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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.

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Author's Note: Well, I was feeling productive, so here you go. Another little bit.

Chapter Twenty-one

About a quarter of the way through the night, Clegane was awoken by Brienne's awful fidgeting. And sighing.

“What are you bloody doing, woman?” he grunted, turning over onto his back. It was dark, but he could swear he saw the face she pulled even so.

“I don't want to sleep in the middle,” she said. Clegane blinked. Looked at Tormund, who was snoring lightly on his back, arms and legs strewn everywhere. He shook his head.

“Well, don't look at me! I'm not fucking sleeping in the middle. That's where you go, that's where you stay. That's how all this works, in case you hadn't noticed.” He rubbed his face with one hand. “Besides, you seemed happy enough with it a couple of hours ago,” he grumbled.

He sighed and turned over again onto his side, facing away from her. He was far too tired to deal with this. “For fuck's sake, Brienne, go to sleep.”

For a minute or two he lay there, listening to her continue to toss and turn and sigh. Then he sat up. “All right! What is it?!”

Brienne looked at him in the dark, and now she sat up too. “It's the bed,” she whispered, kind of aghast. Then she squirmed. “It's all... wet.”

“What?”

Her eyes were so wide he could see the whites of them. “I think it came out of me,” she said, her voice hushed. “I didn't mean it.”

“Oh, fuck me,” he swore. That's what this was all about? A bloody wet spot? Actually, that conjured up a kind of mental image that he regretted, and he shook it away.

And then her voice in the dark, very small and scared for Brienne, just as she'd been when she admitted to her fear. “It's too dark to see, and I don't know. Do you think I'm still bleeding?”

He shook his head, then realised she might not see it and took her hand to squeeze it. At long last it occurred to him that she probably didn't know much about any of these things. Who the hell would have told her about them? “It's all right, Brienne. Come here.” He pulled her close and held her for a minute. “It's nothing to worry about. It's just something that happens. It's what I left inside you, that's all.”

“Oh, thank the Gods!” she suddenly said, relieved. Then she hit him, right in the face.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, rubbing his jaw. “What's that for?”

Instead of replying, she clambered over him and off the bed and lit a lamp. He shied violently away from the sudden bright glare of the flame, right onto the wet patch. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as she stood there, holding up the lamp.

“Move, then!” she said, and he got up. They both looked at the smallish pink wet stain on the bottom sheet, just as Tormund snored loudly.

She put the lamp down and glared at him. He looked around him, just in case she happened to be glaring at something or someone else he hadn't noticed. “What now?”

“You could have warned me!” She shook her head as she looked down at herself, particularly at her legs. “I mean, ugh!”

Clegane smirked. “Well, I didn't even think about it, to be honest.”

“You think this is funny?” she demanded, angry now.

Reacting swiftly, he reached out to take her by the upper arms and pulled her close, so their bodies were flush together. “I think it's inevitable. You want some more?” he asked, giving her a deliberate look up and down, then growling in lust, “because I can definitely see my way to giving it to you.”

She gasped and then as he spoke he saw her anger drain away as her eyes darkened, and he had her right where he wanted her, just like that. Shit, but there were more sparks between them than a forest fire. Definitely something to explore tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after... He placed a quick kiss on her lips. “You got some clean sheets in that wardrobe there?”

She nodded. “Well, let's sort it out then, so we can all get some sleep. Wake him up,” he said, pointing at Tormund.

“Sandor,” she said, before he could turn away, and then she was pressed against him, arms wound around his neck, her soft cheek rubbing against his beard. He couldn't help it, couldn't help wrapping his arms around her, walking her backwards to the wardrobe for want of something to push her up against. When they got there he kissed her hard, his hands under her buttocks as she wrapped her long legs around him.

“We can't. Not now,” he whispered in her ear, feeling a sudden savage need, but also knowing it couldn't be. “Tomorrow, or I'll just hurt you again.”

She sighed and pressed against him, actually rubbing herself against him, just there, and he could feel the length of his cock, nestled nicely between the outer lips of her pussy, stretching her even there, and he was only semi hard. He shook his head. “No, Brienne.”

