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Or a Coat of Red

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She stomps out of her father’s solar in a fury (her red fury, the Blackfish likes to call it, Tully red to match the blue eyes that he is so fond of, eyes that she so often narrows at him in determination as he trains her in the practice yard, to her delight and Father’s exasperation) and marches directly to her sister’s room, the tears in her eyes betraying her despite the determined scowl on her face.

“I don’t want to marry Jaime Lannister,” she murmurs and Catelyn looks up from her needlework and sighs sadly, as though she has been expecting this; their father had probably discussed it with her weeks before, Brienne thinks to herself somewhat bitterly, wondering how her sister could possibly believe she’d agree to marry a Lannister, especially after all their uncle had said about Lord Tywin and his resignation as Hand of the King.

“We must all do our duty, sweetling,” Cat says softly, wrapping her arms around Brienne and kissing her hair as her younger sister clutches the front of her gown and begins to weep.