Chapter 43 Chapter Forty-Three Brienne

A nightmare, she thought, but if it was a dream, why was the pain so severe? The rain stopped dripping, but the whole world was still wet.The cloak was as heavy as mail, and the cords that bound his wrists were soaked and tighter.No matter how Brienne twisted, she couldn't break free.She didn't know who tied her up, and she didn't know why.She asked about the shadows, but they didn't answer.Maybe they didn't hear, maybe they weren't real.Beneath the layers of damp wool and rusted mail, her skin was red and hot. She suspected that everything was just a fever dream. There was a horse under her, but she couldn't remember when she got on it.She was lying face down on the horse's butt like a sack of oats, her wrists and ankles bound.The air is humid, the ground is covered with moisture, and with every step, it feels like a blow to the head.She heard voices, but all she could see was the dirt under the horses' hooves.Some bones were broken, the face was swollen, the cheeks were sticky with blood, and every bump caused a sharp pain in the arm.Podrick was calling her, as if from far away. "Sir?" he kept saying, "Sir? Miss? Sir? Miss?" His voice was so soft that he could not hear clearly.

In the end, everything fell silent. She dreamed that she was at Harrenhal, and down at the bear pit again.This time she faced Fang, the bald giant pale as maggots with pus-filled pimples.He rushed forward naked, gnashing his filed teeth as he fiddled with his lifeblood.Brienne turned and ran away. "My sword," she cried, "Oathkeeper. Please." There was no answer from the audience, Renly, Dick Dick, and Catelyn Stark, Shagwell, Pug, and Tiny. Meng arrived too, and the dead bodies in the trees, sunken cheeks, swollen tongues, hollow eye sockets.Seeing them, Brienne screamed in terror, and Fangs grabbed her hand, pulling her closer, and bit a piece of flesh from her face. "Jaime," she heard herself scream, "Jaime."

Even in deep dreams, it still hurts.Her face was stabbed, her shoulders were bleeding, and her breath was on fire.The pain in the arm spread like lightning.She called out to the maester. "There's no maester," said a girl, "just me." I'm looking for a girl, Brienne remembered.A thirteen-year-old noble maiden with blue eyes and auburn hair. "Miss?" she said, "Miss Sansa?" A man laughed, "She thought you were Sansa Stark." "She won't last long. She's dying." "I don't weep for one less lion." Brienne heard someone praying.She thought of Septon Meribald, but the words were all wrong.The long night is dark and sinister everywhere.The same is true of dreams.

They rode through the gloomy woods, and came to a damp, dark, and quiet place, where the pines were densely packed together.The ground was soft under the horse's hooves, and the footprints behind him were full of blood.Lord Renly, Dick Crabble, and Vargo Holt rode beside her.Hot blood gushed from Renly's throat, and pus oozed from the goat's bitten ear. "Where are we going?" Brienne demanded. "Where are you taking me?" No one answered.How could they possibly answer?They are all dead.Is she dead too? Renly was ahead of her, the lovely smiling king.He leads her horse for a walk in the woods, and Brienne calls to him, telling him how much she loves him.But when he turned his head and frowned at her, she saw that he was not Renly.Renly never frowned.He always smiles at me, she thought... except...

"It's cold," said her King in thin, bewildered tones, and a shadow moved, but came from nowhere.The blood of her beloved lord gushed from the green iron gauntlet and drenched her hands.He had been warm and alive, and now his blood was as cold as ice.It's not real, she told herself, another nightmare, and I'll wake up soon. Her horse stopped suddenly.A pair of thick hands grabbed her.The red rays of the afternoon sun slanted through the branches of the chestnut trees.A horse was rummaging through dead leaves for chestnuts, and people moved nearby, talking in low voices.Ten, twelve, maybe more.Brienne didn't recognize them.She was placed on the ground with her back against a tree trunk and her legs stretched out. "Drink this, miss," said the girl.She lifted the cup to Brienne's lips.The taste is strong and sour.Brienne spat it out. "Water," she gasped, "please give me water."

