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Dust whirled around her head and into her eyes and nose, sticking to any exposed skin that was sticky with sweat, which was most of her body under the sweltering summer sun. Brienne was cooking in her armor, sweat dripping down her back and legs while the sun burned the sensitive pale skin of her nose and cheeks. She shifted her feet, briefly disgusted by how wet they were in her boots, and adjusted her grip on her sword to relive her hip of its weight. You, of course, sat comfortably under the canopy and sipped cold wine from a glass that dripped with condensation. She watched you fan yourself in a way that exposed the tight lines of your neck, your collarbones, and blew the baby hairs away from your forehead while the people you talked with watched. The men—and some of the women—let their eyes linger a bit too long at your throat and the bit of cleavage that spilled from the hem of your gown. If her eyes could kill, you would have seen each of them ripped to bloody unrecognizable shreds in front of you.
Brienne looked away, her fingers gripping into a tight fist as she tried to focus on the tourney. Some newly made knight that rode a horse much too big for him got knocked to the dirt by one of the Freys, his lance splintering loudly against the other's chest plate as he went down. She smirked at the concussed knight as he held his head, probably ringing like a bell inside of his helm.
"…a man or a woman?" Brienne clenched her jaw against the conversation she'd overheard hundreds of times.
"Shhhh, stop it," you giggled, "she can hear, you know."
"Ah, she? Good, I worried for a moment about your virtue," he laughed hard, slamming his empty cup down. Brienne kept her eyes trained forward, but from his voice alone she knew he would be red faced and plastered.
"Like you care about my maidenhood," you said.
"Why shouldn't I? We'd be a comely pair, you and I, and neither of us is betrothed."
You fell silent and Brienne held her breath, cheeks somehow growing hotter as she waited to hear your response.
You sipped from your almost empty glass and looked out at the men lining up their horses and securing the last pieces of their armor before the next turn. "You'll have to take that to my father, my lord. That's all I can offer you now."
Brienne's shoulders relaxed and she realized every muscle in her body had tensed as she listened.
"Ser?"
Brienne spun around at your call, her face red as a tomato with heat and fury.
"Take me back inside, this heat is making me weary," you said and held your hand out for her to take. She slid her warm calloused hand into your soft fingers as you rose from your seat, handing your empty cup to a servant as you did so. She did not want to look to your companion, but hoped he could see how nicely your hand fit into hers.
Brienne guided you through the crowd, using her height to see over everyone's heads and her size to part the sea of bodies between you and your cool, dark chambers.
"Slow down, Ser!"
She hadn't registered how quickly she was walking, how one of her strides was three of your steps. "Apologies, my lady." Your arm wrapped snugly around her elbow, keeping the two of you close despite the suffocating heat.
"It is too hot for a sprint, don't you think?" You wiped a delicate bead of sweat from your forehead with an embroidered handkerchief.
"Yes, my lady." She matched her steps to yours, taking much smaller strides than her long legs were used to.
"Did you enjoy the tourney?"
Brienne felt herself blush and hoped you would understand it was only from the temperature. "Yes, my lady. Though some of the entries could have prepared better, if you'll excuse my saying."
You laughed softly, a gentle and ringing noise that made Brienne's heart flutter against her will. "I'm sorry you weren't able to put yourself on the lists, though I'm certain you would have knocked a few of those scrawny hedge knights to the ground."
"You're kind for saying so, my lady. But my tourney days are over."
"Well, you only have to stay stitched to my side for a few more days before we travel back to Horn Hill."
Brienne grit her teeth and said nothing because she couldn't find the words to say she would rather die than leave you unprotected. She hated the way her body responded to you, and hated you for causing her heart to ache and for anger to rise in her throat every time you spoke sweetly to someone else or flashed a pretty smile or stood so delicately and politely in a way she never could get to translate to her ginormous frame.
"Do whatever you will, Ser, I think I'll need to lie down and cool off for a while," you said as you came around to the hallway where your rooms sat right next to each other. "I shall need to dry this dress, I fear," you laughed nervously and Brienne caught herself looking at the sweat beginning to pool in the tight curves and seams that framed your chest.
She cleared her throat and unhooked her arm from yours. "Rest well, my lady." She saw you into your room and quickly shut herself away next door.
She immediately stripped of the heavy metal and leather armor, her skin immediately cooling though the room was hot and stuffy. Brienne threw open the balcony doors and let the breeze suck the stale air outside. It let more of the brutal sun in, but was worth it for the air.
She flopped onto her back and the bed creaked under her weight but caught her all the same. She closed her eyes and sank into the feather mattress, annoying images of you stretching your neck out and fanning yourself in the hot sun, skin glistening with sweat and your lips flushed a delicious shade of pink flickering behind her eyes. It wasn't hard to see why that low lord wanted your hand in marriage, but it was hard for Brienne to fathom where he got the notion he could ever be worthy of it. And the way he spoke of your virtue! No honorable lord would speak to a lady of your status like that, not without expecting a dagger to the stomach. Her fingernails dug crescent moons into her palms as she fought against the urge to go back out into the sweltering heat and dash at least her fist against his skull.
