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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.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Author's Note: A much longer chapter than usual, and mostly smut. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it! And if you don't, well, you make sure you go out and do something nice tomorrow... :)

And, while the tag doesn't strictly apply, certain elements in this chapter might be triggering for some people, so I'm warning for Rape/Non-consent. Though really it's non consent over something else. You'll find out, but if you're likely to be upset just skip the middle bit. I can't help how wildlings are, or how their culture works.

Chapter Twenty-two

Dinner was a hushed affair, though in some ways it was a negative version of what had transpired over breakfast. Now that the time was close at hand, and perhaps because he was mentally preparing himself for whatever demented thing he had planned out, Tormund was much more serious and quiet. Since Clegane knew a little of what occupied the wildling, he didn't comment on it, but Brienne noticed, and she did not seem to like the changed state of affairs one bit.

As soon as she realised Tormund was not making eyes at her or otherwise acting the fool, she began to pay closer attention to him, and Clegane watched with mounting interest as she kept trying to get him to notice her in lots of different ways, culminating in a move that made Tormund look up in feigned alarm. He glanced at Clegane.

“Is that your foot?” he asked. Clegane suddenly smirked, and then shook his head. The wilding drew back theatrically and peered under the table. Then he looked over the table at Brienne. She raised her face, chin sticking out, as if daring him to say something.

“All right,” he said slowly, serious, nodding, eyes wide as saucers.

Tormund looked to her plate, then back at her. “You want me, or you want to finish your dinner first?” he queried outright, unsmiling. Brienne looked down and bit her lip. Her meal was still only half eaten, just like theirs. She sighed, but it was inevitable. Food. It was important to them all. She picked up her fork like a moody teenager and speared a few carrot rings with it as Tormund turned and winked at him. Apart from that wink, it was almost a complete role reversal. Clegane shook his head and gave up trying to understand the first bloody thing about either of them.

He ate a little faster after that. Just in case.

It was strange, but when they finally were there, when they reached her room, with nothing else to do, the exuberance she'd displayed over the latter part of the day seemed to desert her, and she looked from one to the other of them in slowly dawning realisation.

“It's my turn every time from now on, isn't it?” she said, and it was impossible to tell if she liked the idea or not. But she was also right. Clegane nodded slowly, and he found he did like the idea, very much. His blood ran hotter and quicker in him just thinking about it.

“Every time,” he said, relishing the thought of the days to come. “Sometimes, you'll get two turns, all at once.” Her eyes widened, and she gulped. Was she still nervous, after everything?

She turned from him to Tormund, and the wildling was staring at her, such a look of deep hunger in him that Clegane began to feel a little sympathy for her. The wildling was kind of intense when he wanted to be. Also, it was one thing to talk of it, to think and imagine it, even to agree to it. It was another to face it, to go from one man to the other like a common whore, and she would never be that. He had to remind himself then that less than a week ago, she'd never even been touched. This had all happened very fast. Necessity had made it so, and clearly she'd allowed it because of the time they had left, but that didn't make it any easier on her.

Tormund moved towards her, and to her credit she didn't back away, though every instinct in her must be screaming. Clegane fought against his own better judgement too. He'd agreed not to interfere. Did that start now, or later?

By the time the wildling reached her, Brienne was staring down at the floor at her own unmoving feet, and as Tormund reached out to her, fingers under her chin to make her look up, she closed her eyes.

“Please,” she said softly, “don't.” She was actually trembling, like a damned leaf, and it was so out of character for her, Clegane couldn't help himself. There was just no way he could stand around and watch this, Tormund be damned.

“Tormund,” he said, without looking away from her. “You got any of that spirit about you tonight?”

The wildling looked around in surprise, then produced it from somewhere, and handed it over in a small flask. Clegane nodded his thanks. “Brienne,” he said then. “You want a drink?”

It was exactly the right thing to say, and she suddenly opened her eyes, looked around and smiled at him, all the tension draining out of her. “Gods, yes, please. Just a little one,” she said. It was as if he had broken some spell, because as he went to get a glass, she was leaning in against Tormund, hands sliding up over his shoulders, murmuring something into his ear.

He'd just poured a little into a glass, and added some water for Brienne's benefit, when Tormund laughed out loud. Clegane looked around, frowning. Tormund was finding something hilarious, while she was blushing, getting quickly annoyed and glowering at the wildling like she was about to kill him, or punch him again.

