Beric Dondarrion
"You would pardon us?" the Blackfish asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.
"Why not?" the king crossed one leg over the other. "By sparing your lives, I set a fine example of royal mercy and magnanimity. Besides, your grandnephew, Ser Brynden—the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jon Snow—has been writing letters and asking for aid. He's trying to convince all of Westeros about some mythical White Walkers and Others." It seemed to everyone that Joffrey narrowed his eyes with faint irony, hiding a smile. "In any case, the Wall needs warriors, and that is where you may find yourselves."
"And what of my men?" Beric asked, clearing his throat.
"Thoros of Myr and the others are being given the same offer even now," Jaime the Kingslayer replied. From the grim look on his face, it was clear he did not approve of the king's mercy.
"I agree, but on one condition," Brynden Tully said after a brief pause. There was relief in his voice, though not from escaping death, but from the tangled and incomprehensible knot finally being cut. "Nothing must happen to Arya Stark."
"You are not in a position to make demands," Jaime Lannister said coldly.
"The Lord Commander is quite right, but your niece will live—provided she does nothing foolish. In time, I also intend to find her a suitable husband," the king replied evenly, then added, "Does that satisfy you?"
"It does," Tully muttered, falling silent once more.
"I agree," Beric Dondarrion said with a nod.
"So do I," Edric Dayne added, doing his best to appear composed.
"As for you, I will not be sending you to the Wall," the king said, turning his gaze to the boy. "You are the last Dayne of the senior line, and I have no intention of allowing one of the most ancient houses of Westeros to vanish. You will accompany me to the capital, swear your oaths of fealty, and then, if you wish, return to Starfall."
"I will not abandon my lord," Edric said, frowning.
"One moment, Your Grace," Beric said, deeming it proper to intervene as he took his squire by the elbow. "It is a fair offer, Edric. You must accept it. The Wall is no place for young men. You should taste what life truly is."
"I swore loyalty to you," Dayne's voice trembled despite his effort to steady it.
"You have fulfilled your vows in full, and I am proud to have had such a squire—and such a friend," the Lightning Lord said, his throat tightening as he cleared it. "I, Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven, hereby declare that your vows, Ser Edric Dayne, are fulfilled. You are free."
Was it his imagination, or was the king watching the scene with clear approval?
There, in that very room, they swore to lay down their arms and to depart for the Wall to join the Night's Watch.
"So be it," Joffrey struck the armrest lightly with his palm, rose with ease, and left the chamber.
They remained in that house for three more days. Their weapons were not returned, but they were given clothing and fed well enough. They were still watched, but that was only to be expected.
On the second day, young Dayne took his leave of the Brotherhood—now their paths diverged, and he would accompany Joffrey.
One fine morning, when the king's fleet had already sailed back to the capital, they were all put aboard a ship and set out to sea. Somehow, none of them felt inclined to go below deck. Instead, they remained on deck, watching the land recede astern.
Thoros gripped the rigging and sipped his wine at an unhurried pace. He accepted the turn his life had taken with complete calm. More than that, he seemed to find something fitting in it.
"My god has shown me a vision, that I am meant to be at the Wall," he answered all of Beric's questions.
The rest of his brothers took the chance at a new life with unmistakable enthusiasm. They were alive, fed, clothed, and shod. Perhaps the king had not granted them the best life in the world and had chosen one of the harshest places in Westeros for them—but it was, at the very least, no worse than what they had endured in the Riverlands, when the Lannisters hunted the Brotherhood Without Banners like wild beasts.
The ship was called the Sweetvoiced Screamer. It carried them to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea in a matter of days.
They docked at an icy pier on the gray, wind-lashed shore of the Bay of Seals. They were met by a group of men in black, led by Ser Cotter Pyke.
It seemed the ravens had warned him of their arrival, for he did not look surprised.
More than that, there was unmistakable satisfaction on his face—and on the faces of those accompanying him. Beric quickly understood why: it was not every day the Watch received twenty grown, well-trained warriors.
They rested for a day in the small castle at Eastwatch, and then set out westward, along the Wall.
The Wall astonished them all. Even the ever-calm Thoros looked awed. Its sheer size, beauty, and power struck them deeply. A constant chill emanated from it, and it inspired an indefinable sense of assurance and calm.
The road lay desolate, winding past long-abandoned castles—ruined, crumbling, and all but unrecognizable: the Greenguard, the Icemark, Oakenshield, and several others. The Night's Watch suffered from a severe shortage of men and had left once-important strongholds to decay.
At Castle Black, they were met by Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.
(End of Chapter)
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