Date: 2020-09-16 09:26 pm (UTC)
oathstokeep: (in your head)
From: [personal profile] oathstokeep
[The service of one crown to another, that's an even change. There is a higher calling to this. She of course cared for her king, why oh why would she not? He too was the blood of Lady Catelyn Stark. Bran, Sansa and Arya are all proof that the noble blood of the wolf would still continue one way or the other. Sansa was like beholding a mirror to all of Brienne's private wants: a true, virtuous woman that had a strength of her own, that wanted the knight that the Maid of Tarth devoted herself to be. Her queen knew who and what she was and still wanted her. There was no way, no reason that she would turn from such a place of honor of love.

They part and Brienne blinks. She truly had lost her head. And kneeling on the floor and all that, highly dramatic. Her face pales then flushes furiously all the way from her neck to her hairline.]

Please. Yes.

[She clears her throat and her armor clatters.]

Do you...would you mind if I devest first? Just--the armor.

[The color is still high and bright in her face.]

Date: 2020-09-19 05:49 pm (UTC)
oathstokeep: (humility)
From: [personal profile] oathstokeep
[Brienne went with her willingly, there was enough time wasted. And while it is a touch unheard of, she has no shame here with Sansa. All of the nerves buzzing her skin and blood are not wholly unpleasant. It reminds her that she is alive. That there are good feelings to be experienced. And the burn in her face is bitter and sweet like the finest wine of the Reach.

Her eyes drop to the choice of dress for Sansa. It is elegant and well crafted. The color of her house only sets her hair aflame all the more. That must also be why the rose blooming in her cheeks settles so perfectly. They both are aflush.]


Please, my lady.

[Formality is the most gentle of teasing. Brienne walks to the chaise, it would be better suited for them both now. And truly it seems silly that they keep playing this game of one sitting, one kneeling or standing. The height difference is not nearly so dramatic.]

...you have never looked upon me as a strange nor silly thing.

[Her voice is low as she begins to lift the panels of metal to show where the leather fastens and buckles lie hidden. How very fitting that she disarm here and now.]

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