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billiedeansbitch · 11 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

(𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Prompt: You’re having troubles choosing which bra to wear. Brienne has a better option.

A/n: Modern day setting/AU. Slight smut. Self-indulgent fic.

Warning/s: none

Brienne’s done showering, she lathered, scrubbed and washed her body and hair. She even dedicated a whole happy birthday song from beginning to end as she thoroughly washed each finger, she brushed her teeth, flossed, gargled some mouthwash then flossed again. All of these only took her only fifteen minutes to get done. She feels refreshed and clean, so clean that she doesn’t want to touch anything or do anything, she just wants to stay fresh all day and then there’s you.

When she left to shower, you were already getting ready and now that she’s done, you’re still getting ready.

Brienne stops and leans on the doorway. She’s wearing boxer shorts because it’s loose and comfortable, so much space for ventilation, she always chooses comfort over aesthetics, and honestly you couldn’t blame her. Above her torso, nothing, she had nothing but the towel that covers her chest after aggressively drying her short blonde hair. It’s going to get frizzy and you’ll probably lecture her again but she doesn’t care.

She watches you with her long, strong arms, crossed against her chest, almost flexing her toned muscles. She doesn’t understand the fuss over these bras, they all look the same to her, but oh, she finds great joy in removing them from you or palming your breasts over them, especially those ones that don’t have underwires. Extra points if they are lace and very sheer.

Still in your underwear, you can’t decide which is better, the nude demi or the black balconette, both will bring great definition and more lift but still you can figure which is much preferable with your outfit. The sigh that left your lips is pretty much a cry for help, so you turn around, brows knitting together.

“This or that?” you asked your partner, eyeing the black one that’s draped on the armchair next to the mirror.

Brienne’s eyes don't waver from your breasts, she just keeps looking until a grin cracks on her lips and you can’t do anything but smile as well. Shaking your head, you turn around as you playfully roll your eyes and face the mirror once more.

You should have known better than asking her. As soon as you turn, your gaze lingering on her reflection in the mirror. it’s your turn to ogle at Brienne, appreciating the taut skin along her stomach and her calves extending up to her thighs. Her arms that can easily sweep you off of your feet, oh and that wicked smile.

Once Brienne gains control over her legs, with a few huge strides, she’s quickly made it behind you. “How about this?” she says, serious and all, and then you feel it, the coldness of her palms cupping your breasts. Your nipples hardened almost immediately.

“This is much better. Wouldn’t you agree?” She has a goofy smile on her lips, one that reaches her eyes, your heart jumps a little at the view of her face. Her crooked lower teeth are showing, her cheeks flushed, the way her hair is messed is tragic and art at the same time you wanted to comb your fingers through. Oh Brienne, so handsome and so pretty at the same time. And God, Brienne is tall, so tall and so perfect.

“This will do but I don’t think everyone will appreciate it if we're going to show up like this to your father’s birthday party.” you feel her peck your cheek.

She chuckles, agreeing but still not quite ready to let you go.

A pinch on your left nipple caused a gasp to spill from your lips. A flash of mischief in her eyes.

She did it again with the other, until she’s massaging both mounds and you’re helplessly defeated in her hands. “Gods, Brienne.”

You slip a hand on the back of her neck, tilting your head a bit to the side. Kissing her is about finding a good angle and all. So your lips met, slow, sensually slow like you both had the time in the world when in reality, you will both be running late if you don’t detangle yourselves from one another.

“We’re going to be late, darling.”

“Five minutes.” she breathed on the skin of your neck, her hands are now on your ass, massaging and groping. “Just five minutes.” and her lips are now back to yours, tongue thrusting in.

“Hold on,” this prompts you to wrap your arms around her neck, your legs spread around her hips. Gods, she’s strong.

Brienne carries you with unbelievable strength, and it turns you on, so much that your underwear is now soaked. Briefly, you withdraw from kissing the handsome beauty, your fingers combing through her locks, “We should change the shower head.”

