Brienne of Tarth. Large. Too large. Not large in a way that was acceptable for women with a soft big belly, bossom and warm round thighs. No, Brienne was taller than most men and shaped like one with square shoulders, firm thighs and hard muscle. If it wasn't for the obvious faults, her small breasts and the organ missing between her legs, Brienne might as well have been a man.
Even though her life might have been easier should she have been a man, Brienne liked her life. She knew that she was luckier than most. Too big for dresses and parties and general girlhood she had taken to the life of the sword. For a smaller woman, a dainty woman, such a life might have been impossible, even if wanted. But for Brienne, it was the only one possible.
She was titanium, unstoppable, and even if she was a woman moving through the land of men, her looks almost guaranteed her safety from rape. She was a subject of ridicule rather than desire. This also gave Brienne a sense of safety. Love and emotions terrified her to no limit, and the thought of a man wanting her was repulsive.
This didn't stop Brienne from forming passionate infatuations in strong powerful men. Men that she could never have, it was the perfect option for her vulnerable heart. Her profession and lifestyle allowed her to stay close to these men. Renly, Jaimie and the long line of men before them. Brienne was allowed to stay close to them, pine for them, fantasize about them without the risk of anything actually happening. No risk that her heart would break.
Women were easier. Brienne didn't know what women saw in her. She knew of course that there were women who preferred the company of other women, but she didn't know if the girls who desired her were afflicted by this. She didn't know if she could even be counted as a woman. She felt like a freak of nature. A very large freak. Neither man or woman.
Despite her wish to guard her heart, she was not as careful with her body. She liked giving in to almost any girl that showed interest. Brienne would relax, close her eyes and imagine that the eager mouth servicing her was the mouth of her current obsession, while safely knowing that it wasn't Renly's mouth, or Jamie's mouth, or Willimer's mouth, or Loodvig's mouth, or any of their mouths.
Afterwards Brienne always felt happy, almost giddy. Fit for fight again. For an abnormally large woman that looked like a man, her life was good. The men, the fighting, the honour, the service, the excitement. There wasn't much more a girl could ask for.