"Water won't stop the pain. This will. At least it will help a little." The girl put the cup to Brienne's lips again. Even drinking hurts.The red wine trickled down his chin and dripped onto his chest.When the glass was empty, the girl filled it with the skin and told Brienne to drink until it spilled from her mouth. "No more." "Drink more. You've got a broken arm and ribs. Two or three ribs." "Fanger," Brienne said, remembering his weight, the knees he'd slammed into her chest. "Yes. That fellow is a monster." She remembered it all; the lightning overhead, the mire below, the rain tapping on the Hound's black iron helm, the terrifying power of the fangs.Suddenly, she couldn't bear it anymore, and the effort to break free from the rope made herself even more painful.The wrists were tied too tightly, and there was dried blood on the twine. "Tooth," she asked tremblingly. "Is he dead?" She remembered his teeth tearing at the flesh from her face.The thought of him still alive somewhere made Brienne want to scream.

"He's dead. Gendler pierced his neck with a spear. Drink more, miss, or I'll pour it down your throat." She continued to drink. "I'm looking for a girl," she whispers between swallows, almost calling it her sister. "A thirteen-year-old noble girl with blue eyes and auburn hair." "I'm not her." you are not.Brienne could see it.The girl was underfed and very thin, with brown hair tied in a braid and eyes older than her age.Brown hair, brown eyes, plain features.A weeping willow six years older. "You are my sister. The store owner."

"Maybe." The girl squinted. "So what?" "What's your name?" Brienne asked.Her stomach was rumbling and she was worried that she would throw up. "Hyde. Like the Weeping Willow. Jenny Hyde." "Jane. Untie me. Please. Have pity on me. The rope hurts my wrist. Bleeding." "No. You must be tied up until..." "...until the Lady summons you." Renly stood behind the girl, brushing the black hair out of his eyes.Not Renly.It's Gendry. "Madame wants you to take responsibility for your crimes." "Ma'am." The red wine made her dizzy, making it difficult to think. "Heart of Stone. Are you talking about her?" Earl Randyll mentioned her in Maiden Springs. "Mrs. Stoneheart."

"Some people call her that. Some people call her something else. The Silent Sister. Our Lady of Mercy. The Girl of the Gallows." Gallows girl.Closing her eyes, Brienne saw corpses hanging from bare brown branches, their faces black and swollen.She was suddenly terrified. "Podrick. My squire. Where's Podrick? Where are the others... Ser Hyle, Septon Meribald. The dog. What have you done to the dog?" Gendry exchanged glances with the girl.Brienne struggled to stand up, only to get one knee up when the world started spinning. "You killed the dog, miss," she heard Gendry say, and the darkness engulfed her again.

She returned to Whispers Keep, and stood amidst the ruins, facing Clarence Crabber.He was tall and fierce, and the hair on the buffalo on his crotch was more matted and shaggy than his.The monster pawed furiously at the ground, digging deep trenches in the mud, and Kreb filed his teeth.Brienne drew her sword, but the scabbard was empty. "No," she yelled, and Clarence rushed forward.It's not fair, she can't fight without the magic sword.It was the sword Ser Jaime had given her.Brienne wanted to cry at the thought that she had failed him as much as she had failed Renly. "My sword. Do me a favor, I must find my sword."

