Even with the warmth from the springs that ran under the keep, Winterfell’s cells felt cold and harsh. Brienne supposed they ought to. It wasn’t a place meant to be warm and inviting. It was a place to house the lowest of men.

She felt sick with every step she took towards the only occupied one. She wasn’t supposed to be here, Sansa had only told her that he was here as a courtesy rather than letting her find out with the other lords come the morning. She hadn’t been present when Jaime had arrived with no army, only to be quickly taken away to await trial for all the crimes he stood accused. But Brienne couldn’t not see him.

It was dark, and cold. Tommen couldn't see anything, even from atop the horse they rode. He was wrapped in a blanket, tucked between the horse’s neck and his uncle's body. Nobody would tell him anything. Uncle Jaime had said they had to go away, to be safe, and that Tommen was to be very quiet and do whatever Uncle Jaime told him to, without asking. He said it was a game, but Tommen didn’t think it was a very fun game.

@pater-leonum || [Sentence Starters] Elizabeth (1998) || Accepting

❝ I just want a simple life. Is it that so wrong ? ❞

Brienne’s mouth dropped open, agape at his words before she managed to sputter a retort, barely keeping her laugh from her voice. “Need I remind you, I was still beating you when we fought. I’m not without skill, which you well know.” She glanced back to the small figure on the far side of the yard. “Arya is simply well trained. Too well trained in ways I’ve never seen. And lithe.” Brienne had never been so, she’d been tall and taking up as much space as any man since she’d been younger than Arya was. Still, she’d learned her own sort of grace.

I didn’t say anything about being pretty.

“So...why put a flower in my hair then, eh?”