Gods, but she was going to be difficult to handle! He could see that now. This wild thing she was, no one would ever believe it existed in her. No one would ever know except for them. All those years of denying herself this. All at once he understood what he'd done earlier; that it was like breaking the wall of a dam, and he'd been idiot enough to tease her?! In the middle of the night? Clegane was momentarily struck by his own stupidity. He deserved everything he got, and then some.

“I can't help it,” she was saying, her voice a lustful murmur, dragging her lips over the side of his face. “Did I tell you how nice it felt when you gave it to me earlier?” She moaned, and he couldn't help recalling all those times he'd had her tell him how things felt. “You were so hard inside me, so huge, and I could feel it... and then so hot. Mmm... do it again. More, like you said.” Her hands moved down from his shoulders, to his hips.

He groaned and then kissed her deep, more to shut her up than anything else, because if she kept talking like that she was going to get it, exactly what she was asking for.

It was impossible, but he was hard again, listening to her, pressed against her, and as he broke the kiss he shook his head, feeling helpless. Immediately he made a resolution never ever to tease or threaten her with anything unless he fully intended to carry it out. Her pussy was warm against him, somewhat sticky, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a devilish part of himself said it would probably be enough to fuck her again. She'd still be easy enough. He shut it down before it could take control of him, reminded himself how she'd probably cry, and that sobered him up a bit.

“Brienne, I –”

“You know what I said I'd do if you teased me again,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin, and he growled at the threat, responded to it the only way he could, slamming her hard against the wardrobe door. It made a loud bang, but he didn't care. Worse still, neither did she. Maybe this would be another lesson to her. A different kind of lesson. He drew back just enough to get the positioning right as she drew in a breath and cried out an affirmative, and then –

“Clegane! Put her down,” said Tormund suddenly from behind them, wide awake, and he was startled into some kind of rational sense. He let her down, so she regained her feet. Then he was all too quickly backing away as she stared at him.

Tormund tutted. “Playing with fire, aren't you? Could have told you that. What happened?”

“Wet patch,” he said, swallowing, and Tormund laughed. Those words had never sounded so innocent.

Brienne moved, quick as a cat, but not to him. He looked around and the wildling had opened his arms to her. She went to him, cuddling up against him easily as he wrapped his arms around her.

“It's not time to wake up yet, beauty,” he said softly, soothing and reassuring. “Leave those things to tomorrow.” She might have raised a quiet protest, but the wildling managed to shush her. Clegane couldn't believe it.

Griping to himself about women and wildlings, he went back to the wardrobe in search of sheets, and found one on the bottom, folded up. He picked it up and shook it out roughly. When he turned, Tormund and Brienne were stood near the bed, and she was holding a damp flannel, blushing furiously.

“Want me to help?” Tormund asked, and she shook her head quickly, somewhat mortified.

Funny, he'd never noticed the bed had curtains before, but he did now, because she stared at them both for a second before pulling one across to give herself some privacy. Between them, he and Tormund did a half decent job of replacing the sheet – well, it was on the bed anyway, kind of flat – and when they were done so was she. Thankfully, his sudden interest had also died down. At least for a while.

“Better now?” he asked, and she nodded in silence, still blushing.

They all took their places again. She ended up on her back with Tormund's arm flung over her middle, and she was stroking his forearm slowly with her fingertips, up and down. Clegane laid on his side for a while, watching her, resting with his head on his elbow.

“You'll get used to it,” he told her. She threw him a dirty look.

“You get used to it,” she shot back pointedly. Beside her, Tormund chuckled.

“He's right though. You might even start to like it. With the two of us, you won't get much time off.”

Brienne sighed, then grimaced in something akin to disgust and stopped the absent caress of the wildling's arm, prompting a heartfelt groan of disappointment from the other side of the bed. Clegane smirked.

“Anything else you haven't warned me about?” she queried, looking at him. He shrugged.

