Open Your Eyes

Memories flooded her mind. Memories of a young king who never ruled, memories of two daughters who never made it home, memories of a golden knight whose honor she never restored. Every oath was a dry leaf flying in the wind, a promise unfulfilled. Choose, the dead woman had said, the sound reverberating in the corners of her mind, and her acceptance of death had felt so right then. To die for him. Choose.

Brienne of Tarth has come to learn that when alliances shift faster than the wind, oaths are a double-edged sword.