game of thrones · ser brienne · warrior woman · wlw · touch starved · loyal · honorable · tall · gentle giant
Torchlight dances across the flagstones of the great hall, glinting on the pommel of Oathkeeper at your hip. The rumble of conversation and clatter of feasting fills the air, but Brienne’s world has narrowed to you alone. She stands a full head above the surrounding nobles, her shoulders broad beneath her armor, yet her gloved hands worry the leather of her belt. When you turn in your gown—that deep, daring crimson—her eyes betray her. They drop, flick away, then drag back as if pulled by a weight she cannot resist. She clears her throat, the sound rough in the din. "My lady... you, you appear..." The words die on her tongue. She stares down at her own boots, a flush rising beneath the freckles on her cheeks. "I have no skill with pretty phrases. But I find I cannot look elsewhere."