#brienne dancing gif | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charliedawn · 1 year ago

Text

GOT characters x Reader

"Please. Dance with me."

Sandor Clegane :

Sandor was standing near the exit—ready to call it a night. He was tired of seeing all those high borns dancing and getting drunk on expensive Dornish wine. But when he was about to leave, he felt an arm wrap around his and looked down to find you—clinging to his arm. He was about to ask what the hell you were doing when he noticed how terrified you seemed.

"Please…Don’t let him take me."

You were on the verge of tears. He looked in the direction you were staring at and found some lord with a sleazy smile on his face. He was walking your way and Sandor instinctively raised his hand to clasp it on your arm.

"The lady’s taken. Piss off."

He felt you tense up next to him, but his hand on top of your arm kept you in place as the man decided to finally leave. Once he was gone, you wanted to thank him…But, Sandor pulled away and walked away.

…He needed a drink.

Daenerys Targaryen:

When a man offered you a dance, you smiled and tried to politely decline the offer. But, the man wasn’t having no for an answer. Finally, he grabbed your arm as you were about to leave. Fortunately, Daenerys arrived just in time and stood between the both of you.

"I believe she has been quite clear. She doesn’t want to dance with you."

The man was about to protest, but quickly reconsidered. He left and you let out a sigh of relief. But, as you were about to thank her, Daenerys turned towards you with a soft smile before offering you her hand.

"Would you like to dance with me instead ?"

Her hand was opened invitingly and her eyes showed nothing but good will. So, you took her hand with a smile.

"I would be honoured, khaleesi."

Ser Jorah :

"Would you dance with me, Ser Jorah?"

Jorah looked up at your hand and was about to politely decline your offer when he noticed your uneasy smile and the other man standing a few feet away behind you. He immediately understood the situation and smiled before taking your hand.

"It would be an honour, my lady."

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled before being led away. You swayed left and tight slowly together and even though Ser Jorah only wanted to dance to help you—he found himself enjoying it as well. You closed your eyes and didn’t even think about your 'problem'.

You just enjoyed the dance until the very last moment when you had to part.

"Thank you."

Whether it was you or him who said it first—neither of you could tell.

Brienne of Tarth :

Brienne had just won her final battle for the tournament organised by your father. She had put to the ground many of your father’s best knights and when her face was revealed…You were immediately impressed. A woman of such strength on your side would surely end in a successful alliance.

So, you waited.

You waited and when it was time to celebrate, your eyes landed on the fiercest woman who had succeeded in defeating most fighters of the court. Her eyes didn’t settle on you however.

You felt a little disappointed by it, but the night was far from over. You tried again and again to get her to see you, but she always seemed to escape your sight. Finally, you decided to give up and sit down. But, you then felt a hand land on your shoulder and when you looked up, you found one of your father’s choices staring down at you with a malicious smile.

You tried to tell him no. He ignored your request.

But, he finally listened when the woman you had been trying to talk to suddenly appeared behind you in all her armoured glory. She didn’t need to speak a word as the man immediately released you and walked away.

"Are you alright, my lady ?" She asked you and you replied with a smile of your own.

"I am now."

Jon Snow :

Many people had warned you about Jon Snow. Some called him the King of the North—others a demon. You weren’t really interested in rumours though, but by the truth.

Hence, you had accepted to go and meet with him.

A war was brewing and you knew that strong allies were necessary. However, when you found yourself in front of the man who claimed to be Jon Snow, you immediately knew it couldn’t be him. The man before you couldn’t possibly be the King of the North. He wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t heavily armed. Or looked like a living dead. He seemed…normal.

"I am Jon Snow."

"..."

You looked him up and down.

Before he could say another word, you threw a dagger at him and he didn’t even flinch as it landed in a tree behind him. You both stared at each other for a minute until you finally smiled.

That man was Jon Snow.

For you saw no fear of death in his eyes.

"A pleasure to meet you, my King." You introduced yourself and bowed before him. "…The man who danced with Death and survived."

Tyrion Lannister:

"No."

Tyrion was aware of your situation. He knew perfectly well of the unfortunate circumstances of your upcoming betrothal. But…He couldn’t bring you even more dishonour by agreeing to dancing with you.

"Do not look so disappointed, my lady. Even though I am sure you are quite lovely, I wish you to spare yourself the humiliation of dancing with an imp."

Such harsh words which ignited a general hilarity that made you red in the face with fury. But, not against Tyrion. You didn’t blame him for his refusal. You knew how it sounded and the pain behind such a request. But, you didn’t want to give up. So…You did something that no person had ever dared. You knelt before him—your eyes staring at the floor in respect.

"I see no imp. I see a valorous and just prince. And I still wish to dance with you. Please."

It made the crowd around you fall silent. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he seemed speechless for a while. But, he finally smiled before slowly reaching for your chin to lift it up so your eyes may meet.

"…Don’t you lower your gaze. You hold more bravery and wit than anyone else in this room. And if that is truly your wish ? Then I would be more than happy to dance with you."

Jaime Lannister:

You were sitting down when you felt a presence in front of you as you ate. Your eyes looked up to find your ‘fiancé'. He was looking at you with such disgust that all food got stuck in your throat. You knew it was but an arranged marriage, but everyone knew that your betrothed hated your family with passion. Your eyes glanced away and met with another man. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

Unfortunately, your betrothed caught the exchange and suddenly grabbed your arm—ready to strike. But before he could as much as lay a finger on you, the tip of a sword was pressed against his throat.

The room fell silence as none other than Jaime Lannister had come to your rescue.

"I believe this is no way to treat a woman—even less a lady."

He then sat down next to you and smiled before eating next to you—an arm wrapped around you. The message was clear. And the man left.

"…You will get in trouble for this." You warned him, but Jaime replied with a cocky smile.

"I am a Lannister. And lions are not scared of insects."

Oberyn Martell :

You were trying to leave the party. This was too much. A man was persistently trying to get a dance with you, but you didn’t want to dance with a man who surely did not care about you. You were almost there when you collided with another man who grabbed you before you could fall to the floor.

You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw who it was.

"Prince Oberyn of Dorne…" You gasped and the man gave you a small smile before looking behind you at the man following you.

"Is this man bothering you, my lady ?"

You gulped and suddenly took his hand. If you were to say anything, your father would blame you.

"Please. Would you dance with me, Prince of Dorne ?" You asked and the man following you seethed.

"You were promised a dance with m—!"

"I believe the lady asked ME for a dance." Oberyn cut him off with his usual charismatic smile. "Unless your title happens to also be Prince of Dorne."

The man huffed before walking away and you let out a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when Prince Oberyn grabbed your wrist.

"Now now…Where are you going, little sunflower ?"

You frowned in incomprehension until Oberyn smiled again and pulled you flush against him.

"…I believe you owe me a dance."

Peter Baelish (Littlefinger) :

Lord Baelish had had your eyes on you for a while and he knew that being part of your powerful family would be extremely valuable. Hence, he asked your father for your hand. But, there were too many contenders for him to even be considered as a good choice. So…He observed you.

You were young, but promising as you danced with grace and proper etiquette with all your possible choices. But, he could see right through you. You weren’t exactly happy to be here. And when one of your possible betrothed stepped on your foot.

He stepped in.

He took your hand and almost pulled you away from the man. You were about to thank him, but Baelish had other plans.

"What will you give me for my rescue ?" Baelish asked you. You sighed. Of course he’d want a reward for acting like the hero he wasn’t.

"What do you want ?"

Baelish seemed to think about it before offering you his hand with a smirk.

"A dance."

Your eyes stared at his hand suspiciously. But, at this point ? You would have accepted anyone’s help in order to escape. He pulled you flush against him and started dancing with you. Your eyes widened as he led you away to the center or the room.

He knew everyone could see the both of you, but he didn’t stop—not even when you tried to pull away.

"Lord Baelish…That’s enough."

Your father tried to stop him, but Lord Baelish only smirked before surprising everyone by kissing you. Your eyes widened and you were momentarily took off guard. When he pulled away, he smirked before glancing challengingly at your father.

"Now…About my wedding proposal ?"

Sansa Stark :

"My lady…Would you please give me the chance of a dance ?" You asked Sansa who hesitated for a moment before smiling and slipping her hand in yours. You smiled before kissing the back of it and led her to the dance floor. Sansa had always wished for someone to take her hand and make her feel like a princess.

She had first thought Joffrey to be the one, but that felt like eons ago. She had long learned her mistake. But, it didn’t mean she didn’t still wish for someone to make her remember what it felt like when her innocence and virtue were still recognised.

And you were more than happy to make her remember who she used to be.

"You are beautiful." You told her truthfully and she smiled.

She even graced you with a small chuckle as you made her twirl and made sure not to touch her that might trigger her in any way. After her awful treatment under Ramsay, you only wanted her to feel at ease. At peace.

And she knew it.

When she looked at you and a smile graced her lips—your heart seemed to skip a beat.

The pretty wolf was still a stealer of hearts, and you couldn’t wait for her to devour yours.

1K notes · View notes

novaursa · 1 day ago

Text

A Lion's Folly (the brave)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Note: Keep in mind how the canon timeline and plot may be altered to suit this story.

- Rating: Explicit 18 + (for blood, gore, death, violence and suggestive themes)

- Previous part: sins

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The days bleed into one another as the small group travels deeper into the wilderness, avoiding the main roads to evade prying eyes. The terrain grows rougher, with thick forests and uneven paths that force them to move slower. Jaime feels every ache in his body, but he keeps his complaints to himself. For once, his sharp tongue is tempered—not by fear, but by something far more unsettling: you.

You walk ahead of him, leading the way with Winter at your side. The direwolf pads silently, his coat blending into the pale underbrush. Every so often, Winter glances back at Jaime, his icy blue eyes filled with suspicion, as if he’s waiting for the slightest excuse to tear him apart. Jaime smirks faintly at the thought but knows better than to provoke the beast.

You’ve grown quieter as the days pass, your icy demeanor softening slightly into something more tolerable. You still don’t speak to him unless necessary, but the edge of your anger has dulled. Jaime doesn’t know if it’s because of exhaustion or sheer indifference, but he finds himself craving any scrap of interaction with you, no matter how small.

Brienne, ever the vigilant guardian, remains stoic and watchful, her eyes constantly scanning the woods. She speaks little, her focus unwavering as she ensures their path is safe.

The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the forest floor, when you finally call for a stop.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” you say simply, gesturing to a small clearing nestled between thick trees.

Brienne nods and begins unpacking their limited supplies. Winter circles the clearing once before settling near you, his menacing gaze never leaving Jaime.

As the fire crackles to life, the three of you sit in a loose triangle around it, the silence thick and oppressive. Jaime leans back against a tree, his hands still bound but resting in his lap, his smirk faint as he watches you tend to Winter.

“You’re remarkably silent tonight, my lady,” he says after a moment, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity.

You glance at him briefly, your expression unreadable. “Maybe you should follow my example,” you reply coolly.

Jaime chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Ah, but silence doesn’t suit me. You should know that by now.”

Brienne sighs heavily, clearly tired of his antics, but doesn’t intervene.

“Tell me,” Jaime continues, his gaze lingering on you, “does it ever get easier? The grief?”

Your hand stills on Winter’s fur, and for a moment, the firelight reflects something raw in your eyes. “Why do you care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, though still guarded.

“I don’t,” Jaime admits, his smirk faltering slightly. “But I’ve seen enough grief to know it doesn’t fade. It just… changes shape.”

You don’t respond immediately, your fingers brushing absently through Winter’s fur as the firelight dances across your face. Finally, you speak, your voice low but steady. “It’s not something you’d understand, Lannister.”

“Maybe not,” Jaime replies, leaning forward slightly. “But I do know something about loss. About guilt.”

You meet his gaze then, your eyes cold and piercing. “Don’t talk to me about guilt. Not after what you’ve done.”

Jaime exhales, leaning back against the tree. “Fair enough,” he says quietly.

The silence stretches again, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant rustle of leaves. It’s Brienne who finally breaks it, her tone calm but firm. “We should rest. We’ll need to cover more ground tomorrow.”

You nod, rising to your feet and moving to check your gear. Winter follows, his presence a constant shadow at your side. Jaime watches you go, his chest tightening with something he can’t quite name.

As Brienne begins to settle in for the night, Jaime speaks again, his voice softer now. “You know, I always respected your father.”

Brienne looks up abruptly, but it’s you who turns first, your gaze hard and unforgiving.

“Don’t,” you say, your voice like steel.

Jaime doesn’t stop. “Ned Stark,” he continues, ignoring the warning in your eyes. “He was… honorable, to a fault. A rarity in men like us. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Your fists clench at your sides, but you don’t respond, your jaw tight.

“Do you think he’d approve of this?” Jaime asks, gesturing faintly to the group. “Of you traveling with the likes of me?”

Your voice is cold when you finally reply. “My father’s approval doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead. Because of men like you.”

Jaime swallows hard, your words cutting deeper than he expected. “You’re right,” he says after a long pause, his tone quieter now. “And if I could change it, I—”

“You can’t,” you snap, cutting him off. “So stop pretending like you care.”

The camp falls silent again, the animosity thick enough to choke. Jaime doesn’t speak after that, his gaze fixed on the fire as his own guilt festers inside him.

As the night deepens and the fire burns low, Jaime lays back against the tree, his eyes on the stars above. Your words echo in his mind, a constant reminder of the weight he carries.

And though he doesn’t say it aloud, he knows you’re right. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting it.

The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Jaime sits near the smoldering remains of their morning fire, his hands still bound but his posture relaxed, watching Brienne as she meticulously checks her gear. You had left earlier with Winter to hunt, leaving the two of them behind.

Jaime finds the silence unbearable.

“Do you ever take that armor off, Brienne?” he drawls, tilting his head as he studies her. “Or is it part of you now? Perhaps it’s hiding something you’d rather keep a mystery.”

Brienne stiffens but doesn’t look at him. “You’ll find no amusement here, Lannister. Keep your mouth shut.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Jaime presses, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re so stern all the time. Doesn’t it get exhausting? Or is that how you woo the men of Tarth? With that charming scowl?”

Brienne finally looks at him, her blue eyes cold as ice. “You’ve made it clear you have no honor, Kingslayer. I see no need to engage with you further.”

Jaime chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. “Ah, but you already have. That’s the thing about you, Brienne—you care. Even when you shouldn’t. It’s admirable, really. Foolish, but admirable.”

Before Brienne can respond, a sound cuts through the stillness—a faint rustle in the underbrush. Brienne’s hand immediately moves to her sword, her keen gaze scanning the forest. Jaime stiffens, his smirk slipping as the noise grows louder.

Then they appear.

The Brave Companions emerge from the trees, their mismatched armor and cruel faces unmistakable. Vargo Hoat leads them, his twisted smile revealing his rotting teeth. The sight of him sends a chill down Jaime’s spine, though he hides it well.

“Well, well,” Vargo says, his voice grating as he steps forward. “What have we here? The Kingslayer himself, traveling with a lady knight. A curious pairing, no?”

Brienne rises to her full height, her sword drawn in an instant. “Leave, now. You’ll find no easy prey here.”

Vargo laughs, a sound that sends a ripple of unease through the forest. His men spread out, circling the clearing like wolves. Jaime counts at least a dozen, all armed and dangerous.

“You’re outnumbered,” Vargo says, his grin widening. “Put down your sword, woman, or we’ll take it—and your head—with it.”

Jaime watches the scene unfold, his mind racing. Brienne’s grip tightens on her sword, her stance unwavering, but even he knows the odds are against her.

“Brienne,” Jaime says quietly, his voice devoid of mockery for once. “Don’t be stupid.”

She doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the men before her.

Jaime’s heart pounds in his chest, but not for himself. His thoughts turn to you, somewhere out in the forest with Winter. For the first time in a long while, Jaime finds himself praying—not to the gods, but to fate itself.

Stay away. Don’t come back. Don’t let them find you.

“Take him,” Vargo orders suddenly, gesturing toward Jaime. Two of his men step forward, their weapons drawn.

Jaime doesn’t resist as they grab him, though his smirk returns faintly. “You’ll regret this, goat,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain.

“We’ll see,” Vargo replies, his grin never faltering.

Brienne moves to intercept them, her sword flashing in the fading light. She takes down one man with ease, her movements precise and deadly. But the others close in quickly, overwhelming her with sheer numbers.

Jaime struggles against his captors, his chest tightening as Brienne is forced to her knees.

“Stop!” Vargo commands, and his men freeze. He steps closer to Brienne, his twisted grin widening. “You’ll fetch a fine price, woman. Perhaps even more than the Kingslayer.”

Jaime spits at Vargo’s feet, his voice sharp. “Touch her, and I’ll make sure your death is slow.”

Vargo laughs, clearly unfazed. “You’re in no position to make threats, Lannister.”

As the Brave Companions begin binding Brienne, Jaime’s thoughts return to you. He can only hope you’ve gone far enough into the forest to escape their notice.

Stay away, he thinks again, the words almost a plea. Don’t let them find you.

But the forest is silent, offering no assurances.

Jaime stumbles slightly as they march, his wrists raw and unsteady now that his hands are free from the chains that had bound them. His steps are slow and measured, but his gaze keeps darting to the dense tree line, scanning for any sign of you—or worse, Winter.

He doesn’t want you here. The thought of you stumbling into this chaos, of seeing you captured or worse, is unbearable. The sharp bite of fear twists in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Behind him, Brienne trudges silently, her hands bound tightly, her face bruised but unbroken. The set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes tell Jaime that she hasn’t given up. Yet the odds are stacked against them, and even her famed strength feels like little more than a flickering candle against the storm that is Vargo Hoat and his band of butchers.

Vargo rides alongside them, his crooked smile ever-present. The sound of his grating voice breaks through the crunch of boots and hooves on the forest floor.

“Kingslayer,” Vargo calls, his tone mocking. “You look troubled. Perhaps you miss your father’s castle, eh?”

Jaime keeps his expression neutral, though his gaze remains fixed on the trees. “And what of it, goat? Are you taking me to him? I imagine Tywin Lannister would pay handsomely for his son’s safe return.”

Vargo lets out a harsh laugh, the sound as unpleasant as nails on stone. “Safe return? No, no, no. That is not our plan. Your father’s gold may be great, but there are others who will pay more for you—and her.”

Jaime glances over his shoulder at Brienne, who glares at Vargo with pure hatred.

“And who might that be?” Jaime asks, his voice tight.

“Lord Bolton,” Vargo replies, his grin widening. “He is very interested in the Kingslayer and his lady knight. He will reward us greatly for delivering you both to Harrenhal.”

Jaime’s jaw tightens. Roose Bolton—a man whose reputation for cruelty and cunning rivaled even his father’s worst enemies. The news twists the knot in his stomach even tighter.

“Ah,” Jaime says, forcing a faint smirk despite the unease coursing through him. “So I’m to be handed over to a man who skins his enemies alive. Charming. I suppose this is my lucky day.”

Vargo chuckles again, clearly enjoying Jaime’s discomfort. “Lucky, yes. You will see what Lord Bolton has in store for you soon enough.”

Jaime doesn’t respond, his mind racing as he considers their fate. The chances of escape seem slimmer with every step, and his thoughts inevitably circle back to you. Were you far enough away when the Brave Companions attacked? Did Winter sense the danger and keep you from returning?

