"It's him or me," said Hyle, pointing with an outraged finger at Tormund, who only gazed blearily at the other man and Brienne.

She looked back and forth between them; stringy, malnourished Hyle in his hipster glasses and plaid scarf, and Tormund in dirty jeans and ragged marijuana-leaf t-shirt. She was supposed to choose between a vegan and a pothead?

With a sigh, Brienne dragged her gaze from the two men to the animals at her feet. The six ducklings were vying to all sit on her feet at the same time. Edgar the dog smiled up at her and held up a paw for shaking. Bruce the cat gave her what she was sure was a commiserative glance. Tubby little Rosy the goat bleated up at her as if to say, "Mama, who deese men?"

"Bugger that!" exclaimed the parrot, Jackson Polly, and it pretty well summed up Brienne's feelings on the issue.

I choose you, she thought to the animals. You're not stoned out of your minds all the time, and most of you eat meat.

"Bugger that!" she echoed the parrot. "You can both leave."

After they had gone, Brienne sagged into her lumpy old sofa, covered herself with animals, and let out a deep sigh of relief.

And that was how Brienne gave up on men altogether.

.

.

"I'm giving up on men," she informed Sansa the next day.

They were in the park with most of the menagerie that had taken over Brienne's apartment, and her cousin, Sandor, was in the middle of the lawn trying to teach Edgar how to catch a frisbee even though the dog had lost some vision and depth perception along with his right eye.

Sansa was holding up the cat, Bruce, so he stood on his hind leg – just the one, as Brienne had had to amputate the other after Bruce lost a battle with a minivan – and made his forelegs wave around so he looked as if he were dancing. Bruce and Brienne exchanged a glance of long-suffering. It was not always easy to love Sansa, unless you were Sandor Clegane, and then it was apparently the simplest thing in the world.

Sansa looked up from where she was making poor Bruce do the Wildling Fling and laughed. "You say that all the time, but you break up with Hyle and date Tormund, then break up with him and go back to Hyle…"

"No, this time, I mean it," said Brienne. Sansa's russet eyebrows flicked upwards, asking without words what had happened. Brienne squinted out over the park against the fading gleam of the late spring sunset. "I'm tired of settling. It's just… not going to happen for me."

"You've been settling for far too long," Sansa declared. "So did I. But I decided to stop searching for him, that he would find me. And he did." She gazed out at Sandor's antics with Edgar, her eyes warm and lips curled in a gentle smile. "One day, your prince will come. And then you will come." She punctuated the sentiment by waggling those eyebrows in a manner that was, frankly, alarming.

"I am not discussing this with you," sniffed Brienne, but couldn't keep the tiny grin from curling her lips.

"You will! It worked for me. I only found my prince once I stopped looking. It'll be the same for you."

"I have no prince," Brienne replied gloomily. "I'll be forever alone."

It was said with dramatic flair, so Sansa knew she was joking, but… Brienne wasn't really joking. She was positive there was no one out there for her. She wasn't all that upset about it; more upsetting to put up with the men who would abide a woman of her looks and size, how they treated her like they were doing her a favor and expected her to wait on them and show her gratitude for their 'generosity'.

"No, you will not be forever alone. I'll make one of my brothers marry you. Or Theon."

"Okay, so, first: Jon's dating the moon goddess-"

"Oh, you have to stop calling her that. She's only pale. You're pale. You have no room to throw stones."

"–and I have been close friends with Robb to the point where he's just as much my brother as yours, by now. There's no way I'm risking our friendship and work relationship. Besides, if he had any interest in me, he'd have said something years ago."

Sansa opened her mouth to argue, but Brienne stepped swiftly into the breach to continue.

"And there is no way in any of the seven hells I'd date Theon. No more stoners."

Sansa pouted, muttering, "But he'll share his stash with you. He's very generous."

"No more stoners!"

"Okay! Fine!" said Sansa, holding up her hands in surrender. "No stoners. No Robb. No Jon. That leaves–"

"I am not dating Bran or Rickon."

"But-"

"I am not dating Bran or Rickon."

Sansa scowled out at where Sandor was lavishly praising Edgar in spite of the dog's complete inability to come within five feet of the frisbee. "I'll think of someone," she said, her tone ominous.

Brienne rolled her eyes and gave up.