Melisandre's god had spoken to her.

Brynhildr found her quieter than usual even after their return to Storm's End. She'd spoken to Daenerys, but said nothing worthy of being repeated. Whatever she was thinking of, whatever she'd seen at the Wall, it was consuming her. For a moment, Brynhildr was worried.

She came to stand with Melisandre, offering her a plum. "You've not been very talkative," said Brynhildr. "What troubles you?"

Melisandre pursed her lips, as if debating whether to say anything at all. "What did you think, when you first received the letter that told you I resurrected Jon Snow?"

"I don't entirely know how I felt," said Brynhildr. "For my people, it has always been important to die in battle and rise again in Valhalla. I don't think I ever saw anyone come back to a mortal life after they'd died. It is somewhat unnatural in my head. But I do like Jon, and I would not have wished him dead– especially not under the circumstances in which he was killed. I think it a good thing he is alive."

"Strange, isn't it?" prompted Melisandre. "Dead for more than a day. Ice cold, the brittle chill having plugged his wounds immediately. He lay there, motionless, and I did not think it possible. But the Lord of Light spoke to me and I made the attempt. He answered me. I knew a man once, holding this power from our Lord. It is said Thoros of Myr resurrected Beric Dondarrion six times. Each time I see into the flames, I see that Beric will hold no great role anywhere. He will do brave things, follow a fierce leader, but he will die, same as all men, and he will serve until his final breath, which is certain."

Brynhildr furrowed her eyebrows. "But... you think Jon is different? That he was allowed to come back for a reason?"

"Yes," said Melisandre. Her hands trembled, as if she didn't like or understand the reason. "It is the only reason. He kept to the Old Gods, and he is but a boy. But my Lord saw fire in him, saw that he would do something great. I believe only Jon Snow has the power to kill this Night King. I do not see clearly why that is, only that he must be the one to do it. And he will require the help of a dragon."

"Dany," mumbled Brynhildr. Melisandre tilted her head, as if not entirely sure about that. "She is the Princess Who Was Promised."

"She is. But she has already brought the dragons. There are three of them. She does not cease being the Princess Who Was Promised. She is no true warrior, to aid Jon Snow in this battle. Your son and his nephew are fighters in that capacity. Either of them will hold that power when the time comes. Only, I cannot understand what will come of Jon Snow afterwards. I see him alive, but I cannot understand why he lives on."

It made Brynhildr's heart skip a beat, the same question of always swirling in her head– would the gods let her live once her purpose was served? It seemed Jon Snow's gods were asking R'hllor that same question. "Perhaps it will be a reward for the role he will play," she muttered, trying to convince herself.

"Perhaps." Melisandre didn't seem sure, though Brynhildr amounted that to how little the flames had shown her. She glanced at her, "All I can be certain of is that Jon Snow still has a role to play in this war. He will be valuable to your daughter."

That, she was already sure of. He was the one who'd pushed so hard to get the wildlings over the Wall, the one who'd seen the dead walking and already killed one White Walker. If there was anyone that could plan the attack and show Daenerys what she could use to push their soldiers into this war, it was Jon.

Daenerys was aware of the threat, of course, and had already begun to do her readings on it. Yet, she wasn't so preoccupied that it robbed her of her livelihood. While they waited to confirm Balon Greyjoy's death, sent a raven to Yara, and prepared their attack on the Twins, the Eyrie, and now Casterly Rock, Daenerys was enjoying herself.

Brynhildr had seen Aegon following her like a puppy since before she left. It seemed this affection was starting to be reciprocated. One afternoon, she'd seen Daenerys adjusting Aegon in his saddle, the boy blushing as she slid the buckle over his stomach– and she looked flustered, too. She'd watched them fly from the towers, Fafnir and Rhaegal swooping side by side. It looked like Daenerys and Aegon were talking– she kept smiling and laughing.

She continued to notice these behaviors throughout the week. Aegon spent much time in the library with Daenerys, helping her in her readings. Once, she caught him holding her hand when she was telling him something. Then, Ynmilla, Aegon's personal guard, told Brynhildr that she'd seen Daenerys kiss him on the cheek.

