Dizzy Heights
Title: Dizzy Heights
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Renly Baratheon, Gendry, Catelyn Stark.
Word Count: 1480
Rating: General
Summary: 12 drabbles spanning over the length of canon, featuring a AU ending.
Author's Notes: Based on a fan mix, YouTube laylist is available here. For minviendha , who writes kickass not!knights.
“Take a Look Around,” Chocolate Starfish & Hot Dog Flavored Water, Limp Bizkit
The blunted blade came down mercilessly on the teenager. Brienne received it under the padding without so much as a grunt. In the yard, they laughed. She felt her eyes harden - but she also knew that no matter how hard she looked, anger is something she could not convey well.
The squire laughed again. “Come now, my lady,” he taunted. “Come now, my lady - will you back down, now that you've had a taste of my stick? Or will you taste another?”
Brienne took a deep breath. Lunged. The blunted blade and buckler had been discarded. Her fist was balled and coming down. Her big, disgraceful hand clenched around his neck.
When she heard the silence in the yard, she released him.
“I Wish You Love,” Le Voyeur, Natalie Cole
It was a starry sky. She was wearing blue, laced to fit her body, and some padding for the breasts she still hoped would grow. When the heiress to Tarth entered the room, they stood. She smiled, not realizing that her uneven teeth stood out in her large mouth, in her freckled face.
“My lady,” Lord Renly said, politely, charmingly. “Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”
She curtsied awkwardly, but there was nothing in his eyes that betrayed his observation of it, if he noticed.
She danced, and for the first time of her life, Brienne felt light. Beautiful. Woman. And in Renly Baratheon's arms, she was a girl.
“High Hopes,” Pulse, Pink Floyd
She rode quietly on the stone road. Alone, but with a mission in her heart, in her mind, to join King Renly Baratheon, the best contender, the gentlest man she'd ever met. The night before, Brienne had looked at her self in the polished glimmer a copper dish. By candle light, she looked almost - acceptable.
Her hand had reached for the dagger. One by one, strands of hair had fallen to the ground, like so many strands of dirty straw discarded by a disdainful mount. She did not care. Brienne of Tarth, the Maid of Tarth, Brienne the Beauty was preparing for war.
Appearance was not her greatest concern.
“Good Times Gone,” Silver Side Up, Nickelback
The horse kept on moving. Brienne's eyes were starting to close slowly. Ahead of her, the septon spoke of the Seven, of marshmen, of his bare feet. Behind her, Ser Hyle smirked. Dog and Podrick Payne were around somewhere.
Her eyes closed only a moment, and all she saw was blue. The blue shifted into green, and her vision blinked into the eyes of Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer. Brienne's bright blue eyes blinked open. She looked around - they were still soldiering on their way.
She could not smell rotten flesh, and for some reason, a bearded smirk was missing. It seemed displaced for a moment before she shook it up.
“Misery,” Missundaztood, Pink feat. Steve Tyler
She lay alone in the inn. Lady Catelyn was sleeping in the cot beside her. The young lady Brienne of Tarth put her arms under her head and stared at the ceiling. She was counting the other woman's breathing. Inspire. Expire. It kept her focused on something outside of her own experience.
If she closed her eyes, she saw him. She saw blood, and something dark reaching and pulling the life out of Renly, and she could do nothing, just - gape and slash and - oh, they said Ser Loras had killed those outside the tent. They said that she had killed him. That Lady Catelyn had fomented it.
In the darkness, Catelyn Tully-Stark's quiet breathing was no longer enough to keep the Maid of Tarth calm, and fat tears rolled on her cheeks.
“Etre Une Femme,” Luminescence, Anggun
It didn't matter that she hadn't been tended to. Just the warm water was enough to give her restfulness. Of course, he had to interrupt it. Of course. She hadn't looked at his nudity as Jaime Lannister had slipped into the bath. She hadn't thought about the fact that he was a good looking man.
A good looking man who had laid seed to his own sister's private parts.