“Well! You were ignoring me!” she accused, angry. “And then you gave me that awful, dark look, and I didn't know what to do about it!” She stomped over to a chair and sat down. “It's not as if I could beat it out of you, and I wanted you to be happy about us all again.”

What the hell?! Clegane stood there with the glass in his hand, at a complete loss. “All right,” he said. “Does one of you want to tell me what the fuck just happened?”

Tormund shook his head, put beyond explanations for now, clearly. Clegane looked to her, and she looked woebegone. He handed her the glass and she gulped the liquid in it down, swallowing about half of it all at once. He was suddenly glad he'd added the water. Then she sighed.

“I thought he was angry with me,” she said, then fidgeted, clearly embarrassed. “So I told him not to be, because I want him as much as I want you.” Then she glared at Tormund. “Though I'm starting to reconsider.”

Oh. Clegane began to get an inkling. She thought he was angry? After his sudden quiet pensive mood, that would make probably make sense to her after the previous night, and she'd thought... no wonder Tormund was laughing. She gotten him all wrong. Tormund wasn't just happy to share, it was his damned preference. Clegane hid his sudden smirk with his hand and covered it by clearing his throat.

Tormund knelt before her chair, as serious as he had ever been, not a hint of laughter in him. “Brienne. I am not angry. Perhaps, tonight, you would permit me to be nervous, yes?”

“Nervous?” she queried, frowning, and then her face cleared. It was like watching a magic trick as the anger drained away, replaced by a kind of wonder. “Oh...” She smiled a little. Tormund took the half empty glass from her hands.

“You don't need this,” he said, and she pulled a kind of face.

“I don't really drink,” she told him, and he nodded at her.

“I know. We should get more comfortable,” he suggested. “Like last night. Get you ready, between us.” Tormund threw a glance to Clegane, and he nodded.

The wildling stood up, and held out his hands to her, giving her time and the choice, pulling her up from the chair only to catch her in his embrace and stand with her for a moment. They kissed, and she made a muffled sound of pleasure before he began steering her back towards the bed. Tormund tumbled her back onto it without ever breaking the kiss. It was like watching a master at work. Clegane puffed out a breath.

At last he drew back, and her eyes were already darkening, still fully dressed, but probably not for long. She stared up at him.

“You're not really nervous at all, are you?” she said, as if aware of the truth. Tormund smiled, then shook his head.

“No, beauty. But you are, and that's all right.” He drew in a breath and tilted his head. “You make me happy that you share yourself with both of us. Never doubt it.” He stared at her. “Even I wish we had longer to get here. Chasing you would have been one of the greatest pleasures of my life. If we win, we will make up for it later, yes?”

She smiled, and then Tormund moved aside, allowing her to sit up. Her eyes were beginning to sparkle with enjoyment now as she started to undress, and that was much better. Clegane nodded to himself as he began to shed his own clothes. Tormund stripped off too, dropping his own things heedlessly by the side of the bed.

They surrounded her, and as always it began with the kissing, her turning from one to the other as if she couldn't make up her mind between them, humming with pleasure at this and that. Nervous she may be, but she was also much more animated this time, seeming to almost thrum with energy between them.

“You're very excited,” Clegane remarked to her between kisses, when she was facing him, and she nodded, the strangest look in her eyes.

“It's not going to hurt tonight, is it?” she asked, but it was more of a delighted statement. She sighed and kissed him again, much too quickly for him to properly enjoy it. “I want him first, but I want you after.” Clegane laughed.

“You might not have anything left for me,” he said, and she shook her head.

“I will,” she argued, and she drew in a breath, but he put a finger on her lips.

“No promises, Brienne,” he said, and she actually pouted.

Fuck, he hoped Tormund knew what he was doing, and that things weren't going to go horribly wrong. Clegane didn't know if he could stand it if they did. Brienne would blame herself, right after she blamed the two of them. Inwardly, he began to regret making his own promise, but it was way too late to back out now.

Between them they slowed her down, much to Brienne's genuine annoyance, but soon it seemed she began to enjoy the new things they were showing to her as much as before. Also, Tormund allowed her to touch him from time to time, staring deep into her eyes as she handled him slowly, letting her tease herself that way with the thought of it.