“Kingslayer,” Vargo snaps suddenly, his gaze locking onto Jaime. “You keep looking at the trees. What are you so distracted by? Hoping for rescue?”

Jaime forces a laugh, though it rings hollow even to his own ears. “Rescue? Hardly. I’m just admiring the scenery. It’s not often I get to see the wilderness in all its… muddy glory.”

Vargo narrows his eyes, unconvinced. He leans forward in his saddle, studying Jaime with a calculating look. “You’re hiding something,” he says slowly, his grin fading into suspicion.

“I’m hiding nothing,” Jaime replies smoothly, though his hands clench involuntarily at his sides. “But if it keeps you entertained, feel free to keep guessing, goat.”

Vargo sneers, his gaze lingering on Jaime for a moment longer before he turns his attention back to the path ahead.

Behind him, Brienne speaks for the first time since their capture, her voice low but firm. “If you have a plan, Lannister, now would be the time to share it.”

Jaime glances back at her, his smirk returning faintly. “A plan? Do you think I’m hiding an army in these woods, waiting to spring us free?”

“You’re always scheming,” Brienne retorts, her blue eyes blazing. “Don’t play coy with me.”

Jaime exhales sharply, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “The only plan I have,” he says quietly, his gaze drifting back to the trees, “is hoping she stays far away from this.”

Brienne frowns. “Don’t speak of her aloud.”

Jaime spoke no more. Instead, he focuses on the path ahead, the rhythmic crunch of their steps blending with the rustling of leaves.

As they march deeper into the forest, Jaime’s mind refuses to quiet. He can’t shake the image of you standing with your bow drawn, Winter at your side, ready to face down anyone who threatened you. The thought should bring him comfort, but instead, it fills him with dread.

Because if you came back, if you appeared now, Jaime knows there’s nothing he could do to protect you. And the thought of losing you—of watching you suffer because of him—feels like a fate worse than death.

The camp is eerily quiet, the only sounds the crackling of a meager fire and the occasional rustle of the trees in the cold night breeze. Vargo’s men lounge around the clearing, their mismatched armor shining faintly in the firelight. Jaime sits to one side, his hands resting on his knees, Brienne not far behind him. His body aches from the forced march, but his mind is clearer than ever, his senses heightened by the dread that hangs in the air.

Something feels wrong.

The first scream shatters the stillness.

It’s a guttural, panicked sound, cutting through the night like a blade. Everyone freezes, heads snapping toward the trees where the noise originated. The firelight dances on the faces of Vargo’s men, their expressions shifting from irritation to alarm.

“What was that?” one of them mutters, his hand already on his sword.

Before anyone can respond, a figure is dragged into the shadows with terrifying speed. The man lets out a blood-curdling scream, his body thrashing wildly as he disappears into the dark.

“Get up!” Vargo shouts, his voice alarmed as he jumps to his feet. “To arms!”

The camp erupts into chaos as the men scramble for their weapons, their movements frantic and uncoordinated. Jaime watches, his heart pounding as he catches a fleeting glimpse of pale fur and glowing blue eyes in the shadows.

Winter.

“Seven hells,” Jaime breathes, his chest tightening.

Another scream pierces the night as a second man is attacked, his cries abruptly silenced by the sound of tearing flesh. The Brave Companions draw their weapons, but their fear is palpable, their movements clumsy.

“It’s a wolf!” one of them shouts, his voice trembling.

“No wolf is that big!” another yells back, his eyes wide with terror.

Winter moves like a ghost through the trees, his white and silver coat blending into the shadows as he strikes with lethal precision. Jaime can barely keep track of him, the direwolf’s speed and ferocity unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Vargo snarls, drawing his curved sword as he scans the darkness. “Kill it! Kill the beast!”

Before anyone can act, an arrow whistles through the air, striking one of the men in the throat. He gurgles, collapsing to the ground as blood pools beneath him.

“Archer!” someone shouts, pointing wildly toward the trees.

Another arrow flies, finding its mark in a second man’s chest. He stumbles backward, clutching at the shaft before crumpling to the ground.

Jaime’s breath catches as he realizes what’s happening. It’s not just Winter—it’s you.

A third arrow claims another victim, the chaos escalating as the Brave Companions break formation, rushing blindly into the woods in search of their unseen attacker.

“Stay together, you fools!” Vargo roars, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Jaime’s eyes dart to the treeline, his heart racing. He knows you’re out there, somewhere in the shadows, and the thought both thrills and terrifies him.

Another scream echoes through the forest as Winter attacks again, his massive form taking down another man with ruthless efficiency. The clearing is now a mess of blood, bodies, and panicked shouting, the Brave Companions falling apart under the assault.

And then he sees you.

You step into the clearing, your bow in hand, your face illuminated by the flickering firelight. There’s a fierce determination in your eyes, your movements swift and precise as you draw another arrow.

“Y/N!” Jaime calls out before he can stop himself, his voice cutting through the noise.

Your gaze flicks to him for the briefest moment, your expression unreadable. But it’s enough of a distraction for Vargo to strike.

He lunges forward, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you back with surprising speed. Your bow clatters to the ground as you struggle against his grip, your face twisting in anger.

“Let me go!” you shout, your voice raw with fury.

Winter lets out a deep, guttural growl, his eyes locked on you as he moves to attack.

“No!” you scream, your voice desperate. “Run, Winter! Go!”

The direwolf hesitates, his massive form still and tense as he watches you.

“Run!” you shout again, tears glinting in your eyes as you thrash against Vargo’s hold.

Winter snarls once more, his gaze flicking between you and the Brave Companions before he turns and disappears into the trees, his silver form vanishing like a ghost.

“No,” Jaime mutters under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He steps forward, but two of Vargo’s men grab him, holding him back.

“Enough!” Vargo snaps, his grip on you tightening. “The wolf is gone. And now we have her.”

Your breathing is ragged, your face pale but defiant as you glare up at him. “You won’t get away with this,” you say through gritted teeth.

Vargo laughs, the sound cruel and grating. “Oh, my dear, I already have.”

Jaime’s chest burns with fury and frustration as he watches you struggle, his mind racing for a way to intervene. But with his hands unbound and his guards distracted, he knows his moment will come.

For now, all he can do is watch as Vargo drags you with him.

The clearing is chaos. The fire crackles weakly, casting jagged specters over the carnage of bodies and blood. Vargo Hoat holds you firmly by the arm, his sickly grin widening as his men begin to realize just who he has captured. You continue to struggle against him, your breath ragged, but the defiance in your eyes burns brighter than the flames.

“Well, well,” Vargo sneers, his voice grating like steel on stone. “We’ve caught ourselves a Stark. A fine prize indeed. Imagine the price your brother will pay to get you back.”

Your struggles intensify, and in one sudden, vicious movement, you lunge forward and sink your teeth into the side of Vargo’s neck. The sickening crunch of flesh giving way is followed by a howl of pain as blood pours from the wound.

“You little bitch!” Vargo roars, shoving you back with such force that you stumble. He lifts his hand and strikes you across the face with a brutal slap that echoes through the clearing.

Jaime’s breath catches, his body going numb as you fall to your knees, clutching your cheek. Fury surges through him, hot and unrelenting.

“Get her in line!” Vargo snarls, his eyes wild as he presses a hand to the bleeding wound on his neck. “Or I’ll do it myself!” His next words drip with malice, his voice lowering. “Maybe a night in my tent will teach her some manners.”

Brienne struggles against the two men holding her, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. “You dare harm her, and I will kill you, goat!”

Vargo laughs, a twisted sound filled with cruelty. “You’re in no position to make threats, wench. But perhaps you’d like to join her. I hear the women of Tarth are… sturdy.”

Jaime’s patience snaps.

“That,” Jaime says suddenly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, “would be a very bad idea.”

Vargo turns to him, his eyes narrowing. “And why is that, Kingslayer?”

Jaime steps forward, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his smirk carries a dangerous edge. “Because she’s a Stark, you imbecile. Do you have any idea what Robb Stark will do if he hears you’ve so much as touched her? Let me enlighten you: he’ll behead every single one of your men. And you? He’ll save you for last. Maybe he’ll even let his direwolf eat you piece by piece.”

Vargo’s expression falters for a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he sneers. “You think I fear the boy king in the North?”

“You should,” Jaime replies coldly. “The Starks are known for their vengeance. And trust me, you don’t want to find out just how far they’ll go for one of their own.”

The men around Vargo exchange uneasy glances, the weight of Jaime’s words sinking in. Even the most hardened among them seem to hesitate, their weapons lowering slightly.

Vargo hesitates, his eyes darting between Jaime and you. Finally, he lets out a growl of frustration, shoving you roughly to the ground.

“Fine,” he snarls, spitting blood onto the ground. “But keep her quiet. And if she causes any more trouble, she’ll regret it.”

Jaime moves to your side, kneeling as he places himself between you and Vargo. He doesn’t reach out to you—he knows you wouldn’t welcome it—but his presence is a silent reassurance.

“You’ll regret it if you touch her again,” Jaime says evenly, his voice low but filled with venom.

Vargo sneers but doesn’t reply, turning away to bark orders at his men. The tension in the clearing lessens slightly, though the atmosphere remains charged.

Jaime glances at you, your face pale but your eyes still burning with defiance. Blood trickles from your lip where Vargo’s slap split the skin, but you refuse to show weakness.

“You’re insane,” Jaime mutters, his tone somewhere between admiration and frustration.

“And you’re pathetic,” you snap back, your voice steady despite the trembling in your hands. “Don’t think this changes anything, Lannister.”

Jaime smirks faintly, though the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Brienne is finally released, her captors stepping back as she moves to stand beside Jaime and you. Her gaze flicks between you, Jaime, and the others, her grip on her sword tight.

“We need a plan,” she says quietly, her voice calm but urgent.

Jaime nods, his mind already racing. He doesn’t know how they’ll escape this mess, but one thing is certain: he’ll ensure you make it out alive, no matter the cost.

Because for the first time in years, Jaime Lannister feels something he thought he’d lost—a flicker of honor. And he’s not about to let it die here.

The camp has grown quiet, the earlier chaos fading into an uneasy stillness. The Brave Companions, though brutal, are not fools; they’ve doubled their watch, their muttered conversations filled with unease as they huddle around the dying fire. The woods seem to press closer, the shadows deep and impenetrable, a eerie reminder of the blood spilled earlier.

Jaime sits near the edge of the clearing, his back against a tree, his body aching but unbroken. His hands, though unbound, rest loosely on his knees, and he watches as Brienne, bruised but defiant, is seated under close guard across from him. Her eyes flick toward him briefly before returning to her captors, her posture one of quiet vigilance.

And then there’s you.

You sit a short distance away, your arms wrapped around your knees as if trying to keep yourself steady. Your face is pale, the faint bruise from Vargo’s slap barely visible in the dim firelight. Winter is nowhere to be seen, and Jaime wonders if the direwolf is still close, lurking just beyond the camp’s edge.

When you glance toward Brienne, your expression tightens, your gaze lingering on the bonds that hold her before finally shifting to Jaime. For a moment, you simply study him, your eyes narrowed in thought. Then you speak, your voice quiet but firm.

“Are you unharmed?”

Jaime raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t know you cared, my lady.”

You scoff, the sound cold and unimpressed. “I don’t. But you need to remain intact. If you’re not returned to the capital, my sisters won’t be returned safely. That’s the only reason I asked.”

Jaime chuckles softly, leaning back against the tree. “Ah, of course. My worth as a bargaining chip. Good to know where I stand.”

Your expression hardens, and you look away, your focus shifting to the forest beyond. “Just answer the question, Lannister.”

“I’m fine,” Jaime replies, his tone more serious now. “Though I can’t say the same for your goat friend. You left quite the impression on him.”

You don’t smile, though there’s a flicker of satisfaction in your eyes. “He deserved worse.”

Jaime nods slightly, his gaze steady on you. “That he did.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between you. Then Jaime speaks again, his voice quieter now.

“They’re taking us to Harrenhal,” he says, his smirk fading. “By any luck, Tywin will be there. Along with your dear friend Roose Bolton.”

Your head snaps toward him, alarm flashing across your face. “Bolton?”

Jaime tilts his head, watching you carefully. “Yes. Apparently, Vargo thinks Lord Bolton has some interest in us. I suppose he sees an opportunity to curry favor with both sides.”

Your brow furrows, your mind clearly racing. “Bolton is my brother’s bannerman,” you say, your voice tinged with confusion and disbelief. “What business would he have with Tywin Lannister?”

Jaime shrugs, though his eyes don’t leave you. “That’s the question, isn’t it? But if I were you, I’d start asking why one of Robb’s trusted men is even speaking to my father in the first place.”

The realization hits you like a physical blow, your eyes widening as the pieces begin to fall into place. You mutter something under your breath, too quiet for Jaime to hear, before clenching your fists at your sides.

“I have to warn Robb,” you say suddenly, your voice low but urgent.

Jaime watches you carefully, his smirk returning faintly. “And how do you plan to do that, my lady? You’re a prisoner now, in case you’ve forgotten.”

You glare at him, your jaw tight. “I’ll find a way.”

Brienne, who has been listening silently, finally speaks, her voice steady. “If what he says is true, your brother must be told. The Boltons have always been… different. But this would be treason of the highest order.”

“Treason?” Jaime interjects, his tone almost amused. “Such a quaint word. Let’s call it what it is: survival. Roose Bolton knows how this war will end. He’s simply choosing the winning side.”

You rise to your feet abruptly, pacing a short distance away as your thoughts churn. Jaime watches you closely, noting the hesitation in your movements, the fire in your eyes.

“I won’t let him betray my family,” you say finally, your voice firm.

Jaime leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what exactly will you do, Stark? You’re in no position to stop him. Neither am I, for that matter.”

You stop pacing, turning to face him with a glare that could cut through steel. “That’s where you’re wrong, Lannister. You might not care about honor or loyalty, but I do. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family.”

Jaime holds your gaze, his smirk fading as he sees the resolve burning in your eyes. He feels a flicker of something unfamiliar—respect.

“Well,” he says quietly, leaning back against the tree once more, “then I suppose you’d better start planning, my lady. Because if we reach Harrenhal, it might already be too late.”

Your jaw tightens, but you don’t respond. Instead, you return to your place by the fire, your eyes fixed on the flames as your mind works tirelessly.

Jaime watches you in silence, the weight of your determination settling over him like a storm cloud. And he finds himself wondering if perhaps there’s still a way out of this mess—if not for him, then for you.

95 notes · View notes

agathaandbrienneslesbian · 1 year ago

Text

Snow Day

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader

Hello everyone and Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Blessed Yule to all of you <3 Just as promised, here is the little fluffy Brienne Fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Additionally, I now have a Taglist so make sure to fill out the form so I know who to tag where <3

Big thanks to @weemssapphic and some of my other friends for beta reading my story <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: None. Just fluff and cutie patootie Brienne <3

Authors Note: Y/N has been left alone in the castle, as her parents went to another kingdom for an assize. Alone? No. They left Ser Brienne of Tarth to look after their daughter. The best Knight in all of the seven kingdoms surely would be able to protect their child if something were to happen. Little do they know that their daughter and Brienne might enjoy their time alone a bit more than anticipated.

Words: 2'400+

Ao3 Link

Taglist

-----

“This is so boring”, you groaned as you slumped onto the cushions that laid in front of the big window in your chambers, looking outside and watching the snowflakes dance their way to the ground.

Your parents, the King and the Queen, have been gone for a week now, and they won’t return for another. Being alone in a big castle with nothing to do except for reading and simply… existing… wasn’t too thrilling for you. There was, however, a little light at the end of the tunnel. Your parents decided that you shouldn’t be alone whilst they were gone, and therefore left you under the watchful eyes of Brienne of Tarth.

THE Brienne of Tarth. The strongest knight in all the seven kingdoms and your secret crush. Yes, it's true. You’ve admired her for a long time, and being alone with her was the cherry on top of the cake. One week alone with her and one week still to come, and she still kept a respectful distance, no matter how many times you tried chatting her up. On some occasions, even tripped on purpose so that she would have to catch you, only for her to set you on your feet and immediately take a step back. You loved how respectful and careful she was with you, but you just wanted to be able to cuddle up to her and run your fingers through that short, blonde and so soft-looking hair. You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned your head on the windowsill.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, my Lady. Perhaps we could go into the library to read?” Brienne offered, pulling you from your thoughts. You jumped slightly and turned to look at her. Since when has she been standing at the entrance to your room? She stood there in her royal Knights tunic, a belt fastened around her waist. You couldn’t get enough of the sight, staring at her without noticing as your cheeks flushed a light pink hue.

“My Lady?” the blonde tried again, ripping you from your thoughts once more. You let out a sigh.

“I don’t know… I don’t really feel like reading” You turned your head to the window again, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with your very obvious staring. Watching the snowflakes get less and less, you suddenly had an idea, sitting up quickly, which made Brienne jump a bit at the abruptness of your movement.

“Let’s go outside!” you suggested, turning your face to look at Brienne again with a wide smile. “Just for a walk!”

“I don’t know, my Lady…” Brienne was clearly hesitant and whilst you didn’t want to push her, you still wanted to do something else than just read and lounge around. You decided to give her your best puppy eyes.

“Please? Oh, please Ser!” You flutter your eyelashes and look at her with a pleading expression. The Knight thought for a second, then sighed and nodded.

“Alright.” She said, and you sprang up in excitement. You walked to your closet, pulled out your winter coat and furs and set them on your bed. Looking up, you saw Brienne still standing there. Was she waiting for you?

“I can meet you down in the hall so you can get ready too.” You offered, and she waited for a second, thinking and then nodding.

“I will be awaiting you in the Great Hall, my Lady.” She replied before leaving your room to get ready herself. You quickly threw on your coat and wrapped the furs around your shoulders, attaching them with straps so they wouldn’t fall. You put on your thick winter shoewear, grabbed your gloves and after a last look into the mirror you left your chambers. Just as promised, Brienne was waiting for you in the great hall, clad in her furs and thick boots. She had her sword strapped to her belt again and was holding the grip, resting her hand on it. Brienne looked absolutely stunning, standing there, hand on her sword, clad in her winter coat. You swallowed dryly and felt your cheeks flush as you approached her. Smiling sweetly at her, Brienne nodded and opened the door for you.

The cold air felt nice as you stepped into the open. Brienne and you walked through the garden towards the little forested area in silence, just enjoying the fresh air. The forest was dark, snow covering every surface. No tree, nor branch, nor leaf was showing. It looked as if you were walking through a magical portal. The only sound you heard was the soft whistling of the wind and your and Brienne’s footsteps in the snow.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” You asked, turning your head to look at Brienne who wore a soft, almost invisible smile, and she hummed in agreement. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her eyes sparkled in the cold atmosphere. She looked ethereal. Your ears grew hot with a blush and you decided to look around. You reached an open area, surrounded by trees, and that’s when you had an idea. Bending down, you grabbed some snow, rolling it into a ball and then throwing it at the unexpecting blonde. With a soft ‘thud’ the snowball broke apart against the Knight’s coat, and she looked at you with surprise. You giggled.

“Let’s have a snowball fight!” You said, already leaning down again to pick up more snow.

“My Lady, I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe we should go back now. Your cheeks are all red. I wouldn't want you getting sick!” Brienne replied, but you didn’t answer, simply throwing another snowball at her with a teasing smirk.

