Aegon reached out and took the sword from Brienne.
The scabbard settled into his hand, wood wrapped in leather and inlaid with silver fittings that gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
The crossguard was curved. A dark red gemstone was set into the pommel, its facets scattering tiny points of light.
He gripped the hilt and drew the blade.
As the blade left its sheath, its dark gray metallic sheen spread beneath the moonlight.
Along the blade's ridge, the rippled patterns of valyrian steel lay in overlapping layers, like flowing water frozen in metal.
The blade was about three fingers wide, of moderate length, and well balanced.
"Lady Forlorn."
Aegon murmured the sword's name. The ancestral blade of House Corbray.
He turned the blade over and studied it for a moment by the moonlight.
With this one, he now had four valyrian steel swords.
Blackfyre, Autocracy, Dark Sister, and now Lady Forlorn.
For someone who had no shortage of weapons, one more or one fewer made little difference.
He had seldom used Dark Sister since taking the Iron Throne. That sword suited a swift, agile fighting style, while his current style relied more on Blackfyre's heft and Autocracy's reach.
Perhaps he could leave Dark Sister to Daenerys. It was a slender sword made for a woman, after all, and would suit her better.
He looked at the sword in his hand, then up at Brienne standing before him.
An idea came to him.
He was about to speak when a voice came from behind him.
"Who are you, really?"
Arya's voice trembled despite her effort to suppress it, her composure held together by sheer force.
Aegon turned around.
Arya stood a few paces away. Her face was still pale, but her gray eyes had regained some focus.
She glanced back at