Brienne stops assaulting your neck, “Yeah, I was thinking of that, too, and place it much higher.” You remember the first time you both showered together after moving in together to your apartment, Brienne had hit her forehead on the shower head causing a small bruise to form. You can still remember where it was, you rub the spot on the right side near her hairline and kiss it.

“What about the tiles? I think it’s a bit out of style.” you said, kissing her eyelids some more then her cheeks and her mouth.

“We’ll change it, too, if that’s what you want.”

“Mhmm, and we should buy a bigger tub so we can both fit in.”

“Done.” she murmurs, chasing your lips in the process.

“Gods, I love you, Brienne.”

“And some lingerie,” she says, licking your lower lip, “For you.”

Five minutes turns to half an hour of kissing and a lot of fucking, she even fucked you some more in the shower when you protested that you can’t both go to her father’s birthday smelling like horny teenagers.

You both made it to Selwyn Tarth’s fiftieth birthday, although you were both late, and Selwyn isn’t very much pleased with it, Brienne still managed to cool the old man’s head with a kiss on the cheek and a little birthday present from you.

#lady brienne #brienne of tarth x reader #ser brienne #brienne of tarth imagines

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wednesdayorwhatever · 1 year

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#she is a category of her own #in every way imaginable #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #brienne of tarth #lucifer morningstar

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theship-thewalrus · 1 year

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finally! someone who writes for my baby Brienne! could i request a brienne x gn!reader one with an old friends to lovers trope? reader and brienne were friends when they were children because her father did business with readers parents so they would meet a lot but then when that was done and reader goes back to their kingdom they never met again. they reunite as adults and there’s some angst but confessions, cuddles, and kisses ensue in the end. thank you so much! (p.s i loved the legolas fic too)

Hi Anon!! I love me some Brienne >:) Hope this is what you have been looking for <3

brienne of tarth x gender neutral! reader

pretty much the ask

word count: 473 words reading time: about 2 minutes warnings: none

You have not seen Brienne for some years, yet the woman still held a large place in your life. When you were both much younger you would spend all hours of the day together. Your parents believed the pair of you were simply close friends, but it was more, much more. Brienne was your soulmate and when you were away from her your heart broke. The hole in your heart could never be filled by any of the suitors your father brought forward.

Yet as your eyes lay on the mountain of the woman in front of you, you could fill the hole in your heart filling with your love for her. But you also felt anxiety over meeting and speaking to her again. You did not know how to react, it seemed neither did she. The women standing there looking down at you were so different from when you were children. She had grown, her face matures and she seemed to be even taller. But you knew it was your Brienne. She still had her soft eye, her kind smile, and her beautiful blonde hair.

The pair of you were different, both growing under different conditions. While she began as a warrior, you had filled your role as a Nobel. You wondered if she remembered you and if she still held the same feelings. Kneeling before you, you could see her blue eyes looking up at you through her hair. The woman was always one with formalities, while you were always a little more relaxed than her.

It was a few hours until the pair of you were alone once more. Looking at her almost nervously you were not sure what to say, how to act. "Brienne, it had been some time." You start off with a little smile on your face, something to break the ice with. The woman smiled little, eye drifting to the floor. It was clear he was also a little nervous as well. "So it has," Brienne agrees eyes flicking back to yours, you could see the smallest amount of what you believed to be love.

Pulling the woman into your arms she wasted no time in wrapping her arms around you. Happy tears filled your eyes as you had her in your arms once more. After so many years of loneliness and sadness. She had found her way back to you. A watery laugh left you as you removed yourself from the hug, instead taking her head in your hands. Resting your forehead on her own you both silently soaking up each other's attention. There was no reason to say anything, you both used your actions to show your feelings.

You both loved each other, it was clear as day. You were both together again. There was no one to rip you away from each other, you would be together forever.

#brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne imagines #brienne of tarth imagines #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagines #got imagines

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pastanest · 1 year

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Brienne x she/her!reader

A/N: feminists stand UP! in this house we support women’s rights AND women’s wrongs!

warning: winter’s leaving and hot girl summer’s returning so it’s a lil steamy in the end for all my strong, independent, Brienne whores xoxo

To Be A Woman

It had almost been a cruel joke on Brienne her entire life. The fact that you, belonging to a family that was still noble but not as highly regarded as the Tarth’s, had always been more of a lady than she had. If you had been anyone else, Brienne would have felt a harbored, silently seething jealousy towards you. Had you not only shown Brienne kindness and respect, had you treated her as the lesser lady that she felt she was, had you ever made a comparison between the two of you or made a point of it to others; had you not been as perfect as you possibly could be, perhaps Brienne would be able to feel differently towards you.

Instead, she finds herself joining you to yet another dress fitting. It was not something Brienne enjoyed, nor was it something that she was ever involved in beyond giving her opinion on the dresses you tried, but somehow, you always found a way to convince her. To Brienne, the reason was obvious the moment you stepped out from behind the curtain for the sixth time, in a dress not so different from one you had tried three dresses prior, but it stole Brienne’s breath from her very lungs regardless. The stars in her eyes made you smile as you twirled on the raised podium, the seamstress clapping and cheering the same approvals she’d had for all of the previous dresses. The only opinion you care for, though, you always have to ask for.

“Lady Brienne, what do you think?”

It takes your dear friend a moment to respond, choosing her words carefully before she nods.

“It suits you very well, my Lady.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I do wish you wouldnt regard me with such formalities, especially when you are the Lady of Tarth!”

Brienne scoffs at this. “I could never wear such pretty garments, Lady (Y/N).”

You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to her choice of uniform. “And I could never wear such strong, solid silver - that is not what makes a woman, dear Brienne.”

Then, it was Brienne’s turn to roll her eyes, while you decided on the dresses you wished to purchase and requested they be delivered to your quarters when convenient. Taking Brienne’s arm, you stepped out onto the street and began to make observations about the market’s most recent additions in products. Strolling through the bustling crowds of the townsfolk, not one stopped to stare at the woman that towered over you at your side, not one whispered to another cruel gossip about the untraditional armored woman walking lady about the town. The warmness of your presence was a shield stronger than any Brienne could hope to hold in her own hand, transforming the viciousness of the public’s usual opinion into kind smiles and well wishes, passed to her as much as they were to you.

As unlikely as the friendship has always been between the two of you, according to Brienne, to you it has always been second nature. To Brienne, you were simply too kind, too empathetic and too beautiful to resist in any and every sense of such words. You always have and always will be something that Brienne wished to be, in some ways, something unattainable and most commonly undesirable in favor of her path of strength and righteousness, but there was something so enchanting about the the sweet scents that followed you everywhere you went, the flowing gowns that trailed around every corner you turned, the pretty potions that you added to your baths and used on your face before retiring each night. Something so beautiful and unknown to someone like Brienne, who had been all but forced to deem such things as never to be hers, by right.

If the most she could do was exist beside you, see and feel such beautiful things by being in your presence, that would be more than enough for her, she thought. The smile that you were the first to give her had been the most like a girl she had felt in all her years pretending to be one, she had often mused.

Evenings like this, spent in one tavern and then the next, following the music and you as you danced towards it, have always been Brienne’s favorites. The part of her that rolled her eyes and feigned disapproval at your antics had long since passed, replaced by an enamored smile as she takes the closest seat she can to the musician, her eyes never leaving you. Your hips sway with the fluidity of water or wine, your gown flowing with each motion, the smile on your face one that Brienne is certain comes from any of the heavens that may lie beyond this life, your eyes closed as you lose yourself to the plucking of strings. And though you know better than to drag Brienne to her feet and embarrass her by forcing her to dance, you throw yourself into her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck as you share a laugh that is so without worry, without further thought, Brienne wonders if she is in a dream. Not a drop of wine fuels your action, but an energy and force that she has never understood, and has no desire to. Though she wishes to decode every intricate detail of your personality, there are aspects of you that are simply beyond explanation, and she will love those all the same.

The moonlight casts a gentle glow above you as you stroll arm in arm back to Evenfall Hall, you having been an honored guest while your family conduct arrangements with Brienne’s father. Giggling and sneaking through an entrance to avoid being seen, you lean on each other as though nothing more than a pair of girls far younger than you are, far more rebellious than either of you have ever truly been, but the rush is just as exhilarating when you collapse on the bed, safely beyond the door to your quarters. In the few minutes it takes for the two of you to catch your breaths, you stare up at the canopy of the bed in a daze.