"Ni'er wants her sword back," said a voice. "I want Cersei Lannister to lick my dick. So what?" "James called it the Oathkeeper. Do me a favor." But the man who spoke would not listen, and Clarence Crabber charged at her amidst the clatter of hooves, and decapitated her.Brienne spiraled down deeper into the darkness. She dreamed that she was lying in a boat with her head on someone's lap, and there were shadows all around her, men in hoods, in armor and leather.They rowed across a foggy river, their paddles wrapped in cloth to dampen the noise.She was drenched in sweat and hot, but still shivering.Faces emerged from the mist. "Beauty," whispered the willow on the bank, but the reed said, "Freak, freak." Brienne shuddered. "Stop," she said. "Make them stop." Waking up again, Jenny brought a bowl of hot soup to her lips.Onion broth, Brienne thought.She drank as much as she could until a tiny piece of carrot got stuck in her throat and choked her.The cough was excruciatingly painful. "Relax," the girl said. "Gendry," she gasped, "I need to talk to Gendry." "He went back when he got to the river, miss. He went back to the forge, and went back to take care of Weeping Willow and the little ones and keep them safe." No one can keep them safe.She started coughing again. "Ah, let her choke to death. Save us a rope." A shadow pushed the girl aside.He wore a shirt of rusty chain mail and a studded leather belt, a sword and dagger hung from his waist, and a great yellow cloak was draped over his shoulders, soaked with water.Between his shoulders stands a grinning steel dog's head. "No," Brienne moaned, "no, you're dead, I'll kill you." The Hound laughed. "You got it wrong. I killed you. I could kill you again now, but Madame wants to see you hanged." Hanged.The word made her tremble.She looked at the girl, Jenny.She is too young to be so cruel. "Bread and salt," Brienne gasped, "at the inn...Septon Meribald gave it to the children...we shared the bread with your sister..." "The hospitality has not been the same since the lady came back from the wedding," said the girl. "The corpses hanging by the river, some of them also thought they were guests." "We have our approach," said the Hound. "They want beds. We give them trees." "We've got more trees," chimed in another shadow, with only one eye under a rusted helmet. "There is always no shortage of trees." When they mounted again, they covered her face with a leather hood.There are no eye holes.The leather muffles surrounding sounds.The onion taste lingers on the tongue, as strong as failure.They're going to hang me.She thought of Jaime, Sansa, and her father in the Tarth family, and thanked the hood for covering the tears welling up in her eyes.Now and then she heard bandits talking, but she couldn't make out the words.After a while, she succumbed to fatigue and purred along with the slow, steady pace of the horse. This time she dreamed she was home in Evening Hall and watched the sunset through the high arched windows of her father's hall.I am safe here.very safe. She was dressed in brocade silk, a red and blue quarter bottom, with golden suns and silvery crescents.Other girls would look beautiful in it, but not her.She was twelve years old, waiting uneasily to meet a young knight six years her senior, hand-picked by her father, brilliant and sure to be famous one day.But she was afraid of his coming, because her breasts were too small, her hands and feet were too big, her hair stood up all the time, and she had a pustule around her nose. "He will bring you a rose," the father promised her, but the rose was useless, the rose could not protect her.She wants a sword.Oath-keeping sword.I have to find that girl.I have to get the honor back for him. At last the door opened, and her fiancé stepped into her father's hall.She did her best to greet him as she had been taught, but blood gushed from her mouth, for she had bitten off her tongue while waiting.She stuck her tongue out at the young knight's feet, seeing the look of disgust on his face. "Brennie 'Beauty,'" he quipped, "I've seen a sow prettier than you." Then he threw a rose in her face, and as he left, the griffin on his cape fluttered and turned into a lion .James!She wanted to shout, James, come back!you come back!But her tongue lay on the ground, in a pool of blood beside the rose. Brienne woke up suddenly, gasping for breath. She didn't know where she was.The air was cold and dreary, smelling of earth, maggots, and mold.She was lying on a bunk bed covered with a pile of sheepskins, with rocks on her head and tree roots protruding from between the walls.The only source of light came from a tallow candle smoking in a pool of molten wax. Pushing back the