Fic: A Change of Climate, A Change of Heart
Title: A Change of Climate, A Change of Heart
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Brienne/Arianne
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2456
Summary: Brienne finds more than she expected at Sunspear.
Notes: Written for cetacea during the most recent round of asoiaf_exchange.
She'd known before arriving that Dorne was likely to be a snake's nest, full of intrigue and machinations she was ill prepared for. Jaime had warned her that the conditions of Myrcella's “accident” were suspect at best, and that her position there as the replacement for Sir Arys would be tenuous at best. She'd gone anyway. Myrcella needed a guardian, and as she reached womanhood, no knight in the realm could be with her at every turn like Brienne. She didn't go for the girl she'd never met, however; she went because he asked. It was the last thing he asked before departing for the Wall. Besides, it was better than going home, and Brienne had had her fill of riding up and down the seven kingdoms.
Still, she expected a cold welcome. She is not prepared for Doran Martell's respectful kindness, nor the way she is accepted on the training grounds. Her charge is a pleasant girl, whom Brienne is sure possessed Jaime's beauty before the incident. She wins respect from Brienne for her uncomplaining grace. Altogether, things seem much better than expected, although she can't help wondering what lurks beneath. She knows she has no head for politics. It is about a fortnight in, when she overhears one of the men talking to another about her, “She's better than Obara.” He says. This is how she learns of the Sand Snakes.
The women talk. It is not hard to learn of Oberyn's natural born daughters and how he trained them to defend themselves. Brienne cannot help but feel a sense of longing at the thought. A father who wanted his daughters to be able to handle a sword. She envies them, but she also wants to meet them. Brienne lacks craft, and it takes her a month to brave the topic with the prince. She is terribly afraid he will say no, for the Sand Snakes are in disfavor if the rumors are true, and he owes Brienne nothing. He makes it easy on her, however. He invites her to play cyvasse with him one afternoon, a kindness that he need not extend. Someone else's voice whispers that it may be a ploy to get her away from Myrcella, but then the girl tells her than Tystane, her betrothed, has asked her to join him in watching the game.
“Do you wish to go?” Brienne asks her. Myrcella looks confused, “If you do not wish to go, I shall beg ignorance of the game and you need not.”
Myrcella smiles, Brienne thinks she sees gratitude in her face, “Thank you. But I am happy to meet with the prince. He has been most kind about my condition.”
Her condition. Brienne bubbles in frustration at the unfairness that makes a scarred face on a highborn woman more of a handicap than Jaime's missing sword hand.
Brienne is awkward and ungainly in the dresses sent for her from the Red Keep. She worries that Myrcella resents her presence, despite her gracious demeanor. But it is something that cannot be avoided. She selects the simplest, and belts her sword around it. Her charge is lovely in a pale yellow, her maimed face covered by a veil. Brienne wonders, for the first time, what it must be like to have once been beautiful and then to be opened to the ridicule of unsightliness. Is it worse than always having been plain or worse.
There are few in attendance; in addition to the Prince Tystane, Doran's daughter Arianne is there and a few attendants. The Princess is stunning in a violet gown, accented by a quantity of topaz jewelry. Brienne feels as ungainly next to her as she ever has. Brienne knows enough about the game to know that Prince Doran is not playing with his full strength, but instead handicapping himself to make a closer seeming match. She wishes he wouldn't. It reminds her of all the men in her life, whose swordplay has been the same when facing her, at least the first time. She wants to know what it feels like to fight another woman who has trained, someone who can give it her all and not feel unchivalrous. The game ends, and she hesitates.
“Thank you for the game, my lord. Though I fear it must be dreadfully dull for you to play at half your strength.”
“Am I that transparent, Lady Brienne?”
“I am not much of a cyvasse player, but I know enough to recognize you are.”
Laughter erupts from his children.
“I appreciate your directness. We often have too little of it, those of us who are in positions of power.”
“I fear I cannot be otherwise, prince. My skills a disguising my meaning are meaner than my skill at this game. I mean no insult.”