“Only the obvious,” he said, because it wasn't as if they'd taken any precautions, then couldn't help adding: “And it'd be weeks before you'd know about that one.”

Brienne frowned without understanding for a full five seconds, before sitting bolt upright in the middle of the bed.

“Brienne...” he said, laughing slowly, and she relaxed back down, turning to face him.

“Weeks,” she said quietly, and he nodded. The same thought was on both their minds then.

“At least,” he said, and if he was honest, rather sadly. He could see the same recognition in her eyes. They didn't have weeks, so there'd never been any need to worry about it. They'd never know, never see it. Suddenly she kissed him, full on the lips, but like everything else it was over too soon as she drew back and looked into his eyes.

“Woman, settle,” Tormund said, scooting up behind her. “We won't even get to have the pleasure of seeing you fill out, even if you were.” And then it seemed as if even Tormund couldn't help torturing them all. “And by then, we'd have had the pleasure of trying to guess whose child you'd gift us with first,” he murmured, some distant longing in his voice.

She turned onto her back, looked to the wildling. “But we have some pleasure. A least a little,” she told him, and he smiled.

“Aye. We have some.” And then Tormund kissed her too. Briefly. “Tomorrow,” he said, his voice stern. Brienne blinked.

“I suppose I did get a bit,” she paused, and looked at him, “... carried away,” she finished grudgingly.

“Yeah,” he said, then smirked. “But I did do the carrying away.” She giggled.

“You really did!” She said, eyes sparkling, then drew in another breath, but before she could speak, Tormund cleared his throat loudly, and she quietened. It was time to sleep.

Clegane took a moment to blow out the lamp, and then they settled again, with her in the middle – happy to be so once more – with their arms around her. In the dark, she gave a satisfied sigh.

“When winter came, I got the two of you to keep me warm until the end.” She laughed strangely. “In some ways, I'm very lucky.” Clegane smiled and squeezed her a little, but he was already drifting away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When morning arrived and they awoke, he and Tormund were up first. Brienne had curled herself up during the night, drawing her knees up to her middle, arms wrapped around her own waist. She looked bloody adorable. Then, as if she could sense their scrutiny, she slowly blinked awake and sat up, rubbing her eyes, one leg straightening towards the bottom of the bed. Then suddenly she pulled a face.

“Oh!” she said. “That can't be good.”

He and Tormund looked at each other. They didn't need to discuss it between them. All this time. She'd finally gotten fucked, and the cock turned out to be one of theirs. It was a fair bet she was feeling a bit sore this morning.

By now, they were well used to her preferred morning routine, and without conferring, he went to get a robe for her, while Tormund got some slippers for her feet, so that by the time she'd made it to the edge of the bed, they were both waiting for her. She glanced at them, suspicious.

“All right,” she said, slipping her feet into the slippers. “What have you done?” They looked at each other.

“Nothing!” Clegane said as she got up, holding out the robe for her to slip her arms into. She gave a huff of disbelief, then straightened up and immediately crumpled a little, her eyes closing in pain, or something like it. He took her left arm. Tormund took the other.

“So why are you treating me like an invalid?” she questioned as she opened her eyes, her voice hard. They let her go immediately.

She drew in a breath and straightened up again, rather more carefully this time. “See? There's nothing at all wrong with me,” she told them, glaring as she pulled the belt of the robe tight around her waist. “I'm perfectly fine!”

Clegane nodded dutifully. Tormund too. She stared at them for a long minute, then kissed him first, followed by Tormund.

“Right,” she said afterwards. “I'm going to bathe. I'll see you at breakfast.”

It was a fair assessment to say that Brienne's usual confident step was a little off that morning. She kind of half shuffled out of the room, although her baby steps were the equivalent of a stride for any other woman, and Clegane was sure he heard her mutter: “Gods!” under her breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was kind of uneventful after that. He and Tormund bathed together. Breakfast was quiet, but hopeful, since they were all of them thinking of the night to come much later on. Tormund was making dreadful eyes at her all the time, and she got back into the old habit of deliberately ignoring him, at least while in polite company, which was kind of comical to watch.