Brienne did not beg, she threatened, and instead of giving her what she wanted, Tormund simply grinned and went down on her, so that her words changed to inarticulate pleas and cries. Clegane pleased himself with her upper body, the two of them feasting on her as they liked, and he dragged her hand down to touch him, but she was too far out of it to concentrate properly, and he brought her hand back up with a kind of wicked laugh.

When Tormund had taken all he wished, he returned to the top of the bed, and Brienne gazed at him, almost pouting. “How many times must I ask you now?” she queried as he stared at her, and the wildling seemed to take that as a challenge. He looked down the bed again, and this time Brienne grabbed his arms.

“No! Please! Don't!” She seemed to struggle for the words. She'd never begged for anything in her life before. Not while sensible, at least. “Tormund.” She bit her lip, and he gave her a moment, waiting. At last she sighed in capitulation. “Please, do it to me.” She reached down with her hand, and he let her, his eyes darkening just like hers, though Clegane suspected it was her words, rather than her actions that drew the response. “I want it inside me, Tormund. Fuck me, please.”

She didn't swear often, but when she did it kind of made you pay attention, and the wildling did. “Yes, beauty,” he said, nodding. “It is time.”

Brienne hissed a quiet but enthusiastic “Yes!” that made Clegane laugh, throwing her arms around Tormund and kissing him, only to draw back licking her lips in surprise at the taste of herself. Tormund did not smile. Instead the wildling paused for a beat, and then turned that heated and intense gaze on him, just for a second.

That look told him everything, and he could not mistake it. Despite his misgivings, Clegane withdrew. And to save himself from temptation, he did not just withdraw his touch, he moved away from the bed, taking himself to one of the chairs where he would still have a good view of the proceedings, but time to reconsider any particularly rash actions on his part.

Brienne didn't even seem to notice that he was gone, all of her attention was on the wildling. She stretched out beneath Tormund as an encouragement to him, a breath of a sigh, longing, her eyes half closed, glinting blue.

“Tonight, I will know everything you are,” Tormund said, looking down upon her, one hand framing her face as if he wished to take the moment and keep it with him for all time. He breathed deeply as Clegane watched, that strange intensity in him again, growing deeper. “I will know all your secrets,” he said. Beneath him Brienne slid her hands around his waist, down over his lower back. Her legs were spread wide. She raised the left so that her knee was near the wildling's waist, the sole of her foot on the back of his thigh. Her other leg seemed to wrap lovingly around his own in an embrace.

“I will love everything you do,” Tormund said then. She tried to turn her face away, seeming uninterested in his words.

“Tormund,” she whispered, and her lower body moved suggestively. “Stop talking now. Give it to me. Do it.”

Instead of obeying her, Tormund took her chin in his fingers to keep her eyes on his. “Everything, Brienne,” he said, and her eyes widened, as if he knew something she had kept hidden. Again, just as before, the atmosphere became charged. Clegane watched closely, and he saw Tormund reach down to guide himself into her. He moved only slightly, just a little, keeping the eye contact.

“I saw you, and I wanted you,” Tormund said, and Clegane didn't need to see the penetration to know the exact moment of it, because he saw it in her eyes. How they darkened further as she moaned. Her left hand moved up to the top of Tormund's back to try and pull him close, to pull him down to her. “Now I possess you.”

Brienne made a move then, an attempt to roll them both over in protest at the slow penetration, but Tormund didn't let her. How he managed to control himself, Clegane would never know. She was hot for it, relaxed, and luscious down below. There was no pain in her eyes, only desperate desire. And yet still he moved so slowly. “I don't understand,” she murmured, frustrated, her body moving against his, trying to encourage him to go faster. “Possess me?”

“You don't understand...” Tormund laughed slowly, and now she stared up at him, almost seeming frozen in place. “Look upon your husband, Brienne.”

Now she jolted, as if to fight, the corners of her mouth turning down in indignation. “But I didn't agree to that!” she called out, too loudly, betraying her alarm.

Tormund merely quirked his lips, as if it didn't matter at all. Made certain she saw it. “I need no permission. I seek none. You don't decide, woman. I decide.”

For a moment they stared at each other, then with her right hand, Brienne reached beneath the bedside table and drew out a short silver blade, but Tormund was ready for her. He grabbed her wrist before she could get the blade anywhere near him, pressing that hand into the pillows and negating the threat. “Oh, beauty,” he said, knowing. “You never did trust either of us, not completely, did you?”