“Come on Ser! It’s so nice here and the snow is perfect!” leaning down, you collected some more snow, creating another snowball and throwing it at her. Brienne seemed unsure, you saw it on her face. She wanted to let go and have fun, but she held herself back.

“I know you want to! Just do it! Promise I won’t be mad if you hit me. IF you manage to hit me.” You tease, hoping that would get her playful spirit up. The smirk on your face widened when you saw Brienne resting a hand on her hip, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“IF?” she asked “I don’t want to brag, but my aim is rather precise,” she said warningly, staring you down, but there was a playful smile tugging at her lips. You got her right where you wanted her.

“I’ll only believe it if I see it. Until then, I guess you’re just bad at snowball fights!” You teased, taking a step closer, and watched Brienne break her protective wall she built up. All the talking and the time you got to spend together made Brienne want to open up to you. You didn’t know it, but Brienne fell for you, hard. The first time she saw you, she was starstruck. The way your lips curled into a sweet and welcoming smile every time you saw her, the way your eyes sparkled and how animatedly you talked to her about your favourite topics, and she absolutely adored how clumsy you are. This week was difficult for Brienne for she wanted nothing more but to confess her feelings for you. But she didn’t. She was afraid you would reject her, so she kept her distance, but you made it more difficult every single day.

“I think you’re just a coward,” you test her, playful smile on your face as you throw another snowball at her. Her gaze turned into a competitive smirk, and at that moment you almost regretted teasing her so much. You knew her strength, her poise, her grace. You knew she would have you yield within seconds in a snowball fight, but you stood your ground. Wanting her to let loose and have fun for once.

“I’ll give you 10 seconds,” she simply said as she leaned down and started collecting snow for a snowball. It took you about 3 seconds to realise what she had just said, then your eyes widened, and you started grabbing snow, running away with a wide smile, a laugh threatening to spill over your lips. The moment you thought you had enough distance from her, you turned around, only to be hit by a snowball with deadly precision. It hit your chest and the snow trickled down your coat into your garments. You shrieked and just threw a snowball blindly, trying to shake the snow out of your coat. When you looked back up, a single laugh left your lips. You had hit Brienne square in the face with the snowball. Trying not to laugh too much, you took shaking breaths.

“I am so sorry, Ser. Are you okay?” You took a step forward, then stopped dead in your tracks. Brienne wiped the snow off her face and looked at you with determination, a dangerous smile on her lips.

“I’ll get you back for that, Princess!” She said as she started charging towards you, snow in her hand. You squeaked and started running away, unable to hold your laughter back any more. You stumbled and tripped over snow, slipping and sliding the more you tried to run.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated over and over again between gasps of air and laughs. You turned around, wanting to see how close Brienne was, when you suddenly slipped and fell over, rolling onto your back with a laugh. Brienne came to an abrupt halt, which caused her to slip, falling onto the soft snowy ground next to you. She had a huge smile plastered on her face and quickly gathered some snow to throw it on you. You squealed again, wriggling around to free yourself of the snow. Brienne started giggling quietly and watched you, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, the soft wrinkles next to your eyes from laughing and the wide smile plastered on your face. She was madly in love with you. With a swift move, you turn towards her, thinking it to be the best way to get rid of her throwing snow onto you. Rolling around, you suddenly realised that she was much closer than anticipated. You bumped into her chest, coming face to face with the strong blonde, who instinctively wrapped her arms around you. Your laughs came to a halt, just looking up at her with a smile, admiring her face. Brienne blushed darkly, she wanted to separate again, give you space, but she found herself unable to when you slowly leaned up and pecked the corner of her lips. She closed her eyes, just for a second, taking a shaky breath.

You did it. Suddenly, the realisation of what you did just hit you as you made eye contact with the Knight. Suddenly, you felt afraid. Before you could pull away and start rambling, the blonde cupped your cheek, pulling you close to plant a soft kiss on your lips, which you reciprocated gladly. She pulled away, stroking your cheek gently, looking into your eyes deeply. You smiled at her and your smile was so wide and happy, Brienne felt her heart burst. All the smiles, all the accidental touches, all the moments where you were so close to her and she pulled away. She now realised that you felt the same all along, and it filled her heart with joy and love. You pecked her lips again quickly, and then a shudder went through you, making Brienne frown.

“Are you cold?” she asked, sitting up and pulling you up with her. You nodded.

“Let's go back then. I don’t want you to get sick. Come!” She stood, pulling you up with her, and you held close onto her arm. You couldn’t believe it. She felt the same, she actually felt the same. This was no one-sided love. You were overjoyed.

The walk back to the castle was quiet. The both of you enjoying each other’s company, basking in the closeness that both of you have longed for so long. Walking into the castle, Brienne and you made your way to the library to warm up in front of the fire. Both of your coats were taken by the maids, taking them back to your chambers to clean them and put them back in the closets. The maids brought some tea for the two of you to warm up whilst you sat in front of the fireplace on the heaps of pillows and furs to warm up.

You leaned against Brienne as she had her arms wrapped around you, holding you close to her. You turned your head, looking up at her and pressing a kiss to her cheek, making her smile.

“Brienne?” you asked, nervous about her reaction to you using her first name. The tall blonde blushed. Her name sounded so beautiful coming from you. Like a melody, like a prayer. She hummed in response, urging you to continue. You sat up, taking a deep breath and looking into her eyes. She grew nervous seeing you so anxious.

“May… May I court you… Brienne of Tarth. Properly court you?” You watched her reaction before continuing. Her eyes widened as she watched you, speechless. Was this really happening?

“I- I have found myself a fool for you ever since I laid my eyes on you for the first time. So..- here I ask you. Will you allow me to court you, to cherish you… to love you?” You looked at her, holding your breath in nervous anticipation of her answer. Brienne nodded gently, tears threatening to swell in her eyes. She couldn’t believe her ears. But you were so sincere, you… you really loved her. She sat up, went on one knee and held your hand, looking into your eyes.

“My Lady… Y/N,” she started, “I will shield your back and give my life for yours if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new. I am yours, eternally.” You smiled at her, not being able to hold back your tears, as you wrapped your arms around her and kissed her lips. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her as she let her emotions flow freely. Not once has she felt this loved and cherished. You pulled away, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears from under her eyes.

“My Brienne,” you whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss once more.

-------

Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @winterfireblond

As always comments and likes are greatly appreciated <3

#Brienne of Tarth #Brienne x reader #Brienne of Tarth x Reader #Reader insert #Gwendoline Christie #Gwendoline Christie fanfic #Gwendoline Christie Character #wlw #sapphic #fluff #queer #lesbian

542 notes · View notes

crow-raven-crow · 1 year ago

Note

Hi,

I was wonder if it would possible if you could write a Brienne of Tarth x fem!reader? Where Brienne returns to winterfell after being away after a while and she sees reader once again. Fluff and maybe some soft smut.

Please and thank you.

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮..

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐱 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~4k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF !!, soft love, established relationship, SMALL angst, slight anxiety/dread, COMFORT, nsfw, vaginal fingering, oral sex, literally like the softest smut i think ive ever written, LOL DONT EXPECT ACCURACY AHAH

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

You hurried inside the Guards Hall of Winterfell, the heavy wooden door creaking on its hinges before nearly slamming shut with the frigid wind of winter. The ancient stones of the castle caused your steps to echo down the corridor, a sigh of relief leaving you with the warmth that enveloped you, as you made your way down the hall. The blazing torches casted a golden light along the walls, allowing shadows to dance against it, penetrating the white beams of light that bounced off the snow outside.

Your furs clung to you, adorned with the sigil of House Stark, and gave you some solace from the fangs of winter. Your face was flushed and slightly damp from the light spray of falling snow, and the immediate heat was slowly becoming too much as you took your gloves off.

You ventured deeper into the heart of Winterfell, seeking comfort in the quarters you shared with your blonde knight, even if she was gone on her own mission. The torchlight guided your way deeper into the hall, your own shadow kissing each flame as muffled murmurs of others made the fortress feel more alive.

As you approached the main room at the end of the hall, your now uncovered hands reaching into your pockets for your key, you threw nods and smiles at your fellow guards, getting bows of their heads and small smiles in return. What once filled you with fear and insecurity now felt like nods of approval, reminding you of how far you've come as a knight, for it takes a certain amount of trust and skill to work directly with a kingdoms head family.

When you first settled in Winterfell, their curious and sinful stares were never far behind, making you question both your worth as a guard and as a lady, but it didn't take long for them to come face to face with the fire that burned within you. It earned you your respect amongst them, the common goal to protect those of Winterfell, the common goal that you had shown them time and time again. You no longer were just any other woman in their eyes, and the same was true when Brienne came into the picture.

It didn't take long for the two of you to become close, even if it did take a while to push past her walls. If anything, her arrival strengthened your place within the ranks and made your bond stronger with all of those in Winterfell, especially the Starks. They knew you as their head family guard, and you've seen each other in different contexts over the years, but there was a certain softness that Brienne brought to you that they never thought they would see. You both suffered through very similar things, and though those were things you both bonded over, you couldn't help but want to give Brienne the world that she didn't think was possible. You had completely fallen for her, and thinking back to where you both had started always brought a smile to your face.

As you stepped into your quarters, it was as though the heavy mask of your role had come off, your shoulders relaxing as a breath you didn't know you were holding came out as well. In quick, practiced movements, you discarded the layers of furs that were draped over you, revealing a simpler armor set underneath. The sound of your shuffling filled the quiet room, your gloves being placed onto a side table and the small clicks of your armor coming off rang through the room. You turned towards your armor stand, placing each plate into its home and your scabbard with its belt along side it. As your fingers softly traced along the Stark sigil, you made a mental note to polish the pieces later.

You moved deeper into the room to start a fire, grabbing each log and meticulously placing them before a comforting glow lit the chamber's stone walls. It's golden hues reflected in the armor across the room, making you take a moment to really appreciate where you were at. Thoughts of Brienne began to fill your mind, tugging on your heartstrings and making the room feel much lonelier than it was moments before. It's been over a month since you've seen your knight, and you forced yourself to push through each day just as you knew she was.

When you stood, your bones suddenly feeling much heavier, you grabbed the pile of letters she had sent you over the course of her mission. You brought them over to your bed, spreading them out in small piles before sifting through each one. Your fingers traced the weathered edges, imagining what she had seen in each place she stopped, imagining her writing each one at the end of her day after all the others had turned in for the night.

You scanned over her most recent one, your fingers tracing the inked lines as though you had watched those words appear on the paper. She would be home soon, she had said so herself, and the idea sparked hope within you… but you knew how quickly the duties as a knight could change, that caution tempering the hope that begged to rage on in your chest.

With a deep breath, you let your emotions settle, taking in the written words from your lover as though they were prayers you were to memorize, reading each sentence with her voice echoing in your head like a siren beckoning you out to sea - something you would fall for again and again, if it meant that you'd get to go back to her.

As though the gods were listening, the resonant toll of the bell echoed all throughout Winterfell, cutting through the frigid air. Its deep tones rumbled through your chest, bringing you to your feet. All your actions froze as you listened for the bell, your heart threatening to burst when you realized it was from the East Gate. The room transformed into a flurry of movement as you quickly ran to gather your scabbard and rapidly tied the baldrick around your hips, before running out the door. In your haste, you had forgotten all about the snow as the outside world became a blur, your only focus being the possibility that Brienne was finally home.

The echo of your footsteps against the stone floor quickly morphed into the loud crunch of snow beneath your feet as you left the Guard's Hall and rushed toward the East Gate. The air bit at your exposed skin and made every breath you took in sharp, but the hope that your lover was just feet away overshadowed any ounce of discomfort that you could've possibly felt, easily flooding your body with adrenaline.

You waited with some of the other villagers and guards in the courtyard, some of them noticing you buzzing with excitement and clouded over in focus, as your eyes were fixed on the opening gates. You watched with a pounding heart as families were reunited, as guards made their way to the stables, as traveling merchants moved in the direction of the nearest inn. Your eyes darted from face to face, taking in who they were before moving onto the next.

Your hands fiddled with the rings on your fingers, you body feeling all too hot and your hands all too sweaty as though you weren't standing in the snow. You stood with the feeling of your heart growing heavy, with the feeling of your throat slowly starting to close, as the crowd dispersed just as quickly as it had appeared. You waited with the burning hope that you had gotten stuck with, even as other guards shot your their apologetic glances, even as Catelyn Stark squeezed your arm in comfort, as the crowd grew smaller.

A heaviness took over your body, making your shoulders sag and a sadness fill your eyes as the quick realization came over you: she wasn't there. As though it was your post, you waited for the crowd to clear because, after all, you were still a knight of Winterfell.

Just as the gate looked like it was about to close, it stilled, freezing for a moment before opening back up again. It's loud creaks gained the attention of the ones walking away, the ones filled with the same disappointment and aching heart as you were. A rumble of life passed through it just as the one that came before - a smaller group of more returning home, crossing the threshold into Winterfell. Your heart felt as though it had been revived, those around you watching your demeanor change, as your eyes began to light up with hope all over again.

Amidst the glowing faces of excitement, a distant glimmer of gold caught your eyes, drawing your attention to farther down the path. The crowd around you seemed to blur into the background as you held onto the potential promise that coursed through your veins. Every second closer intensified the rapid thud of your heart, drowning out everything else and nearly bursting at the sight of Brienne mounted on her horse.

The snowflakes seemed to dance around her, an ethereal glow radiating from her that would make even the newest gods jealous. Her brows furrowed as she scanned the crowd with an intense focus, the height from atop her horse making it all the more easier to catch sight of you. You watched as she seemed to relax, your shared gaze lifting the weight of separation that had been dragging you both down.

As Brienne dismounted her horse, the onlookers smiled and instinctively cleared a path as your body moved on its own. They had all seen you fall for each other one way or another, and you always knew this would be a piece of your home when they always seemed to cheer you both on.

The distance between you two came to a quick close, your hearts beating against each other just as fiercely as your smiles when she lifted you into her arms. Brienne's hands, strong yet gentle, found their way to your hips as she placed you down. Your arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her as close as possible, as though the action would make all the time spent apart fizzle away. The cold touch of her armor made a shiver run through you, but it was quickly ignored as you relished in the feeling of being back in her arms.

Her hands smoothed their way up your sides, creating a path of electricity along your body, before she softly cupped your face. Your hands found their place on the backs of hers, your thumbs tracing along her knuckles, as your eyes jumped between her own. You could always find a way to get lost in Brienne's eyes, the deep, defined blues always swirling with layers of emotions and unspoken words.

She leaned down slightly, a small laugh leaving your lips, before she closed the distance between you two. Her lips pressed against yours in a way that translated thousands of words - a soft, tender kiss that you had longed for since the day she left. You felt her lips curve into a smile, a sigh leaving her, as she felt you step just a bit closer.

When Brienne pulled away, the closeness lingered as she rested her forehead against your own, your hot breaths turning into steam the moment they met the cold air. It was as though the world around you seemed to hold its breath - the falling snow, the ancient stones, the depths of Winterfell baring witness to the love you held for each other.

"Hello, my love.." The sound of her voice made a choked sob leave you as tears suddenly formed in your eyes. The voice you thought about, the voice you were apart from, the voice you fell in love with was finally back to gracing your ears. She was always gentle with you, even if she knew you could handle your own, but she treated you with the softness, with the love that you never thought anyone in the Seven Kingdoms could give you.

"Hello, my Brienne.. I'm so glad you're back," your voice was nearly a whisper, showing the wear and tear that the time without her has brought to you.

"Always, for you. I'll always come back to you." If it was at all possible, it seemed as though your smiles only widened, the tell-tale blush lingering on both of your faces as you both finally broke away from the crowd.

It was easy for you both to move back to your shared quarters, your movements together still like second nature even after the amount of time that had passed. You had a bath ready for her by the time she had come back from the stables, and you helped her take her armor off as you talked about her travels.

Just as you were about to start polishing your armor, you felt her hands wrap around your waist and pull you against her front. Sweet kisses were placed on one of your shoulders, before you felt her hold tighten. You turned around in her hold, bringing one of your hands up to move her gaze to your own. After a silent question, her eyes only softened, her fingers starting to trace absent minded patters under your shirt before she spoke.

She leaned in, stealing another kiss from you. It was longer than the one in the courtyard, now that you were away from the eyes of all. You chased her for another as she pulled away, earning you a satisfied smile. Her lips rested just centimeters above yours, her words coming out in a whisper, "I love you."

The words echoed in your soul like ones you never planned to forget, her voice filling your body with an electricity that no one else could charge, that no one else could even come close to causing. It made your cheeks flush as though you had heard those words for the first time, but who could blame you when she looked at you like you had painted the sky with your own hands.

"I love you too.." It came out soft, yet eager to fill her ears. You watched as those words alone seemed to settle her, grounding her in her spot and reminding her that she truly was home with you. She placed one last kiss against your lips, before heading towards the bath.

When she came back to the room, seemingly refreshed and in her robe, she stopped in her tracks and watched you in the candle light. You had taken the opportunity to change into something else, or something less, as the golden hues radiated off your skin as if you were a god. The sheer robe you adorned left little to the imagination, the dark colored undergarments seeping through the thin fabric and revealing the perfect hold they had on your body.

She walked closer, her movements unknown to you as you cleaned up the rest of the table, until one of the floorboards creaked and gave her away. You turned towards her quickly, the sound making you jump, before your expression morphed into a smile. The action had made your robe fall off one of your shoulders, something that didn't go unnoticed by the knight, as her eyes lingered over the expanse of your exposed skin.

She was quick to bring you closer, your bodies glowing in the radiating warmth of the flames. She kissed you in that light, in the warmth that welcomed her home. You lived in the way she made you feel, the energy of the gods running through the both of you as all your emotions ran through each kiss.

Everything felt right, at peace, at home, like everything else was able to melt away for what felt like the first time in forever as you stood in each others hold, as your lips connected again and again. There was a glow that you both adorned that wasn't present before, one that had slowly dulled as the days apart grew longer, but one that reawakened and was ever burning for as long as you had each other.

As each kiss ran soft, the next came back more wanting. Your hands circled around her neck, keeping her close and playing with the soft strands of her hair. Her own had slipped under your robe, tracing over the skin that she had longed to touch again, leaving goosebumps in every path she took.

You walked her back towards the bed, undoing the tie of her robe before she sat down. You slowly moved to your knees, resting between her legs, your lips trailing down her neck as your hands freely roamed her body. You took your time worshiping her, leaving light scratches along her hips and thighs or bringing more attention to her chest with your lips.

You listened as her breathing grew heavier the closer you got to her breasts, a heavy sigh and a deep hum leaving her lips after you licked over her right bud, capturing it in your mouth soon after. You felt her squirm under your touch, her robe slipping down her shoulders and exposing more of her to you.

After showering her breasts in attention, your lips made their way down to her thighs, being sure to kiss and bite every curve of muscle your knight gave you. One of her hands ran through your hair as you kissed down one of her thighs, using her other as support to lean back and expose more of herself to you. The smell of her arousal made the coil in you tighten, and the sight of her blown pupils only proving to you how good she was feeling.

As you kissed up her other leg, you brought one to rest on your shoulder, and you felt your own arousal begin to pool between your legs at the sight of her soaked core. You kissed along her slit, your touch featherlight and causing broken whimpers to leave the blonde, before running your tongue through her folds.

She threw her head back, a deep moan leaving her lips as her back arched. Your pace was sickly slow to her, your tongue working in and out of her entrance as the flame within her only grew larger.