“None taken. I've seen you on the training field. Your talents lie elsewhere.”
This is it. He has given her an opening, “I hear that your late brother thought such skills necessary for his daughters. Is this true?”
“It is indeed. I believe Oberyn would have liked you, maid of Tarth.”
“Might I be so bold and to hope I might meet one of his daughters, I have heard the men talk of one named Obara and I confess I burn with curiosity to face another woman who has trained as I have.”
Doran does not respond immediately and Brienne thinks she has made a mistake. But then Arianne crosses and whispers something to him, and finally he nods.
“I suppose it might be arranged. I promised Lord Selwyn I would take care of you, and you do not strike me as the type who does well without new challenges. I am sure my niece would be glad to make your acquaintance. You must give me time to arrange a meeting though, for she and her sisters are under special protection at the moment, given the turbulent political situation.”
Tension Brienne has not previously realized she was carrying releases. Servants bring wine and fruit and Doran turns to talk to Myrcella. Arianne smiles at her conspiratorially. Her own smile lacks that natural grace that seems to come so easily to all the others assembled. She smiles anyway. She reminds herself that she is not here to be an attending lady, she is here to protect Myrcella.
A package arrives from Princess Arianne, it contains a dress of the deepest blue, cut in the Dornish style. There is a note enclosed:
Dearest Brienne,
Forgive my presumption in writing this note and in the gift. It is my hope that his gown will serve you better in this climate, and my wish that we might become better acquainted. Please accept my invitation to dine with me privately next Thursday.
Yours,
Arianne
Myrcella admires the dress, and under great pressure Brienne tries it on. She has to admit, it is far more comfortable than any she has ever owned. Myrcella effervesces and when she looks in the glass, Brienne discovers that she looks quite a bit less like a sow finery. Come Thursday, all of Myrcella's attendants and the princess herself fuss with Brienne's limp staw colored hair and powder and paint her until she scarcely recognizes herself.
Arianne greets her with an embrace, leading Brienne into the cool chambers that make up her personal suite. Brienne discovers their supper is to be a private one, and finds herself relieved and self conscious. Arianne is surpassingly beautiful, but she not look at Brienne with pity or disdain.
Arianne seems elated about Brienne's getting to see Obara, and the way she openly faced Doran. She expresses admiration for Brienne and jealousy of her skill with a blade. She asks her about Tarth and her travels. She talks of her own likes and dislikes. Brienne finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Before she knows it, Brienne is talking of her childhood, of Renly even.
Arianne recounts her own experience courting Renly, “It sounds like he accounted you far more notice than he did me.” she laughs, “Of course you had more to offer someone like him.”
It's the first time anyone has ever validated her feelings for Renly with anything but contempt. Arianne is everything a lady should be, and Brienne feels comforted by the knowledge for certain that had she been the most beautiful woman in Westeros it would not have helped. She's suspected, but it feels nice to know. Arianne simply glows and Brienne is sorry to say good night when the time comes.
It is two weeks before she meets Obara. It is worth the wait. The other woman is narrow, with sharp features, different from Brienne but built with the same hard muscle.
They battle furiously. Obara is quicker than the men Brienne has faced, but Brienne is stronger than her. Afterwards they are grinning from ear to ear.
“Well met, sword sister.”
“The honor was all mine.”
They talk of tactics, of the differences in men's styles, of horses.
“Thank you for getting me out of my tower.” Obara tells her, looking at the guardsmen watching them like hawks.
Brienne starts dining with Arianne more than once a week. They talk more easily than Brienne has ever talked with anyone. Still, she knows Arianne is keeping secrets and she keeps her own. She talks around Jaime; he is the only secret she's ever permitted herself. They get fitted for dresses together. Arianne picks out colors and fabrics and cuts, and she gifts Brienne with bracelets and necklaces and refuses to listen to Brienne's protests.