Whatever had happened between the two in Brynhildr's absence, something clearly building since they met, she knew she had to speak of it. To Daenerys, first, then to Aegon. But before then, she had to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

Oberyn and Daario confirmed her suspicions. They'd pretended not to notice, out of respect for the fact they had notactually raised Daenerys or Aegon and could not reprimand or lecture or even advise either of them with the same efficiency. But Daario had seen Daenerys teaching Aegon to throw knives as she did, and had watched how Daenerys did not shy away from holding his waist, which had made Aegon tilt his head back to her. That day, they'd almost kissed but remembered they were being watched.

Oberyn and Viserys had both heard Aegon whispering to Connington that he didn't know what to do with a girl; he'd never lain with one. Then, apparently, Viserys had taken it upon himself to casually speak with Aegon about his own first time, explaining the art of woman-loving then reporting back to Oberyn that Aegon was good at hiding what his thoughts were.

"Are you going to be upset with them?" asked Oberyn, seeing her pacing in front of the window. "You are scaring me, Mineri."

"She doesn't have her intimidating face on," said Daario, lazily sharpening his weapons with his feet outstretched on the couch. "Remember when Aegon first arrived and she was eager to protect Dany from him? She never actually confronted him about that. Why would she do it now, when both of them clearly feel something for each other?"

Brynhildr wagged a finger in his direction in agreement, but still said nothing. "You're still scaring me," said Oberyn. "You haven't been this silent since the day you found out the Valkyries Blood-Eagled Mero the Titan's Bastard without your leave. The scolding you gave them that day, I thought you'd Blood-Eagle one of them as punishment."

She scowled in his direction, "I would never have done that to one of my own Valkyries. I did not blame them for doing it, I was simply frustrated that we might've broken into a war with the Second Sons and I would have been entirely unprepared. Those men are vicious, they would have raped my girls if they emerged victorious and I was too far away to do anything about it. I wanted them to defend themselves, I taught them to do it, but it was an entirely different matter to incite a conflict with another sellsword group without me there."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, stating calmly, "It's not that I oppose Daenerys and Aegon being together. We suspected as much a long time ago. They're the same age, they're both imaginative and defensive and full of life. It's no longer as much of a problem that they can't be married off for alliances. I only... I worry that they'll do something that cannot so easily be undone."

"She will be careful if it progresses to that point," said Daario soothingly. "You taught both Viserys and Daenerys well. You were honest about the truths of their bodies, about consequences, about being safe. You taught them each to brew tansy tea, you taught Daenerys how to estimate when Frejya's influence is highest in her body. She won't let herself get pregnant until these wars are over. They're children, as we all were. When we were young, we did not shy away from these pleasures and we were more careless than them."

Brynhildr nodded. "Yes, but... I don't know, I still worry. She looks so happy, he looks so happy, I want them to continue feeling that way, as unnatural as it seems to me. I keep reminding myself that they did not grow up together, it's a different matter than if she and Viserys had fallen for each other. But... she is still my little girl. For this to happen, she would be... all grown up. Risking heart break or starting towards a future where she could suffer as other women have on the birthing bed."

Oberyn came to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You are not worried about her feelings getting hurt with Aegon," he realized. "You are worried about her losing a child the way we have."

"It will break her, Oberyn," whispered Brynhildr. "She might pretend all is well but it will shatter her. The two of them, they're so young, they might not survive that fracture in their relationship. She may be cursed as I am, I don't know. Is she ready for all this? Being an adult and facing the pains of one?"

"She will be ready," assured Oberyn. "Because you've taught her everything she needs to know. And whatever she doesn't know, you will be here to teach her. To hold her hand as she gives birth or to hug her if she loses a babe. You'll be here to protect her if Aegon is not the boy we thought he was, or you will be there to deliver her to the priest if they choose to marry. You've raised her wonderfully, Mineri. You don't need to worry about her so much. She learned to take care of herself, and that includes her heart. Even now, she still loves running to you for everything. That won't end. You loved your daughter in a way many Westerosi don't with their children. She will always trust you to keep her afloat if she starts to sink. Not to mention she has Viserys, who will protect her. She has us. She has the Valkyries."

Pursing her lips, Brynhildr leaned forward to place her head on his shoulder, letting him hug her and kiss the top of her head.

She went to Daenerys the following day, in a moment where she was alone feeding Fafnir. Daenerys didn't sense her approaching at first, pressing her forehead against the dragon's and caressing his snout as he nibbled at pieces of charred meat; the delicate little beasts needed it cooked perfectly to their liking.

