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Narrow Sea – Tarth
After seven days of smooth sailing, the Golden Crab and her two caravels sliced through the waves and finally reached the island known as the Sapphire Isle.
Tarth rose slowly from the horizon like a giant emerald covered in thick forest, set in the deep blue waters of the Narrow Sea.
The island was all rolling hills, hidden valleys, and steep white cliffs dotted with small coves and sandy beaches. The air smelled clean—pine, wildflowers, and sea salt—nothing like the heavy, oppressive gloom of Dragonstone.
Though small, House Tarth was ancient. They claimed descent from Ser Galladon of Morne, with blood going all the way back to the First Men. They had ruled the island for over a thousand years, famous for fine timber, hunting hounds, and rich produce. Many old legends surrounded Tarth, but the most famous was the tale of Ser Galladon and his enchanted blade, the "Just Maid."
The fleet docked at Tarth's main harbor. The port was modest but clean and orderly.
Lord Selwyn Tarth had already received word and was waiting on the pier with a small retinue. He was a tall, powerfully built man in middle age, face weathered but eyes still sharp with the stubborn strength of an island lord.
What surprised Pierce was the person standing beside Selwyn—his daughter, Brienne Tarth.
Brienne was enormous, taller than most men, with broad shoulders and heavy bones. She wore an ill-fitting, slightly outdated suit of chainmail and boiled leather. Her golden hair was cut short and uneven, her face covered in freckles, lips full, and blue eyes watchful with a clumsy sort of shyness.
She stood out like a young eagle that had accidentally wandered into a flock of doves.
"Lord Pierce Celtigar," Selwyn stepped forward, voice booming and straightforward like most islanders. "Welcome to Tarth! Any friend of Lord Stannis and His Grace the King is the most honored guest of House Tarth!" His welcome was warm and genuine—he clearly understood exactly how much weight Pierce carried in King's Landing and on Dragonstone.
"Lord Selwyn, thank you for the gracious welcome." Pierce returned the bow with perfect courtesy, his gaze calmly sweeping over Brienne. There was no shock, no disgust, and certainly no fake pity—only polite curiosity.
He was curious about the woman who, in the original timeline, would become one of the most loyal and tragic knights in Westeros. But that was all. Pierce had always been extremely picky about looks, and Brienne's appearance simply didn't meet his standards. Jaime Lannister's taste had always struck him as… peculiar.
Still, his flawless expression management made it look like nothing more than ordinary respect for a noble lady of equal rank.
"This is my daughter, Brienne," Selwyn introduced her, a complex mix of fatherly pride and quiet helplessness in his voice.
"Lady Brienne," Pierce greeted her with the same polite nod.
Brienne looked flustered. She gave an awkward bow and muttered "My lord" in a low voice before quickly lowering her head, ears turning pink.
She could feel that Pierce's gaze was different from everyone else's—no mockery, no disgust. That actually made her more nervous.
Pierce signaled his servants to present the gifts. For Lord Selwyn: a cask of new-style wine and ale from Golden Port plus a fine black-steel hunting dagger.
For Brienne: a pair of gauntlets made from deep-sea giant fish leather lined with soft fleece—practical, sturdy, and nothing overly feminine that might offend her.
"Just a small token of appreciation," Pierce said with a smile.
Selwyn was delighted with the dagger, thanking him repeatedly. Brienne ran her fingers over the tough yet comfortable leather and a flash of genuine surprise lit her eyes. She thanked him quietly.
Pierce's thoughtful gifts immediately earned him even more goodwill from father and daughter.
…
…
The next morning, at Lord Selwyn's near-insistent request, Brienne awkwardly changed into a simple deep-blue lady's gown.
When she appeared at breakfast looking painfully self-conscious, even Pierce—with all his self-control—had to fight to keep a straight face. The tall, powerful body stuffed into feminine clothing made her look even more clumsy and out of place. The contrast with her natural warrior presence was almost comical.
Pierce quickly lowered his eyes and took a sip of milk to hide the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. The old lord probably just wanted his daughter to look "normal" in front of an important guest. He meant no harm.
After breakfast, Lord Selwyn invited Pierce to tour the famous Whispering Wood valley. The deep, peaceful glen was filled with towering ancient trees that blocked most of the sunlight, leaving dappled patterns on the forest floor. Clear streams bubbled over rocks, the air was cool and damp, and wildflowers grew everywhere. The scenery was far more beautiful than the rocky, barren wilds of Crackclaw Point.
The three of them picnicked beside a picturesque lake. Lord Selwyn himself caught several fat sturgeon, which the servants grilled on the spot with wild herbs, garlic, and Tarth's special spices. The flavor was simple, pure, and incredibly fresh.
While they ate, Lord Selwyn dismissed the servants. The mood grew heavier. He glanced at his silent daughter, sighed, and turned to Pierce.
"Lord Pierce," he said earnestly, "I… I would like to ask for your help."
"Please speak freely, my lord."
"It's about Brienne!" Selwyn looked at his daughter with deep worry. "I'm getting old. One day I'll return to the Seven. I'm afraid… when I'm gone, she'll be alone…"
He paused. "She has a good heart and she's stronger than most men, but this world… you understand. I want to find her a reliable husband. He doesn't need to be highborn—just decent, kind, someone who will truly care for her and shield her from cruel gossip and malice."