Arianne speaks of men and bedding with such a frankness that Brienne blushes red and averts her gaze. Arianne seems to find this amusing, and she only grows more detailed.
Her training sessions with Obara have become a weekly ritual, and Brienne finds that they are both improving, improvising. Arianne almost seems jealous of this time, so Brienne offers to teach her to fight. Myrcella begs to be included, so the Princesses learn by facing each other. Brienne worries that Doran will not approve, but not enough to stop. Neither woman will ever be a sword master, but they
gain speed and accuracy and might hold off an assailant expecting a helpless lady. Brienne watches Arianne's flushed skin with satisfaction.
It is late one night and Arianne is talking about former lovers again.
“Really Brienne, I know you are still a maiden, but haven't you at least been kissed?”
She swallows, “Once,” she replies. Jaime kissed her once, the same day she promised to come here. She feels protective, jealous of the memory.
Arianne's face lights up with interest, “And? Tell me about it?”
Brienne flushes, “I don't know. It's not like I have anything to compare it against, I don't even know what you want to know.”
Her companion grins mischievously, “Show me then.”
“What?”
“Show me” Arianne says, “like this.”
Then she leans towards Brienne and kisses her, soft but lingering, not at all like a friend might. Brienne hesitates, but then she conjures up the memory. She cups Arianne's face in her hand and closes her eyes, pressing her lips to hers with a sigh. The other woman's lips part against hers and when they separate a few moments later she looks at Brienne with surprise.
“Who, in the Seven Kingdoms, kissed you like that?”
“Jaime, Jaime Lannister.” Brienne's voice sound strange to her own ears, speaking it out loud.
“ The Kingslayer? “Arianne's voice is little more than a whisper, “By the Seven, Brienne, you are a surprising and fascinating woman. Did you love him back?”
“He didn't... I don't think that...” Brienne interjects.
“He did. You silly girl. No man has ever kissed a woman like that when he wasn't in love with her. Trust me.”
Brienne bursts into tears. It's the first time she's cried in front of anyone since her mother died. Arianne holds her to her breast, stroking her hair.
“I did.” Brienne gasps, and in that moment she knows all of that is in the past.
Arianne kisses her, hard and needy, and Brienne kisses her back. They hold each other until it is almost dawn, and Brienne creeps back to her room hoping no one has missed her.
When they next meet, Brienne feels suddenly shy around Arianne. She is not sure how to behave anymore. Their comfortable pattern has been broken.
“When we first started spending time together, I was supposed to be trying to lure your allegiance away for Dorne.” Arianne says abruptly, “I've always wanted this kingdom more than anything or anyone else.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Brienne asks, confused.
“Because things have changed. Brienne, I've never met someone like you before.” Arianne kisses Brienne, her lips warm and inviting, “I've never really been in love before, I don't think. Not like this. The only thing I want to convince you to do, is love me.” Brienne protests. She isn't love material. She's ugly, unsightly. Arianne kisses her again, arms encircling, “Let me show you.”
Brienne allows herself to be led, her body shaking as Arianne kisses and caresses her scar covered body, sliding her dress away. In Arianne's face she sees her shoulders not as too wide and her hips not too narrow.
The next time she meets Obara, the other woman smirks knowingly.
“You have a lover.” She states, then looking at Brienne as she blushes, “Not just a lover, you're in love.”
Even Myrcella knows something is different, “You seem prettier.” She tells Brienne, “Like mother used to when father would go away and leave us at the castle with Uncle Jaime.”
For once, Brienne doesn't see any reason to tell the girl the truth about her parents.
Of course, Arianne and Brienne are both the heirs to their father's lands and titles. Both of them should already be married, working on strong male heirs. For the moment, however, it cannot penetrate their happiness. Lord Selwyn is still in good health, and Dorne does not object so strongly to women rulers as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. War and death may yet change everything, but for the moment they are together, and Brienne finally feels like a real woman, like she is not somehow wrong. She even feels like she will be able to handle the plots and schemes that are continually hatching. Arianne has given her something, she's been searching all of Westeros for without any success.