A good looking man who was laying in pain on the floor. Dispatched, the guards and Qyburn. Alone with him, scrubbing him more gently than she intended, she felt - it was not a word she wanted to use.
“Ready, Kingslayer?”
“Malaguena Salerosa,” Kill Bill Vol. 2, Chingon
The sword as heavy in her hand, but its weight and length felt just right. Valyrian steel. Oathkeeper. The gleam of the steel was bloody black, and Jaime's words resounded in her head, uninvited. Blue is a good color on you, my lady. It matches your eyes.
It was unwelcome. Unexpected. Brienne squinted at the sword one last time and inserted it back into its scabbard carefully before she wrapped it in a blanket. Off she would go, then, on the roads of Westeros, looking for the Stark girl. I can't stand the sight of you, Jaime had said.
Why did it hurt so much?
“She Has No Time,” Hopes & Fears, Keane
Rain. Rain, solitude and grimy cold that chilled Brienne to the bone, under the armour, under the flesh, under every ounce of muscle, fat and skin. She shivered and kept on - Duskendale wasn't so far.
She tried not to think. She tried not to remember. But her chest felt hollow, concave, and though she took deep breaths, she felt empty. As if she had left behind her - she had apologized, hadn't she?
I thought -- She had started, and he had looked - hurt, and sent her on her way.
“Silly girl,” she muttered to herself. “What are you thinking, exactly?” It was raining, and the rain washed away tears she couldn't explain to herself.
“Thoughtless,” Untouchables, Korn
A wager for her maidenhead. It was dark. It was late. And in the yard, Brienne passed all her anger into physical movements. Oh, but on the morrow, they would have a taste of her maidenhead - she would headbutt them, show them that there was no wooing, no - and Ser Hyle would - he would - her mind was too filled with incoherent hurt, and she pierced the practice dummy just once.
As the sand poured out of the bag, Brienne squared her shoulder. Be better. Be stronger.
Prove Randyll Tarly that a woman can have her place in war.
“Eighteen Wheeler,” Missundaztood, Pink
Thapphireth. “My name is Brienne,” she screamed as the sword rose up and fell upon the mummer. That one was irrelevant. She just wanted his head. His head for Jaime's hand. His head for her dignity. His head for the bear.
The swords locked and foul breath filled her nostrils. “What of Lord Bolton?” She hissed in the mummer's face. The man growled and she pushed him back. He scrambled for balance and tripped on a root.
The rest was simple work. The blade went up. The blade went down. “Three,” she said, quietly. The more she killed, the less it disturbed her.
“Diamond Dogs,” Moulin Rouge, Beck
Brienne thought of the girl. A gentle soul. The other, with Sandor Clegane until he died. Where are they? Her steps were taking her to the inn. Just another day, another question.
“I seek my sister, a maid of three and ten, with red hair and blue eyes.”
Another question, another unhelpful answer. Copper and gold slipped to peddlers and meddlers who could do nothing other than jibber lies in the face of her questioning.
And she kept on. A girl of three and ten. Red hair. Blue eyes. Finding Sansa Stark was all she could breathe.
“Fighter,” Keeps Gettin Better, Christina Aguilera
Brienne's eyes were wide. Alive. Alive. Lady Death had spared her. Spared Podrick. Keeping Ser Hyle alive had been difficult - he'd been sworn, tied to her.
Looking over the hill, she squared her shoulders. The young king by her side was as tall as she was. “We make for the wall tomorrow,” Gendry said quietly. “That is where I was headed to start,” he said. “Do you think the Night's watch will take kindly to our help?”
Brienne rolled her shoulders. She had no idea that their plan brought them in convergence with Stannis' forces. “If they don't,” she replied quietly, “they will regret it. The madness must end.” Gendry's hand rested on her shoulder. “What will you do?”
“I have an oath to keep,” she replied quietly. “I leave on the morrow.”
She wouldn't have admitted it, but it was no longer about Catelyn.
It was all about Jaime.