sheepskin, she realized that someone had taken off her clothes and armor.She was now wearing a loose dress of brown wool, thin but freshly laundered.The forearm was clamped with a wooden board, and then wrapped with sackcloth, and one cheek was damp and stiff.She touched it, and some kind of moist ointment covered her cheeks, chin and ears.Fangs... Brienne stood up, legs limp as water, dizzy. "anyone there?" There were many dark hollows behind the candle, and in one of them something moved, a gray-haired old man in rags.The blanket he was covering slid to the floor, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Miss Brienne? You startled me. I was dreaming." No, she thought, it was I who was dreaming. "What is this place? A dungeon?" "Cave. When the dogs track us, we have to run back into the cave like mice." He wore an old tattered robe, pink and white, with long, unkempt gray hair and loose skin on his cheeks and chin. , with a rough beard. "Are you hungry? Can I have some milk? Some more bread and honey?" "I want my clothes. My sword." Without armor, she felt naked, and she wanted Oathkeeper by her side. "The way out. Tell me the way out." The cave floor is full of rocks and mud, which feels uneven.Even now, she is still dizzy, as if floating.The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows.Killing shadows dance around, she thought, eluding my inspection.There were holes, cracks, and crevices everywhere, but which ones led out, which ones went deeper, which ones were dead ends, she had no way of knowing.All are equally dark. "May I touch your forehead, miss?" The guard's hands were covered with scars and calluses, but surprisingly gentle. "Your fever is gone," he announced, with the accent of the Free Cities. "Not bad. Your skin felt like it was on fire yesterday. Jenny fears we'll lose you." "Jane. The tall girl?" "That's her. But she's not as tall as you, miss. They call her 'Longlegs Jenny.' She's the one who set your arm boned and planked, and does it as well as a maester. I'm sure that's why I'm running a fever." The gray-haired man touched her bandaged face. "We'll have to cut off a little flesh. I'm afraid your face won't look good." It never looked good. "You mean, there will be scars?" "Miss, that monster bit off half of your face." Brienne was taken aback.Every knight bears the scars of battle, Ser Goodwin warned her when she begged her to teach her the sword, do you want this, child?But the old coach was referring to the sword wound, and he didn't expect Fang Fang's teeth. "If you just want to hang me, why set my bones and wash my wounds?" "Why?" He looked at the candle, as if he couldn't bear to look at her any longer. "They told me you fought bravely at the inn. Lemon shouldn't have left the crossing. He was ordered to stay around, to lie in ambush, and to come if there was smoke rising from the chimney...but he heard that Saltpans had mad dogs. Already going north along the Green Fork, we took the bait. We have been tracking this group for a long time... However, he should be more sober. As a result, after walking for a long time, he realized that the Blood Mummer used a small stream to hide his tracks, and went around He was behind him, and later he wasted more time trying to get around a party of Frey knights. If it weren't for you, there would be only dead bodies in the inn by the time Lemon and his men arrived. Perhaps because So Janie healed your wounds. No matter what was done before, you have honorably acquired these wounds, for a perfectly legitimate cause." No matter what you have done before. "What do you think I've done?" she said. "who are you?" "We started out as men of kings," the man told her, "but men of kings must have kings, and we don't. We were brothers too, but our relationship has broken down. I don't know who we are, only Our way was dark, and the holy fire did not tell me what was waiting at the end of the road." I know where the end of the road is.I've seen dead bodies in the woods. "Sacred fire," Brienne repeated.Suddenly, she understood. "You are the Namir monk. The red robe wizard." He looked down at his ragged robes and smiled sadly. "The Pink Fake would be more appropriate. Yes, I am Thoros, from Myr... a bad monk, and a worse wizard." "You're with Dondarrion. The Lightning King." "Lightning is fleeting, never to be seen again. So are men. I fear Lord Beric's flame is dead. A darker shadow takes his place to lead us." "hound?" The monk nunuzui. "The Hound is dead and buried." "I saw him. In the woods." "It's a fever dream, miss." "He said he was going to hang me." "Dreams can also lie. Miss, how long have you not eaten? You must be hungry?" She was really hungry, and her belly was