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Pairing: Brienne/Arianne
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2456
Summary: Brienne finds more than she expected at Sunspear.
Notes: Written for cetacea during the most recent round of asoiaf_exchange.
She'd known before arriving that Dorne was likely to be a snake's nest, full of intrigue and machinations she was ill prepared for. Jaime had warned her that the conditions of Myrcella's “accident” were suspect at best, and that her position there as the replacement for Sir Arys would be tenuous at best. She'd gone anyway. Myrcella needed a guardian, and as she reached womanhood, no knight in the realm could be with her at every turn like Brienne. She didn't go for the girl she'd never met, however; she went because he asked. It was the last thing he asked before departing for the Wall. Besides, it was better than going home, and Brienne had had her fill of riding up and down the seven kingdoms.
Still, she expected a cold welcome. She is not prepared for Doran Martell's respectful kindness, nor the way she is accepted on the training grounds. Her charge is a pleasant girl, whom Brienne is sure possessed Jaime's beauty before the incident. She wins respect from Brienne for her uncomplaining grace. Altogether, things seem much better than expected, although she can't help wondering what lurks beneath. She knows she has no head for politics. It is about a fortnight in, when she overhears one of the men talking to another about her, “She's better than Obara.” He says. This is how she learns of the Sand Snakes.
The women talk. It is not hard to learn of Oberyn's natural born daughters and how he trained them to defend themselves. Brienne cannot help but feel a sense of longing at the thought. A father who wanted his daughters to be able to handle a sword. She envies them, but she also wants to meet them. Brienne lacks craft, and it takes her a month to brave the topic with the prince. She is terribly afraid he will say no, for the Sand Snakes are in disfavor if the rumors are true, and he owes Brienne nothing. He makes it easy on her, however. He invites her to play cyvasse with him one afternoon, a kindness that he need not extend. Someone else's voice whispers that it may be a ploy to get her away from Myrcella, but then the girl tells her than Tystane, her betrothed, has asked her to join him in watching the game.
“Do you wish to go?” Brienne asks her. Myrcella looks confused, “If you do not wish to go, I shall beg ignorance of the game and you need not.”
Myrcella smiles, Brienne thinks she sees gratitude in her face, “Thank you. But I am happy to meet with the prince. He has been most kind about my condition.”
Her condition. Brienne bubbles in frustration at the unfairness that makes a scarred face on a highborn woman more of a handicap than Jaime's missing sword hand.
Brienne is awkward and ungainly in the dresses sent for her from the Red Keep. She worries that Myrcella resents her presence, despite her gracious demeanor. But it is something that cannot be avoided. She selects the simplest, and belts her sword around it. Her charge is lovely in a pale yellow, her maimed face covered by a veil. Brienne wonders, for the first time, what it must be like to have once been beautiful and then to be opened to the ridicule of unsightliness. Is it worse than always having been plain or worse.
There are few in attendance; in addition to the Prince Tystane, Doran's daughter Arianne is there and a few attendants. The Princess is stunning in a violet gown, accented by a quantity of topaz jewelry. Brienne feels as ungainly next to her as she ever has. Brienne knows enough about the game to know that Prince Doran is not playing with his full strength, but instead handicapping himself to make a closer seeming match. She wishes he wouldn't. It reminds her of all the men in her life, whose swordplay has been the same when facing her, at least the first time. She wants to know what it feels like to fight another woman who has trained, someone who can give it her all and not feel unchivalrous. The game ends, and she hesitates.
“Thank you for the game, my lord. Though I fear it must be dreadfully dull for you to play at half your strength.”
“Am I that transparent, Lady Brienne?”
“I am not much of a cyvasse player, but I know enough to recognize you are.”
Laughter erupts from his children.
“I appreciate your directness. We often have too little of it, those of us who are in positions of power.”
“I fear I cannot be otherwise, prince. My skills a disguising my meaning are meaner than my skill at this game. I mean no insult.”