Then, your sweet humming voice caught her attention. You must've opened your balcony doors too, the sound drifted out from your room and graced hers, painting the walls a pale happy yellow and launching any thought of that irrelevant lord across the Narrow Sea. Could she really face a life without your voice in it? The thought was nauseating.
She listened until she couldn't hear you anymore, either gone to sleep or too far from the window to be heard, before stepping out onto her own small balcony. The sun had begun to set at last, shadows and shade finally cast from the big trees surrounding the keep. A cool breeze ruffled something fabric to her left, when she looked it was your clothes draped over the stone railing. The dress you were wearing along with the thin white shift underneath were both having their hems snapped around in the wind.
No noise came from within your room, it was silent but for the distant cheers from the tourney. The hem of your shift was so close to her railing, just centimeters from brushing against the stone. It could blow away, perhaps. Carried by the wind, never to be seen again, no one to blame but yourself for leaving it out.
Brienne pinched a sleeve between her fingers and yanked, so fast she froze as soon as it was in her hands, waiting for you to have heard the noise and come to investigate. But nothing happened. Her heart raced as she rushed it inside and opened up her travel chest. She stood before it and rubbed the fabric between her fingers. It was nearly dry but still a bit damp with your sweat at the back and chest and she couldn't figure out why that made her mouth water.
She was about to shove the shift away to the bottom of her chest, hidden under her own clothes, but something would not let her put it down yet. Maybe it was the lingering sweat, or the sweet floral smell of the lavender you used to hide it, but Brienne found herself with her nose buried in the linen and inhaling deeply. She scrunched more of it into her fist and pressed it over her nose and mouth, almost covering her whole face with it, her other hand creeping unconsciously toward the laces of her breeches.
"Brienne, what are you doing?"
She tore the fabric from her face and shoved it haphazardly into the chest, tucking it under other garments before spinning to see you at her doorway.
"My lady…I thought you were resting." Her cheeks burned and she was willing so hard for your eyes to stay on hers and not wander to the bit of white fabric sticking out the side of her chest.
"Is that my shift?"
It was too late, your eyes had caught her stuffing it away and you were already across the room and tugging it out in confusion. It was cute, the way your eyebrows were furrowed like you knew you should be angry but weren't yet.
"It is my shift," you said, digging it out of the pile, "and my comb…Brienne, this is a pair of my stockings, have you been stealing from me?" You gathered up your missing possessions, somehow discovering more paraphernalia of your life tucked away and rolled up with her things.
"You don't understand, my lady, I-"
"I'm not certain I'd like to understand, frankly!"
She tightened her fists in frustration; you weren't getting it. You only saw petty theft, a sexual deviant Gods forbid, but you were missing the context—she wasn't obsessed with you, just protective of you. She hadn't taken your things out of jealousy, she had taken mementos of you to keep with her as a knight kept a lady's favor in battle. It was her love you weren't seeing. She never meant to frighten you.
Your eyes darted between her and the door, but with longer legs and years of training she was faster, grabbing hold of your upper arm and spinning you to face the wall and pin you there with her body.
"Ser," you choked, she was crushing your chest against stone and holding your wrist to the wall.
"Sorry." Brienne backed up only slightly, just enough to let you breathe, but kept your wrist pinned. "Think of them as favors…a piece of you I can run through my fingers and know you're with me." Her fingers gripped your wrist tighter and her hips pressed against your back. Your heart pounded through your ribcage and blood rushed in your ears. "I can't watch you be courted any longer," she said. Her breath was hot on the back of your neck.
"Be courted? Is that it, the man from earlier?" you panted; it was hot to begin with and with her full length holding you it was only getting hotter. "No, it couldn't be, because I've been missing that comb for weeks."
"Do you think I don't see you sticking your chest out for anyone with claim to a castle?" She kicked your feet apart and shoved her thigh between your legs, lifting you so that your toes dangled just off the ground.
"Is that it? You're jealous I won't show you my chest?"
She drew back and slammed you into the wall again, her hips pushing hard against your ass.
"You could've just asked me," you whispered. Her hands released from your wrist but she didn't let you free, instead running her fingers along your inner thigh and dragging the hem of your skirt up with it. Your breath hitched.
She breathed heavily down your neck and shoulders, her thigh putting continuous pressure between your legs that drew your heartbeat to your cunt every time she shifted her weight at all. Her big hands and long fingers continued to inch up your thigh, pushing the hem to your hips as she felt the sensitive stretch-marked skin where your thighs met.
"You wouldn't have welcomed me into your bed," Brienne spat, "I'm not a rich, handsome little lord." Her lips brushed the outer shell of your ear and it sent a tingle down your spine.