empty. "Eat... I really want to eat something, thank you." "Then have a good meal. Sit down. We'll talk again, but eat first. Wait here." Soros lit a thin candle with a melted candle, and disappeared under a protruding rock, In the dark cave, Brienne was left alone in the small cave.But how long? She wanders the stone chamber, looking for weapons.Any weapon would do: sticks, staffs, daggers, but she found only stones, and one was just right... But she remembered what happened to Shagwell when he used stones against daggers at Whispering Castle.When she heard the monk's footsteps, she dropped the stone and returned to her seat. Soros brought bread, cheese, and a bowl of stew. "I'm sorry," he said. "The last bit of milk is sour, and the honey is gone. The food is getting less and less. But this will fill you up." The stew was cold and greasy, the bread was hard and the cheese even harder.But nothing Brienne had eaten before was half as good as what Brienne ate today. "My companions here?" she asked the monk, scooping up the last of the soup. "The monk was let go, let him continue on his way. He is not a villain. The rest are here, awaiting trial." "Judgment?" She frowned. "Podrick Payne was just a little boy." "He said he was a squire." "You know boys like to brag." "He's the Imp's squire. He admits to fighting, and even admits to killing." "He's a child," she went on, "have pity on him." "Miss," said Thoros, "I have no doubt that kindness, mercy, and forgiveness can be found elsewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, but not here. This is a cave, not a temple, and when men must live like rats In the dark underground, sympathy runs out as quickly as milk and honey." "Where is justice? Can justice be found in caves?" "Justice." Soros smiled feebly. "I remember justice. It used to taste so good. Under Beric, we did justice, we were justice, or so we told ourselves. We were the King's subjects, knights, heroes... But the night is dark and the place is sinister, madam, and the war has turned us all into monsters." "You say you are monsters?" "I said we're all human. You're not the only one who got hurt, Miss Brienne. When it all started, a lot of my brethren were good guys, some... not so nice, is it okay to say that? Of course, kind of It is said that it is not important to say how a man starts, what matters is the end result. I think the same is true for women." The monk stood up. "I'm afraid our time together is over. I hear my brethren coming. Madame has sent for you." Brienne heard footsteps and saw torchlight flickering in the tunnel. "You told me that she went to the beauty market." "She did. She came back when we slept. She never sleeps." I'm not afraid, she told herself, but it was too late.At least I can't show them that I'm afraid, she promised herself instead.They were a group of four, strong and strong, with unruly faces, wearing mail armor, scale armor and leather armor.She recognized one of them, the one-eyed man in the dream. The tallest of the four wore a dirty, worn yellow cloak. "Satisfactory?" he asked. "I hope so. That's your last meal." He was brown-haired, bearded, strong and muscular, with a badly healed broken nose.I know this man, Brienne thought. "You are the Hound." He grinned, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth, crooked and brown and decayed. "I think so, because miss you killed the last hound." He turned his head and spat. She remembered the flickering lights, the mud beneath her feet. "I killed Rorge. He took the helmet from Clegane's grave, and you picked it from his corpse." "He didn't protest." Soros drew an uneasy breath. "Really? Dead man's helmet? How have we fallen?" The big man frowned at him. "That's good steel." "The helm and the man who wears it are inauspicious," said the red priest. "Sandor Clegane is tortured, and Rorge is a beast in human skin." "I'm not them." "Then why show their faces to the world? Cruel, vicious, twisted... Do you want to be like that, Lemon?" "My enemies will be terrified at the sight of it." "Seeing it scares me myself." "Then close your eyes." The yellow cloak made a hasty gesture, "Take that bitch away." Brienne didn't resist.There were four of them, and she was so weak that she had nothing under her loose woolen clothes.They escorted her through winding tunnels where she had to bow her neck to avoid bumping her head.The road ahead rose rapidly, turned two turns, and entered a huge hole, which was full of bandits. A large fire pit was dug in the middle of the mud, and the air was full of green smoke. Many people gathered around the fire to keep warm and fight against the cold in the cave.The rest stood along the wall, or sat cross-legged on straw mats.There