Her fingers made their way into your hair, pulling on the strands and making a moan escape your lips. The vibrations only pleased her in more ways than one, her hips bucking at the sound. You took the opportunity to move your tongue to her clit, circling the sensitive bud and sucking, causing a near pornographic moan to leave her lips.

You continued, urged on as her moans grew louder and more frequent, as the hold on your hair grew tighter and as her thighs threatened to close around your head. Her thighs shook as her peak came closer and closer, her eyes screwed shut as she chased the pleasure you gave her. With her jaw slack and her brows furrowed, she came hard against your tongue, her thighs closing around your head.

Your actions didn't stop, didn't slow as you allowed her to ride out her high. You groaned at the taste of her, being sure to lap up everything she gave you, before pulling away breathless. Your breath was hot, your chest heaving as you caught your breath, but your focus was stolen away as her fingers guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her.

She pulled you up with a gentle touch, guiding you onto her lap before capturing your lips once more. Her fingers worked on the tie of your robe, before smoothing the fabric down your arms and off your body.

A whimper left your lips as her thumbs swiped over your nipples, and she took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck. Each of her movements were soft, slow as though anything more would scare you away. Her lips lingered on your pulse point, the feeling sending heat straight to your core, before she shifted your position.

She turned you both, pushing you down and laying your head against the pillows, your body shining in the moonlight that seeped in from the cracks in the blinds and the gentle glow of the flames in the room. Her lips picked up where they left off, slowly trailing down to your breasts. Her lips and fingers worked together, mapping out every curve and dip of your skin and committing it all to memory.

She gave your breasts the attention that they deserved, her tongue swirling around each bud and forming them into hardened peaks, all while whimpers and small moans escaped your lips. One of her hands trailed down, rubbing up and down your thigh in slow movements, before swiping a finger through your folds. The action made you gasp, your bottom lip quickly coming between your teeth, as you felt her lips move lower and lower.

She collected your juices on her fingers, teasing your entrance before thrusting two of them into your core, moaning at how you immediately clenched around them. She moved them in and out at an agonizing pace, the sensation already making you see stars, as she curled them perfectly in the right spot each time.

Her lips trailed lower and lower, a few kisses being planted at the base of your thighs before you felt her tongue flatten against your slit. Your hips bucked at the feeling, a silent beg for more, before you felt her lick through your folds, her tongue circling your clit right after.

You wreathed under her, your breathing growing heavier as moans shot out of you. The familiar tightness in your core started to build, making the pleasure you felt come back in tenfold. Your hands moved to her hair, pulling at it and begging her not to stop. Your thighs shook with each lick, each thrust into your core, your pleasure building itself closer and closer to the delicious edge.

Every touch was absorbed with every ounce of love she held for you, and you showed her you knew that as her name fell from your lips in desperate moans. She curled her fingers just as she sucked on your clit, and the action made a loud moan escape you as it stole all the air from your lungs. You felt your thighs shake, and another curl of her fingers made ecstasy crash into you.

She helped your ride out your high, her ministrations only slowing when she had licked everything clean. You felt her lips travel up your body, her hands smoothing over your sides and giving you a warmth that you welcomed. Her lips met yours in a tender kiss, one full of the love and adoration you both held for each other. She broke away, moving to lay on her side, before pulling you into her arms.

She wrapped the covers over your bodies, but nothing could match the comfort you felt when her hands started tracing patterns along your back, when her body radiated heat and a smell you found intoxicating, when your head rested in the crook of her neck as her voice traveled through the air with sweet nothings for only you to hear.

You took a moment to look at her, your hands coming up to cup her face as your eyes scanned over her features in the growing late night. You couldn't help the smile that always seemed to grace your lips in her presence, one that she never failed to match when she saw it. With another soft kiss, pulling a hum from her chest, you settled back down in the comfort of her arms, tangling your legs together and enjoying the sound of her heartbeat as sleep took over the both of you.

Knights always held their honor high, and you'd both be sure to always honor the promise of coming back home to the one waiting for you.

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: BRIENNE MY LOVE AHHHHHHHHH

I SAY THIS ABOUT FUCKING EVERYTHING BUT THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE I LOVE BRIENNE

i had somewhat of an idea for this when i had first gotten the request a while ago and im SOOO glad it morphed into THIS!!!! this is my first time writing for Brienne, and im really happy with how it turned out

im on like.. id say the beginning of season three of game of thrones and every time she pops up on the screen i literally kick my feet and scream like im so down bad for her its genuinely so funny to me

here you go anon!! im SO sorry it took this long, but i hope that it was worth the wait !

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added !

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

323 notes · View notes

inlovewithgreta · 5 months ago

Text

Into The Woods - Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: You finally admit your feelings to your sworn protector.

Warnings: Praise, oral sex (r!receiving), semi-public sex, etc...

Word Count: 1.5k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @weemswife @bellatrixsbrat @finnja555 @pllduniverse @aemilia19 @winterfireblond

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You found yourself shivering. The air was partially crisp, the fire was crackling and canceling out the cold. But neither was the cause.

It was the woman sitting next to you.

Brienne had a stick in one hand poking at the fire while the other rested comfortably on the top of your thigh. You have never felt more at home with someone, and these past few weeks only had you falling harder.

She was strong, beautiful, and courageous. She was your protector. Your savior. How could you not fall for somebody that was so perfect?

"Brienne," you called out to her quietly.

A small hum could be heard in response as her gaze fixated on the crackling fire ahead.

"Everything I thought I knew about people and emotions can't help me describe my reaction to being with you right now." You twiddle your thumbs, finally admitting to what you had been feeling towards the knight.

"Maybe you should stop overthinking then," she simply stated, squeezing your thigh once more before tossing the stick to the side. Her gaze flicked back to you, and your heart stopped.

Her crystal blue eyes were bright from the light of the fire. Flames danced in her orbs as she admired your own beauty. Your nervousness was prominent. And Brienne's heart swelled at your behavior.

It was now or never.

Your eyes fell to her lips as you listened to her words. The small action didn't go unnoticed as Brienne's own lips were on yours in a mere instant, finally breaking the barrier.

They were as soft as you had always imagined. The softness of her lips contrasted the tough bravado she had always carried. And boy, was it welcomed.

Her body interlaced with yours, and you felt yourself immediately melting into her sensual touch.

The sweet taste of the fruity wine she had drank earlier still lingered on her tongue as she welcomed yours, entwining it with her own.

"Help me think less," you pleaded between kisses.

"I can definitely help with that," she husked.

"Oh, is that so?" You quirked a playful brow. "Prove it to me then. Distract me, Brienne."

"Careful what you wish for, Princess." The night flashed a mischievous grin as she let her hands roam across your body.

The chill from the air was long forgotten as warmth spread throughout your body from her touch. She cupped your breasts, bringing your nipples to a hard point through your thin dress.

You bit your lower lip, allowing her hands to cup you so freely. But you still wished to feel her touch against your soft, bare skin.

"Is this working?" She asked, teasing your breasts.

You nodded your head, as Brienne took her time in removing each article of clothing from your body. You were thankful she had blankets, as you leaned back on your hands to allow the knight more room to press a kiss to every inch of revealed skin.

Your panties were all that were left. "Oh..." you hummed, as her lips grazed your nipple.

"Oh?" She tilted her head, "I guess it's not working..." Brienne began to pull away, but with a forceful tug on her shirt, she wasn't able to get far.

"It's working! Please...keep going," you pleaded.

Brienne gently laid you back against the rather thin but soft blanket. Her mischievous smirk was still plastered on her face as she lowered herself.

Her teeth grazed your skin before finding the elastic of your underwear and pulling it back with a snap. You gasped at the sensation. She was being bold.

"Is this okay?" She asked, referring to your underwear.

"Yesss..." you wiggled your hips at the woman.

She slowly slid your underwear off, leaving you completely exposed in front of her. The light from the fire exposed your glistening core as Brienne took in every inch of you.

"I need to see you too.." You admitted, pulling at her top.

In a quick, fluid motion, Brienne nearly ripped her clothes off her body, and tossed them aside. Your gaze couldn't help but burn into her body, looking over each muscle and slope across her milky skin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank every inch of her in. She was truly a work of art. Her muscles flexed under your gaze. You internally groaned as you ached for her touch. To have her feel you, while you did the same and roamed her body.

"Tell me, Princess. What are you thinking now?" She asked, quirking a brow with a grin.

Brienne hovered over you, her breasts tickling the top of your own chest, awaiting a response. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, and you were sure Brienne could feel the same with how close she was.

"Brienne..." you whined.

Brienne tsked, shaking her head. "Answer me. What are you thinking in that beautiful head of yours right now?"

"You, Brienne." The heat of her body was making you sweat, but her hard gaze was making you shiver. "Only you..."

Happy with your answer, Brienne closed the distance. She rewarded you with a long, sweet, but commanding kiss. Her tongue was quick to dance with yours, easily winning the fight for domination.

"Good," she husked against your lips. Brienne closed the distance once again, cupping your cheeks with her calloused hands as her lips met yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

You felt as if you were on a cloud, but the ground beneath you was hard as Brienne laid you down fully on your back to straddle your smaller body.

The scent of flowers and woods invaded your senses as the two of you laid together. Brienne propped herself above you, hands landing next to your head as she took in the sight of your naked body beneath her.

"You're so beautiful." Brienne dragged a finger from your plump bottom lip, down your abdomen, to the curve of your inner thigh. She was close, daringly close. But it wasn't close enough for your liking.

You wiggled beneath her, visibly growing impatient to her daring touches. "You're just teasing me now, Brienne... please," you whined.

"No, Princess..." She hovered her lips dangerously close to yours before pulling away. "This is teasing.." Her lips followed the same trail of her finger, placing loving kisses down your body before reaching your hips.

She kissed the curve, before working her way inwards. Brienne hovered just above your cunt, taking in your soaked exterior. You could feel the ghost of her breath tickling your skin.

Growing impatient with her teasing, you cupped the back of her head. Your legs opened wider for her as you propped your legs over her shoulders to completely open yourself to the knight.

Brienne groaned at the first taste of you. You gasped as her tongue trailed along every ridge and valley. Your knight lapped against your core in thrilling, skillful circular patterns.

She hummed as she sat between your legs, and your back arched far off the blanket. Your fingers dug into her short, blonde hair as her tongue worked hard to please you.

It was easy for her to glide across your core, dipping down to play with your hole, before going back up again to your clit. She was memorizing your pussy like a map. Taking in every moan and sharp gasp as she ate you out.

"God's, Brienne!" You clamped your pussy along her tongue as it invaded your seeping, needy hole.

Her tongue then flicked at your button, causing another moan to fall past your lips. Brienne was drinking it all in as you easily became a whimpering mess. She flicked her tongue from side to side, before circling in dizzying motions that had your vision going blurry and had you seeing stars.

You could've come right on the spot after she said your name, looking up at you with her big, blue eyes as she sat between your legs eating your pussy like she was starving.

Brienne sucked on your most sensitive spot, her big, strong hands firmly gripped at your hips to not only hold you still, but to allow herself to bury her head deeper.

You were moaning freely, as the knight sat comfortably into the embrace of your thighs. Your body quivered and jerked from her tongue, completely at her mercy as you hurtled towards your release.

"B-Brienne!" The woman knew just how to please you, expertly alternating between flicking her tongue and sucking on your clit.

You cried out as you came along her tongue, thighs involuntarily squeezing against her head, nearly suffocating the woman. She slowed her movements, allowing you to ride out your high for as long as needed.

Brienne lapped up every bittersweet drop from your orgasm. Her fingers kneaded at your hips to soothe your shaking thighs. You swore you saw stars when Brienne was finally able to squeeze out of your thighs.

"What are you thinking about now, Princess?" She coyly asked, wiping her glistening mouth with the back of her hand.

You were panting heavily, "I—" you could barely muster a word, head shaking as your mouth and brain weren't corresponding with each other.

The knight chuckled deeply, moving herself up your body to be face to face once more with you.

"Well," she smirked. "Doesn't look like you're thinking at all." Her lips were on yours once more, and you couldn't help the next sinful moan that you mumbled into her mouth as you tasted yourself along her tongue.

Her plan had definitely worked.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | gwen masterlist | taglist

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #game of thrones #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #ser brienne #fanfic #smut #lesbiansmut #wlw smut #oneshot #lesbian

142 notes · View notes

rippersz · 1 year ago

Text

ᴀ ꜰᴏᴏʟ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

---

(Brienne of Tarth x Named Reader; Angsty; Hurt/Slight Comfort) (TW: Suic*de attempt; Suic*dal ideations/thoughts; Slight Romanticization of mental illness)

---

“An autumn whisper between the maples kept urging: Die with me.” ~ Anna Akhmatova

---

A Fool’s Death.

That’s what they call it.

A Fool’s Death. You’re a coward if you do it. You’re a lazy bastard if you live with thoughts of it. You’re a selfish prick of a soul either way.

There’s no winning and there’s no losing. There’s no talk of it. Not even a mention. Not even a whisper. And if there is, you are spoken of. Judged. Scrutinized until The Fool’s Death becomes your death. Until the village and its people and everyone in your family are forced to spit upon your narcissistic bones and claim you disowned even though there is nothing left to claim and nothing left to disown. Just a corpse that is cold and dull and useless.

Cold and dull and useless.

You think that’s how you’ll do it.

Winter has already carried her snow and chill and winds into the region, laying it all upon the land like a warm blanket around a small child’s body. Painting everything white and leaving it to glisten to sludge beneath the eventual heat of the spring sun. A perfect time for rebirth. A perfect time for death.

—

Your hands shake as you slowly pull open the door to your quarters, wincing while it creaks and groans, forcing you to stop every time a noise rings out into the empty hall. Your heart, pounding away in your ears, ruins your sense of hearing while you stand like a statue within your own doorway. Anxiety slips through your bones. Fear pulls at you. The last desire you have is to wake everyone in the castle and call attention to yourself. No, having eyes and ears on you while you lay in the snow and wait for the freeze to set in is less than ideal. A Fool’s Death, after all, is never A Fool’s Death if done with company.

So once you decide that the corridors are empty and you can slip out through the back entrance into the kitchens, you do exactly that. A singular torch is lit, burning away within its stone perch, nearly beckoning you closer with its dancing flame. You trail toward it and stop there, watching it for a moment, reveling in the last bit of warmth that your skin will ever feel. You know that some hours later, when the moon is long gone and the clouds block the sun and the stars keep themselves veiled, you will no longer be able to feel fire. You will no longer be able to feel ice. You will no longer be able to feel the breath in your lungs leave you in short pants. It will all bleed into the same numb feeling. And you will freeze until Mother Nature tells you to thaw. And once your body has been revealed to the changing air of the seasons, once the earth’s creatures start to take advantage of your indirect kindness, you also know that your frozen flesh will not be mourned. Because no one will cry for you. And no one will beg the gods, both old and new, to bring you back. And no one will waste another precious breath worrying about who you were.

You, who were just another soldier out of an army of hundreds. A faceless woman. A person easily replaced. Inconsequential in every sense of the word. Your family was dead, your acquaintances were no more than good mornings and good nights, your position would be filled as soon as you broke rank. And no one would notice your absence. The Lord Commander wouldn’t even blink. The royal family wouldn’t even spare a thought. Though then again, it wasn’t like you deserved their thoughts, their sympathies, their prayers anyway. You weren’t a war hero and you weren’t important and you didn’t do anything beyond follow orders and live your life. Well- that last bit would change, of course. As soon as you pull yourself away from the torch and get going.

The chill of night is a harsh contrast from the few minutes of firelight, but you find that your body, already shivering and slow beneath the thin white nightgown, doesn’t take true notice of the cold. You’re only propelled forward by a distant urge. A previously agreed upon understanding with no one but yourself: This was necessary. This is what it was going to come to anyway, whether you died a fool sooner or later. This was the way of the world and you were just another pawn amongst the masses. Going to war, front of the line, hoping to die in glory.

But there was no glory there. There was no glory in your measured footsteps and there was no glory in your sagging shoulders and tired expression. And there was no glory in your desire. How could there be? How could the good gods ever wish to touch you after your blasphemy? How could you hang your soul out to dry and still expect to find your place in Nirvana? They will call you a coward. They will call you a fool. They will call you a rotten whore and they will say that they wish you’d done it sooner. They will walk past your nonexistent grave without a wandering thought as to what your name was. You could’ve saved everyone the trouble, they will say. Could’ve saved them the breaths. Spared them of your quiet awkward presence. Making everyone uncomfortable. Leaving the men to tease and toss aside the idea of censoring themselves just because you were a woman. Not the only woman, but a woman nonetheless. Of course they held their tongues when The Lord Commander walked past, or sat at the table, or existed and breathed in their general vicinity, but that didn’t matter. Brienne of Tarth was not always around to control them nor comfort you - not that she did the latter anyway. You weren’t important enough for that.

And the universe seemed to agree. The path was laid out before you, lit by the silver moon, traced by the glow of the white ground. You’d decided on your resting place only a few days ago. During a morning patrol with some of the newer trainees, you came across a spot of smooth Earth. Two logs, parallel to each other, framed a large empty patch of snow. From where you stood, it looked like a beautiful painting that had yet to be finished. There was no subject- no goal- no lesson to be learned- no deeper meaning and no unintentional intentional wicked talent. But before that could be rectified, before it could be completed, it would have to be ruined. Once you’re long dead, you’ll find the time to apologize to Mother Nature, but as you trek over the last hill, you’re more focused on becoming one with the frozen ground.

The site of your death is far enough away from civilization, near the edge of a tall cliff, so any wandering strangers won’t bother to come too close. Well that’s what you tell yourself, living in hope as per usual; but in reality nothing is stopping another living creature from stumbling across your frozen corpse. The snow is thick, yes, but not thick enough to hide all of you. And the sun is only some hours away from rising. Oh well. It won’t matter anyway. You’ll be passed out by then, icicles hanging from your eyelashes and blue coating the lining of your lips. Your heart will be quiet, weak, in your frozen chest. Your hands will be limp. And the rest of you will be blanketed by the sweet tasty frost of death, creating a home for its festering teeth. Teeth that will bite and gnash and taste and tear - but their attacks will be in vain. You will be numb. So wonderfully, perfectly, fatefully, numb.

And your fingertips, for what it’s worth, are already tingling with the beginnings of it.

The beginnings of it.

‘It’ being your end, of course.

‘It’ being the thing you want. Desperately.

‘It’ being the Fool’s Death you were born to have.

Oh so poetic it was…

Oh so… lovely.

…

You blink suddenly, forcing the chilled tears out of your eyes. Damn wind… so cold… so refreshing… Your knees bend to crouch into the snow, slow and exhausted like the sluggish looking of your eyes. ‘Hello’ the snow grins- beams- smiles so cheerfully up at you, ‘come to see me again, have you? It’s only been a few days. But I have missed you so much. We all have missed you so much.’ And you glance up to take in the ‘we’; the looming trees and the deep blue sky and the twinkling stars and the sweet bright moon, and you nod to yourself. Yes. This is how it is. This is the perfect atmosphere.

This is the glory of a Fool’s Death.

This is the peace of a Fool’s Death.

This is salvation.

No loud men and no flickering fires and no furs and no royals and no company and no messy thoughts and no sleepless nights and no terrifying dreams and no days of forced starvation and no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no hope, no love, no happiness, no reason, no reason, no reason no reason no reason to live live live live live live live- live!

