#and that i've managed to deceive myself into thinking that i'm not a horrible person when i actually am

[paranormaljones]

me on one second of rejection sensitive dysphoria: i need to go to the clurb and get schwasted*.

*i do not need to go to the clurb and get schwasted, i have never gone to the clurb and gotten schwasted, the desire to do so stems from a skewed need for outside validation to fill the space of the validation that i did not receive from one specific person which is a good thing because if i did it would have fostered an unhealthy attachment that i have struggled to let go of.

[irreplaceable-ecstasyy]

beautiful undone

REQUEST: Hi! I have an idea. What if the reader was someone who heard tales of "Monstrous Brienne" or as she was mockingly called, "Brienne the Beauty". But when she finally puts a face to the name, she's all "Huh, she doesn't look that bad. She's actually quite handsome." Then decides to give Brienne a makeover to prove everyone wrong. Like longer styled hair, makeup, fitting dress, and even posture and smile. Like total Princess Diaries. Then when she's done people are all like" Who is this Goddess?!?!"

WORD COUNT: 3309 words

[Every time I try to make something a small one-shot, it ends up being longer than the previous one. oOOP- Anyway, enjoy <3]

Had you been deceived or had you been so stupidly foolish to listen to the harsh whispers in the street of the dreaded Brienne of Tarth? How they spoke of her as though she were a beast. 'Beware the Monstrous Brienne! She's a half-giant! If you anger her, she'll tear you apart.' or 'Brienne the Beauty! You'd scream at the sight of her.' There was not a person in Westeros who had ever said anything pleasant of the woman; it only made sense that the sayings were true. Whenever you walked in the streets, you would keep an eye out for her. You had always wanted to see her for you wondered how a lady could stir such a reputation for herself.

It was on a faithful day when you bumped into her at the marketplace. She was unmistakable. A tall looming woman clad in armor picking fruits for herself at a stall. You knew it was her from her height, one of a supposed half-giant as people said, and from the insults thrown at her. She was not bothered in the slightest by the yells and screams, but she turned to look at you when you found yourself suddenly right next to her. Your feet had carried you to her side to gawk and stare, wonder glimmering in your eyes.

The woman standing in front of you was unlike anyone you had ever seen. The monstrosity everyone saw in her simply did not exist. Beautiful was one way to describe her but a better term you might use was handsome. She was an incredibly handsome lady, and you were far too baffled to speak nor hear when she tried to talk to you.

"May I help you?" It was her third time repeating herself, and her patience was slowly running thin.

Snapping out of your daze, you offered your best smile. "I apologize if I'm interrupting your day but I just wanted to meet you."

"Meet me?" she questioned. "What for?"

"I was curious. I've only ever heard about you," you admitted, and you saw how her face twisted.

"I see," she muttered. "Now that you have, we can get on with our lives." With that, she turned away and you felt your stomach turn. The rumors. What a horrible impression to turn up with.

Before she could walk away, you scampered to her, struggling to keep up with her pace. "No, wait! I apologize if it came off as offensive. I didn't mean for it to sound like I believed the rumors!"

"I understand," she spoke stiffly, not quite breaking her stride.

"No, you don't. Will you let me explain myself?"

"There's no need for that, thank you very much. I must be on my way, and you should too."

"But Ser-!"

"Goodbye."

Picking up your legs, you managed to get in her way, arms spread out to stop her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at you incredulously. If there was one thing to fear about Brienne of Tarth, it was the intensity of her glare. You could feel your heart starting to race in your chest, but you held your ground. If she was not going to listen to an apology, you had to think of something else close to it. You could not let her go with the thought that you were just another person out of thousands who wished to make a mockery of her. But what could be worth more than an apology?

"Will you just hear me out?"

"I already am, so you had better use this time wisely, young one."

"I want to dress you." The words came out faster than your mind ran, but you were confident. Your family dabbled in tailoring, and your sense of style came from observations among the crowds at events. If anything, observation was your strongest weapon and you intended to use it if the lady would allow you to.

Her glare did not waver but there was a brief moment of conflict in her gaze. "And why would I allow you?"

"In all honesty, I don't know. Maybe I want to prove people wrong about you because now I know that everyone's spreading bullshit about you," you admitted.

That was when her features softened, but she was still wary of you. "If you're going to parade me in a dress in front of everyone, you can forget it."

"I don't just shove people into a dress," you interjected. "I make sure it's right for them. You don't fit people into a dress. You fit the dress onto them."

Brienne was slightly taken aback but she was listening properly. "You seem to know what you're talking about."

"My family runs one of the tailor shops. I don't do the sewing but I certainly know how to find a person's style."

Silence passed over the two of you as Brienne spared some time to consider your offer. With the way she had frozen in a pose to think, you could already picture the perfect look for her. A hand on her hip, the other holding onto a basket of fruits, her frame tall and proud. You wanted nothing more than to show everyone that Brienne was no beast of a woman. People always talked. They loved their gossip more than anything and though it was not in your power to stop them, you could put a halt to it by making a statement instead.