were also women, and even a few children, watching from behind their mothers' skirts.The only face Brienne recognized was "Longlegs" Jenny Hyde. In the cave, a trestle table was set up in a rock crevice, and behind it sat a woman in gray, wearing a cloak and a hood.She held a crown in her hand, with black iron swords ringing around a bronze hoop.She was studying it, her fingers groping for the blades, as if testing how sharp they were.Her eyes gleamed coldly under the hood. Gray is the color of the Silent Sisters, handmaidens to the Stranger.Brienne felt a shiver run up her spine.Lady Stoneheart. "Ma'am," the big man announced. "She is coming." "Yes," the one-eyed man added. "Kingslayer's bitch." She was taken aback. "Why do you call me that?" "If I got a silver stag for every time you called his name, I'd be as rich as your Lannister friend." "That's just...you don't understand..." "Oh, yes?" laughed the big man. "I think we understand. You stink like a lion, miss." "That's not the case." Another bandit stepped forward, a young man in an oiled sheepskin jacket with an Oathkeeper in his hand. "This sword can prove that she is a lion." He spoke with a blunt northern accent, pulled the sword out of its sheath, and placed it in front of Madam Stoneheart.Under the light of the fire, the black and red ripples seemed to be trembling endlessly, but the eyes of the woman in gray were only fixed on the round head at the back end of the sword hilt: a golden lion's head, and the ruby ​​eyes shone like two red stars. "And this." Thoros of Myr drew a parchment from his sleeve and placed it beside the sword. "It bears the stamp of the little king, saying that the bearer is on his service." Madam Shi Xin put the sword aside and began to read the letter. "Give me this sword for a good use," said Brienne. "Ser Jaime has sworn it to Catelyn Stark..." "...and told her friends to slit her throat," said the big man in the yellow cloak. "We all know the Kingslayer and his oath." No use, Brienne realized, no use explaining to them.Still, she went on. "He promised Lady Catelyn to return her daughters, but by the time he got to King's Landing, they were gone. Jaime sent me out to find Miss Sansa..." "...if you find the girl," asked the young Northman, "what will you do with her?" "Protect her. Take her to a safe place." The big man laughed. "Where is that? Cersei's dungeon?" "No." "Deny all you want. This sword shows you are lying. Are we to believe that the Lannisters will give the sword of gold and ruby ​​to the enemy? Are we to believe that the Kingslayer begged you to hide the girl from his own Found the twin sister? I guess the piece of paper with the seal of the little king is just in case, when you need to wipe your butt, right? And your accomplices..." The big man turned and waved, and the bandits let A passage was made, and two captives were brought up. "The boy is the Imp's squire, madam," he reported to Lady Stoneheart, "and the other is Randyll's immediate knight, with blood on his hands." Hyle Hunter was badly beaten, his face swollen almost beyond recognition.Pushed by them, he staggered over and almost fell.Podrick grabbed his arm. "Ser," said the boy sadly, seeing Brienne. "Miss, I mean. Sorry." "You have nothing to be sorry for." Brienne turned to Lady Stoneheart. "Whatever treachery you think I did, neither Podrick nor Sir Hyle was involved." "They are lions," said the one-eyed man. "That's enough. I say hang 'em, Tully has hanged twenty of ours, time to hang some of his!" Ser Hyle smiled weakly at Brienne. "Miss," said he, "you should have agreed when I proposed marriage. Now, I fear you will die a virgin, and I a poor man." "Let them go," Brienne begged. The woman in gray didn't answer.She contemplated the sword, the parchment, and the brass and iron crown, and finally reached under her chin and seized her neck as if to strangle herself.But she spoke... her voice was broken and tortured, it seemed to come from her throat, a hoarse wheezing, much like the guttural sound of dying.That is the language of the damned, Brienne thought. "I don't understand. What did she say?" "She asked you the name of the sword," said the young northerner in the sheepskin jacket. "Oathkeeper," Brienne replied. There was a hissing sound between the fingers of the woman in gray.Her eyes were like two coals burning in the shadows.She spoke again. "No, she said, it should be called 'Oathbreaker'. It was used for betrayal and murder, and she named it 'False Friend,' just like you." "Who am I lying to?" "To her," said the Northman, "Miss, have you forgotten that you swore to serve her?" There is only one woman to whom the virgins of Tarth are sworn. "Impossible," she said, "she's