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storm of swords!au - king's landing (for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serkingslayer)
In spite of her release from prison, Brienne cannot ignore the suspicion there are those who still think her responsible for Renly's death. If only she could plead with them, find a means of making them believe her sincere and true devotion - but to speak up now, inside King's Landing, would mean an accusal of treason against her for certain. For Joffrey is the king here, not Renly, and the Tyrells have secured their futures by serving him instead.
Brienne's loyalty is not so easily won, though she knows she must not speak her true feelings out loud, lest she wind up back in the dungeons from which she has only just been freed. She is well aware that Jaime had placed her there for her own safety, until the truth could be verified. Now, all she can do is what she has been trained to do: to serve, and to fight as a member of the Kingsguard - if not for her king, than for another.
She does not wish to be thought of as any less of a knight here, and it is for that reason she continues to practice, in the early morning hours down by the stables, where there is a clear space and a tree trunk marred by the strikes of her blade as she moves through the forms of her attack. She does not wear her armor now, a thin shirt and a pair of breeches clinging to her ungainly form. The opponent she fights is harmless enough.
Brienne's loyalty is not so easily won, though she knows she must not speak her true feelings out loud, lest she wind up back in the dungeons from which she has only just been freed. She is well aware that Jaime had placed her there for her own safety, until the truth could be verified. Now, all she can do is what she has been trained to do: to serve, and to fight as a member of the Kingsguard - if not for her king, than for another.
She does not wish to be thought of as any less of a knight here, and it is for that reason she continues to practice, in the early morning hours down by the stables, where there is a clear space and a tree trunk marred by the strikes of her blade as she moves through the forms of her attack. She does not wear her armor now, a thin shirt and a pair of breeches clinging to her ungainly form. The opponent she fights is harmless enough.
no subject
The look in her eyes cuts at him deeply, and Jaime falls to his knees at the edge of the bed, hand still holding hers until he's settled. Only then does he let go, hand reaching up to slip through her hair gently as his gaze meets her solemnly.
"Are you certain you want this? With...me?" A twist of his lips, the self loathing plain for a moment. "I am everything that you despise...not the man of honor you deserve..."
He wants her--his cock is aching in a way that is distracting, but he feels so very unworthy.