You waited in anticipation, your nerves flaring by the minute. Denying you was the worst scenario and you could be on your way but you knew the thought of her would never leave you. No one ever spoke of her inability to carry out her duties, but no one ever gave her the credit she deserved either. You had to do something.

Finally coming to a conclusion, she looked at you sternly. "There's a small celebration coming soon, as you may know..."

"The Winter Solstice, yes."

Brienne nodded. "The Longest Night. You can do it then."

"I'd be honored to."

"It's in a week. Will that be enough time for you to prepare?"

"Of course. We happen to be very efficient," you grinned at her. "I will ask, is there anything I must know before I start designing?"

"Nothing pink and frilly," she answered a little too quickly, but you made sure to take note of it. "Will you run the designs by me?"

"You'll have to see during the fitting." You were already scribbling away at a scrap of parchment you had brought with you.

"And what if I don't fancy the dress you've made?" Brienne prodded.

"Then you'll have to give us your feedback to make necessary changes."

She raised a brow. "Will it not delay us?"

"Not at all. You can come early. Perhaps noon. It will give us more than enough time to prepare you." When you looked up from your notes, Brienne was merely a few inches away from you, eyes bearing into yours. A trial of trust.

"Then I'll see you at noon," she spoke slowly. "I look forward to seeing your work."

"Don't be late."

"You humor me, young one. I will have transport sent for you so don't be late."

"Will you let me do your hair too?"

A pause. "Fine."

You saluted playfully as you stepped out of her way. Much to your surprise, she bowed to you and went on her way. Pausing midway, she turned around, a sudden realization dawning on her.

"I didn't get your name."

"I quite like 'young one'."

Taken aback, she nodded slightly. "If that is what you insist."

Bowing once more, she turned on her heel and proceeded on her way. You observed how she walked with a certain elegance to her. Had it not been for the armor, she would be a little less stiff. It would be liberating to get the weight off her, you could only imagine. No corset then, or any sort of rigid support. You scribbled the notes onto your scrap.

You watched as she disappeared into the crowd, and the bubbling excitement that had been blossoming inside of you exploded. You did not realize how stunned you were by her natural beauty. Without a woman's conventional use of make-up, she was still a sight for sore eyes, and you may well pass out knowing what wonders a bit of make-up could do for her. Her hair was another exciting part to think about. Slicked back or messy tendrils, she could wear any look and it would still go with what you already had in your mind. The thrill was exhilarating and you rushed home to get started on it.

Having consulted your parents, you began your masterpiece with their guidance. They would be the ones making the dress so they followed you through each step of the way. As for the other details that came with it, you knew enough people who could be of assistance. No one questioned who the dress was for which made the job easier throughout the week. Whenever someone dared, privacy was the golden answer.

Day and night, you toiled away with needle and thread, running on a few hours of sleep. Somehow, you could still work your magic. With assistance from your family, your project was soon complete in just a few days, leaving two days to spare to run through the details and consider last minute ideas. You had to find some way to occupy your time while you waited for the knight's visit or you might crash with all the energy coursing through you. But thankfully, the day came quick.

Now, had it been energy keeping you awake or anxiety? You could not tell, but you had not a moment to think about it for the carriage was already waiting for you outside. The ride to the castle was pleasant but your stomach was turning. It did not take long until you arrived and a guard led you straight to the lady's quarters.

A knock on the door and you were welcomed inside. Today, Brienne had decided on a casual outfit instead of donning her armor. Her hair was slicked back but there were a few stray strands over her eyes. She studied the shop with such elegance, it made you feel rather small to be in the presence of someone so majestic.

A cough was what caught her attention as you forced down the last of your worries and she greeted you with concern. "Are you alright?"

You waved a hand at her. "I'm alright, I'm alright." With that out of the way, you graced her with a smile. "I'm here!"

"That you are."

"Shall we get started?" you beamed. "I won't keep you waiting any longer." Motioning for her to follow you, you trotted into another room with the knight at your heels.

Her quarters were simple. Not bare but well decorated enough to be cozy. Simplistic was certainly Brienne's own preference, and you found that it gave you room to breathe. There was a good amount of sunlight and a perfect view of King's Landing from the window. It all felt like a dream. The room you had walked into was her own personal bathroom and you draped the dress over a rail for what you could only assume was for robes and towels.

"You can put it on in here. I'll lace it up once you're done."

You exited the room in a hurry and closed the door behind you. There was a tense silence in the air, only filled by the ruffle of clothes and possibly your heartbeat. You could hear it hammer in your ears as the door swung open and out came Brienne with a pinch of worry.

You noticed that she was avoiding the mirror for her eyes sought for something to stare at as a distraction while she steered herself to stand with her undone laces facing you. You weaved them with trained hands, and when you were done, you continued to style he rest of her. From her hair to her face, you were too focused to realize that her attention had shifted from the wall to you as her distraction.

Her anxiety was crunching but she was grateful that you seemed to have taken no notice of it. Her hands were balled into tight fists, nails digging into her palms to get a hold of herself. She maintained all composure to calm herself. She could be making a fool of herself all over again for taking this chance, for trusting you. But, wthat sort of a knight was she if she were not taking risks? She had taken more life-threatening jobs than go through embarrassing situations. It felt ridiculous even anticipating the terrors of humiliation.