“It is a relief to know that we will never be more than girls, you and I.” You muse playfully, enjoying the continuation of youthful bliss that can only be experienced with her.

Brienne scoffs. “If you would regard me as such, then I suppose you are correct.”

A deep sigh passes your lips. “You must stop chiding yourself like that, Lady Brienne.”

She sits up, turning to stare down at you with a frown. “It is no chide, but a simple fact. Perhaps I was a girl for a few years after I was born, but I was not allowed to be for much longer.”

Sad eyes meet hers, staring up at her with such sincerity she very nearly has to break your gaze, but she wouldnt dare. “You were banished from what is nothing more than a man’s version of being a girl, when they know nothing of the sort.”

Brienne’s frown deepens, and you continue.

“Being a girl is not long hair, long gowns, dances or potions or baths, it is not something restricted to a certain body that must fit in a special box designed by men. I heard one of those Lannister pricks-“

“(Y/N).” Brienne raises an eyebrow in warning, her own respect for people outshining your general disapproval at those with snobbish natures, while you roll your eyes.

“I heard one of those ever so noble, ever so rich Lannister men, say that lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and the same can be said for women. No man can understand what it is to be a woman, in the same way we can never understand what it is to be a man. I am sure being a man goes beyond drooling at everything with a hole, though they do little to prove it-“

Brienne can't withhold the gasp of a laugh she releases at that, always surprised by and appreciative of your crude humor.

With a bright smile on your face, you sit up with her. “The point I am trying to make is that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel. Just because I like to dance in a gown does not make me anymore of a woman than you. If you find your femininity in your armor, in the swing of your sword, in the strength you feel in your righteousness, then that is what makes you a woman, Lady Brienne. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

There are mere inches between your faces, your voice nothing more than a whisper by the time your explanation is finished, reflecting the gentleness of the tears shining in Brienne’s eyes.

“If you do not wish to be perceived as feminine in any sense, then that is perfectly within your right, as well. Nothing is inherently feminine within you unless you want it to be and decide that it is. So tell me, dear Brienne, how do you accept yourself?” You take ahold of her hand to encourage her, and her glazed eyes dart down to acknowledge the gesture, her cheeks flushing pink as she swallows nervously.

“I…If what you say is a true, which I believe it must be, then…I am a woman.” She says, sounding sure of that statement and confident in it for the first time in her life, her gaze firm as it returns to yours.

Grinning at her, you squeeze her hand. “Then we are nothing more than a pair of girls, are we not?”

Brienne chuckles bashfully. “I suppose this is an accurate statement now, my Lady.”

Releasing her hand, you approach your dresser and sit in front of the mirror, beginning to remove your jewelry and tidy it away habitually.

A question tugs at Brienne’s mind, but she temporarily loses all trace of any thought as she watches the way your fingers detangle your hair with expertly gentle, nimble movements. Utterly mesmerized, Brienne shakes her head and focusses her mind.

“If you have never felt the way I did when being referred to as a lady, why is it you disapprove of it when I regard you as such?” She questions, remembering all the times when you had been quick to correct her when referring to you as ‘my Lady’.

Looking over your shoulder, you smile at her. “If you wish to call me your Lady, you will need to make me yours, first.”

Brienne does not have the tools available to check, but she is absolutely certain that in that moment, her heart stops beating, her soul glimpses the world from a bird’s eye as she ascends to the heavens, and then she drops back into her own armor quite suddenly, her face substantially hotter than it had been when she had last felt it. The dumbstruck expression on her face makes you laugh into a wheezing frenzy, wiping tears from your eyes as you stand up and disappear behind a curtain to get changed. If Brienne’s temperature rises much more, she will be forced to consult the God of Light.