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Renly Baratheon, Gendry, Catelyn Stark.
Word Count: 1480
Rating: General
Summary: 12 drabbles spanning over the length of canon, featuring a AU ending.
Author's Notes: Based on a fan mix, YouTube laylist is available here. For minviendha , who writes kickass not!knights.
“Take a Look Around,” Chocolate Starfish & Hot Dog Flavored Water, Limp Bizkit
The blunted blade came down mercilessly on the teenager. Brienne received it under the padding without so much as a grunt. In the yard, they laughed. She felt her eyes harden - but she also knew that no matter how hard she looked, anger is something she could not convey well.
The squire laughed again. “Come now, my lady,” he taunted. “Come now, my lady - will you back down, now that you've had a taste of my stick? Or will you taste another?”
Brienne took a deep breath. Lunged. The blunted blade and buckler had been discarded. Her fist was balled and coming down. Her big, disgraceful hand clenched around his neck.
When she heard the silence in the yard, she released him.
“I Wish You Love,” Le Voyeur, Natalie Cole
It was a starry sky. She was wearing blue, laced to fit her body, and some padding for the breasts she still hoped would grow. When the heiress to Tarth entered the room, they stood. She smiled, not realizing that her uneven teeth stood out in her large mouth, in her freckled face.
“My lady,” Lord Renly said, politely, charmingly. “Would you grant me the honor of a dance?”
She curtsied awkwardly, but there was nothing in his eyes that betrayed his observation of it, if he noticed.
She danced, and for the first time of her life, Brienne felt light. Beautiful. Woman. And in Renly Baratheon's arms, she was a girl.
“High Hopes,” Pulse, Pink Floyd
She rode quietly on the stone road. Alone, but with a mission in her heart, in her mind, to join King Renly Baratheon, the best contender, the gentlest man she'd ever met. The night before, Brienne had looked at her self in the polished glimmer a copper dish. By candle light, she looked almost - acceptable.
Her hand had reached for the dagger. One by one, strands of hair had fallen to the ground, like so many strands of dirty straw discarded by a disdainful mount. She did not care. Brienne of Tarth, the Maid of Tarth, Brienne the Beauty was preparing for war.
Appearance was not her greatest concern.
“Good Times Gone,” Silver Side Up, Nickelback
The horse kept on moving. Brienne's eyes were starting to close slowly. Ahead of her, the septon spoke of the Seven, of marshmen, of his bare feet. Behind her, Ser Hyle smirked. Dog and Podrick Payne were around somewhere.
Her eyes closed only a moment, and all she saw was blue. The blue shifted into green, and her vision blinked into the eyes of Jaime Lannister. Kingslayer. Brienne's bright blue eyes blinked open. She looked around - they were still soldiering on their way.
She could not smell rotten flesh, and for some reason, a bearded smirk was missing. It seemed displaced for a moment before she shook it up.
“Misery,” Missundaztood, Pink feat. Steve Tyler
She lay alone in the inn. Lady Catelyn was sleeping in the cot beside her. The young lady Brienne of Tarth put her arms under her head and stared at the ceiling. She was counting the other woman's breathing. Inspire. Expire. It kept her focused on something outside of her own experience.
If she closed her eyes, she saw him. She saw blood, and something dark reaching and pulling the life out of Renly, and she could do nothing, just - gape and slash and - oh, they said Ser Loras had killed those outside the tent. They said that she had killed him. That Lady Catelyn had fomented it.
In the darkness, Catelyn Tully-Stark's quiet breathing was no longer enough to keep the Maid of Tarth calm, and fat tears rolled on her cheeks.
“Etre Une Femme,” Luminescence, Anggun
It didn't matter that she hadn't been tended to. Just the warm water was enough to give her restfulness. Of course, he had to interrupt it. Of course. She hadn't looked at his nudity as Jaime Lannister had slipped into the bath. She hadn't thought about the fact that he was a good looking man.
A good looking man who had laid seed to his own sister's private parts.
