" Alanna smiles like she has a secret. In this case it's not a secret at all, but most people are surprised to discover her age. "Seventeen."

She bites her thumb, looking sheepish.

"Admittedly I hate the cold more than most."

"I don't like it either, and winter has come to our land. But--seventeen winters! Then your winters must be short indeed. Why, they must last less than a year."

Alanna blinks.

"Yes.

Beat.

"They always last the same amount of time: about four months. You... Yours last a whole year?"

Great Mother, she is going to have to steal Brienne away to Tortall. To do otherwise would be cruel!

Brienne is startled into an almost-laugh. "Usually more," says Brienne. "Most seasons last at least one or two years. Our summers are long, but our winters also...and winter has come. I don't know how long this one will last. I'm glad for your sake your winters are shorter."

Eyes wide, Alanna shakes her head.

"Your gods are unmerciful," she concludes. "I would go mad."

Beat.

"More mad."

There's a slight wince as she remembers the Mad King, but at least it was honest. She has no doubt she'd go thoroughly insane if winter lasted that long in Tortall.

The long summers wouldn't even make up for it.

"I'm glad you can come here, where seasons are a bit more reasonable."

Brienne has had this thought about the gods before, but it's never occurred to her that the length of seasons could be cruelty. That's just how things were, in her world.

Now, to know things could be different...that makes the harshness of the winters seem even more of a cruel jape.

"Some do go mad, with so many years with little sunlight or warmth." It's spoken of in hushed voices, but it happens. "I didn't even know there could be such short winters! Is that how things are here?"

"Oh, yes."

Thank the Goddess.

"And there's a beach, Brienne. Hot, with crystal blue waters." Her eyes go a bit dreamy. "It's fair wondrous."

She grins.

"We could go there after the stables. Now that I've confessed all."

"Oh!" Brienne's eyes widen. She sees Tarth, suddenly, as if she stood by its sapphire waters again: Tarth in the summer, before the days started growing inexorably colder.

"That would be lovely!"

Alanna's smile widens, unfettered by caution or self-consciousness, in a look few have seen since she was ten years old. It feels good to release some of that bone deep worry and awareness she carries around day in, day out.

She steps forward and offers her arm to Brienne for a clasp that is equal parts well met... again and thank you.

"Then let's go explore, Brienne of Tarth."

Brienne clasps Alanna's arm, grinning without realizing it. It's been a long time since she's smiled; not since Highgarden has she felt anything like happiness. "Show me where," she says.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only