She fixes her gaze to the floor, desperately trying to think of anything other than the fact that you are undressing and stepping into a nightgown behind a curtain that is no more than a few feet behind her. The honor that pumps in her very veins will not be outrun by adrenaline, not this day. But as she feels the bed dip behind her, and those nimble fingers beginning to untie parts of her armor, she cannot remember how to swear anything to the old gods or the new, except that she is, undoubtedly, on the brink of fainting.

“Am I wrong to think that, based on the frequency at which you have referred to me as your Lady, that is what you wish me to be?” You tease, your lips so close to Brienne’s ear she can hear your breath in her hair, a trail of goosebumps erupting on her neck.

She gulps, taking a deep breath before shaking her head.

Without sparing another second, you slink your way around her until you are straddling her lap, Brienne’s hands acting on an instinct she did not know she had when they immediately lift to hold you there. She takes perhaps half a second to thank every god she knows for the fabric of the nightgown you are wearing, because had she felt your skin beneath her hands, Brienne is sure she would not have survived the contact. Her eyes meet yours, wide and stunned, frozen in place much like the rest of her, while yours are relaxed and - dare Brienne think it - sultry?

“Then, my dear Brienne, I must amend an earlier statement.” You begin, and she nods feverishly, urging you to continue because she has lost the ability to speak. “I said that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel, and while it is still true that nobody can take away what it means to be a woman…it is quite possible to touch, to feel, such a thing. In more ways than one, so I’ve heard.”

Brienne blinks rapidly, clearing her throat. “M-More ways than one, you say? Perhaps your take on a woman is not as accurate as you first thought, then.”

You nod along with her, a smirk rising at the corner of your lips, which look more inviting to Brienne with every second that passes. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps it is you that should correct me on what it means to take a woman.”

Brienne’s eyes, if possible, grow even wider. “That is not what I-“

But you cut her off, the tension building around you and between you becoming too much, forcing you together in an almightly crash of flushed lips and relieved sighs as you card one hand through Brienne’s hair, the other still unclasping parts of her armor with far more urgency. Her hands squeeze your waist through the soft cotton of your nightgown, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against hers, even through the silver plates that separate you. As each part of armor that covered her torso and arms clatters against the bed, your hands scramble to feel more of her, the strength of the muscles in her arms, the firmness of her chest and hips, while hers hook under your thighs and pull you impossibly closer, her heart skipping a beat when your nightgown rises just enough for her fingertips to graze skin, soft and supple and hot to the touch for less than a second, but time enough for a hunger like nothing Brienne has ever known to bloom within her, and she reaches an epiphany.

Perhaps, Brienne thinks, this is what it is to be a woman.

#brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth imagine #imagine #imagines #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #game of thrones #got #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine

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cashieart · 2 years

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Riverlands drama squad bbyyyyyyy

#jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #braime #catelyn stark #lady stoneheart #hyle hunt #podrick payne #asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #the way we're never gonna get this book and im gonna have to live my life with the shows ending ddsufguygferuf #imagine staning this series bro #clown behavior frfrfr #beyonce you wont break my soul @ grrm

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Heya this is kind of Robb Stark but more of a friendship one where y/n is Robbs wife (Robert Baratheons only real child and is very nice a sweet and was in a arranged marriage to Robb but fell In love. She is famous for being beautiful has songs written about her and all that jazz)and it’s when Caytlen comes to camp with Brienne of Tarth and y/n is kind of amazed by her and finds her very beautiful. They end up having a conversation where y/n compliments her but Brienne thinks she’s joking but y/n is quick to correct her. y/n gives her a very encouraging speech about how she admires her . Not that Brienne would show it but she’s very touched by it and grows a soft spot for y/n just a very nice moment. If you don’t do these types of pens that’s fine ❤️

Queen in the North and South

Main Pairing: Platonic Brienne x f!reader

Second Pairing: Romantic Robb x f!reader

Summary: Brienne and the reader discuss to pros and cons of beauty and where to find it

Warnings: Mentions of creepy men

Word count: 2842

Masterlist Here

When you first arrived at Winterfell you were hesitant of your new life being forced upon you but soon grew to love it. In Kingslanding you had felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn’t share the same Lannister locks with your siblings nor your mother’s affiliation with wine. As your father’s oldest child, he adored you but as you grew, he began to show you off and flaunt you to the lords around.