A good looking man who was laying in pain on the floor. Dispatched, the guards and Qyburn. Alone with him, scrubbing him more gently than she intended, she felt - it was not a word she wanted to use.
“Ready, Kingslayer?”
“Malaguena Salerosa,” Kill Bill Vol. 2, Chingon
The sword as heavy in her hand, but its weight and length felt just right. Valyrian steel. Oathkeeper. The gleam of the steel was bloody black, and Jaime's words resounded in her head, uninvited. Blue is a good color on you, my lady. It matches your eyes.
It was unwelcome. Unexpected. Brienne squinted at the sword one last time and inserted it back into its scabbard carefully before she wrapped it in a blanket. Off she would go, then, on the roads of Westeros, looking for the Stark girl. I can't stand the sight of you, Jaime had said.
Why did it hurt so much?
“She Has No Time,” Hopes & Fears, Keane
Rain. Rain, solitude and grimy cold that chilled Brienne to the bone, under the armour, under the flesh, under every ounce of muscle, fat and skin. She shivered and kept on - Duskendale wasn't so far.
She tried not to think. She tried not to remember. But her chest felt hollow, concave, and though she took deep breaths, she felt empty. As if she had left behind her - she had apologized, hadn't she?
I thought -- She had started, and he had looked - hurt, and sent her on her way.
“Silly girl,” she muttered to herself. “What are you thinking, exactly?” It was raining, and the rain washed away tears she couldn't explain to herself.
“Thoughtless,” Untouchables, Korn
A wager for her maidenhead. It was dark. It was late. And in the yard, Brienne passed all her anger into physical movements. Oh, but on the morrow, they would have a taste of her maidenhead - she would headbutt them, show them that there was no wooing, no - and Ser Hyle would - he would - her mind was too filled with incoherent hurt, and she pierced the practice dummy just once.
As the sand poured out of the bag, Brienne squared her shoulder. Be better. Be stronger.
Prove Randyll Tarly that a woman can have her place in war.
“Eighteen Wheeler,” Missundaztood, Pink
Thapphireth. “My name is Brienne,” she screamed as the sword rose up and fell upon the mummer. That one was irrelevant. She just wanted his head. His head for Jaime's hand. His head for her dignity. His head for the bear.
The swords locked and foul breath filled her nostrils. “What of Lord Bolton?” She hissed in the mummer's face. The man growled and she pushed him back. He scrambled for balance and tripped on a root.
The rest was simple work. The blade went up. The blade went down. “Three,” she said, quietly. The more she killed, the less it disturbed her.
“Diamond Dogs,” Moulin Rouge, Beck
Brienne thought of the girl. A gentle soul. The other, with Sandor Clegane until he died. Where are they? Her steps were taking her to the inn. Just another day, another question.
“I seek my sister, a maid of three and ten, with red hair and blue eyes.”
Another question, another unhelpful answer. Copper and gold slipped to peddlers and meddlers who could do nothing other than jibber lies in the face of her questioning.
And she kept on. A girl of three and ten. Red hair. Blue eyes. Finding Sansa Stark was all she could breathe.
“Fighter,” Keeps Gettin Better, Christina Aguilera
Brienne's eyes were wide. Alive. Alive. Lady Death had spared her. Spared Podrick. Keeping Ser Hyle alive had been difficult - he'd been sworn, tied to her.
Looking over the hill, she squared her shoulders. The young king by her side was as tall as she was. “We make for the wall tomorrow,” Gendry said quietly. “That is where I was headed to start,” he said. “Do you think the Night's watch will take kindly to our help?”
Brienne rolled her shoulders. She had no idea that their plan brought them in convergence with Stannis' forces. “If they don't,” she replied quietly, “they will regret it. The madness must end.” Gendry's hand rested on her shoulder. “What will you do?”
“I have an oath to keep,” she replied quietly. “I leave on the morrow.”
She wouldn't have admitted it, but it was no longer about Catelyn.
It was all about Jaime.