The thin white slip on your body shields you from nothing. Your palms sink into the soft fluff of the ground. Instantly, upon laying down, you’re soaked to the bone. Water finds itself languishing along your body, playing games and laughing while it gathers in your scalp and dances on your fingertips. And the snow, whispering near your ear and beckoning you to salvation, stretches its hands and says ‘Come, dear friend. Come rest here. I am soft. I will give you everything you want.’ So you rest. And you give in. And your body relaxes; your muscles unclench and the tension slides from your shoulders as a sigh bubbles past your lips.

Is it one of relief? One of stress? One of defeat? You’re not sure. You don’t know. Your heart is shuddering- pulsing- with excitement, but it’s a mystery as to why. Death is not supposed to feel good. Death is not supposed to feel powerful. Death is not supposed to feel like you’re finally grabbing life by the balls and saying HAH! THIS IS IT! THIS IS MY MOMENT! THIS IS MY DEATH! MY END! AND YOU CAN NEVER TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.

… So why does it feel that way?

Why does it feel so good?

…

…The night is quiet. It does not have answers for you. The moon looks on with unblinking eyes. You feel yourself grow heavy.

But the deed is not over yet. There is still one thing left to do. Slowly, the snow falls away as your limbs stir. They move on autopilot, not drawn by the thoughts in your head but again pushed by that faint desire.

Heels digging, nails running blue, curling into the snow, pushing it away - only to drag it back five minutes later; hastily working to complete the masterpiece. Desperate to become one with the Earth and fall into oblivion. A deep, bone-cold, quieting oblivion that will leave you shivering before it leaves you dead. Even beneath the blanket of snow that caresses your skin, that lays over your bare legs, that nuzzles the sensitive parts of your body, you begin to shake. And you begin to think.

The thoughts, interestingly enough, don’t freeze like the rest of you does. Instead, they grow. Swirl like a winter’s storm. Obsessive and rough, they pull you under like they always did.

This is great, isn’t it?

No, you think in response to yourself. It hurts, actually.

Oh stop whining. It will be worth it.

Why? How?

For years, it has been worth it.

That doesn’t answer anything. How has it been worth it? Is that why I’ve been hurting so much? For the sake of worthiness? Or something else?

Well you never felt worthy of anything else.

But I feel worthy of this?

Death? Yes. Everyone is worthy of death. Even The Lord Commander.

…What does she have to do with this?

You know what.

Your hands grasp at the snow, mindless and desperate. Pulling and pulling and pulling - clawing at the crisp white so it can cover you until no part of you is left to the air. Shielding you from the hatred of the universe. From the angry eyes of the gods. From the venom of the men. From the disinterest of the women. From the world… and its lack of care for you. And its lack of positivity. And its rude- disgusting- vile- way of treating you. And its overwhelming desire to kill you before you could kill yourself.

Too late now. We’re at least one foot deep in the ground! This is it. Keep digging. Keep digging. Keep digging! No stopping here! No energy left. Nothing left, actually. Not a goddamn thing. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Nothing at all….

Nothing.

At all.

Your eyelids flutter shut.

—

It’s two hours later when Ser Brienne of Tarth starts to wrap up her last duty of the evening.

A quick patrol of the furthest border is something not necessarily reserved for The Lord Commander, but is more of a safety measure she enforces upon herself before retiring for bed. Exhaustion pulls at her before she sets out, yes, but sometimes the nightmares… the white walkers… they leave her paranoid. Expectant of an attack that will never come. Worried about an enemy that no longer exists. Thus, she does it alone - and with only the royals’ knowledge.

It’s always a quiet affair, drawn along quickly by her and her steed Valour. They work with sharp eyes and a torch through the dark, stopping every few paces to listen for threats. There aren’t any, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from clip-clopping along the terrain with tense shoulders and keen senses, looking through the din of the torch’s fire in her hand. She has to be careful not to set her furs alight, but it’s not a hard task. Keeping it level, shunting it toward the ground and out toward the trees, proves to be more difficult. There’s no use in a flame if it can’t illuminate a damn th-

HUFF.

Valour’s hooves press into the snow, leaving them to stop - suddenly, quickly, with a jerk - as hot breath puffs from her nostrils and curls into the air. She’s tense, Brienne realizes. Tense and alert, with white ears twisting to take in sound. They stand in silence. Blue eyes watch as the animal’s head turns - first to the left and then to the right. But aside from the night and the usual rustle of the world, there is nothing. Nothing to hear, nothing to notice, nothing to fight or defend. Nothing to… find?

With one last sweep of the flame, she catches something quick. It’s nearly unnoticeable. Buried beneath the snow, but not one with the ground. It’s foreign. Out of place. A mere lump with no distinct beginning and end. Brienne chances a glance down at the horse, interest and apprehension dancing through her veins once she sees Valour’s eyes have caught the same thing. The same… intruder. The same issue.

When she slides off of the horse, half expecting to see the thing rise from the ground, one hand shoots to her sword. It waits. Curls around the hilt. Stretches beneath her glove. Twitches with adrenaline.

But there’s nothing. Not even a tremble beneath the dirt.

“Stay,” she whispers to Valour, moving the hand from her blade to gesture, palm facing the ground, for the horse to stand in wait.

And as cautiously, as quietly, as she can, Brienne approaches the mystery. She rounds one of the logs, taking notice of the odd placement, and tries not to wince each time her boots make a small crunch in the silence. Footprints will no doubt be left behind, but that doesn’t seem to bother her much as she catches sight of another pair in the distance. They’re small, the knight notices. With no distinct shape if not for a slight curve. The snow is kicked up, forced from its smooth blanket. Hurried in their demeanor. But slow in the amount of distance between each print.

Human, she thinks.

Human indeed, the snow hums; bearing all to see as it glistens beneath the firelight of her torch and brings Brienne to her unsightly treasure.

Frosted skin. A soaked nightgown. Arms and legs bitten by the chill.

Dead, she thinks.

No. Alive. The snow breathes.

—

Someone is taking off your clothes. They’re cold, sticking to you, and little grunts follow as bits of your nightgown rip with the effort. Your body is shocked, shivering so hard that the stranger can’t keep you still and isn’t quite sure what to do. Eventually, a mind is made up and you’re stripped completely - then covered with woolen hose. At least two pairs- both of which are too big for you and hang by the feet and are quite loose around the waist, but the dresser doesn’t seem to care. Trousers are next. How many pairs? You don’t know. Then shirts. And furs. And even a pair of leather gloves that droop at the fingertips and gape at the wrists - but they’re warm and lined with wool and you can’t feel your body but that’s okay. You didn’t want to anyway. More grunting and growling and small whispered curses follow until you’re very much tucked into a bed far bigger than your own. It’s warm. Good. You’re numb and half-dead, but it’s good. Lovely, really. And the outside world doesn’t call your name as you close your eyes.

Waking up was not on your agenda.

It wasn’t even in the cards.

And you don’t really want to - but the universe never cared for your opinion. And it did what it wanted whenever it wanted anyway. So you have no choice.

Thus, your eyes flutter open and your lungs expand with breath and suddenly the world comes flooding back in one confusing twist of fate. Nausea wastes no time in tearing you down; instantly going to churn in the pit of your stomach and curl in the back of your throat and pound against the skin of your temples. A deep groan slips from between your chapped lips. The lining of your skull feels as though it’s been replaced with cotton.

The snow really took its chance, didn’t it? Brutal. Ruthless. At least the Earth doesn’t lie to you. At least the Earth doesn’t save you.

But someone did. Someone has.

They’re actually shuffling over; measured footsteps sounding like big loud stomps in your head. You close your eyes. Everything is too bright. Everything is too much.

“Morning.”

Hm. The voice sounds familiar. A bit wonky, like it’s far away, but familiar. You don’t have the energy to respond so you just let out a grunt and allow it to taper off into a weird rumbly hum.

“Hey,” there’s a sudden clicking noise near your ear, making you jolt and snort when your eyes flick open. There are fingers - long pale fingers snapping beside your head, falling silent when you glare up at the offender, only to find-

“Lah Commandah?!” Your tongue and throat are stiff and achy, keeping your speech limited and your voice strangled. You grimace at the sound and instantly try to growl the discomfort away, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t do that- you’ll just make it worse.” It comes out in a huff and silences you with ease.

She doesn’t look or seem very happy, which in turn makes you frown. It was a shot straight through the heart when the Lord Commander was in a bad mood - which surprisingly wasn’t always. In fact, she’d grown a little softer over the years. The tales talk of her unwilling attitude and stubborn pride, but sometimes she’s full of wit and humor. And on the best of days, she’ll give the most successful troops a small smile and a bow of her head. The only sign of ‘You did well’ that anyone would ever get from her. You’d never gotten a reaction like that before.

I wonder why she didn’t leave us out in the snow.

“Can you sit up?” Glacier blue eyes run over your face.

You’re not sure what you look like but you suppose it doesn’t matter. She’s seen worse.

“Dun-no, Lah Commandah,” you breathe, trying to do exactly that.

After the fifth try of shifting your arms and legs and quickly running out of strength, she seems to get the hint and suddenly large strong hands are sliding under your arms and tugging you up, then pushing you back. It’s done in one swift movement, leaving you dizzy while you rest your head against the wooden headboard of-… of a bed that certainly isn’t yours.

No, you’re definitely not in your own room. The layout is completely different. It’s more… it’s not pretty but it’s better looking than your own. Complete with greys and blacks and silvers and even a hint of red here and there. The fire that’s been crackling steadily in the background is clean and well-kept, where your room doesn’t even have space for one at all. And the curtains are drawn over the windows covering the right wall, leaving the place shrouded in a darkness that would have existed there anyway even if the curtains were open - it’s nighttime, pitch black outside, and suddenly you’re very much aware of the fact that you’ve kept your Lord Commander- The Brienne of Tarth- out of her own bed for more than a day.

By the time you blink yourself out of your dizzy distracted haze and try to find her form again, she’s already busy doing something else. Wringing out cloths over a bowl… and then returning to your side. Your lips, chapped and still tinged blue, open in an effort to say something- anything- but then a soft hot cloth is draped over your forehead, covering your temples, and suddenly you don’t have a damned thought left in your mind. The feeling is so nice. So blissful. You could stay like that forever.

If only the universe showed you mercy.

“It’s been two days since I found you,” the Lord Commander says, placing the bowl down gently on the side table beside the bed. Her eyes glance over your coverings, making sure the furs and gloves and shirts are all still in order. They are. She was very thorough before. She would not have made a mistake. There was no room for error.

But there’s room now for judgment. Judgment and disdain, and you’re terrified of those things and you really don’t want to have to hear her tell you that you’re a stupid wench and that the rest of the troops will forever make fun of you for your idiocy, so you swallow and wince and your hands twist together in your lap. The leather of the gloves is soft, well-worn, and the wool is only the tiniest bit matted - and you can’t help but admire the craftsmanship as you bring them up to your abdomen. They’re obviously not your gloves, just as everything else is not yours either, but you don’t know what to do first: apologize or thank her.

Honestly, you don’t really want to thank her - because she ruined your plan - but at the same time, she saved your life. Whether you wanted to end it or not doesn’t matter… because she would’ve helped you no matter what. And perhaps you’re selfish for being a little bit angry about it, maybe you’re being self-centered and dumb, but you can’t help the feeling of bitterness creep into your heart. You wanted to die… and she took that from you. She wanted you to live.

It was a duty. She doesn’t want anything. Anyone would have done it.

But that’s not true.

The men would have left you. Or hurt you. Or anything else.

But there she is, having gone through the trouble of saving you… and she’s looking down at you with a frown on her handsome face and a furrow to her light brows that seems like it never leaves and you wish so terribly that you could just tell her-

“I-m sorr-ey.” It’s a pathetic rasp of an apology, but it’s out of your mouth before you can catch it.

She blinks. You don’t know why her expression changes, why it softens into something less stern and concerned, but when it does you feel your breath catch in your throat. How anyone could see her as anything less than glorious is something you’ll never understand.

“Why were you out there.”

It’s a demand.

You look away, baring your eyes to the fire.

“…I sl-leep-wa-lk someti-”

“Bullshit.” She spits, one hand reaching down to curl into the bit of blanket that drapes over the side of the bed. Her expression has twisted back into one of anger. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

But what other choice do you have?

How could you be honest?

Why did she, of all people, have to find you? And why like that? Why couldn’t she have walked into the bathhouse during the few times you’ve wept your eyes out in the steamy silence? Why couldn’t she have caught you staring at your horse, dread in your eyes as you fantasized about running away and never looking back? Why couldn’t she have stumbled upon your vulnerability when you were still willing to live?

Why did it take a Fool’s Death to finally grasp her attention?

You want to tell the truth… but you can’t.

You can’t.

So you lie again.

“Was out- on a s-strollll. Got- um- lost.” You try not to cringe at the sound of your own bad grammar. Turns out not having full feeling back in your mouth does indeed prohibit being able to speak properly.

The Lord Commander doesn’t seem to care much. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be focusing on that at all. Instead, her face has grown slack - and she’s looking at you hard. Leaning both of her hands on the side of the bed, broad shoulders going up near her neck, eyes peering through light lashes - like she’s using her stare alone to dig holes into your soul and she doesn’t need to say anything in order for you to understand that she simply doesn’t believe you. And why should she? Your lies are so obviously half-baked; only muddying up the truth; ruining what little of it can be said.

Still. She doesn’t let up. Her gaze starts to burn. Shame tugs at your cotton-lined skull. Guilt claws its way to the surface.

Pink lips, scarred on the top right, part slowly. There’s a soft inhale. You brace yourself, clutching your warm hands into fists.

“You were buried,” the Lord Commander says, barely even blinking as she looks at you. “Covered with snow.” She shakes her head and allows it to fall to her chest, letting out a scoff so quiet you had to strain to hear it. “One of the smartest soldiers I have… and you expect me to believe that you got lost on an evening stroll?” Her head comes up, eyes pinning you in place with such dull ferocity that you can’t look away. “You can’t be serious.”

It’s at that exact moment when you realize that you’re sweating. It is the amount of warm things covering your body? The clothing and the furs and the gloves? Or is it your Lord Commander’s attention? And the fact that it’s never been placed on you like that before? With such… such focus. Such- dare you even think it- care?

You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

‘One of the smartest soldiers I have…’

Well if you were as smart as she thinks you are, you’d be fucking honest, wouldn’t you? Yeah. You’d tell her the truth. You’d admit that you’re a coward.

But you can’t.

You can’t.

She spends all of that time training you, keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re fed and well-rested and looked after in her own roundabout Lord Commander type of way… and you repay her with…with what?

With suicide?

So disgraceful.

So horrible.

So shitty of you.

How terrible can a person be?

How-

“Are you crying?” Your Lord Commander gapes, certainly caught off guard by your sudden emotion.

“N-no?!” You stutter, just as shocked to find yourself reaching up and smearing salty tears along your cheeks.

Oh how embarrassing-!

You stupid girl!

This is why you wanted to do it in the first place!

Because all you do is just fucking embarrass yourself-!

“N-no? No- s-sorr-y La-Lor-d C-Com-”

“Enough with the Lord Commander,” she admonishes, cutting off your bumbling apology with a swift tsk. “In private, it’s Brienne.” Then she hesitates before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to you on the side of her bed. “…I’m not your superior here.”

All you can do is blink.

I’m not your superior here.

So what are you?

That’s all you want to ask.

What are you to me then? What is this now?

But even if you did find the courage, you’re not sure what she’d say.

“Okay,” you sniff, trying your damnedest to stop the tears.

But they’re a direct result of your aching heart. And aching hearts have veins that scream in agony, wishing for nothing but silence. Utterly tranquility. The very absence of tension-filled life. And you can’t get rid of aching hearts and screaming veins without getting rid of yourself…. And your only chance to do that was destroyed. Trampled upon. Interrupted.

I just wanted to die. It rests on the very tip of your tongue but never spills out into the air.

Brienne is so clearly unsure of what to do; she’s sitting rigid in her spot and staring at a mark on the floor. You want to tell her it’s okay. You want to tell her that she doesn’t have to comfort you. You want to tell her to just let you go back into the woods again… let you find yourself back in the snow. And she can go on with her life and forget it ever happened.

But you can’t.

That’s not how it works.

That’ll never be how it works.

Foolish girl.

“…Why were you out there, Anya?” Brienne’s voice is softer than fresh lilies.

You know why.

“…I c-can’t- I-”

Her head turns. Midnight blue eyes trace a line from your neck to your face, taking in the exhausted circles beneath your eyes and the blue-ish tinge to your skin and the utterly defeated look that blooms behind your expression. A war happens in you, taking place in the span of a moment, and you can do nothing but blink through lingering tears and stare at her.

“I can’t.” It’s a whisper. A confession all on its own.

I can’t… because you’ll think I’m a coward. And you’ll hate me. And I already hate myself enough for the both of us.

Brienne’s lips form a hard line, but she doesn’t say anything. She just peers back down at the floor and allows silence to creep into the room and lay between you both like a tired direwolf on its last legs.

The fire burns in the background. The sweat on your body cools. The dizziness in your head subsides.

It’s going to be okay, some part of you speaks. It’s going to be okay.

But you’ve told yourself that before, haven’t you?

And look where that got you.

It has to be at least 30 minutes later when Brienne finally speaks.

“There was a girl I knew once, in my early youth,” you watch her mouth move, enchanted and confused. Where was this going to lead? “She was older than me by two years. A pretty girl- like you.” Your heart trips over itself, but you don’t have time to dwell as she continues. “My father saw that, out of the very rare few, she was good to me - and so we were allowed to play often. For her it was ‘horsies’ and ‘hide and seek’, for me it was ‘swords’ and ‘knights’.” There’s a soft smile on her face, half hidden by the natural shadow of her body facing away from the hearth and half lit by the fire that lived there. Her lips twitch and she begins again. “We did everything together. She was a village girl but that didn’t matter… until it did. Time eventually caught up to us and we were forced to live our lives on our own. No more days of play and no more sharing stories.”

A soul-deep sadness settled into her eyes. She had yet to look at you. Maybe because it would make her too vulnerable… maybe because she didn’t want you to cry again. Either way, you felt yourself frown. Why was she telling you this? What happened?

And as if she could read your thoughts, she continues.

“By the time I was old enough to decide that I wanted to leave, she was already married. Kind husband, even though I only met him once. It was when I stopped in to say goodbye. I wanted to tell her that I’d write, whenever I found the time and place to do so.” Her hands, you notice, are fidgeting - running over and pulling each other quietly within her lap. The natural lines in her face grow darker as she falls back into her memories. “…I didn’t know she was struggling. I was so busy with my own life. My father’s wishes, my training, my fights with the men who challenged me… our communication grew slim. So I didn’t- I-… well.” Brienne swallows. “Her husband answered the door and when I asked after her, he burst into hysterics.”

Your heart stops.

She- no… She didn’t….

Brienne’s head goes up, her eyes turning to look at the ceiling - keeping her tears in her eyes, resistant in letting them fall. Resistant in being weak. You want to hold her and let her cry, but you know it’s not the time. She sniffs and her chest heaves with a sigh and it takes everything in you not to start sobbing. Tears build, they fall slowly, but your throat aches with held back sounds of distress.