You breathed hard with the tip of your nose pressed against the stone wall. Her fingertips were soft against your thigh, a caress of sweetness that made you feel uneasy; she could still crush you against the wall in an instant. You thought of the sound a pumpkin made when it got stepped on and a rush of adrenaline shot through your limbs as you threw your elbow back and into her side, slamming into hard muscle.
"No!" she shouted and threw her weight into you. You yelped when your kneecap hit stone with a knock.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you pleaded, voice and hands now shaking.
"Just listen to me, you have to listen." She spoke through gritted teeth, a slight whine of desperation at the edges of her words.
"Okay. Okay, yes I'll listen to you."
Brienne relaxed, dropping her hands to around your hips, lowering your feet back to the ground and turning you to face her. "I care for you, my lady. Too much, perhaps, but I care so much it burns and I am helpless against it." Her breath was hot on your cheek, her nose barely touching your cheekbone as she squeezed your hips and thighs with her hands. "Everything I do is for you—to protect you, to know you, to please you." She inhaled deeply with her nose pressed into your hair and groaned.
You trembled in place, sweat pooling at your lower back and beginning to bead above your eyebrows. She looked wild, her cheeks flushed pink and hair tousled in every direction, an intense darkness in her eyes. They resembled a storm now, foreboding and dangerous, where normally you would've compared them to a calm blue sea. "You…care for me?"
Brienne nodded, the spiky tips of her hair flopping up and down on her forehead. "Yes, my lady," she smiled so widely tears nearly formed in the corners of her eyes. "I would never hurt you." Her fingers grabbed your hipbones hard, pressing bruises into your sides. "I love you," she whispered.
Any other time, any other way, and you would have been flattered by her confession. Maybe given her a shy kiss on the cheek, held her strong hand, brushed hair gently from her brow before touching your lips to hers. But here, in the suffocating room, held with an iron grip by a woman a foot taller than you and a collection of your things folded among her smallclothes, you felt like a rabbit caught in a trap.
Brienne looked into your eyes, pupils wide and chin trembling, and knew she had not quelled your fears. She would have to show you, it seemed.
"Bri-"
Her lips captured your words, warm and forceful, knocking your head back as her tongue slipped between your lips. She sighed, her weight melting further into you and keeping you locked in place. Shamefully, you felt a stir in your groin as her tongue brushed against yours and her strong hands felt up and down your torso. It felt good when she pinched your nipples through the fabric of your dress and groaned low and deep into your mouth while her palms groped at your flesh.
Her kisses were sloppy and wet, quickly moving from your lips and along your jawbone, down your neck, across your collarbones, all while she sank slowly to her knees. One hand stayed firmly wrapped around your wrist while she used the other to push the hem of your skirts up to your thighs. She settled on the floor, pressing her mouth to your lower stomach and brushing her fingers through the soft hair at your exposed calves.
"What are you doing?" It came out shakily; you already knew what she was doing but feared her confirmation.
"Showing you the extent of my affections." Brienne's lips grazed your inner thigh at the same place her fingers had trailed before and you felt yourself becoming wet. Your face scrunched in confused horror, knowing you should be angry, should run, should fight, but your heart pounded with tantalizing excitement and pleasure.
Her lips were on your sex, just pressed against the outside of your lips and already you felt lightheaded. You bit your lip and whined as her tongue flicked out to taste you. Your thigh was thrown over her shoulder and you clamped your free hand over the back of her head instinctively. The thought of tugging hard, maybe pulling strands out, and running for the door came to you only briefly before it was drowned by her tongue on your clit and the moan vibrating deep within her throat.
"Fuck," you groaned and tipped your head back, much of your weight resting on her shoulder as her tongue dragged through every hidden crevice of your cunt. Brienne's fingers tightened around your thigh and wrist, but anything short of a hurricane couldn't have taken you from that room when you were so precariously close to coming. Short blonde strands poked through your knuckles as you urged her on with your palm, her head dipping up and down between your entrance and clit. Your knees began to tremble and she released her grip on your wrist to steady your legs, but you took no notice and continued to push her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips rolled into her face on their own, pulsing rhythmically as your pussy clenched and you slammed a hand over your mouth to stifle your screams.
"My lady," she panted and looked up at you with wide eyes and a glistening chin. She was in a daze, drunk on your juices and high on your moans. Here, she almost looked innocent. "Shall I continue to show you? I love you endlessly."
"No, no," you said and wiped the sweat from your face, still panting through aftershocks that ran from your clit to your toes. "I believe you."
Brienne smiled, flashing her teeth. "See, you were always meant to be mine." She kissed your inner thighs and gently unhooked your thigh from her shoulder before standing to her full, intimidating height. "Only mine." Brienne made a fence with her arms on either side of you, pressed against the wall and preventing you from darting either direction. "My lady."