When they went out to train, she sat most of it out, much to Podrick's dismay, because that meant he had to take her place against them, and yet he managed a fairly competent job, with Brienne shouting instructions to him from the sidelines. Every now and again she couldn't help herself, and she'd get up to help him out, only to bow out again a few minutes later.

They fooled around before lunch, nothing heavy, then went up on the hill after they ate, and by that time she seemed to have fully recovered. She was moving better, and she took to the fighting with relish, clearly enjoying herself. Her eyes brightened, and she was smiling a lot more then than during the rest of the day. When she'd warmed up, even Tormund couldn't defeat her, despite wielding Heartsbane, and she seemed exhilarated by the competition.

At last, it finally occurred to him that the closer the evening got, the more excited she was, and when he realised it he laughed out loud.

“What?” she asked, puzzled, and he shook his head. He didn't want to spoil it by telling her.

“Nothing.” It was Tormund's turn tonight. If she had anything left after that, then he'd have her again.

After their sparring, she almost raced them back down into Winterfell, and they went to bathe again, to rid themselves of the sweat and dirt of the day. And at that point, Tormund finally spoke of the night to come.

The wildling waited until the baths were empty apart from them, then he dipped his head under the water, coming back up and squeezing the excess from his hair. “Tonight, Clegane,” he said. “Tonight I know her.”

Clegane inclined his head, while Tormund stared. That unblinking serious gaze, and something in his gut told him this was not any mere observation the wildling was making. “Tonight, you will see things. I have to ask you not to interfere in those things.”

Immediately, Clegane frowned. “What things?” he asked, suspicious.

Tormund shook his head, then clicked his fingers. “You can take a woman like that, even if you love her, and it's good for you. I cannot. I have to possess her. Take ownership of her.”

This didn't make any sense, not after all the thoughts he been having about how they were all equals. But then before he could ask another question, Tormund spoke again.

“And, as well, she has to be made to know it.”

Clegane suddenly growled. “Just wait a minute. Are you planning to hurt her somehow?” Tormund shook his head slowly.

“Would I?” he asked, and even as Tormund said it, Clegane realised it was a ridiculous question. He relaxed marginally. “It is our way, that is all. Tonight. Tonight, I will claim her as my wife, or –”

“Your wife?” he said suddenly, feeling his lips curl into a sudden snarl. “I think we're going to have a problem.”

“We are not.” Tormund sighed. “I wanted to say earlier, this – it is not the kind of marriage you spoke of to her. If we survive, you should have your ceremony. She believes in what you promise to her. It will make her happy. This is something different, and it is difficult to explain. It is a different God.” He shrugged. “If there be such a thing. Some believe. Mostly, it's the act that counts for us.” Tormund drew in a deep breath, as if in preparation. “The taking of a thing and keeping it. Like a woman.”

“Or what?” Clegane asked, and Tormund looked at him blankly. “You said: 'I will claim her as my wife, or...'?”

Now the wildling gave him a serious look. “Or she will succeed in killing me.” Clegane felt as if the air had gone from the room. That lunatic in him, it ran fucking deep!

“Why would she kill you?” he asked. “What the fuck are you going to do to her?” Something in him screamed to intercede already, that whatever Tormund had planned couldn't be allowed to take place. Under the water, his hands clenched into fists.

“Do not interfere,” Tormund said, as if aware of his thoughts. “As a friend, I ask you this. Trust me. I will not hurt her, but I will make her very angry with me.”

“And if you fail?” Clegane wanted to know, terribly conflicted. Did he help Tormund or not? Did he help Brienne? What was the right thing to do?

The wildling grinned rather wickedly, and shrugged one shoulder. “Then it was nice knowing you.”

“You're bloody serious!” Clegane managed, his voice coming out kind of strangled.

“Of course I am.” Tormund was a calm as ever, while Clegane was anything but. Now it wasn't just Brienne he was concerned for, and the feeling was coming as a bit of a shock to him.