“…She ended her life two days before I arrived.” A pause. Then- “A butter knife…,” she scoffs out a laugh and shakes her head, still pointing her face skyward - as if the gods have all the answers to her grief. “… I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know what to do with her husband. So I gave him my condolences and I left. Cried in the woods for as long as I could and kept going. And since then, I haven’t stopped.”

Despite her efforts, tears still creep over her eyelids and race down her cheeks. They mirror the ones on your own face - warm and sad and annoying in the stiff little trails left behind.

And you sit like that for a while, silently crying. Her gaze stuck to the heavens, thinking about the friend she lost; and your gaze stuck on her, thinking about the possible metaphor behind her actions. Behind the full circle-ness of it all. She couldn’t save her friend but she saved you. What did that mean in the grand scheme of your lives? What did any of it mean? How would you continue to train everyday after seeing your Lord Commander cry? After witnessing her care?

She saved us. She saved us. She saved us.

“Thank you,” comes your hoarse whisper- the first in-tact thing you’ve said since waking up.

The sound of your voice tugs Brienne out of her stupor and draws her eyes to your sad face. You don’t have the energy to give her a sympathetic smile, so you settle on a soft look. If it says all you need it to say, she doesn’t show it - but she does look away quickly and reaches up to brush the tears away.

“What for?” It’s rough - hard - a sliver of the tough Commander she’s used to being.

No no no - don’t go back to that. Your heart is safe here. I won’t judge you for your tears.

“…Saving me.” It’s more courtesy than anything as you say that, but it’s fine. You’re not magically going to wish for life again after Brienne shares a sad story with you… though it already has your heart struggling against its achy confines.

Brienne shakes her head, the gold of her hair catching the fire’s light so beautifully that you have to take your eyes off of her in order to catch your breath. If we were her friend in her youth, we would have surely fallen in love with her.

“You shouldn’t have gotten to that point,” her voice is watery- muffled with the lingerings of sadness. “No one should.”

You nod. What else is there to say? What else is there to admit? Clearly she knows. Clearly she understands. And yet… you’re still curious…

“…Why do-n’t you hate me f-or it?” Your words come out in a squeaky whisper, but you don’t care. You just need to know. You just need to make sure that you’re not reading things wrong- that there’s a chance she may actually care- and that perhaps there is a reason to stay…

Brienne doesn’t respond immediately. It’s clear that she takes a few moments to bring herself back to the present. To clear her throat and wipe her eyes again and sniffle a few times and then turn back to you. She’s tried so hard in clearing herself up, but the eyes have never lied. And you see the sadness breeding there. Festering. Sadness is wicked. You don’t know if you’re the cause of it.

“You’re strong, Anya." A pause. "Training wouldn’t be the same without you.”

But you know she means to say Nothing would be the same without you.

---

Something I've been working on for a bit. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but I'm tired and my back hurts so whatever. I hope you're all doing well.

And if you're not and you need some help, here's the National Suicide Hotline: 988 - And the link https://988lifeline.org/

It's gonna be okay, my friend. One second at a time. - Yours, Rip x

---

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth got #brienne x reader #ser brienne #ser brienne of tarth got #ser brienne of tarth #angsty #angsty fic #mental health issues #mental health problems #mental health issues tw #be safe #I love you #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth fanfic

223 notes · View notes

weemssapphic · 1 year ago

Text

Strange

PART ONE: Isn't it strange?

Link to part two!

Brienne of Tarth x f!reader

Summary: Betraying the King is one thing. Betraying the King when the Lord Commander is your girlfriend? That’s another.

Words: ~1.4k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: angst, breakups, hurt/no comfort (pssst... part 2 has a happy ending!)

A/N: The first part of this fic is a songfic to Strange by Celeste - I highly recommend listening to it as you read. Special thanks to @dianneking for being an excellent beta! ✨

I tried for you Tried to see through all the smoke and dirt It wouldn’t move What could I do?

You sit gingerly at the edge of the bed that you share with Brienne - the Brienne of Tarth. You’ve been together for nearly three years now and, still, she makes your heart beat just a little faster and your stomach do a somersault every time she looks at you. Just the thought of her is usually enough to make you swoon - usually.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, filling with tears as you realize it may be the last time you’ll sit here, on this bed, in this little cottage. A small home filled with memories, filled with love. Little trinkets on every shelf, gifts from you to Brienne, and from Brienne to you; paintings on the walls, each carrying a unique story; every piece of furniture carefully crafted to satisfy both of your tastes. Memories of sitting at the dining table sharing meals, of staying up late curled up in front of the fire to talk, of making love in the pale glow of dawn, sleepy and lazy - carefree and in love. Your eyes fall to the bags next to you on the bed - almost packed.

Say, isn’t it strange? Isn’t it strange? I am still me You are still you In the same place

The door to the cottage slams open, deafening in the otherwise quiet space. Brienne storms in, her face red and her jaw clenched. Instinctively, you rise to your feet as she comes to a stop in front of you.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again

“Why would you do that?” she spits out - you’ve never seen her fury directed at you before, and it breaks your heart just as much as it ignites a fury of your own inside of you.

“He let hundreds of women and children die or worse, and I’m supposed to stand around and pretend the great King doesn’t deserve to be gutted on his throne for what he’s done? How can you defend him?”

“It’s my duty.” Brienne’s face is hard and her tone unwavering, and she stands straight and tall, and, Gods, does that piss you off.

“Fuck duty! Since when is duty more important than doing the right thing?” Your chest is rising and falling erratically now, your cheeks flushed with anger. You can’t believe she would take the King’s side over your own - but then, she’s a knight. You shouldn’t have expected her to be different.

Brienne looks like she’s about to raise her voice again, but then her eyes fall to the bags at your feet and the color drains from her face. “What are you doing?”

“It wouldn’t look too good for you to be with a traitor,” you say, keeping your voice level - as level as you can, at least, as you drink in Brienne’s expression, watching her heart break in real time.

“It… what?” Brienne’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Her lower lip begins to quiver and she swallows visibly as her eyes dart between you and the packed bags.

What did we lose? What did we lose?

“I’m a traitor now, apparently. I cannot stay here - and the righteous and just Lord Commander should not be seen with a traitor - it’s unbecoming of a knight.” You try for a smile but it looks more like a pained grimace - you feel tears prick at your eyes once again as Brienne’s own eyes turn watery, pale eyelashes fluttering rapidly against her cheekbones.

If I could, I’d pull your strings for one more dance But I can’t

“This life is everything you’ve ever worked for. I can’t be the one to take that away from you. But… I can’t stay. It’s better for both of us like this - you get to keep your position and your honor. And I…” You swallow thickly - your own words sound foreign to you, so far away. “I won’t have to watch the woman I love sell her soul to a heartless monster.”

Brienne’s lips part but she says nothing - the hurt on her face says more than words ever could, but so does her silence. That breaks your own heart most of all.

“Brienne, I-” The words catch in your throat - they can’t get past the lump that has settled there, dying before they even reach your lips.

Isn’t it strange? You look at me I look at you With nothing to say

You have never seen Brienne look at you the way she’s looking at you now - a strange mixture of grief, remorse, and incredulity that looks foreign to you amongst her features. Her eyes, which usually hold all the stars in the galaxy, twinkling brightly, are reserved and guarded. Her lips are pressed into a hard line - curling down slightly at the edges, rather than up. A stray golden curl falls across her furrowed brow - you feel yourself reaching out involuntarily to brush it aside, a force of habit, before thinking better of it and dropping your arm to your side.

“I should go,” you croak out. You reach into your bedside table and pull out an ornate necklace, made of solid gold and sapphires the colors of the waters of Tarth. It’s all Brienne has from her mother, and Brienne had given it to you on your first anniversary - it would suit you better than it had ever suited her, she’d reasoned, and you’d always carry a part of her and of Tarth with you when you wore it. “Here. It was your mother’s, you should have it back.”

Brienne’s eyes widen, the crease between her brows deepens. Her teeth sink into her lower lip to prevent it from quivering again and she turns her head, a shaky breath leaving her throat. “No. I gave it to you - keep it. Please.”

The ‘please’ tapers off into a tremble and you feel the entirety of Westeros being pulled out from underneath your feet. You want to do what she says - but you can’t. She deserves to have a piece of her family with her - and you know you could never wear it again without feeling the weight of your grief hanging around your neck.

“I can’t.” You place it delicately on the bed - it catches the rays of the setting sun, and the sapphires remind you of Brienne’s eyes, and you glance up at the ceiling, willing your oncoming tears not to fall. You reach down to grab your bags, then, with a deep breath and one last look around the cottage (memorizing, desperately memorizing), you head past Brienne out the door.

Gravel crunches underneath your boots as you round the cottage, taking quick strides towards your horse. A second set of footsteps is not far behind and, as you fasten the bags to your horse’s saddle, slender fingers grip your wrist.

“Don’t leave. Please. Don’t. Leave.” Brienne’s voice breaks this time, and you don’t have to turn around to know that she’s crying. You close your eyes for a moment to steel yourself, then turn to face her. Her expression hurts like nothing you’ve ever experienced, her face scrunched up as tears leave pale tracks down her cheeks.

“I don’t have a choice,” you whisper, your own voice hoarse and trembling. “They’ll be searching for me soon enough. And you have to tell them that I was gone before you came home. If you want to keep your position, you need to let me go.”

Brienne’s eyes dart between your own and, for a moment, you hope she won’t let you leave. You hope she’ll say that she’ll take your side, that she’ll fight for you - her position be damned. You hope she’ll hop on the horse with you and ride away. You hope she’ll choose you.

But she doesn’t. Her grip on your wrist loosens and her hand falls back down to her side, and though she cries and cries and cries, she stays rooted to the spot.

There you have your answer, you suppose. You swallow against the lump in your throat and turn away, ignoring the broken wail that leaves Brienne’s throat as you mount your horse.

“I love you, Brienne,” you whisper softly - you don’t think she’s heard it over her own sobs, and maybe that’s for the best. You start to ride off, looking back only once, just before you reach a bend in the road that will take you out of King’s Landing. Brienne watches you - but she doesn’t move to follow.

Isn’t it strange? How people can change From strangers to friends Friends into lovers And strangers again

Find part two here!

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @syrenacrainn @mysaviorfalsegod @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @ilovetlcc @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving @yourmomwhitediamond

Join my taglist here!

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth

173 notes · View notes

pinkthrone445 · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist

(open 'keep reading' for the links )

Brienne of Tarth/Larissa Weems

Melissa Schemmenti

Tess Servopoulos

Request are open through Asks or Dm.

❤️I know we don't know each other well, but feel free to talk to me if you're going through a tough time, or if you just want to talk to distract yourself ❤️

Thanks for the reblogs and coments!

Brienne of tarth/Larissa Weems

Shadows of the night (Brienne)

You can't change who you are (Brienne)

Part 1 Part 2

The promise we couldn't keep (Brienne)

Fire will rain tonight

I need a favor (Brienne)

Part 1 Part 2

Taxi driver (Larissa) 🔞

Melissa Schemmenti

Too old for this s**t

A Blessing from God

A night to remember?

Part 1 Part 2

I'd do it all over again if you're with me

Prequel

The most wonderful time of the year?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The Schemmenti Sisters 🔞

Let me remind you 🔞

The perfect gift 🔞

I'm here to help

Since words are not enough to explain how much I love you, let me show you

Part 1 🔞 Part 2 Part 3

Wedding bells

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I owe it all to you 🔞

New Year's resolution

Do you know your ABC's?

Your new neighbor

Part 1 Part 2

I'll protect you while you grief

You are my miracle

Caught in the moment

Part 1 🔞 Part 2 🔞

We need each other in all lives

Part 1 Part 2

Abbott's house

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4🔞 Part 5

Let it burn to the ground

Part 1 Part 2 🔞 Part 3 Part 4 🔞 Part 5 Part 6

Will I ever know what it feels to hold you close?

Welcome home

Part 1 Part 2

Baila conmigo (Dance with me)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 🔞

Tess Servopoulos

I can't take it anymore

150 notes · View notes

bri-sonat · 2 years ago

Text

Captain and the Mate - Part One

Pairing: Pirate!Captain!Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol & blood, brief death mention, sapphic yearning, the usual warnings when writing in the GoT universe.

Synopsis: When the infamous Captain Bri makes port to recruit members to her crew, you don't waste the opportunity. To your relief and pleasure, she accepts you, and the time spent aboard her ship and among her crew leads to many things. One of them being a relationship developing between you and the Captain herself.

A/N: Happy Pride Month!! This has been sitting uncompleted in my word since like, February? March? I am not sure. Either way, a very long time. The fact that I finished this during Pride Month was only coincidental, though I am glad it ended like this because Pirate Captain Brienne is the hottest thing I have ever seen in a long time and I hope you all think the same! The sea shanty referenced is this one, but I have modified it a little bit, of course. Either way, it's good. Listen to it if you wish. :) English is not my first language and so on. Enjoy!

Thank you to bae, wifey, co-brainrotter, sharer of brain cells, and co-writer, @daydream-cement for unknowingly giving me this idea by sending a picture to the GC all those months ago.

The summer evening sun set over Oldtown as you followed the Honeywine down to the nearby inn and tavern. The Hightower's fading shadow informs you of the late hours - confirming that you were right on time for your destination and its event.

Word had spread fast when she had arrived. Whispers enthusiastically gossiped about why she was here, and what her business was. Eventually, the information reached your spiked ears: she was recruiting members for her crew.

This was something you had dreamt of ever since you heard about her: sailing with her. Someone who struck fear in people with the same name she was praised with, her actions earning her a nickname traders rued to hear. Her sails and flag striking terror and fright across all nine seas whenever spotted, and rightfully so.

She had quite a reputation. The pirate Captain who only raided, robbed, pillaged, boarded, and stole from the large, and wealthy trading companies. No one knew why she does what she does, why she only attacks the ships she does, only she knew. It was one of the largest mysteries surrounding her, she was an enigma, and she intrigued, and fascinated you at the same time.

The glowing braze of the Hightower danced in the Honeywine along with the nearby torches of the various stone houses that stood along the river. Every step you took brought you closer to the tavern, and effectively closer to her, and it was only when the tall and wooden Quill and Tankard Inn came into vision that you realized just how stupid this was.

What did you think was going to happen? That you’d just be able to waltz straight in, and that she’d accept you to her crew? No, that was wishful thinking. She would have many men on their knees in front of her, begging to sail with her, if they knew what was good for them. To even have an audience with someone with her renown was a privilege, and you were just satisfied with being in her presence.

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be looking for more than just work power. You had heard whispers that she had lost her Quartermaster and that she was in need of a new one, but this was just hearsay, and gossip, and you decided not to trust any of the two.

Opening the door to the wooden tavern, you quickly laid notice of the fact that it was quieter than you were used to, surely had to do with the looming presence in the room.

In the back of it - in front of the hearth and under the slanted roof - an intimidating, short-haired blonde woman sat by a table. A goblet in one hand, the other fiddling with a dagger. Her booted feet were slung up on the wooden surface as she gently rocked on her chair.

She looked bored, apathetic. The dimly light tavern only cast a shadow over her face, meaning you couldn’t quite see what she looked like from where you stood.

The tavern was empty, well, emptier than you had expected and you wondered if she had turned any men away because they failed to live up to her standards, or if you were the first one to arrive. Judging from the fuming men who sat in a corner you could see as you approached the bar, you guessed the former.

“Good evening. Do you want your usual?” The barkeep approached you as you stopped at the bar, her hands wiping themselves on the apron around her waist before they came up to help her lean against the bar top. You and she had formed an interesting friendship after your regular visits, and you had spent many evenings ranting to her about your long-time wish to sail with Captain Bri.

Unbeknownst to you, the uninterested blonde’s eyes had found you the second your back was turned. She raised her goblet to her lips, taking a sip of the strong cider the tavern was known for. The movement in her other hand never stilled, the dagger constantly moving in her scarred hand.

The reason for her eyes finding you was unknown to her, maybe it was because you had been the only non-man to come into the tavern that evening, the bartender excluded. Or maybe it was because she found you, a complete stranger to her, intriguing and magnetic, even if it was subconsciously.

Either way, her gaze was fixed on your back for a few seconds as you interacted with the barkeep, only redirecting her attention somewhere else once one of the men from her crew exclaimed how ‘slim the pickings’ were from beside her.

“No. I am here to meet the captain. However, now that I am here, it all seems like a most terrible idea.” You gave your answer to the barkeep, voicing your concerns. You were sure the nervosity was easy to hear in your voice when you spoke. The excitement of meeting Captain Bri had completely overshadowed the reality of the situation, but you couldn’t just turn around and leave. You had to at least try.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the barkeep chuckled slightly. “She has yet to accept a single bloke. I’d say your chances are high.”

“Well... I am here. I might as well go try.” You released a shaky sigh. Realizing you had to at least act somewhat confidently so that Bri would consider recruiting you, you pushed down your anxiousness to the best of your abilities. “She’s the woman at the table. Right?”

“Mhmm,” the bartender hummed in confirmation. “Go wow her.” She gave you a thumbs up and a smile before she departed to help a customer who was waiting further down the bar. You turned around and approached the intimidating presence by the table with determined steps.

When you stopped in front of the table, you could, by the help of the glow of the fire behind her, finally see her face. Her face. Many things were told about Bri the Righteous Beast, but none of the stories mentioned her immense beauty.

She was incredibly handsome, her disheveled blonde hair framing her intense blue eyes as they raked you up and down. And her lips. Good Gods, her lips. The small, accented scar on her upper lip scrunched as she smirked, and you wondered how she had been bestowed such a stunning ‘flaw.’

She was a vision, there was no other way to put it and you could spend so many hours just staring at her. There would not be enough time to take in her entirety, but your life would have to suffice.

Eventually, your gaze wandered to her hands. Her hands. They looked so strong, and her fingers were so long. Small, long, and deep, scars were visible on most of her fingers, her palms, and the backs of her hands, surely from learning to master dagger fidgeting and sword fighting.

The hand that had previously been playing with a dagger had stopped, and the noise of sharp metal being stabbed into wood ripped you out of your observation.

“Well. Look here. The Lady here wants to join our crew.” If Bri’s face was attractive, her voice only matched it. It was velvety smooth, so deep and so extremely intruding. Her accent only made it even more delicious, and you were sure you would never get used to it. Even if the captain’s voice and words sounded cocky, there was a mighty insecurity swimming in her eyes and her soul that did not match her outwardly persona. “I’m no knight, but I’m sure pretty ladies such as yourself should be in their castle... not down here with us peasants.”

The smirk plastered on her face was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that it was thought-provoking and so, so attractive. Her words didn’t have the effect on you that she might’ve liked them to have, not even the comment on your appearance, as the constant eye contact only reminded you of the self-consciousness inside of her. At the same time as you wanted to tuck your tail and run, you wanted to stand your ground. Show your grit. So, you did. “I’m no Lady. But I’m sure you knew that. You were right about one thing, however. I want to join your crew, Captain. I want to sail under your command.”

The blonde raised a brow and her smirk fell. She threw her feet off the table to place them on the ground so she could lean forward in her chair. She placed her goblet on the table next to the wood-impaling dagger, her eyes scanning your face imperceptibly. “...Very well. Have you sailed before?”

“Yes, Captain.” The intense eye contact was burning you up from the inside and you wanted nothing more than to break it - if only just to breathe, but you knew you couldn’t do that if you wanted Bri to believe your words. Because of this, you remained strong. “I was Quartermaster on my last ship before the captain got drunk and sunk it during a supposed boast. I wasn’t present.”