Clegane's heart dropped a little in delayed fear, but if he hadn't been carried away, he would have expected it too. Had he really thought Brienne of Tarth hadn't had some kind of protection close by, just in case things went awry with them? Seriously? He'd been overconfident. Of course she did. Just as he would have done in her place. But he'd slept in that bed with her, and knowing she could have killed him at any time was just a little too chilling to be taken lightly. He shivered.

Having failed to use the blade, Brienne finally looked around for him, and noticed he was gone. “Sandor!” she cried out, and Clegane closed his eyes, actually screwed them up, feeling himself almost cringe into the chair. No interruptions. If he did, things might actually get bloody, and he had the feeling that whatever Tormund was up to, he was handling it quite well.

“You think I didn't guess?” Tormund asked as Clegane opened his eyes again to watch, ignoring her outburst, ignoring her panic and her anger. “You, so fierce, would never surrender so easily.” He nodded. “I respect that. But now I have you. And you still want it, don't you?” He pressed inwards a tiny bit, and she inhaled sharply. “Tell me,” he urged, a tremor in his voice that betrayed the effort he was expending to keep control. “Tell me, and I'll give you everything you want.”

That inhale came out of her in a quiet moan of desire that she couldn't help, despite her fury. Her eyes flashed up at him, promising death, and yet... “I want you,” she said, her voice low in a strange mixture of hatred and lust. “Gods, I can't help it! Tormund...” It was part demand, part plea, and the wildling responded to her immediately, moving again, excruciatingly slowly.

It must be almost torture for them both, and Brienne dug the short nails of her left hand deep into Tormund's shoulder, dragging her hand down, leaving a long row of dark red scratches all the way down the wildling's back before he was fully in her. Clegane wondered if she was even aware of doing it.

Tormund must be there – all of him – yet he continued to drive forward with his hips, lips twisted, until she gave a low moan, the knife falling from her outstretched fingers to the floor by the side of the bed with a thin clatter. Clegane found himself breathing in relief, and wondered when he'd started holding his breath.

“Good girl,” Tormund praised, earning himself a venomous glare. He leaned down and reached into his clothing by the side of the bed, and it occurred to Clegane at last that it was no coincidence he'd put it there. He pulled out something made of straps of thin dark leather.

“You are strong, and you have claws,” he observed. “But I like slow, at least to begin, so I must restrain you.” With that he pulled her left hand hand up, and before she could resist he had managed to secure both her wrists into the thin loops, only to tether those to the head of the bed.

“No!” Brienne was shocked into sudden lucidity, pulling on the restriction and gasping as Tormund got his arms beneath her legs, holding her in a position that made it impossible to resist him. Brienne kicked her lower legs out as she twisted her hands, but she was helpless, and she connected with nothing but the air.

Tormund endured this for a moment or two, remaining quite still inside her, then he growled and she froze, staring into his eyes. “Are you fighting with me?” he asked her. “Or fucking?”

“Let me go!” she demanded, and Tormund only raised his eyebrows.

“Beauty,” he scolded. “Do you need me to go over this again for you? Really?”

The look on her face was a picture. Clegane saw her glance to where her knife lay useless at the side of the bed, then to her wrists that were captured. She scowled, and screamed in frustration. Tormund waited. Eventually, she seemed to relax, and he smiled.

“Good. Then we begin,” he said.

Clegane relaxed entirely. It was done now, and whatever might come from it, he had to admit that seeing Brienne restrained like that was kind of inspiring. The wildling began to move slowly in her, giving her light, shallow, slow thrusts, and Clegane found himself content to watch. More than content in fact, as he lowered a hand to touch himself.

He didn't expect the wildling to last long. He knew what paradise was like. He'd been inside her first, after all, and yet Tormund continued. At times Brienne began to struggle again, and Tormund would stop until she relaxed once more. It was as if he was training her, only giving her what she truly desired when she welcomed it, and her bouts of resistance became fewer and further between until they disappeared completely.