“But, why can't you just...?” he said, frustrated at the whole thing, at the thought that this thing Tormund was planning, whatever it was, could all go horribly wrong. “Why?! Bloody wildlings!”

“You'll understand, after,” Tormund told him. “I think. Afterwards...” Here he smiled, and he closed his eyes for a second. Clearly, the reward was worth something to him. What did he intend to get from her? “Promise me you won't interfere, whatever you see,” he repeated. Clegane sighed, but teetered on the edge of agreeing. Tormund finally blinked. “Even if she calls on you for aid.”

Fucking hell! Just when he thought this shit couldn't get any worse! “Seven hells,” he said, scowling. “Don't make me regret it,” he said seriously, “because if I do, if she doesn't kill you. I swear I will.”

Tormund nodded. “Fair enough.” He seemed happy to accept the condition, which eased Clegane's mind somewhat. “Do I have your word?”

“Did I ever tell you I was in service to the King once?” Clegane said suddenly. “Only, I made less damned promises in all those years than I have in the last couple of weeks with you two.” He huffed out his breath and shook his head.

“That a yes?” Tormund demanded.

“Yes,” he said, against at least part of his own better judgement. “I promise.”

“Even if she calls you?” Tormund persisted.

“Brienne can take care of herself,” Clegane said, and twisted his lips into a kind of grimace. “I've always known it.”

“Good.”

That appeared to be that. They finished up, and it wasn't until they were both out, dried off and nearly dressed that Clegane spoke again.

“If it goes the other way, and you...” He stopped speaking, Tormund's serious gaze on him. Didn't he ever need to blink? Clegane frowned. “Look,” he said, his voice harsh, because he knew what Brienne was capable of after all. “If it comes to that, do you want me to help you?”

Tormund narrowed his eyes, then smiled slightly. “Ah, I appreciate the sentiment, I think. You're a southerner, so I won't take that as an insult.” Clegane rolled his eyes, and thought he shouldn't have even bothered saying anything. Clearly, Tormund was underestimating her. How, Clegane didn't know, because he'd spent enough time around her. If he enraged her, if he challenged her, he was bloody well already dead. Just walking around on borrowed time.

“If she kills me,” Tormund said then. “I deserve to die.” Clegane shook his head. “For trying to take something that is beyond my reach.”

He shrugged and carried on buttoning his shirt. Then at last, he couldn't help it. He'd seen enough too, and he'd seen how she responded to the wildling's touch.

“She's not,” he said.

“Not?” Tormund echoed.

“She's not beyond your reach,” Clegane elaborated, and Tormund smiled. He gripped Clegane's arm in a friendly fashion.

“I hope,” he said, nodding.

“Oh, fuck this!” Clegane muttered, feeling something kind of melancholy he couldn't put a name to. After everything, a hand on his arm? Fuck that! He pulled Tormund close, into a rough embrace, and felt the wildling's arms around him in turn. And then, after that, he kind of lost the thread of what happened when.

They were kissing again. Tormund tasted the same, pushed up against the wall and dangerously enticing. Gods, but their kisses were brutal. Nothing at all like hers. And yet as he continued it occurred to his fuzzy mind that he was getting hard over it just the same. And so was the wildling. Fuck. He pulled back. Licked his lips. Tormund stared at him, eyes twinkling dark, then he breathed in heavy, quirking his lips as he nodded slightly.

“All right,” Tormund said, almost as if he was extending an invitation. But there was no time or place for them, and they both knew it.

“Tell anyone,” Clegane said. “I'll kill you.” Tormund chuckled at his threat, and he scowled. “Just do whatever you got to do to win, and don't worry about me. I won't get in the way. I'd miss you too much. You mad fucker.”

And with that he turned and walked away.

“I like you too, Clegane,” Tormund called after him.

“Yeah? Fuck you. You want to prove it? Stay around 'til morning.”

To be continued...

Author's Note: Hmm... curiouser and curiouser! What is Tormund planning? Well, you'll find out soon. Next chapter will depend on how quickly I can get my housework done tomorrow, do some beta reading and various other little tasks.

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