Brienne stands before you, tall and imposing, her armour impeccably polished. Gleaming, even. Her blue eyes, usually so focused and guarded, are softer now, though filled with unspoken determination.

“You’ve proven yourself,” she says quietly, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of what’s to be said. “Loyalty is rare, and you have shown it to me with such ease.” Her words are simple, but you can hear the depth of meaning behind them. For someone like Brienne, whose life has been marked by betrayal and mockery, your loyalty has cut through the defences she’s built around herself.

“When I swear an oath, I do not take it lightly. And now, I swear this to you.” She takes a step closer, her jaw set with an unshakable resolve. Then she draws her sword, and stooping to one knee she lays it on the grass before you. “I, Brienne of Tarth, swear to protect you, with my life if need be. I will stand by your side, in battle, in peace, in darkness. No matter the cost. My blade is yours. I am yours.” Her gaze never falters, voice unwavering. “By the old gods and the new.”