Game of Thrones: StormBorn

292AC

She saw the ships coming, long before they reached the town of Evenfall, down the cliffs away from the castle proper. They were sticking close to the cliff face, the Island shielding them from the heavy winds that buffeted shipbreaker bay.

There was a beauty in them, stark white ships with sails as pale as clouds, gliding through the sapphire water which was split as if by a sword in their wake.

She could see why Arthur had chosen to use them for his voyage here, and likely further south as well.

She could still remember precisely the conversation they had had in that dark balcony off of the Red Keep, how they had spoken of dreams. When her father had told her that he was sending a betrothal letter to the Baratheons she hadn't known quite how to feel. Certainly, Arthur had been courteous to her, but that had been when he couldn't see her face. Would he still be so kind when he saw her face in the broad daylight? Would he be willing to let her pursue her dream even as his lady wife?

She would be expected to bear children she was sure, but would she then leave them behind to battle? The whole thing was terrifying. She hadn't been so scared since she was a little girl.

Over the months between though, she had begun to feel a growing resignation. He had sent word ahead that he would be sailing out with a new fleet to visit his prospective betrothed at his mother's request. Finding amongst them which one he might be happiest with. Brienne knew in her heart that he would likely be the only man who might ever respect her that would be willing to marry her, but was that enough?

And what of his own feelings, his own dreams. She had never heard a man speak with such fire and ambition as he had at the Red Keep, would she be able to keep up? Would she even be able to satisfy him as a wife should? She had never learned such things in her pursuit of knighthood, and while the Book of the Maiden gave some guidance she could hardly rely on that alone.

Could she?

These thoughts had only grown over the months until she had finally resolved herself to have peace with it. For that was what a true-knight ought to do. Swallow one's own fear and pride, and resign herself to her duty to her house.

She would present her best, most true face to Arthur, and if he chose her from amongst her suitors then so be it.

She was sure that it was the man who was supposed to have to do that, but then, she sought to be a knight and a woman, so why not think of Arthur as a boy and a lady.

The thought cheered her up as she walked down towards the courtyard, where the Young Baratheon walked in alongside some foppish looking Velaryon, at least by his eyes.

Arthur was a rather different sight in the bright sunlight of Evenfall than he was on the balcony, though she had seen him in the light during the feasts, it had been from across the room. Now he stood before her, a year older, but far clearer.

His hair was cropped and black, and it hung just low enough that it covered part of his forehead, though it was combed and parted at the side. His ears were not of the Florent size, but nearer to the Baratheons, he was tall for his age, but he lacked the bulk of Lord Renly or King Robert. His eyes shown with a bright and piercing blue, and we're fairly large. His features now we're still childish, but begging to show signs of puberty. She also saw now the greyscale, the scars of the disease that had clawed its way up on to the prince's face. Three jagged wedges of it crawled up his right cheek from where it ran up his neck and jaw. One stopped just below the corner of his mouth, another perhaps an inch to the right from his nose and the last and longest of them ran back up near his ear. They were unpleasant to look at, being mottled grey and disgusting, but she could hardly hold that against him.

He might have been handsome, in a rugged sort of way, had he not been so scarred, but then she might have been pretty had she not broken her nose, might haves were not useful things.

He wore a high collar, that covered much of his neck, and below that a blue jacket with red details. She saw on the shoulders where a breastplate might be hooked on, and she wondered if the entire thing might be worn beneath a suit of armor, though it was likely too decorative for that. His leggings were crisply edged and of the same color as his jacket, and he wore black leather seaman's boots on his feet.

In greeting, she bowed, unable to curtsy in her armor.

"Prince Arthur," her father said beside her "I hope your trip has been pleasant."

"Indeed it has been, Lord Selwyn. I must admit that Tarth seems quite a bit more pleasant than Dragonstone in regards to weather. With the beauty of the blue waves coming in I could see why your Island is called the Sapphire Isle."

He then turned to her, offering a hand. "Lady Brienne, it's a pleasure to see you again."

She started for a moment as she realized he was offering to kiss her hand, and she felt her heartbeat harder in her chest.

'No, no, I'm being considered for betrothal. Best face Brienne, best face.'

She reached her hand out, grasping his own, and she was surprised to find that he was simply shaking it. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Before she could get out a word the whole group was being shuffled inside by her father, who was talking about their accommodations and the small feast he would be holding for the Prince tonight.

Through all of it, Brienne kept seeing the boy look back at her, looking for something, what he saw, she was not sure.

She found it hard to meet his eyes.