“Gather round my lords and see the greatest beauty in all of Westeros!” He would cheer drunk on his ale and those around would join in. over time you learned to hide your embarrassment at the attention, and the glares your mother would give you for it and smiled politely. Men would come to court simply to play the songs they wrote for you, or lords would attempt to rhyme off pretty sonnets in your honour. It felt nice to be loved but as you grew you noticed the lust in many eyes and began to feel disgust.

But you smiled politely like you did when you first met Robb. He was of course very handsome himself; a true Tully look about him with all the Stark courage and honour. However, you tried not to obsess over looks like many had done with you and insisted on getting to know him as a person.

As it turned out Robb was more interesting than you first assumed however far too trusting of people. Something you tried to educate him on. Robb was just relieved that his wife was not just a pretty face, not that he complained about your looks since he adored them. Once you were wed you began to talk late into the night, discussing opinions and having debates. even when you told him his opinion was wrong, he couldn’t help but smile at the way you delivered the punch line.

You had learned one thing from your mother and that was that you wanted to be the opposite of her in every way. In Kingslanding you would often venture into the city to teach the small folk how to read or hear their folktales. It was how you first heard the songs they sang about you. The beauty of all the kingdoms. That’s what they called you and it meant so much more from then that it did the lords at court.

In Winterfell you spent time meeting and talking to everyone and anyone you could. Often you played hide and seek with the younger Starks and Sansa flocked to you like a mother hen. You also managed to gain the favour of many lords and ladies in the North as the South had taught you what to say and how.

When Ned Stark died it was not just the Young Wolf they rode out for and died for. It was you. While northerners cheered for Robb to be their king, Kingslanding silently begged for you their true queen to return and take the throne from your monster of a brother. You had even received letters from Dorne backing your claim. The king in the north and queen in the south.

However, you weren’t the only one who had a claim, a claim you had yet to announce you were fighting for to the world. Renly Baratheon also believed himself king. You couldn’t understand your uncles reasoning in the slightest. Stannis’s claim was the only logical one if Joffrey was a bastard and the lords sought a king not a queen. Why not join Stannis as his heir? Then you could never quite understand your uncle.

You hoped Lady Catelyn would however when she left to see his camp. Robb had insisted you did not go meet your uncle personally. While you had not announced your claim many rumours flew around about it and Robb was not prepared to send his wife off to a camp filled with your rivals’ men. Despite your marriage being a political one it had grown into love and admiration for each other. Little did Tywin know that it was not politically wise for him when he suggested it to your father who jumped at the chance to join houses with the Starks.

Every night she was gone you prayed for Catelyn’s return and your men’s safety so when you saw her arrive back at camp you began to thank them profusely. However, she returned with an extra man at her side. Or woman you should say.

Brienne of Tarth stood tall beside Catelyn, her hand always close to her sword. You were tending to the wounded when she arrived and did not have time to meet her just yet but as you gazed at her from across the camp you saw her eyes turn to you. when your eyes met you smiled and gave her a small wave. She was beautiful. Not in the typical sense you knew. But she was.

Robb was the one to tell you more about her. “Wait she was in his Kings guard? Like a knight?” You asked as you walked with your husband to the food area of your camp.

“Not a knight darling,” Robb had his hand linked with yours which kept your other free to wave to the Lords and soldiers who waved at you. even during war, they admired your elegance. “But she was his guard apparently. She beat Loras Tyrell in the tourney,”

“That couldn’t have been hard,” you joked, “that boy was all spindly legs when I saw him last,”

“He’s one of the best knights in the Kingdom,” Robbs laughed made your stomach flutter the same way it had the first night you met, “I don’t even know if I believe that she did,”

“I can believe it,”

“You see the good in everyone love,”

You snorted at his words as you took a bowl of stew from one of the men, “No,” you retorted as Robb got his own, raising an eyebrow at your words, “I just don’t announce my distrust to the world. Have I taught you noting?” you teased.