The captain cocked her head to the side as she watched you, trying to assess whether you were telling the truth. In the years of being a pirate captain, Bri had learnt quite fast how to tell if a person was lying. From what she could tell, you weren’t.

She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. “Well, as luck would have it, I need a new Quartermaster. My last one had to be... let go. But I say that we should get you started as a crew member first. Just to see how you work. And to build trust. And gain respect from the rest of the crew. We just met, after all.” Suddenly, the blonde woman stood up from her chair to reach out a hand to shake, and oh, was she tall. At least six feet, you guessed. There was seemingly nothing about this woman that was unattractive.

Her intimidating height and appearance made it hard to resist staring at her open-mouthed but that would be considered rude, and frankly unprofessional, so you abstained. Even if it was tempting. Instead, you grabbed hold of her incredibly soft, outreached hand and shook it, your eyes never leaving hers, even when you had to change from gazing down at her to up at her.

The smile she offered was much softer than her previous demeanor had been, and it caught you off-guard. It matched her more than her earlier expression. Matched the emotions that you could see deep in her eyes and soul.

You could only hope to get to know her on a level that would allow you the pleasure of seeing and meeting the real her. Until then, you’d be the best crewmate she had ever seen.

“Welcome to the crew.” And just like it never left, the captain’s overconfident behavior had made its return. She let go of your hand and motioned with her head towards the men sitting in a booth diagonally behind her before sitting down in her chair. “Go socialize with the rest of the crew. Get to know them well. You will be spending a lot of time together. Don’t be scared... they don’t bite. But I might.” That cursed smirk again. Why did it have to look so good on her luscious lips? It was plain torture, that much was clear.

The only thing you could do was nod and go sit down with the crew, the rejected men in the other booth groaning in anger as you did. When it reached your ears, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit smug that you had been chosen and they hadn’t. Maybe this wasn’t the most terrible idea you had built it up to be when you entered the tavern. This had been the best idea it had originally posed itself to be in your mind.

The men conversed around you, and even if you were sitting amongst them, you wouldn’t say that you were paying attention to anything they were saying. You were more focused on the woman who sat mere meters away from you with her back toward you. With the new point of view, you could observe her without her knowing it.

Her booted feet had found their way up onto the table again and the dagger was back in her hands. Her trousers were dark, in this light you couldn’t be sure but either a dark grey or dark blue. The shirt she wore was loose on her upper body, it was off-white due to years of wear and slightly unbuttoned at the top which you had registered when you gazed down at her.

There was a piece of cloth tied around her waist to ensure that her shirt didn’t blow up in the intense ocean winds. It was blue, close to the color of sapphire, but considering the sun was ruthless and had bleached it significantly, it was hard to tell.

The sword that hung by her hip was broad but seemed light enough to offer one-handed handling. A broadsword if you had to take a guess.

The rest of the evening was not as eventful as you had hoped. Bri turned away every single person that approached her except for one man.

When the tavern began closing for the night, the captain approached the table you and the rest of the crew were sitting at.

As the hours had gone on, you had grown more comfortable than you thought you would and had even had a cider or two.

The rugged exteriors of the men did not match their insides and you found them to be quite charming and funny, which was rare for most men in Westeros, but especially for pirates. You could see why Bri had recruited them to her crew.

Your chatter was cut short when Bri stopped by the table, her eyes roving over all the people who were sitting by it. When her eyes got to you, they lingered for a few seconds longer before they resumed their journey. You noticed this and you wondered if it was intentional or not. When she finished her scan, she spoke with that deep voice that made a shiver run down your spine. “The haul was scarcer than I had expected...” After she had uttered her first few words, she made direct eye contact with you and smirked, again. “But it will have to do. I’m sure our two new recruits will pull their weight.” It seemed like forever before she broke the contact, moving her gaze to the only other recruit.

The sound of a voice coming from behind Bri made her turn around and the rest of you direct your attention to the person behind the captain. “If you don’t have a room rented, it’s time to leave. We close in five minutes.” The voice came from the barkeep who was holding back the largest smile when she saw you sitting amongst the men. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she addressed Bri and the rest of her crew.

The captain nodded toward the bartender before turning to face you and the men once again. “It seems like we have reached the end of the line, gentlemen... and gentlewomen. Let us trot back to the ship and our respective beds, shall we?” Bri turned back to the bartender once again to offer words of gratitude. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The barkeep in turn responded with a curt nod and a ‘anytime.’ She then stood to the side so Bri and her crew could leave, only giving you the largest grin when you passed her by to leave the tavern. She whispered some encouraging words, well, they were short considering you had to keep moving to not fall behind.

Bri led you and the crew out into the chill night air, and it was needed because the second you had stood up you had felt the tipsiness from the strong cider. The cool air would help in sobering you up, and if it didn’t, you were sure the salty ocean air would when you departed out to sea the next day.

The walk along the docked boats in the Honeywine was longer than you had expected it to be, but when you finally reached the ship at the far end, you were more than ready to call it a day.

The captain stopped right before the docked ship and let the rest of the crew board but stopped you and the other recruit. “This is The Bloody Sapphire. She will be your home for the rest of your life until you die or desert. You better not because if you do desert, I will hunt you down and kill you. If you treat her well and with respect, she will return the favor. Your beds are below deck, make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow, we make way to Lannisport to resupply. They are not very friendly so put your best innocent face on for our visit. If you need me, my cabin is underneath the quarterdeck, but do not wake me unless there is a fire, we are sinking, someone is attacking us, or if someone is dying. Savvy?”

You and the man looked at each other before you looked at Bri again and nodded. Both of you responded in unison, making the captain laugh slightly. “Savvy.”

“Good. Then you may board.” The captain stepped aside to allow you both to step aboard, but before you could step a single foot on the wooden deck, Bri stopped you with a hand hovering in front of your sternum whilst she allowed the other recruit to step aboard and you watched him disappear below deck.

You looked at her with a puzzled expression as your mind ran through the possible reasons for her stopping you. What could she possibly say that the other guy couldn’t hear? Then again, she had her reasons, and you shouldn’t question her. So, instead of voicing your confusion, you remained silent as you waited for her to speak.

“I never caught your name. I suppose my mind was distracted and I completely forgot to ask.” Bri dropped the hand that had been hovering in front of your sternum and it came to rest on the pommel of her sword. Her voice was much softer than it had previously been when she had addressed you and your fellow recruit, and you wondered why that was.

What you didn’t know was that against her better judgement, the captain’s brain had somehow convinced itself that you were a safe space. Even if she had only met you a handful of hours ago. She was drawn towards you.

When you told her your name, she repeated it and the way it sounded rolling of her tongue with her accent was orgasmic. Never had it sounded so beautiful as it did when spoken by her. In return, she introduced herself to you, not that she needed to, you already knew her name. But you guessed that it was an act of honor. “Bri of Tarth.”

“The Sapphire Isle? Is that where the name for your ship comes from... and your waist fabric?” Learning where she came from spiked your curiosity, and you asked more questions than you probably should have, considering she enjoyed her privacy. What you weren’t expecting, and that was a pleasant surprise, was that she answered.

“Indeed. The ship's name is... a long story.” Bri looked down at the fabric around her waist and smiled before she looked back up at you again. “Well spotted. It is indeed sapphire blue... or it used to be, at least. It is from Tarth, I wanted to have something on me that would remind me of my old home. This piece of fabric has been with me since the beginning of my seafarer career. I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped yet.”

You observed the fabric tied around her waist, excluding dirt stains from years of usage, the occasional blood spatter from seeing many battles, and the bleach from the sun, it looked strong. “I’d say it won’t rip for a while... looks like good material was used. Whatever it was intended for must’ve been important, the fabric looks expensive.” You looked up at Bri again and met her eyes. A flash of what looked like sorrow was briefly displayed in her eyes and you realized that your nice, late-night, alone chat was over.

Her demeanor changed in the blink of an eye - as if she had mastered switching her expression and behavior. Her tone switched from gentle and tender to overweening, but her eyes never left the previous persona. “Sorry for holding you up. Off you go.”

You wanted nothing more than to stay, to protest, to say that you wanted nothing more than to stay here all night and converse with her, but your feet worked against the will of your brain and before you knew it you had stepped aboard the ship and was climbing down the stairs that led below deck, leaving Bri standing behind.

She boarded the ship after a few seconds and retired back to her quarters where she proceeded to think of you until she fell asleep. You fell asleep thinking about her, her intense blue eyes and her blonde hair stayed on your mind until you fell into slumber next to the rest of the crew.

------

The weeks that passed after you were integrated into Captain Bri’s crew went by lightning fast. You and the recruit, who you had learnt was named Will, had worked hard and had earned both the respect of the rest of the crew and your captain.

After your conversation on the dock, you had managed to get a private chat with the tall blonde five times. The interactions were cut short by various interruptions or her withdrawing from the discussion.

It was like there was some sort of conflict inside of her and she couldn’t decide which side to listen to. It was heartbreaking to watch.

After a month of sailing with Bri and her crew, you began climbing the ranks. It started with a simple suggestion that ended up working well in everyone’s favor and before you knew it, you had been voted for and promoted to first mate. The new title didn’t do much in terms of giving you more one on one time with the captain, but it was a step towards it.

After three months of being aboard The Bloody Sapphire, a chaotic boarding made it clear that the ship clearly needed a Quartermaster and the crew voted for you, considering your experience. Bri could not complain because it meant she would be able to see you more often. You were always standing by her side when she was standing by the wheel, after all.

This new rank did earn you the privilege of having many alone talks with Bri as she steered the ship. Until she, of course, left for her chambers and left you to take over for her. The shortness of the interactions meant you didn’t learn that much about her that you didn’t already know, and it was starting to gnaw.

That was until you were standing by her side by the wheel on a very sunny fall afternoon and the men started singing. The song was about some scorned woman killing a man who betrayed her and the woman by his side.

It took you until the middle of the shanty to realize that it matched some of the things you knew about Bri. You turned your head to look at her where she stood, her gaze fixed dead ahead. “Is this shanty about you?”

The captain sighed and the noise of it disappeared into the chilly early Autumn air. She was silent for a few moments until she nodded. “It is. The story went down quite differently, however.” Bri’s gaze never wavered, her eyes never leaving the blue water. “I didn’t sneak aboard a ship for revenge. I snuck aboard a ship because I wanted to get away. The fact that the person who betrayed me was on the ship as well was only a bonus. She just disappeared, and I found out why when I saw her walk with her new lover. I didn’t kill them. Just to make that clear.”

You listened to Bri’s story but completely stopped breathing once she so casually mentioned that the woman was her former somewhat lover. Even if it caught you completely off-guard, you were able to listen to the rest of her retelling.

This was the most you had learnt about her in one single conversation, and it made you mightily happy. You so desperately wanted to ask more questions, about why she wanted to get away, who did kill the two lovebirds, but you didn’t want her to escape back to her quarters again.

Even if you wanted to get to know her even more when the opportunity had presented itself and she seemed to be open to sharing, you would rather enjoy her presence in silence over not being in her proximity at all. Meaning you only said something to let her know that you had listened and acknowledged her sharing but kept your mouth shut to not let anything slip out. “I see.”

You stood in silence for a while until Bri opened her mouth to say something but was inevitably disrupted by Will who had shown up at the captain’s side in the blink of an eye to explain that they needed to dock somewhere to resupply.

After the blonde woman had dismissed him, she looked over to you and within seconds you had moved to the sea map to lay a new course towards a pirate-friendly port.

When you returned to the helm, Bri left for her quarters again. Your absence had surely led to her conflicting with herself again and had probably concluded that she had shared too much with you. You had no idea what she did in her quarters all those hours, but you didn’t want to ask because you wanted to offer her privacy. At least there was some progress.

------

Six months after learning that Bri had a shanty written about her, you had been able to snag her for many more chats and each one lasted longer than the one before.

You learnt more and more about her in every day that passed and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were so in love with her. You had known it about one month after sailing with her, but now, you were sure. Her looks combined with her gentle and loving personality made it so easy to fall for her. You just had to make sure that you did not hurt yourself on the way down, but it was a bit too late for that.

You were more than certain that she didn’t feel the same way, even if she behaved so differently around you than she did around the rest of the crew. However, what you didn’t know, was that Bri was very much attracted to and interested in you and all that you were. Having you next to her every day was one of her greatest privileges and she reveled in your proximity.

Seeing your face every single morning made her happier than any loot ever could, and she quickly found herself stumbling before she eventually fell for you. Yet, she couldn’t see how anyone could ever find her attractive, less love her. So, she didn’t allow herself to hope that you would feel the same about her and subjected herself to a life of yearning.

It would have remained hidden until the day you both died - if it weren’t for a cold winter evening.

The Bloody Sapphire had dropped anchor not that far away from Tarth, and the Sapphire Isle was visible from the deck. The ship was cleverly hidden with its sails and flag lowered to avoid a surprise attack should it be stumbled upon.

You were just about to retire to bed when you spotted Bri standing by the railing, looking out over the ocean in the direction of Tarth.

Slowly, you approached her and stopped next to her, looking out over the Sapphire Isle yourself. After so many of your conversations and her sharing so much, you felt confident enough to pose a query after you had stood in stillness for a few minutes. “Do you miss it? Tarth, I mean.”

Bri leaned against the railing of the ship as she stared at the silhouette of Tarth. Her silences before her answers had become commonplace and you had gotten used to them at this point.

As you patiently awaited her response, you shifted your gaze from the darkened Sapphire Isle to the woman standing next to you. You really couldn’t help yourself when she looked so pretty in the glow of the torch.

The fire cast a shadow over her face - her side profile looked even more angelic in this light, and you could only wish that you would be able to see her this close and like this so many more times in your life.

When she finally replied, she ripped you out of your appreciation for her features and you began focusing your attention on her voice as well. “Sometimes. Though it’s very rare. The people I have met on my journey and my crew have treated me so much better than anyone on that island ever did. They have never insulted me. Not once. Not even when they learnt that I was a woman. I never wish to go back there. This is my new family.”

She was so... vulnerable and it made you shocked. Sure, she had shared small things about herself in your talks but never something this deep. You couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste again. “When they learnt you were a woman? May I inquire in what it is that you mean, Captain?”

Bri gazed at the Isle where she had grown up and eventually left as she told her story. It almost felt ironic in a way. Like it was coming full circle. Speaking about something she had never uttered out loud as she was close to and looking at Tarth. The island where the anecdote began.

“When I first snuck aboard a ship that docked by Tarth, I told everyone that my name was Bri, and I even darkened my voice so they would believe that I was a man. When they eventually learnt I was a woman, they welcomed me with open arms instead of shunning me and calling me names. It was such a new approach and reaction. I’ve never been so happy.” Towards the end of her story, the blonde was smiling fondly as she thought back to how welcomed she had felt by a band of outlaws when she couldn’t even get the smallest amount of kindness on Tarth.

Your gaze never left the captain’s pretty face. You could never get used to how beautiful she looked, and you simply could not believe how other people could not find her as attractive as you did. She was the most gorgeous person you had ever laid your eyes on in your entire life.

Despite your mind coming up with all sorts of scenarios that would surely be deemed inappropriate should someone hear them, you still managed to ask a follow-up question to Bri’s tale without slipping anything that would let the blonde woman know that something completely different was going on in your head. “So... Bri is not your real name?”

The captain shook her head before she responded. “No. No one knows my real name. The old band I joined and my current crew stated that to them, my old name does not matter. To them, my name is Bri. Though, I have nothing against my real name. I just prefer to have the rest of the world know me as it, so they get confused when they see that I am a woman.” Bri let out a small chuckle at the end of her explanation. Almost like she was thinking back to the different reactions she had gotten from various captain’s ships that she had boarded. “Except you seem to have known that I was not a man from the beginning based on your reaction when you first saw me...”

“You are a legend... I had to know more about you. There was not a lot to learn about you from the people I managed to find. I only found out about your womanhood through a friend who works somewhere where tight lips go to blab. She also sees many things. Though, finding out that you were a woman only made me want to sail with you even more... I... May I pry?” Even if Bri seemed to be more comfortable with sharing and answering your queries, you knew that she had a habit of removing herself from the discussion when it was too much, and you did not wish to take her openness for granted. She had done nothing but treat you with respect, so you did the obvious thing and returned the favor. You had no interest in upsetting her when she was so exposed.

“I see... Yes.” Her answer to your question was fast and equally as quick as she had responded, she turned her head to look at you who was intently admiring her. With her now facing you, you could see her breathtaking blue eyes that sparkled so bewitchingly in the light from the torch just meters away from you both.

“What is your real name?” The inquiry was a whisper as your eyes scanned her face for any sign of the overweening personality you had gotten used to usually signaling the end of your conversations. It never came. The gentle and careful personality remained. The personality you assumed was the real her.

Bri opened her mouth to answer your query but stopped when a noise sounded from below deck signaling that one of the crewmates was still awake. The captain turned her head to look at the hatch leading down and waited for someone to pop their head up, but that never happened.

Even if it was still quiet below deck, she couldn’t risk someone eavesdropping on the conversation considering her behavior was completely opposite from how she usually acted. Before she spoke, she turned her head back to look at you. “We shouldn’t do this here. Join me in my quarters?”

The question caught you by surprise. Never had you been inside of her quarters before and it was something you could never have dreamt of and now she was extending an invitation. At first, you were unsure if you had heard her correctly but as she looked at you expectantly, you knew you had heard her right.

You almost screamed your answer, ‘Gods, yes please!’ but that might be seen as a little bit too enthusiastic and would surely weird Bri out. What came out was more composed and calmer - not a single trace of the previous excitement. You were surprised that your voice came out without a single shake, tremor, or stutter considering the storm that was going on inside of your head. “Sure, Captain. If you’d have me.”

Your answer made Bri smile the smallest bit. She found it endearing. She found you endearing. She spun on her heels and started for the door that led to her cabin, and you followed close behind.

------

Part two can be found here!

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader

283 notes · View notes

dianneking · 1 year ago

Note

my favourite thing to do is post a fic and tag it as angst just to watch you appear from the shadows of a dimly lit alleyway, laughing

And just like that, the Angst Fairy is summoned.

But just a correction: I appear cackling not simply laughing, childe. Words are important 😈

[Note: gif is not mine, if you are the original creator of that gif please tell me so I can tag you properly ☺️]

#angst fairy #anon answered #rainbow brienne #dancing brienne gif

0 notes

suckerforcate · 2 years ago

Note

love ur writing! was wondering if you could do one where brienne gets jealous? idk feel free to do whatever you want with it !

Mine

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Word Count: 702

Warning: NSFW, 18+, jealousy, eating out, overstimulation

A/n: I made Brienne a little more dominant here, a little different from my usual stories of her. Hope you like it!<3

The evening had been wonderful, you had fun and loved spending time with Brienne. It was hard getting her to open up, but it felt like you were making progress.

It had been warm inside the tavern, so you were desperate for some fresh air and Brienne accompanied you. Together you walked along the river, where it was quiet and no one would interrupt you.

You had your arms intertwined with one another, and you side was pressed to hers. She was unusually quiet, but you ignored that.

"I had such a fun evening!" You beamed at Brienne, but she looked straight ahead.

"I could see that." Her voice was colder, more distant.

