We're All Going to Die | By : pip Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones and I make no money from this work of fanfiction. |
Chapter Fourteen
It occurred to Clegane that the three of them were acting very much like youths during this part of the day in the late morning. Rolling around on the bed with their breeches on, naked up top, him and Tormund stealing kisses and more from her turn by turn. Seeing which one of them could make her moan the loudest.
She seemed to have the most interest in Tormund though, and fair was fair, she'd explored him the day before, so there was that. She seemed to notice the lack of attention she'd shown to the wildling so far, and Clegane watched her straddle Tormund, running her hands up his chest, her fingers sliding through the hair he kept there. Not that he didn't have body hair himself, but on Tormund it seemed slightly excessive, just like that on his face. Maybe they were all like that. Maybe it kept them warm or something.
“You're like a wolf,” she said, and quirked her lips. “No wonder Jon Snow likes you.”
Tormund just gazed up at her. His hands were on her buttocks, over her clothing, squeezing gently. “I'm not a wolf,” he said, staring. Brienne leaned down.
“What are you then?” she asked, and then laughed when Tormund reversed their positions. She had to have let him do it. Clegane smiled at her, because she was finally enjoying herself, and he thought that she was, even in this, discovering things that she'd forbidden herself for most of her life. So was he. With a jolt, he realised he was feeling simple affection. The last time he'd felt that was when he'd been travelling with Arya Stark. He'd almost got there again when he'd been helping to build that sept. Now it was back, and growing fast into something much deeper.
“Well, beauty,” Tormund was saying, taking hold of her hands and imprisoning them behind her head. Clegane harrumphed at that. Like he could keep them there. “I have sharp teeth to taste you with, that's true.” And he leaned in to bite at her neck, her soft giggle turning into a softer moan.
“You like it,” she said, confident the way she should have been from the beginning. The fingers of her trapped hands flexed slightly, and her body stretched out beneath Tormund's, fitting itself to his, almost moulding to him.
Tormund stopped, lifting his lips just long enough to growl at her, and to speak. “Aye. You taste nice. I am no wolf. I am a bear, come to eat you!” And he went right back to it, but Brienne? She froze suddenly, her fingers tightening as her knuckles went white. Her eyes were no longer soft and confident, but staring at something beyond the room, and Clegane had seen this before. It was a memory.
She drew in a breath, probably to scream or cry out, and before she could do it, he put a hand over her mouth. “Tormund!” he hissed sharply. “For fuck's sake. Get off her, you daft cunt. Give her room.”
She blinked, and he moved his hand, after which she drew another long, shuddering breath, drawing her arms forward as soon as Tormund freed her, sitting up and leaning over. Clegane looked over her upper body, managing not to stare for too long at her tits, wondering which one of them it was. He touched a likely candidate with his blunt fingertips, a kind of jagged gash low on the right hand side of her waist.
“This the one?” he asked, and she shook her head. Then she raised a hand to her left shoulder, and he noticed how the scars just there resembled claw marks. It hadn't struck him until she pointed it out. They were so faint now. He nodded. Scar stories. Well, they'd waited long enough, and to be honest, he didn't mind if she wanted to start.
“Fuck me, Brienne,” he said, examining them. It must have been close enough for her to see her own death in its eyes, and a big fucker. “How the bloody hell did it get that far? You must have seen it coming.”
“Of course I did!” she said, insulted, pushing his hand away. “I just wasn't... it wasn't a fair...” She shook her head, clearly pained by something. He looked at Tormund, who was frowning.
“Woman, this beast might have killed you. Were you just going to let it?”
It was a reasonable question. Brienne of Tarth, letting a bear injure her? Unthinkable! Now she glared at both of them, her eyes darkening again, but dangerously now in anger, not desire.
“Oh, if you want to know, the two of you. I'll tell you. But I'm warning you to think about it, because when I tell you, you'll both be unhappy for the rest of the day. So I leave it with you. Do you want to know. Or not?”
Did she really think she was threatening him with unhappiness? Him? Clegane grunted and folded his arms. “You'll tell me, even if you have to send him out of the room.”