“None taken. I've seen you on the training field. Your talents lie elsewhere.”
This is it. He has given her an opening, “I hear that your late brother thought such skills necessary for his daughters. Is this true?”
“It is indeed. I believe Oberyn would have liked you, maid of Tarth.”
“Might I be so bold and to hope I might meet one of his daughters, I have heard the men talk of one named Obara and I confess I burn with curiosity to face another woman who has trained as I have.”
Doran does not respond immediately and Brienne thinks she has made a mistake. But then Arianne crosses and whispers something to him, and finally he nods.
“I suppose it might be arranged. I promised Lord Selwyn I would take care of you, and you do not strike me as the type who does well without new challenges. I am sure my niece would be glad to make your acquaintance. You must give me time to arrange a meeting though, for she and her sisters are under special protection at the moment, given the turbulent political situation.”
Tension Brienne has not previously realized she was carrying releases. Servants bring wine and fruit and Doran turns to talk to Myrcella. Arianne smiles at her conspiratorially. Her own smile lacks that natural grace that seems to come so easily to all the others assembled. She smiles anyway. She reminds herself that she is not here to be an attending lady, she is here to protect Myrcella.
A package arrives from Princess Arianne, it contains a dress of the deepest blue, cut in the Dornish style. There is a note enclosed:
Dearest Brienne,
Forgive my presumption in writing this note and in the gift. It is my hope that his gown will serve you better in this climate, and my wish that we might become better acquainted. Please accept my invitation to dine with me privately next Thursday.
Yours,
Arianne
Myrcella admires the dress, and under great pressure Brienne tries it on. She has to admit, it is far more comfortable than any she has ever owned. Myrcella effervesces and when she looks in the glass, Brienne discovers that she looks quite a bit less like a sow finery. Come Thursday, all of Myrcella's attendants and the princess herself fuss with Brienne's limp staw colored hair and powder and paint her until she scarcely recognizes herself.
Arianne greets her with an embrace, leading Brienne into the cool chambers that make up her personal suite. Brienne discovers their supper is to be a private one, and finds herself relieved and self conscious. Arianne is surpassingly beautiful, but she not look at Brienne with pity or disdain.
Arianne seems elated about Brienne's getting to see Obara, and the way she openly faced Doran. She expresses admiration for Brienne and jealousy of her skill with a blade. She asks her about Tarth and her travels. She talks of her own likes and dislikes. Brienne finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Before she knows it, Brienne is talking of her childhood, of Renly even.
Arianne recounts her own experience courting Renly, “It sounds like he accounted you far more notice than he did me.” she laughs, “Of course you had more to offer someone like him.”
It's the first time anyone has ever validated her feelings for Renly with anything but contempt. Arianne is everything a lady should be, and Brienne feels comforted by the knowledge for certain that had she been the most beautiful woman in Westeros it would not have helped. She's suspected, but it feels nice to know. Arianne simply glows and Brienne is sorry to say good night when the time comes.
It is two weeks before she meets Obara. It is worth the wait. The other woman is narrow, with sharp features, different from Brienne but built with the same hard muscle.
They battle furiously. Obara is quicker than the men Brienne has faced, but Brienne is stronger than her. Afterwards they are grinning from ear to ear.
“Well met, sword sister.”
“The honor was all mine.”
They talk of tactics, of the differences in men's styles, of horses.
“Thank you for getting me out of my tower.” Obara tells her, looking at the guardsmen watching them like hawks.
Brienne starts dining with Arianne more than once a week. They talk more easily than Brienne has ever talked with anyone. Still, she knows Arianne is keeping secrets and she keeps her own. She talks around Jaime; he is the only secret she's ever permitted herself. They get fitted for dresses together. Arianne picks out colors and fabrics and cuts, and she gifts Brienne with bracelets and necklaces and refuses to listen to Brienne's protests.
Arianne speaks of men and bedding with such a frankness that Brienne blushes red and averts her gaze. Arianne seems to find this amusing, and she only grows more detailed.