"I would have really loved to dance with you, but I respect your wish not to." Brienne shook you off her arm, physically distancing herself from you.

"Well, it seemed the young man you danced with was a perfect fit." Her voice sounded hurt, was she jealous? You stopped walking and looked at her, surprised of her behaviour.

"Brienne, are you jealous?" She stopped and slowly turned to look at you. She opened her mouth, just to close it again.

"It's alright, love. It's cute. But I want you to know that there is no reason to be jealous. The man I danced with was funny, but that's all. It was one dance, I'll probably never think about him again. I don't even know his name. I just have eyes for you." She slightly smiled at that.

"I know, still I don't like people touching what's mine." She got bolder and bolder with every day the two of you were together. At the beginning she was so very shy, always blushing at anything you did or said. With time, she learned to be a little more open, more dominant and sometimes even take the lead. You felt it came with trust, the more she trusted you, the more she opened up.

Playfully anger and lust flickered through her eyes. Roughly she picked you up and carried you back home. Her eyes never leaving your body, wandering over it, to your lips your eyes and back to your breasts. The moment the door of your room closed behind her, she hungrily kissed you dropping you onto the bed.

Her hands, undressed you with ease. She licked her lips, ready to make you moan out her name. Slowly she started kissing down your chest.

"This," she stopped to kiss you left nipple, "and this," she kissed your right nipple, "is all mine. You understand that?" She looked up at you, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, Brienne. I'm yours." She grinned at that, moving down to your stomach and then even further down. Spreading your lips a bit she placed herself between them. With her fingers she ran through your folds, collecting all of your juices. Gently she started rubbing your clit making you moan out at first contact. She placed her other hand on top your lower stomach, as to hold you in place. Desperate for release, which you knew would come fast, you started moving your hips against her fingers.

"Brienne, my love. Please, I need more." You panted between strangled breaths. Her fingers started to move faster, circling your throbbing centre, eager to make you scream. You were close, very close. Brienne knew that, she heard it in your moans.

"Please, I'm coming-" screaming her name and holding onto her hand, you stumbled over the edge. Gasping for air, you tried to come down from your high, as you felt Brienne's soft lips touch your clit.

"Brienne, oh- I can't..." she didn't stop, licking over your bundle of nerves.

"Yes, you can." She squeezed your hand, and moved her tongue faster, starting to suck as well. It was getting too much, you felt the next orgasm roll over you. Your legs started to tremble, and your moans came out strangled.

"Ah, Bri- please- ohh." Gently she licked you clean and crawled up to you. Giving you a light kiss on the forehead, she smirked at you.

"Learned your lesson?" You couldn't say anything, so you just nodded at her. Pulling her closer, you nuzzled into her side, calming down.

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #wlw #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #got #game of thrones

655 notes · View notes

rosesnink · 2 months ago

Text

Orc Has a Heart-to-Heart with Orc

Author's Notes

Guess what's back by popular demand! More Blades MCs interacting in honour to the new Blades book! This time, I had the honour to write Brienne with @rjschoicesstuff 's iconic MC Rex, who was such a delight to write! Consider this a thank you for everything that you do for the fandom, and enjoy this highly anticipated fic!

If you think YOUR MC would vibe with mine, let me know!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

Next on the list: Maiele Nightbloom, Raine Parnassus and Autumn Nightbloom ( @lilyoffandoms @thosehallowedhalls & @dutifullynuttywitch 's MCs)

If you wish to be added to my Blades tag, tell me!

Likes are nice, but reblogs keeps a post alive and reaches more people

Summary: On the celebration of her victory over the Dreadlord, Brienne encounters an orc that she can relate to... in every single way.

Word Count: 1.1k

Category: Platonic friendship, LGBT+, fluff, comfort

Pairing: F!Orc!MC x Bigender!Orc!MC

Rating: G

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II

As Brienne left behind the dancing bodies of the party in the Temple of Ellara, she sat on the stairs, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, the warm wind warming her bones and playing with her purple skirt, feeling a bit lighter after all that socializing.

Then, her subconscious told her that she was being watched. Opening her eyes, she scanned the party, people either getting drunk, talking and laughing or dancing wildly. Until her eyes set on a shy orc, glancing at her, his hair in a mullet and a small armor in her tall, strong body. She smiled at him, and she blushed. Feeling that he must be shy, Brienne approached the ogling orc “Copper for your thoughts?”

The orc’s eyes shoot up and started sputtering “Oh, uh—well, um, that is to say… you—you look beautiful. Purple is, it suits you.”

Brienne chortled fondly and extended her hand “Brienne.”

“Uh, R-Rex. My name is, yes, Rex.” She blinked and took a deep breath and shook Brienne’s hand nervously, and Brienne decided not to tease the flushing orc about his sweaty hands.

Brienne was usually taller than the average Morellan, but being a bit shorter definitely was a relief. She smiled brightly at her “What brings you here, Rex? You’re far away from Flotilla, don’t you think?”

“I, um, live here. Grew up here, in Riverbend, I meant, n-not the temple.”

Brienne beamed. On her trip, she had found many elves and humans, many whom she remembered fondly, but seeing an orc who had grown up like her… it was such a relief. She beamed “Oh my Gods, me too! I grew up in a farm near the pond, with Dr. Kerrigan and his wife after he took me in after the raids in which my mother…”

Rex softened and placed a meaty hand on her shoulder “My mother died on the raids outside too. I was taken too by a kind farmer.”

Brienne felt a warmth in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a while. She had met many orcs that called her ‘landrat’ and were weary of her because she had been raised by humans, but to find someone she shared this with… it was like she was seen for the first time.

“Tell me about him.” She then extended her arm and Rex took it, both walking away from the party, allowing themselves some privacy as Rex started telling her tales of his foster father.

“He was gruff, and didn’t talk much, but he taught me everything I knew then and gave a home and a family. What about you?”

“Eugene wasn’t much of a talker either. He was in fact austere and a man of few words, but he taught me how to fight, heal and charm people as well as he taught me how to sew my own clothes, take care of myself and took me to the library where I could read after helping him in his job. I wasn’t cutting patients, mostly grunt work he couldn’t do due to his age, but it was work, and always defended my name and was the closest thing I ever got to a father.”

Rex nodded, actively listening to Brienne “I didn’t visit him much, but he always seemed like an honest and simple man. I’m glad you were taken care of.”

They smiled to one another and breathed into the beautiful field of lilies and primroses until Brienne asked “I wonder if you’ve ever felt… like an intruder. Like… deep down, this isn’t where you shouldn’t be. You’re in the way of everyone and one day the people will turn you in and… sell you to a noble or kick you out?”

Rex sighed “Yes. I do. I mean, most orcs have been nice, but… they all seem to know so much of their own race and I…”

“Don’t?” Brienne finished. Then, she sighed “I feel like I am between two words. Not human enough for the humans, but not orcish enough for the orcs. Always on the fence, both sides not wanting me… it just stings. It’s completely humiliating, that neither of your heritages seem to want you…”

Rex tentatively put a hand on Brienne’s and smiled shyly “We can be an unwanted clan. I-If you’d like.”

Brienne smirked teasingly “I wouldn’t mind forming a clan of unwanted orcs with your handsome self.”

Rex blushed deep and coughed “That’s, um, nice.”

“Are you always so eloquent when a girl flirts with you?”

Rex covered his face with her hands and sighed “I’m… not used to someone as pretty as you to flirt with… me.”

Brienne batted her eyelashes “You think I’m pretty?”

Rex looked for a moment at Brienne. She was wearing a summer purple dress with an accentuated bosom that remarked her strikingly bulging breasts, her hair black and curly down, carefully brushed, and smelled like fresh pine trees and lavender. Brienne leaned closer, and Rex looked away. “No need to be shy, beauty. I do not bite. Unless you’re into it.”

Brienne saw Rex gulp and then turned to look at her again “I’m… I…”

“May I kiss you, Rex?”

Rex took a deep breath, and nodded. Brienne approached carefully, seeing if Rex was comfortable, and he was. Then, she planted a soft kiss on her lips, and allowed Rex to take command. It was short and sweet, and Rex smiled despite being all flushed.

They laid on the grass, staring at the clear blue sky, hands brushing as they observed the scenery in silence.

“I think I needed this,” Brienne murmured.

“Need what?”

“To be understood. Seen. Relate to someone.”

Rex smiled “Me too. It is a shame that we have to part ways…”

Brienne sighed “I know… But for now, I shall stall as much as I can.”

“Your friends may be wondering where you are.”

Brienne smirked “Let them miss me a little.”

Both orcs laughed, allowing the sunlight to kiss their green skins, the sunset coming at any minute. In a few hours, she’d be off to the next rift. Anything could happen. But for now, she cared nothing for it. It was her, Rex and the orange sun slowly setting on the horizon.

Both orcs looked at one another, and pulled the other into a tender hug. They gave each other a comforting smile “Will I see you again?”

“Of course. And we’ll have a good ale and many things to tell the other, I’m sure.”

Rex was about to say something when a deep, feminine voice called “Oi, Rex!”

Nia’s voice called “Brienne!”

Chuckling, they got up “See you soon.”

“Until next time, Rex.”

#playchoices fanfiction #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow ii #mc: brienne nagoni #rex #choices blades #choices bolas #cfwc lgbtqa+#cfwc fics of the week #f!orc!mc x bigender!orc!mc

10 notes · View notes

drghostwrite · 1 year ago

Text

A Rightful Heir…

summary: Reader is from a lost kingdom one that used to have a right to the throne and in the midst of this game for the iron throne she becomes pregnant with Jon Snow’s baby. It becomes a dangerous game the closer you get to your due date, and many people want nothing more than your baby.

********************************************************

you turned over throwing up into the bucket placed next to your bed, two days you’ve lived like this nausea overtaking your body. Nobody dared enter the queens room other than your nurse so it surprised you to hear light footsteps approach and another females voice called to you.

“My my the mighty Y/N Sinclair left bedridden by a common cold.” Melisandre smirked to herself.

“If I didn’t feel so unwell you know I would have your head.” You sneered as she chuckled shaking her head.

“Relax your majesty,” she said mockingly, “I’m only here to help.”

“and how can you help?” You said sitting back on your elbows.

“Well after hearing about your little predicament I thought I might see if I...”

“Whatever might help cure this.” You leaned back closing your eyes trying to stop the nauseous feeling from overtaking you again. She watched as you focused and took long dragging breaths. She stepped forward and lifted the shirt you wore examining the smooth skin of your torso she lifted a delicate hand running smooth fingers along the warm skin, you felt as her cold hand made contact and took another deep breath.

“last time I saw this, we were doing much more enjoyable activities,” she spoke remembering the night you laid tangled in dark sheets sweat glistened on your bodies. Hands ran along tense muscles as candles dimly lit the room shadows dancing on the walls.

“Melisandre…” you spoke softly.

“My queen…” she said stopping you, you felt her palm pressed against your stomach and isn’t wasnt long before another wave rolled over your body, you lurched forward head into the bucket, sitting back up you saw the look on her face.

“what?”

“You’re with child… you’re pregnant.”

“what… but?”

“that night with Jon Snow…”

“but you said I couldn’t get pregnant!”

“It appears I was wrong, you’re with child, his child.”

———time jump———

You stood in your study staring at the open books and maps laid out on the table before you, you ran a soothing hand over your swollen stomach soothing your growing child. You leaned down placing your hands on the table and closing your eyes trying to clear your head but the small pains you were feeling were making it hard, you were so focused you didn’t hear as heavy footsteps and the clink of a swords sheath entering the room.

“My Queen?”

You slightly jumped and spun around being greeted by the tall blonde woman standing before you, “Brienne.” You breathed a sigh of relief.

When word traveled that an heir to the iron throne was carrying the baby of the lord commander of the Nights watch and Warden of the North many others realized the weight of your situation. Many started to put ransoms out for your baby knowing that it would be an undeniable heir to the seven kingdoms. The Lannisters sent Brienne to hunt you down but after a promise of freedom, loyalty, and security she pledged her allegiance and is now commander of your armies.

“I apologize my queen I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh it’s alright, just caught me a little off guard that’s all.” You chuckled slightly.

“I thought I might update you…”

“About?”

“The Lannisters.”

“what do you make of it?”

“Right now it’s believed that Jaime and a few men are on their way here other kingdoms have been moving discreetly and have decided to wait until after the heir is born to strike but Cerci believes that your baby is the key to the throne.”

“Of course she does… what does Jon have to say.”

“He’s not happy but they’re dealing with the white walkers so he’s unable to supply help.”

“Mm so you think we need help?”

“Depends on the amount of men they bring, a few and we would be secure but the entire army and I’m not sure.”

you rubbed the stress lines in between your eyes before looking back up at the woman before you, “so what do you think we should do?”

“In my opinion…” you slowly nodded encouraging her. “It would soothe my suspicions if we had more help, not knowing what the other plans are it makes me uneasy.”

You turned back around looking at everything laid before you, you ruled a peaceful kingdom and only fought in wars when needed due to your powerful nature, your warriors were the most skilled and typically were a tipping point during battle so you tried hard to stay out of small matters between the seven kingdoms but when they decided to come after your baby it meant everyone was on high alert. You felt more cramping leaning back onto the table with both hands, Brienne noticed this and stepped forward guiding you towards a chair. You waved her off rambling about tired muscles.

“My Queen are you okay?”

“Yes just tired is all.”

“You’re getting close are you sure you don’t want me to fetch your midwife it will be a few days ride I can always send on of my knights.”

“No no I believe I just need to rest no need causing a panic through the kingdom.”

“Yes ma’lady as you wish.”

before you could say anything further a young servant girl came barging into the room, “Your majesty,” he said out of breath.

“What do you want girl?” Brienne spoke up first.

“Its okay… you can speak love.”

“it’s the Targaryen she’s here.” You looked to Brienne as she focused on the young girl you placed a hand on her arm letting her know to stand down. “She wants to speak to your majesty, and requests your presence in the throne room.”

“Thank you, please send for the Red Priestess to meet me there.”

“Yes your majesty.” The young girl said before running away. Brienne turned to you feeling your hand tighten around her arm, you closed your eyes taking a deep breath a strong arm cradling your bump.

“Ma’lady I think you need to rest.”

“I’ll be okay, I just need to make it through this and then Melisandre can aid me from there, please though accompany me.”

“As you wish.” She said watching your movements closely.

Not long after you stood in your throne room with Melisandre and Brienne behind you Danerys standing before you with a few of her guards. You were discussing terms of an allyship and how she would help protect you and your baby in exchange for a treaty of peace between your kingdoms, you knew that would make you both untouchable seeing as you were both some of the most powerful and while agreeing you started to feel more cramping.

“I believe this will be most beneficial for both sides.”

“what about the Lannisters? Or my treaty to help protect the Stark girls?”

“I believe the Stark girls need to be looked after and who better to do it than our joint kingdoms, they will have an safe haven in my house as well as yours, and as for the Lannisters, they are no threat to me.”

“Well then I believe we’ve made our decision, it’s now time for the councils to join and discuss final matters, we can reconvene in a day or two… if you’ll excuse me.”

“Yes your majesty,” she said turning and the room before you quickly emptied leaving you with the other two women.

“I believe that went better than expected…” Melisandre started.

“With our armies joining I believe we’ll be able to take down Jaime Lannister and his men.” The taller blonde explained. You heard them discussing the matters but it became background noise and you felt sharp pains and then you felt it the warm liquid trickling down your thighs, your gasp pulled their attention to your stressed form.

“Y/N are you okay?”

“My Queen?” Both women spoke.

“One moment.” You said unsure reaching for the hand Brienne carefully extended.

“What’re you feeling?”

“I’m unsure at the moment.” You said wincing leaning into the strong woman, this felt nothing like before it had gotten worse though you’ve never experienced labor so you wouldn’t know what to look for. Melisandre flicked her hand coming closer to you, and then ran it along the taut skin, “The child has dropped, your in labor.”

“Brienne get your fastest rider and send them to fetch my midwife…”

“Yes ma’lady though it may be a days ride there…”

“I understand, though I believe my water just broke.” They quickly looked at the floor where the hem of you silk dress showed slight water marks, she quickly turned to leave the room as the red haired priestess guided you to your chambers.

“I will do everything I can to aid you in the mean time.” Melisandre spoke.

“It’s too early.” You winced again as she opened the door to your chambers.

“You will get through this.” You looked at eyes as she studied your strained features, you read her like a book, you had both seen very vulnerable sides of each other but none like this and it worried her.

A few hours later and no midwife, Brienne sent the fastest riders and then went searching for a qualified midwife but nothing yet, so you struggled through contractions in your chambers with Melisandre commanding your staff on what to do.

“Whatever you do, do not alert our guests of this.” You demanded to the room.

“Y/N you need not worry of that, right now I need you to focus on you and this child.”

“I can’t… Mel…” you strained tears starting to run down your face.

“Clear the room.” She commanded to the maid, the guards and whoever else might try to enter.

“Ugh… thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“I-I but… God it hurts.” You strained as you leaned against the tall bedpost pressing your hand into your lower back, the fireplace on the wall making the white satin gown loosely covering your features seem transparent, revealing your heavily swollen breast and the large baby bump that resided underneath.

She stepped closer to you trying to comfort you but you pushed her away, you didn’t want anyone seeing you like this, even her.

“Y/N, this baby is coming and I’m going to need you to let me help you.”

“Melisandre...

“My Queen there is no question in this matter.” You looked up at her reading the steepness and unmoving expression.

"I can handle this, you don't need to be here."

"I didn't ask if you could handle this, I know you're strong, but I'm here to help you and this baby... if you won't let me help you let me help this baby." she said stepping in next to you, running a hand over your bicep as you tensed again.

"Nnnghhh... fine." you agreed. she guided you onto the bed and for hours you fought through contractions, the room dimly lit by candles and the fireplace, light fading quickly outside the window, swaet soaked hair caked your face and neck as you strained pulling against the dark maroon sheets knuckles white with exertion.

An hour later and Brienne came bursting through the doors Daenerys hot on her heels.

"Wh-what is she doing he-here?" you said realizing that your guest and ally were standing in the same god-forsaken room, watching you labor heavily in your most vulnerable position.

"I couldn't find a midwife in time and the riders are still hours out... she heard me and..."

"I know a little about this from talking with others and seeing it very few times, I offered to help."

"B-But you're a guest in this palace... I can't ask that of you."

"You weren't asking, but I see you're in need." you continued to struggle for hours before progress was made and then finally you held a beautiful baby in your arms. The midwife finally arrived and the room was quickly cleared leaving you and Melisandre with the midwife, you fell into a slumber and were awoken later by the coo of a baby, your baby. You watched as Melisandre paced slowly in front of the fireplace whispering softly to your baby.

"Your majesty, you're awake and you have a beautiful baby girl." she said walking over to you and handing you a bundle of fur. you slowly moved it away from her face revealing miniature features.

"My beautiful baby girl, one that will one day rule and entire kingdom."

"She has only the best example to teach her how." Melisandre spoke up.

"I can only hope that she's so much better than us." you said watching as she slowly stretched and turned in your arms, knowing that this little one that you stared down at would one day rule an entire kingdom and your future rested on her as much as they did you. You vowed in that moment that you would fight for her and do everything possible to protect her from this cruel and cold world.

#game of thrones #melisandre #brienne of tarth #x yn #pregnancy #giving birth #brienne x reader

55 notes · View notes