#afuriousstag

@afuriousstag

Stannis was pale against the snowy ground, as black and white and grey as the tree he was propped up against. Pathetic looking, more ghost than man, and certainly no king.

“I, Brienne of Tarth, sentence you to die.”

She raised her blade high above before she swung the sword, the sharp zing of her blade faltering and impacting the tree in place of Stannis’s neck. She cursed herself for how wrong it felt to execute the man that had dared to used blood magic against his own brother. A man who would not hesitate to kill her had their positions been reversed. But she could not do it quite yet. Honour required that she let him defend himself against her, no matter how true she knew her accusations to be. And when she did finally swing the blade, and she would, he would die with confessions of his treachery having parted from his lips, his crimes known across the realm. The Seven demanded no less of her, her own ideas of what was right demanded it. And worse, though she was unwilling to really admit to it, her need for her name to finally be cleared of Renly's murder begged for it. She had failed him enough without constantly being reminded of it in lies, in ways that finally made her understand Ser Jaime all the more.

“But there will be no execution today. Your crimes are great, and I’d have you well enough to confess to them for others to hear before you meet the stranger.”

With great frustration she sheathed her blade and dropped down to make sure that he was unarmed and unable to resist her. Though she suspected with his injury, any resistance he could give would be minimal.

“Your brother means to sell you to the horse lord, but I will not let him.” Stannis growls as he rocks into her, a hand splayed across her belly to keep her from knocking into the desk he’d bent her over too roughly, hand tangled in her long hair to arch her body in a way that pleased him.

         She rose a curious brow, a soft smile pulling the corners          of her lips. “I would,” she replied rising to her feet. She           wouldn’t lie, the offer was a surprise. 

‘Stannis won’t hurt you.’

How could she be certain of that? She barely knew of the man, the old king’s brother, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. How could she be certain he wouldn’t execute her as a traitor simply on the basis of her engagement to Joffrey?

❦  

One thin eyebrow rises, “ Harley is with the clown, like she usually is after anything like this .” Ivy’s head cocked, “ I would try not to get attached, she always goes back to the Joker. Always. Trust me, I’ve been on your end more times than I can count.” 

(( poor fool. ))

“ She’ll come to you, that’s how it works. ”