The intensity of your attention and commitment to every detail was comforting, in a sense. No person would waste away their time on another just to make a fool of out of them, right? She eased herself with her breaths, letting her mind empty itself while she focused on you. On the way your lip would curl when you felt triumphant, on the way your brows knitted when you were focused, on the scrunch of your nose as you contemplated. It calmed her down.

What was hours had only felt like minutes and you were done. You maneuvered yourself in front of her to take a look at her. The masterpiece and the dress.

She donned a high collared dark blue velvet dress that reached down to her feet, long sleeves cuffed at her wrists, and no corset but a belt that wrapped around her waist. The belt was embroidered with the symbols of her house, and within its center was the Stark's sigil, for the house she honored. Her hair was curled instead of gelled back, but there was just a bit of gel to maintain the curls through the night. You were not finished just yet. There was still a trick or two up your sleeve but you needed just brief second to see all of Brienne. Giddily, you touched her chin gently, a brush in hand.

"Lower your head a little," you murmured as you assessed the details of your design.

"I'm sure you aren't that short."

"I'm trying to get the light."

And so, she adjusted herself. "How much longer?"

"Only a touch bit..." you hummed. With a few strokes of your brush, you added your finishing touches. "And there."

A beat.

"You can look in the mirror, my Lady."

She looked at you, frozen in place. Taking her hand, you led her to the mirror at the back of the room. She did not look until you stopped, and when she did, she stared at her reflection. That person... That very lady she was looking at was herself. She moved a hand to her cheek as if to check that it was no illusion and when the truth of the situation sank in, you saw her bottom lip quiver.

"I... I look--"

"Beautiful."

She looked at you, eyes glittering in tears, but her blank stare never changed. "I've never felt this way... I.. I don't know how to thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for. It's all you. All I did was style you up."

"No, you haven't." She wiped her tears away delicately to prevent herself from smudging your art. "In Tarth, I would be fitted into what they deemed the prettiest dresses, be made to look like the picture perfect woman to whosever standard it was... but none of that ever made me feel beautiful. You made me feel more of a lady than I've ever been."

"I often go by the philosophy, 'if you can't fit in, then stand out'. You don't have to look like the other hundred women in the room."

"I'll have to think the way you do more often," she laughed lightly as she continued to dab away her tears.

"I tend to be wise." Your eyes lit up when you spotted a box sitting on your desk and you leapt straight to it. "One last thing."

You brought it over to her and set it on the floor before opening it to reveal a silver wreath of vines with a moon and sun bloomed in the center. You had it made on the day you met her as it was the first idea that sparked in your head for your design. It was simple but it completed the rest of the look. Awestricken, Brienne stared at it and you had to beckon her to lower her head for you to put it on her, like a crowning. It sat atop of her curls, a perfect fit, and she straightened herself right up to look at herself once more.

"It's beautiful."

"Just a finishing touch."

She peered closer in the mirror, fingers running along the lining of her wreath. "I look like one of them."

"Who?"

"The Lords and Ladies. I'm a proper Lady."

"You always were, and still are. With or without the dress."

Brienne looked as if she might faint with how overwhelmed with joy she was but she could only bask in it for so long now that the evening was drawing near. A knight had her duties but at least she was dressed for the occasion. You accompanied her to the door but she did not leave. She had taken ahold of both your hands, her anxiousness returning to her. She would have to face the world in the clothes that made her a ridicule, all on her own. With a few words, her confidence may crumble and she would lose all respect for the knight she was.

Not a lady nor a knight, who else could she be?

She breathed sharply when you drew her into an embrace. "Don't forget to smile."

Laughing softly, she wrapped her arms around you loosely and patted your shoulders. "You are starting to sound like a mother."

You pushed her away lightly and crossed your arms. "Come on."

Sighing, she put on a small smile. "There."

"And there we are..."

The words came quick but she could not hold it in anymore. One second more and she would have doubted herself. "Come with me."

You gave her a look, stumbling back in surprise. "I couldn't possibly! I'm not dressed for it."

"Then stand out." She extended a hand to you. She had used your own words against you.

You stayed true to your philosophy and took the hand proudly. If she was going to brave her fears, it was a good example to follow your own advice. The walk to the ballroom was long but it gave you enough time to muster every ounce of courage in your body to take in the crowd of thousands in the room. You slipped your arm through Brienne's to secure yourself to her as she led you through. As much of a social butterfly you were, you were not willing to get lost in a crowd of strangers, let alone nobles who had the personalities of feral animals, waiting to strike any commoner down.

Heads turned to look your way but their eyes were not on you. They were on Brienne. She towered over most and she met eye-to-eye with a few men who met her stature. There was not an insult in the room, only gaping jaws and astonishment as they came to realize who it was at your arm. Some lords took the initiative to greet Brienne a good evening and compliment her before ladies started following after. A smile looked bright on Brienne but pure happiness looked radiant on her.

Maybe Brienne the Beauty had always been the truth, and you were honored to be the one who uncovered it.