Robb rolled his eyes with a smile. You glanced over to where Brienne was sat alone and foodless. “You wanna go sit with her, don’t you?” he asked, and you nodded sheepishly, “Go on, make some friends,” Robb chuckled as he handed you another bowl of stew to give to the woman, “I’m gonna go eat with Lord Karstarks to talk battle plans,”

“Okay have fun, if that’s possible,” You grinned. Robb rolled his eyes before pressing a brief kiss to your lips and walking away.

You turned your attention to Brienne who was whitling a piece of wood with a knife. You smiled and nodded to all the men as you walked across the camp to where she sat on a log. “May I join you lady Brienne?” you smiled as you held out the bowl to her.

Brienne looked up quickly, her eyes wide, “It’s just Brienne. I’m no lady. I’m sure you would enjoy someone else’s company more your grace,” she said. You held the bowl out further his she finally took, “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” you said before sitting on the log beside her, Brienne looking at you as if she had three heads, “I thought your father was lord tarth?” you mused as you began to eat your stew, handing Brienne a spare spoon for hers.

Her eyes faltered between yours and the food, “Um he is,” she started as she turned her attention to stare into the camp, “I am a lady by birth right your grace but not by actions,”

“Life would be far more interesting if there were more ladies like you,”

“You don’t know me your grace,”

“Then what do I need to know?” you asked as you set your spoon down. “I’m all ears,”

Reluctantly Brienne began to tell you her life so far though not the personal bits of course. She told you how she found herself at Renly’s camp, how she fought for him, swore an oath to him, and became a king’s guard. You laughed at her stories, a genuine laugh that touched Brienne as you actually seemed to care. perhaps it was fake she thought. Perhaps that’s why people sang songs about you.

None the less she decided to enjoy your company at least for dinner, “It was about time someone knocked down Loras a leg or two. When I was eight, he spilled his father’s wine all down my dress because I told him his hair was ugly,”

Brienne couldn’t stop herself from laughing at your antics, “Maybe you shouldn’t have insulted him,”

“Oh, im sure he started it,” you joked as you set the now empty bowl on the ground, “if not him then it was defiantly Margaery. I refuse to accept it was my fault,” Normally Brienne would judge your words but the way you laughed made it clear unlike many you could handle a joke.

Something she appreciated as you laughed at hers. “I must say your grace you’re not what I expected from the songs,”

You groaned at her words, “Oh gods what do they sing about me over there?”

Brienne laughed at your fake agony, “Just the usual. That you’re beautiful and kind,”

“Have I offended you?” you joked turning to face her straight on, “Have I not been kind?”

Brienne flushed at your words, “Forgive me your grace. It’s just most Ladies I know aren’t as kind as you,”

“Or you,” you agreed, “Then again, I’ve never met another lady like you. it’s refreshing honestly. And for the record I hate those songs,” You confessed your longest running lie to a stranger, but Brienne moral code was stronger than the Starks.

“How can you hate being called beautiful?” she asked, and you could feel the resentment from her. the same feeling you got from many other ladies who would push you as a child or gossip about you as an adult.

You sighed as you placed your arms on your knees to lean forward, thinking before you spoke, “When Robb calls me beautiful I feel a warm feeling in me that spreads across me like a love struck plague,” you began, recalling the butterflies you had felt the first time he kissed your hand when you met. “The first time I heard one of those songs yes sure it made me feel good. Then I saw the way the lords would look at me. Then I heard what they sang and said when they thought I wasn’t around. They didn’t view me as a person,” you sighed as you recalled all the pervy comments and creepy stares.

“Im sorry you had to deal with that my lady,” Brienne placed her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You turned your head to look at her and sat back up, “it’s not your fault. Besides everyone’s beautiful in their own way,” you mused.