Pierce was genuinely surprised. "My lord, why come to me? King's Landing is full of knights, but…"
"Because you're different, my lord," Selwyn said seriously. "I've seen too many nobles—false, arrogant, or offering nothing but pity. But the way you looked at Brienne… I noticed. There was none of that. You are a true lord, well-traveled, close to both the king and Lord Stannis. If you could keep an eye out in King's Landing for someone suitable… someone who might appreciate Brienne's unique qualities… I would be forever grateful."
His voice carried the humble plea of a worried father who feared his unconventional daughter would be left alone and unprotected after he was gone.
Pierce looked at the old lord's sincere love for his daughter, then at Brienne, who had gone stiff and was staring at the ground. He understood perfectly.
After a moment of silence, he nodded. "I understand, Lord Selwyn. I will keep watch. I can't promise anything, but if I meet someone of good character who can truly see Brienne's strengths, I will make the introduction."
"Thank you! Thank you so much, Lord Pierce!" Selwyn gripped Pierce's hand with genuine emotion.
…
…
That night, the Whispering Wood looked even more mysterious under moonlight. Pierce slipped away alone and returned to the lakeside where they had picnicked earlier.
The old legends of Tarth echoed in his mind—especially the tale of Ser Galladon of Morne and the enchanted sword called the Just Maid.
Pierce had always been interested in that legendary blade. He already owned the Valyrian steel axe Bloodstorm, but a man could never have too many powerful weapons—especially one touched by real magic.
He stood at the water's edge, closed his eyes, and entered the Shifter state once more. His soul left his body and expanded outward.
The lake was no longer calm. The water began to churn silently, glowing with a rainbow haze.
His consciousness pierced the surface and entered a strange, colorful sub-space. Energy flowed like twisting auroras. An ethereal, beautiful female voice sang endlessly of justice, purity, and protection.
At the center of the space floated a luminous female figure made of pure light. She radiated soft rainbow radiance, beautiful beyond mortal measure.
When the song ended, she turned toward Pierce's presence. Without speaking, she reached into her own glowing form and drew out a sword.
It was a simple, elegant longsword—not ornate, but with a strange inner glow and natural patterns like ancient tree roots. The hilt was carved with the profile of a sorrowful maiden.
The glowing woman lifted the blade and spoke in a hollow, repetitive tone: "Justice… protection… this blade… may aid you… three times…"
Pierce tried to communicate, asking her identity and the sword's origin, but received no meaningful reply. She seemed to be nothing more than a lingering spiritual imprint, an automated guardian program.
He pushed his awareness deeper into the colorful space. He had always wondered why the Faith of the Seven was so widespread in Westeros yet its miracles were almost nonexistent.
Now he understood. Their power had been greatly diminished in ancient wars against the old gods and other forces. Only fragments remained.
His consciousness moved farther in and found a massive stone statue wearing a flower crown and holding a rose—the gentle, pure image of the Maiden, one of the Seven.
Inside the statue lay energy far purer and stronger than the glowing woman's—dormant, but still glowing like the dying core of a star.
Pierce's mind stirred. He extended invisible tendrils of consciousness and tried to seize the power directly.
"Blasphemer!"
The instant his consciousness touched the statue, a vast, majestic, furious will descended.
A gigantic, blurry figure of rainbow light appeared, radiating crushing pressure.
It loomed above him like a judge passing sentence: "You profane the sacred! You shall be judged!"
Pierce's consciousness coalesced without fear. "Judged? With this pathetic scrap of power you have left? The Seven… you rely far too much on mortal faith. Without churches and prayers, what are you? Nothing but fading ghosts!"
"Arrogance!" The rainbow figure blazed brighter, trying to drive him out.
"Looks like you need a clearer lesson!" Pierce stopped holding back. His soul energy exploded outward, twisting and expanding into a roiling black mist exactly like the one he had used against the Three-Eyed Crow. Countless tentacles lashed out, screaming silently.
This time the mist was denser, filled with pure chaos and hunger.
The black tentacles wrapped around the Maiden statue like giant pythons. The statue erupted in brilliant seven-colored holy light, trying to resist. The sacred power stabbed at the mist like swords.
But Pierce's black mist devoured everything. The rainbow light was swallowed like torches thrown into an abyss, snuffed out instantly.
"No… impossible! What is this power?!" The rainbow figure roared in rage and fear as it felt its very essence being torn away.
"Go back to your silence, relic of the old age!" Pierce's voice thundered from the center of the mist.
Seeing it could not win, the rainbow figure detonated a burst of light at its core—like a lizard shedding its tail. Most of its energy fled the sub-space in panic.
The Maiden statue, wrapped in the devouring mist, lost its holy glow. Cracks spider-webbed across its surface with a sharp crack, and it finally shattered into dull motes of energy.
Pierce's consciousness returned to human shape. In the center of the shattered statue, a real, physical longsword slowly rose—the same blade the glowing woman had shown earlier. No longer an illusion, it was now a true magical weapon containing dormant power.
Back in his body, Pierce opened his eyes. He raised his hand toward the moonlit lake and made a grasping motion.
The water churned violently again. A vortex formed at the center. Moments later, a sword burst from the lake and flew straight into his waiting hand.
The blade was wet but completely uncorroded, reflecting cold moonlight. The maiden's profile on the hilt seemed to gaze at him.
It was the legendary Just Maid.
Pierce weighed the sword, feeling the quiet, waiting power inside it, and smiled with deep satisfaction.