He praised her, and when she gave in he allowed her legs down, letting her embrace him with them as she'd done before. To that he voiced a groan of pleasure, but he didn't stop. Perspiration broke out on Tormund's skin, alongside the red scratches she'd left on his back. He made the fucking of her a job of work, and all of a sudden it occurred to Clegane this is exactly how Tormund was treating it. Like some kind of damned weird audition. For all of his deliberate angering of her, his actions were bent on pleasing her.

“Faster now. Deeper,” he said at last, and Brienne's moans increased in tempo with his movements. At points they'd hit a crescendo as she climaxed. Tormund would pause, then begin again at the start, Brienne too, her moans light and breathless. Every muscle in him was dedicated to this task, Clegane could see them all working under the sheen of sweat that covered him, from his shoulders to his legs. It was a strangely beautiful thing to watch. And all the while, her, bound up like that. Clegane heard himself growl in lust. Who wouldn't?

At the last he was taking her so hard and deep Clegane could hear that slamming of it, that telltale slap at the end of each movement, and her vocalisations were constantly being cut short, changing to short, hard grunts of keen sensation. He taken so much time about it, he couldn't possibly be hurting her. She must have opened up to his cock like a damned flower or something. She was a woman, just the same as the rest. Still, Tormund was like him, and no matter how she'd relaxed, there was resistance. Natural order of things. That's why the wildling was having to work so hard. Pulling in and out of that tight channel, no matter how slippery it was... Clegane drew in a breath of longing through his teeth. To feel that again...

“Oh, you are nearly there, aren't you?” Tormund managed, breathless himself. “You feel it, coming for you. Let it take you, beauty,” he urged. “Surrender to me.”

As if in answer to him, Brienne cried out once, and then was quiet except for a kind of deep, expressive breathing. Everything about her seemed to fall. Instead of embracing him, her legs relaxed onto the bed at either side of Tormund, and her head fell back.

“There it is,” Tormund said, stilling for a moment. “Good. Now I set you free again.” And he untied her, letting her wrists loose, but her arms dropped to the bed as if lifeless, and Clegane knew he'd seen this before. The wildling had broken her, just how he'd described it. At least he didn't waste time after that, but came quickly with a victorious roar as he did it. His rhythm broke down towards the end, drawing a strange tired moan from her before he pulled carefully away and settled beside her, pulling her arm over him.

“Tormund...?” she managed at last, after a minute or so. She struggled to sit up, but fell instantly forward, her head in her hands. “What did you do to me?”

The wilding stroked her back. “It is all right. It will pass.”

“I feel so weak,” Brienne announced, too exhausted to even be alarmed about it, and she tried to turn, but instead fell back down into Tormund's embrace. He chuckled.

“But it feels good, yes?” he asked, again with the knowing, and she sighed expansively.

“Yes,” she said against his shoulder. “It's good.”

Clegane got up and walked back over to the bed. It was done now, and he felt ridiculously pleased that Tormund was still alive. He caught the wildling's eye, and nodded. Tormund nudged her. “Do you have enough left for him?” he asked, and Brienne's eyelashes fluttered.

“Sandor...” she breathed, “where?” Her fingers twitched against Tormund's shoulder as Clegane took his place behind her so that she ended up in the middle again, sandwiched between them.

“I'm here.” She hadn't said no, hadn't said anything, and she still didn't, even when he pressed himself against her. Everything he'd seen. He was a man, and he needed her to take him too, wanted it more than anything. He nuzzled his lips against the back of her neck as he used his right hand to seek entry to her, guiding his cock, and she spoke then.

“I can't move,” she said, as if it mattered. Clegane shook his head.

“You don't have to.” And the next moment he was there, taking her from behind, sliding deep. Gods, but she fit him like a snug, hot living glove, wet with herself and with Tormund, slick with it. Immediately her pussy squeezed at him, drawing him in, and it felt bloody amazing. He groaned.

“Ah!” She breathed in deep, almost seeming to whimper out, and he wrapped his arms around her waist as he halted.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned.

“No. It's just...” She almost seemed to cry, and he felt it in a sensation within her. She pulsed around him, hot velvet, that rush of something more before her pussy drew upon him again like a wet sucking mouth, only about a hundred times better. “Too much...” she moaned, helpless.

“Too much,” Clegane repeated, but she was calling him on, provoking him, and he could not resist it. He suddenly pulled back and drove in again hard. Again with that pulse, and it was a familiar sensation in some respects. Every one of those whores who he thought he'd broken had felt a little like this, but they didn't have a tenth of the intensity of sensation she had. It was bliss.