Brynhildr stopped at the entrance of the courtyard, watching her. Years ago, Daenerys had been such a little thing, toddling around and hugging her stuffed animals much like how she hugged her dragon now. Sometimes, she'd hang on Viserys or Brynhildr's legs and see if they could still walk while holding her. How she'd squeal, a sweet laugh that would make everyone smile.

She remembered Daenerys's young voice questioning the stories Brynhildr used to tell them at bedtime. 'Why, Mama?'She'd ask over and over, until Brynhildr tickled her and said, 'Because the gods say so, and they now say I will tickle you!' Here she stood now a woman grown, her child voice gone, and instead she spoke like a mother to Fafnir, whispering, "I am thankful for you, my sweet boy. You fly better each day."

It brought tears to Brynhildr's eyes. If she tried hard enough, she could still see Daenerys small again, Fafnir only a stuffed dragon. If she imagined, the girl would run up and hug her. During one of her pregnancies, Daenerys had rushed up and laid her head on Brynhildr's stomach, giggling, "I am going to have a sister!" She wished to name her Rhaella, but stillborn Ragnar was born instead.

Daenerys finally noticed her. "Mother!" She grinned, the dragon's serpentine eyes blinking slowly in her direction. "Fafnir is having goat today, his favorite."

"I can see," said Brynhildr, the dragon slurping up one last chunk as if to finish and listen in on their conversation. "My dear, I wished to talk to you about something."

Daenerys tilted her head. "Does it have to do with Jon Snow? Melisandre spoke to me about how he may be important."

"No, it's not about Jon. It's about Aegon, actually."

She seemed to know where this was going. She smiled, truly smiled, her cheeks tinted with a faint pink blush. "Oh, Mother, I am sure I am in love with him."

Brynhildr put on a brave face, no matter how it worried her to think of her daughter so grown up. "Is that so?"

"Yes. And I know it to be true. All my life, I've been seeing how my uncles treat you. How Daario brings you beautiful flowers from his trips, how he soothes you even when you begin to grow angry with his gentle words and a hug. How Oberyn kisses you no matter where you are, how he holds your hand and makes you laugh. More importantly, I saw how they've cried in frustration, how you've held them and cried at their side, how you protect them fiercely. I knew what love should be like from my earliest memories. And I know I've found it."

That warmed her heart. Brynhildr sat on the nearest stone bench. Daenerys joined her, taking her mother's hands. "What is it that makes you feel this way, my sweet?" asked Brynhildr, thumbs running over Daenerys's palms. "Tell me about him in the way you know him."

She began gushing, "He's so very thoughtful. I mention the smallest things and he remembers. Once I muttered to Viserys that I wanted a lemon cake between our council sessions; this was when Lady Sansa was still here. Aegon brought me one and silently placed it in front of me then sat in his space. He walks around with me, talks to me about everything. He understands what I feel, he can share my rage and share my sadness when I've the most need of it. He's gentle with the dragons, he likes learning the things I enjoy. He never tells me I look beautiful, he says I am beautiful, which to me is very different."

"Are you happy?" asked Brynhildr. "Do you see... a real future with him?"

"I am very happy, Mother," said Daenerys softly. "I have never felt so alive. Perhaps it is a combination of all the wonderful things we've managed, but I know that I've been more joyful since Aegon and I started getting to know each other. It's been several months now, nearly a year, and I feel sure. I see a future with him. I trust him to ground me when I need it, but still support my opinions. He'd heed my commands but speak up if he believes I am making a mistake. I want him to be my King Consort. I trust him to be at my side. I even... I imagine myself having children with him. Someday, once we've defeated the Army of the Dead."

Brynhildr cupped her face. "I am so happy that you have found someone you love, Dany. And I should hope he loves you as much if not more–"

"I am sure he does! He wrote me letters professing his love before I was even sure what I felt. I see in my dreams, I see our future, I see us together... I know him to be true. The dragons trust him, and so do I."

"I want the very best for you," said Brynhildr, kissing her forehead. "You are all grown up, my girl. Soon you will sit the Iron Throne and make proud your ancestors. That story you told me about the Dance of Dragons, sitting that throne will remind everyone who the rightful heir was. You are come from Rhaenyra's blood, Aegon the Conqueror's blood, the Princess Who Was Promised. I am glad you have someone like him at your side."