Her training sessions with Obara have become a weekly ritual, and Brienne finds that they are both improving, improvising. Arianne almost seems jealous of this time, so Brienne offers to teach her to fight. Myrcella begs to be included, so the Princesses learn by facing each other. Brienne worries that Doran will not approve, but not enough to stop. Neither woman will ever be a sword master, but they
gain speed and accuracy and might hold off an assailant expecting a helpless lady. Brienne watches Arianne's flushed skin with satisfaction.
It is late one night and Arianne is talking about former lovers again.
“Really Brienne, I know you are still a maiden, but haven't you at least been kissed?”
She swallows, “Once,” she replies. Jaime kissed her once, the same day she promised to come here. She feels protective, jealous of the memory.
Arianne's face lights up with interest, “And? Tell me about it?”
Brienne flushes, “I don't know. It's not like I have anything to compare it against, I don't even know what you want to know.”
Her companion grins mischievously, “Show me then.”
“What?”
“Show me” Arianne says, “like this.”
Then she leans towards Brienne and kisses her, soft but lingering, not at all like a friend might. Brienne hesitates, but then she conjures up the memory. She cups Arianne's face in her hand and closes her eyes, pressing her lips to hers with a sigh. The other woman's lips part against hers and when they separate a few moments later she looks at Brienne with surprise.
“Who, in the Seven Kingdoms, kissed you like that?”
“Jaime, Jaime Lannister.” Brienne's voice sound strange to her own ears, speaking it out loud.
“ The Kingslayer? “Arianne's voice is little more than a whisper, “By the Seven, Brienne, you are a surprising and fascinating woman. Did you love him back?”
“He didn't... I don't think that...” Brienne interjects.
“He did. You silly girl. No man has ever kissed a woman like that when he wasn't in love with her. Trust me.”
Brienne bursts into tears. It's the first time she's cried in front of anyone since her mother died. Arianne holds her to her breast, stroking her hair.
“I did.” Brienne gasps, and in that moment she knows all of that is in the past.
Arianne kisses her, hard and needy, and Brienne kisses her back. They hold each other until it is almost dawn, and Brienne creeps back to her room hoping no one has missed her.
When they next meet, Brienne feels suddenly shy around Arianne. She is not sure how to behave anymore. Their comfortable pattern has been broken.
“When we first started spending time together, I was supposed to be trying to lure your allegiance away for Dorne.” Arianne says abruptly, “I've always wanted this kingdom more than anything or anyone else.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Brienne asks, confused.
“Because things have changed. Brienne, I've never met someone like you before.” Arianne kisses Brienne, her lips warm and inviting, “I've never really been in love before, I don't think. Not like this. The only thing I want to convince you to do, is love me.” Brienne protests. She isn't love material. She's ugly, unsightly. Arianne kisses her again, arms encircling, “Let me show you.”
Brienne allows herself to be led, her body shaking as Arianne kisses and caresses her scar covered body, sliding her dress away. In Arianne's face she sees her shoulders not as too wide and her hips not too narrow.
The next time she meets Obara, the other woman smirks knowingly.
“You have a lover.” She states, then looking at Brienne as she blushes, “Not just a lover, you're in love.”
Even Myrcella knows something is different, “You seem prettier.” She tells Brienne, “Like mother used to when father would go away and leave us at the castle with Uncle Jaime.”
For once, Brienne doesn't see any reason to tell the girl the truth about her parents.
Of course, Arianne and Brienne are both the heirs to their father's lands and titles. Both of them should already be married, working on strong male heirs. For the moment, however, it cannot penetrate their happiness. Lord Selwyn is still in good health, and Dorne does not object so strongly to women rulers as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. War and death may yet change everything, but for the moment they are together, and Brienne finally feels like a real woman, like she is not somehow wrong. She even feels like she will be able to handle the plots and schemes that are continually hatching. Arianne has given her something, she's been searching all of Westeros for without any success.