Brienne barked out a laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong my lady,”

“You can find beauty everywhere. All you need to do is look,” you said as you looked out over the camp. “See him over there? With the dried blood covering his face?” you nodded towards one of the Karstarks boys and Brienne couldn’t help but noted how the battles must have harmed his face, “He has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Better than all the singers in Kingslanding and him,” you nodded towards another unassuming man by the fire, “Whittles these wooden figures that have so much detail and grace in every carving. Even him,” you nodded at the most closed off, grumpy one of your fighters who constantly looked ready to spit on someone, “has the biggest most beautiful smile when he laughs. Just because you can’t see the beauty at first glance doesn’t mean it’s not there,”

Brienne looked around the camp at all the different men and how they spoke, laughed, and moved. “Do you know all of your men?” she asked.

“I try to,” you answered as you took both your dirty dishes to take to be washed but one of your men stopped you to take them from you, “Thank you lord Umber,” you smiled at him before turning back to Brienne, “People respond far better to kindness than cruelness,”

“It’s a shame that most find it easier to be cruel than kind,” Brienne said as you both continued to walk around the camp. She enjoyed your company more than she’d like to admit.

You glanced to where Catelyn sat alone with her food in deep thought, “Hurt people hurt. While it does dismiss their actions it can help to explain them,”

“I suppose,” Brienne agreed, “But it’s hard not to hate them for it,”

“I know. trust me,” you said as you linked your arm with the woman who flinched initially at your touch. However, Brienne found comfort in the way you held her arm as you guided her around camp. “The sky’s so beautiful tonight,” you broke the comfortable silence.

“It is,” Brienne paused as she thought. She wanted to ask but worried you would think her weird. “Can you truly see the beauty in everything?” she asked. Brienne was mocked constantly growing up for her looks and how she acted. Men flinched when they saw her, but you looked at her with deep admiration.

“Everyone can. If they take the time,” you knew what she was thinking without her saying. You heard your own men mock her in the shadows and how they laughed. Some people were cruel, but you refused to be to those who had done nothing to deserve it. “I used to dream of knights as a child,” Brienne raised an eyebrow as you began your tangent. “Of how they rode their horses with such expertise and how they didn’t even have to look to know where their knife was about to strike. I used to admire their honour and their duty. Of course, I also dreamed about their armour and how imposing it made them look. I wanted to surround myself with them so that the men in their armour and imposing nature would protect me out of honour and morality.

Those dreams died the first time a knight made a pass at me at 14,” Brienne screwed her face up at the idea that anyone, any man, would dream of hurting you, “I remember how his head rolled off his body when my father executed him for it. so, I stopped dreaming of knights,” You stopped walking to turn to Brienne, taking her hands in yours. Your hands were soft and tender while hers were rough and scarred, “You however are the truest knight I have ever met. And that Brienne is far more beautiful than hair of black silk or just another pretty face. You’re the most handsome, beautiful knight I have ever laid my eyes upon so don’t let silly boys ruin what you see in the mirror,”

Tears lined Brienne eyes, but she had taught herself not to let them fall even when you gave her hands a gentle squeeze, “I am no knight my lady,”

“Not yet,” you said as you removed your hands from hers, “But when I am queen, I will make sure you are,”

Brienne had already sworn her loyalty to Renly but her king was dead and now she was stood before someone equally as kind as he had been to her, “You would make a fine queen your grace of the north or the south,” You smiled at her words, “But what of your brother?” she asked.

“That boy is the cruellest person I have ever met,” you said as you stared off into the distance, “He will only be beautiful when he is dead,”

Brienne had assumed by your appearance you knew nothing of politics and war but as she saw your jaw clench and your eyes gaze into the distance, she knew she had been wrong. The sound of her unsheathing her sword brought your attention back to her and you could hear the camp go silent at her actions. Your men’s hands flew to their own sword hilts as they watched her but relaxed slightly when Brienne went on one knee, holding her sword out to you, “It would be my honour to serve you your grace,” Brienne said, “As queen in the north and in the south,”

You smiled at her words, a genuine smile of love and compassion, “You honour me greatly Brienne of Tarth,” your hand came to rest on her shoulder, “When the war is won and Kingslanding has been saved and Ned Stark avenged I will have you knighted before the iron throne before the gods and the realm,”

Brienne looked up at you, her eyes wet with happy tears. You smiled down at her with love and sincerity, something even Renly’s eyes failed to offer at times. “A good day that’ll be your grace,”

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