Daenerys wiped a tear from her mother's cheeks. "You are crying."

"Because you are not a little girl anymore," said Brynhildr with a weak smile. "I never got to have these warm moments with my mother, I never got to have conversations with her about true love or boys. Even with Helga, I wasn't truly this close. It means the world to me that I got to raise you, that I got to be here to teach you about love and watch you find a love of your own, not only in your children but in someone who puts you above everything."

The two embraced, Brynhildr hugging Daenerys tight to her chest and letting a few more tears slip out. She caressed the back of her daughter's head, smiling to herself, glad that she'd found happiness.

She wondered about Hvitserk and Ubbe, supposedly still alive and having children of their own. If they'd already had these moments with them or if they were still too young to have found love. She thought of Hvitserk's children Sigurd and Helga, Ubbe's children Ragnar, Hvitserk, and Brynhildr– was the little girl he named after her still blissfully unaware of the pain of the world? Had this Brynhildr grown up feeling more loved by her parents? Had this Brynhildr grown up excited to grow old in the same place her parents would?

A letter arrived at the end of that week, a simple parchment that said, 'Winter came for House Frey.' Upon further investigation, they determined that the Freys of the Crossing had been mysteriously mass-poisoned. Whoever the assassin was could perhaps prove a friend. Brynhildr had been quick to send word to Sansa about this; the Twins would be given to some of the higher officers of the Golden Company.

They focused instead on aiding Riverrun and moving for Casterly Rock. Daario was going to follow their three dragonriders in a small fleet that would stop in the sea opposite Gulltown rounding Witch Isle and Runestone. It would be up to Daenerys, Viserys, and Aegon to successfully negotiate terms with Lysa Arryn and intimidate the Lords of the Vale.

At present, they were preparing to tell Lysa that they had Littlefinger alive and imprisoned; she'd cooperate if she stood a chance of having him back. She didn't need to know he'd be held and given a trial in front of the Realm once the wars were over. If he was executed then, it would be by the grace of the gods. If he lived, Brynhildr would very much like to remove his tongue and perhaps a hand or both.

"All of you, be very careful," said Brynhildr, kissing them each on the forehead as they set out. "Don't let too much of your guard down. Show your strength but do not be overly confident that it was enough to intimidate. The Vale Lords are stubborn and Lysa Arryn is said to be a wretched woman."

"We have a plan," assured Viserys. "We'll demand the Lord of the Vale be brought to us. I'll have him for a ride over the Eyrie, show him the skies and have him enjoy the fresh air for once. Daenerys and Aegon will treat with Lysa Arryn and the other lords present. We'll keep Littlefinger as leverage for now, Robin in that moment while I fly with him. In time, perhaps, we'll keep her in further line by sending him out to foster somewhere he won't be so overly coddled. We have this, I swear."

Brynhildr nodded, trusting them. She gave Aegon a firm hug. "You protect your Queen, my Prince," she said. "Let this be the first test of how well you stand at her side when you are presented as her King Consort."

His eyes lit up. Surely Daenerys had told him that Brynhildr knew, but perhaps he hadn't been sure that she'd be entirely supportive. "Commander... thank you."

"Let it be your choice what you introduce yourself as," she said. "As young Lord Griff Connington, or... Prince Aegon Targaryen. You will sit a great role in the future, and it is time we let the boy step aside. You've fought in battle, you're ridden a dragon, and you've earned the love and trust of your Queen. You are most truly a man now, and a man will need to go by whatever name he likes. They'd be fools to harm you with the dragons there, and I hear save for Jon Arryn, most of the Vale ran behind Rhaegar during the Rebellion. Rewrite your story today, Aegon."

Aegon smiled. He looked towards Connington, who gave a nod of agreement as if he thought Brynhildr was advising him well. "You're grown now," said Connington. "And we cannot hide your identity forever. I think from the moment you take the Vale, you must begin using your real name and do right by your father and mother."

Aegon went to him, and wrapped his arms around him. "You are my father too, Jon. I won't forget that."

Connington patted his shoulders, half-smiling as if he might almost be moved to tears. "Go on, then, future King Consort. Your dragon awaits you."

"I will touch the skies this day," said Aegon surely. "And say hello to my mother and father."