Tormund, likewise, folded his arms too. “I'm not going anywhere. Tell.”
Brienne sighed, and ran a hand through her short hair. “All right.” She lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling, probably so she didn't have to look at either of them.
“A while ago, when I was charged to take Jaime Lannister to King's Landing, we were captured by Lord Bolton's men,” she began, her voice deepening. Oh, bugger. Clegane began to feel distinctly unhappy already. One look across the bed at Tormund, and the wildling looked as if he was feeling exactly the same way.
“Before you go any further with this story,” he said, thinking ahead, “are any of these cunts still alive?” Because if not, he was going to have plans for them. Before the war, whether there was time or not.
“I don't know,” she replied. He and Tormund shared a single murderous look.
“Probably not. Anyway,” she said, her voice pointed because of the interruption, “we were captured. They meant to rape me that night, and they did drag me off into the trees.”
“How many?” Clegane asked immediately.
“Did the fuckers have names?” Tormund questioned.
“Distinguishing features?” Clegane wondered, already making plans.
Brienne sat up again, and glared at them. “Are you going to let me tell this or not?” she demanded. “I did warn you.”
She glared at him until he sighed. “Sorry,” he said, then she switched to glare at Tormund.
“Sorry,” he rumbled eventually.
Satisfied, she lay back down. “So, it was horrible. I'm not going to repeat any of the things they said to me then.” She winced and shook her head, as if shaking something distasteful away. “It's not true. None of it is true. You've shown me, both of you, it isn't true.”
Despite his growing fury, Clegane managed to take her hand, as gently as he ever did. “It's not true,” he said, knowing it without her even needing to repeat it. He could imagine the kind of things cruel men might say to her. “They were frightened of you.”
“Cowards,” Tormund said, taking her other hand. For a moment, she looked at them, one to the other, and smiled as if she wasn't reliving a personal horror story.
“I know. But then? It was horrible. I screamed, and I did fight, but before they could even get anywhere, Jaime Lannister told a lie that saved me.” She paused. “He told the leader that my father would offer a ridiculous reward for my safe return if I was unharmed and unhurt. So I was brought back and tied up, still fully clothed. Only my pride was wounded that night.”
She sighed. “Later, when Lord Bolton commanded one of his own men to take Jaime on towards King's Landing I was left behind, alone with the gang. They'd sent a raven, of course, hungry for that pile of emeralds they'd thought they were going to get, and my father did offer a reward. As much as he could afford, but sadly not the beautiful lie they were expecting, and they were angry.”
She closed her eyes, remembering.
“So, they put me in a dress, and they threw me in a pit. And they put a bear in with me, to see how long I would last. Sport, I think they called it. They placed wagers.”
Clegane felt sick, imagining it. “No armour. No weapon. Nothing.”
Brienne screwed her eyes up, and shook her head again, in that way, because it was clearly mortifying to remember. “Oh, they gave me a weapon,” she said darkly. “A wooden sword. They thought that was funny.”
Tormund swore, his voice a deep growl. Clegane looked at him. The wildling looked as enraged as he felt. Somehow, together, he knew they'd hunt these fuckers down. He turned his attention back to Brienne.
“How did you get away? Did you kill it?” He assumed she had, even then. Assumed it because of who she was. Because he believed she was capable of it, even so. Only, as he looked across the bed, Tormund shook his head. His face was like thunder.
“You didn't kill it, did you, beauty?” he said carefully. “How did you escape?” All at once, he remembered the bear in the snow, the one that had mauled Thoros. Once it had been alive, and it occurred to him that Tormund must have hunted bears. He knew already there was no escape. That without a weapon and without armour, even Brienne of Tarth should be dead. He felt his heart ache. That the bastards had planned for her to die in front of a laughing, jeering crowd like that. She'd earned better. Fuck, but he wished he had his hands on one of them right now.
“Jaime. He came back for me. They'd cut off his right hand long before that, but he jumped down into that pit and got me out anyway.” She shook her head. “I'll never forget it.”