“Good...” Brienne moaned, and he felt her somehow, impossibly, touch his heart with that one word. Everything he felt for her seemed amplified as her body caressed him, urged him onwards and in.

“I'll be quick,” he promised, with another kiss to her shoulder, and he was. It was the truth he couldn't take much of that unconscious beckoning before he spent in her, and he was sure he called her name as he did it. He was certain he loved her beyond sense, beyond anything. The woman who'd bested him, who'd broken him and left him for dead. Here she was, in his arms, her body giving him the greatest pleasure he'd ever known. And she wanted him. It was an impossible dream, made real.

When it was done, he gentled, aware that he'd lost some control of himself, but damn she had drawn it from him and he couldn't have stopped it! He rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands for a second. He felt empty now. He sneaked a look between his fingers, only to find that she was laid on her back, smiling strangely at him.

Clegane lowered his hands, and rested beside her, looking into her eyes. Tormund lay on her other side, hand stroking gently down her body, as if to soothe her now it was all over. She drew in a breath.

“How does it feel?” he asked, innately curious, seeing that she was so still between the two of them, broken like that. Brienne blinked.

“Like I have everything I ever wanted, and then some more,” she said, her voice dreamy. “It feels like flying, even now,” she said on a sigh. “It feels as if you might kill me and I would die happy.” She paused for a beat and gave him a wry look. “It's a strange feeling.”

Clegane grinned a little. “Yeah. Same,” he said, but in truth he thought maybe she was getting the better end of the deal, after all. Brienne laughed, clearly beginning to come around a little. Then she frowned.

“I have to get up,” she said, then just kind of flopped onto her side instead. Tormund shook his head, having his hand dislodged from her breast to her waist.

“Where will you go, woman? Your lovers are here with you.”

She managed to pull a face at Clegane, out of sight of Tormund. “Yes,” she said. “Parts of you are still in me. I need to be clean before I relax, fall asleep, or do something embarrassing, like swoon.”

Clegane laughed out loud. “Only maidens swoon,” he remarked, earning himself a dirty look.

“Yes. Thank you for that, too,” Brienne said with a roll of her eyes. She attempted to sit up, and again fell forward, just like before, catching her head in her hands. “Oh, Gods,” she sighed. It was as if she were a rag doll. “One minute,” she said, her voice a little faint, more to herself than to them.

She breathed in and out in an exaggerated fashion for a while longer than that, then somehow managed to clamber over him to the side of the bed. “Sandor?” she said. “Could you bring me a chair?”

He did so, and she managed to sort herself out behind the curtain while they waited, using the chair to keep herself steady, then she climbed back into bed between them and got all snuggly again. This time, she cuddled up against Tormund, while Clegane moved behind her, hand on her hip.

Tormund sighed and looked at her. “You will bring no more knives to bed, woman. You need no protection from us.”

Between them, she flounced a little bit. “Fine. Well, let's have no more restraints then,” she snapped back. Tormund smiled slowly.

“Didn't you like them?”

“No!”

Clegane couldn't see her face, but he suddenly laughed out loud. Brienne could do many things, but she couldn't lie worth a damn. “You keep laughing,” she said, “and I'll try them out on you.”

He had a sudden vivid vision of himself tied to the bed, with her on top, and it didn't have quite the effect on him she hoped for. “Do you promise?” he murmured into her ear, and she groaned as if he'd made a bad joke. Tormund smirked.

“I knew you wanted it that way,” she said, as if confirming a suspicion. “Well, maybe if you're very good I will do it.” She yawned, and stretched, as confident as ever, and before he could give her any kind of response she was asleep. Clegane blinked, astonished. Tormund shrugged.

“Woman is tired. Beat us to it.”

Clegane couldn't remember a woman beating him to sleep after sex before. But he settled down along with the wildling after dousing the lamps and they were soon all resting. More importantly, they were all still here. It had gone well. His last thought was how long it might take Brienne to remember she was married in the morning, and what she might do to Tormund then...

To be continued...

Author's Note: Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed it! :) Your author is rather poorly at the moment, so updates are likely to be delayed for a short while. Sorry about that. The good news is, you can cheer me up while I recover! Please review. Responses will be here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/61848-pippychicks-review-replies-tv/
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