dead." "Death and guest rights," murmured Long-legged Jenny Hyde, "they don't mean anything like they used to." Lady Stoneheart lowered her hood and unfastened the gray wool scarf over her face.Her hair was dry, brittle, and bone-white, and her forehead was mottled gray-green with brown rot.Slivers of flesh cling to her face, from her eyes to her chin.Some openings were clotted with dried blood, others exposed bone underneath. Her face, Brienne thought, had been so healthy and beautiful, her skin so smooth and soft. "Lady Caitlin?" Tears filled her eyes. "They said...they said you were dead." "She is dead," said Thoros of Myr. "The Freys slit her throat from one ear to the other. We found her by the river three days dead. Harwin pleaded I gave her the kiss of life, but it was too long before I wanted to, so Lord Beric put his lips on hers in my place, passing her the fire of his own life. And then... she came back to life. The Lord of Light bless us. She is risen." am i still dreamingAnother nightmare born of Biter's teeth, Brienne wondered. "Tell her I never betrayed her. I swear by the Seven. I swear by my sword." The thing that had been Catelyn Stark was clutching her throat again, her fingers clamping around the long, horrible gash on her neck, choking out a little sound. "Words are like the wind, she said," the Northman told Brienne, "and she wants you to prove your sincerity." "How to prove it?" Brienne asked. "Use your sword. Oathkeeper, is that what you call it? Then keep the oath you made to her, said my lady." "What does she want me to do?" "She wants her son alive, or the man who wants to kill him dead," said the big man. "She's going to feed them to the crows, like they did after the Red Wedding. Foyle and Bolton, yes. We'll give her as much as she wants. All she wants you to do is kill Jaime Lang It's just Nestor." James.The name stirred like a dagger in her belly. "Lady Catelyn, I... you don't understand, Jaime... we were captured by the Mummers of Blood, he saved me from being raped, and then he came back for me and jumped down the bear pit with his bare hands... I I swear to you, he wasn't like that. He sent me to find Sansa and keep her safe, he couldn't have been at the Red Wedding." Mrs. Caitlin's fingers were deeply pinched into her neck, and her staccato, suffocating words were like a cold river.The Northman said, "She said you must choose. Take the sword and kill the Kingslayer or be hanged as a traitor. The sword or the rope, she said. Choose, she said. Choose quickly." Brienne remembered her dream, of waiting in her father's hall for the boy she would marry.In the dream, she bit off her tongue.Blood gushed from his mouth.She took a deep breath, "I would not make such a choice." There was a long silence.Then Madam Stoneheart spoke again.This time Brienne understood.Only two words. "Hanging," she said hoarsely. "Yes, ma'am." The big man replied. They tied Brienne's wrists with rope again and pulled her along a winding rocky path out of the cave and to the surface.She was surprised to see that it was morning outside, its pale beams slanting through the trees.There are so many trees here, she thought, without going very far. Sure enough, they didn't get very far.Under a crooked willow tree, the bandits put a noose around her neck, tightened it, and threw the other end over a branch.Hyle Hunt and Podrick Payne will be hung from the elms.Ser Hunt yells that he would kill Jaime Lannister, but the Hound slaps him to shut him up.He put on the helmet again. "If you have a sin to confess to the gods, it's time." "Podrick never hurt you. My father will pay his ransom. Tarth is called the Isle of Sapphires. Take my bones with Podrick to the Hall of Evenfall and you will have the Sapphires , silver, anything you want." "I want my wife and daughter alive," said the Hound. "Can your father give it to me? If not, let him go to hell. The child will rot with you, and the wolves will come and eat your bones. " "Are you going to hang the bitch, Lemon?" asked the one-eyed man, "or drown her in the spit." The Hound snatched the rope from the hand of the man next to him. "Let's see if she can dance," he said, and pulled hard. Brienne felt the twine tighten, dig into her skin, and lift her chin up.Ser Hyle swore profusely, but the boy said nothing, and Podrick didn't even lift his eyes as his feet flew into the air.If this is another dream, it's time to wake up; if it's real, then I'm dead.All she could see was Podrick, the noose around his thin neck, his legs twitching.She opened her mouth.Pod kicked and struggled, and was about to suffocate.Brienne sucked in a breath, though the rope was tight.She had never felt so much pain. She screamed a word.