Interestingly, Clegane had the sudden urge to thank the sister-fucking Jaime Lannister, then to run a sword through him before he could get any more golden boy ideas about rescuing Brienne. Probably best to do it in private, though. Like an assassination. It wouldn't be considered heroic to kill a one-armed man, and yet the more the world went about with him on it, the more he came to realise that killing Lannisters was probably the most heroic thing one could do.
He'd heard the Lannister forces were heading up north to join them in the war against the dead. Jaime Lannister was probably in a tent somewhere right now, planning on doing something fucking heroic. Clegane snarled a little.
He caught Brienne looking at him. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really! After everything, do you think I even have space in my dreams for anyone besides you two?” She rolled her eyes and then got up, finding her shirt and pulling it on. “I mean, seriously, what would I even do with man number three?” She paused, looked at them both, then the strangest look of self-disgust came over her face.
“Wait, don't answer. I'm sure the two of you have ideas. What am I even doing with you? Why am I even doing it?” She stopped short of doing up the buttons, and held her face in her hands. “What am I doing with myself?”
Alarmed, Clegane got up at the same time as Tormund, and as one, they moved towards her. Clegane didn't know what to say. Fortunately, he was not alone, and Tormund had the words she needed to hear.
“You're taking what you want,” Tormund said. “What's wrong with that? If you were one of the free folk, it would be expected of you.”
They didn't touch her, merely stood behind and in front of her as if waiting for her attention. She sighed and straightened up, her face drawn into that adorable frown. “I don't even know what I want. I shouldn't want you both, but I do. And I couldn't choose between you either. It's both of you or neither.”
“We don't mind,” Clegane said, and he shared a look with Tormund, who nodded at him.
Brienne looked conflicted. “I can't even say what I want. And I wanted to earlier,” she said, her gaze on him pleading and conflicted. “Sandor, I really wanted to.”
Clegane began to get a really good feeling, which was quite a turn around, considering the past half hour or so wherein he'd mainly thought about killing people for interfering with their wonderful, surprising, beautiful Brienne. “Just say it,” he suggested. She didn't need his help, just encouragement.
He saw the resolve in her as soon as she found it, and he didn't even blink. He didn't want to miss a single second of this. “Fine,” she said. “I have some conditions.” He nodded slowly. “It's still lunchtime out there. After I've said this, we're going to eat, and then we're going on the hill, and...” here she smiled strangely, “...I know you're angry after that story, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you down several times. You know that, don't you?”
She was exactly as he dreamed she would be. “I know.”
“And then, after a few hours' practice, when I've taken you both down, we can bathe and have dinner, all together. And then I want...” She licked her lips, drew back so that she could look at both him and Tormund both together. “Then I release you both from your promise. I want to know you. I have to know you both. I want to have you. This not knowing is killing me. Worse, it's kind of putting me off my game, and I don't like that at all.”
For a long moment, no one said anything. She was off her game? Clegane thought about that for a long moment or two. Perhaps Tormund was thinking about it as well. No one moved. Brienne cleared her throat, blinked once or twice. “Is that all right? Did I say it clearly enough, or should I be more explicit?”
Clegane smiled at her. “I thought you said I was going to be unhappy for the rest of the day?” he queried suggestively, his mind already filling with the things they would do later. The very thought made his blood pool in him, his mind growing pleasantly cloudy. Brienne...
She gave him the sweetest, hardest look. “Did you miss the part where I said I was going to beat you down? Several times?”
He shrugged, careless of that. He would be inside her tonight. Nothing else mattered. “Do you think I hate it all that much when you do?”
She smirked. “That's very naughty of you.”
Clegane blinked, at her and Tormund. “You know, you've got some very strange ideas about what naughty is.”
To his astonishment, it was Tormund who laughed. And it sounded dirty as all hell too. “Tonight, we teach her, Clegane,” he said.
Oh, yeah. That could be fantastic.
To be continued...
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! Did you? Please leave a word or two for the muses. Review replies will be here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/61848-pippychicks-review-replies-tv/
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