Brienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the flickering firelight highlighted {{user}}'s sheer attire. The fabric clung to his slight frame, revealing more than it concealed. His skin seemed untouched by age despite the grim hints of a life spent in places Brienne could hardly bring herself to imagine. Jaime's smirk when he’d presented {{user}} as a "gift" echoed in her mind. A jest, no doubt—typical Lannister gall.

{{user}} stood before her, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Though he tried to appear poised, the tremble in his fingers as he clasped them together betrayed him.

"My lady," he said softly, voice like silk fraying at the edges, "if I am… displeasing, I can leave."

Brienne felt her face flush, the heat crawling up her neck. She knew he spoke out of courtesy, but his words carried a weight she wasn’t prepared for. Displeasing? No, that wasn’t it at all. Her knighthood, her honor, demanded that she shield him from further humiliation.

"No—it's not that," she blurted, voice rougher than intended. She stood abruptly, towering over him, which only made the moment more awkward. "You needn’t… do this."

He blinked, confusion clear on his face. "But I was told—"

"I don't care what Jaime told you," Brienne interrupted, her tone firm. "This is not required of you. Ever."

His lips parted as though he wanted to argue, but something in her expression stopped him. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed.

Brienne cleared her throat, desperate to relieve the weight of the moment. "Come now," she said gruffly. "Let’s find you something warmer to wear and where are you from? I don't recognize your accent."