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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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Chapter Thirty-six

“No.”

Tormund folded his arms and glared across the table, unblinking, while Clegane sighed inwardly. His answer appeared to be final.

Snow had found them all at breakfast, and urged them to join him here as soon as they were done. He'd announced his intention to leave at once, letting the Lannister army catch them up on the way. Preparations had already begun while they had been wasting time lying in bed with each other and Winterfell was a hive of activity. Even with them already being on high alert, it would still take a day or two before they could move out. But, as Snow said, the longer they waited, the more chance the army of the dead would find pockets of civilisation and grow itself.

Since then he'd outlined his plan for them in detail, and even Clegane wasn't overly taken with it, but it made sense. It was the best way, really, to ensure they got to where they needed to be. He thought, looking at Brienne, that she'd seen the wisdom of it too. But Tormund? His face was like thunder, and Clegane could understand why, but he needed to get over it and fast.

“That all you got, crow?” Tormund demanded. He'd reverted to calling Snow that, which meant he was beyond angry. Snow narrowed his eyes, and then switched to gaze at Brienne, as if to appeal to her, for her help.

“Oh!” she said, and got up from the table, holding up her hands as she backed away. “You settle this between you, without me.” As Snow looked away from her, she folded her arms too, and she didn't look very pleased with him either. Clegane could understand that, too. She wasn't anyone's pawn, and whatever influence she had over Tormund wasn't to be used in games of consent.

“Clegane,” Snow said, and he shook himself, paying attention. He couldn't refuse to help though, not after pledging himself to Snow as King of the North. Shit. He looked to Tormund.

“It's a good plan,” he began. “I mean it gets us where we need to be to do the most damage. Puts the odds in our favour.”

Tormund banged his fist on the table. “I said no!” He shook his head. “I will not be coddled!”

“For fuck's sake,” Clegane swore. “I don't think I've ever seen you act childish before. It's just like a shield. That's all it is.”

Snow had told them they would ride in with the infantry, on horses, and that had roused Tormund at once. But it wasn't that which had got his outright refusal. It was the indication that they would be protected by that section of the infantry for as far as possible, both on horseback, and when the horses were abandoned, in order that the three of them should reach the back end of the dead army without loss. Upon hearing that, Tormund had become completely uncooperative.

Tormund's lips twisted, and he didn't look at either of them. “A shield of living men, who'll fall to the army of the dead instead of us? Do they know about this plan of yours, crow?”

“Yes. The men who will do it are men of the Watch. All of them have volunteered. And that's exactly what it is,” Snow said, his voice hard. “Because it will work, because it's the only way, because it's a sacrifice that is necessary. They know that.”

Again, Tormund shook his head. “No. I will not. I will not abandon them.” He sat back, as if the discussion was over, arms still folded.

“You dumb cunt. They're volunt –” A harsh noise stopped him, as Brienne cleared her throat, staring at him meaningfully, and he understood what she did a second later.

“So,” he said, reconsidering. “You're prepared to risk our lives for your pride. Is that it? You're not even fighting with them, you're fighting with us.”

Tormund looked right at him. “It's not pride,” he sneered. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Duty then. Means fuck all at this point.”

Tormund laughed without humour. “Southerners. You'll never get it.” He leaned forward. “You're not a Knight,” he said, and Clegane felt his hackles rise as Tormund smiled at him. “I'm not a King. I'm one of them, just like I'm one of you. We're all the same, and I will not be shielded!”

A thought seemed to occur to him then and he sneered again. “Why are you arguing for the crow, anyway?”

Clegane tried to match Tormund's stare, and failed, blinking first. He drew in a breath. “Because I'm bound to. I pledged myself to him as King of the North.”

There was a shocked intake of breath from Brienne, and then a sudden deep scraping on the wooden floor as Tormund got up, pushing his chair back. Clegane got up too, and they walked around the table to face each other. Tormund's eyes were all but bulging out of his head. He'd never seen the wildling look so furious, and yet he couldn't back down. He wouldn't.

“Crow. Get out,” Tormund growled, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Brienne jerk her head at Snow, to get him to move. She followed him to the door, locking it behind him, locking the three of them in together.

“Come on, then. What?” he challenged.

“You're ours,” Tormund told him, narrowing his eyes. His voice was so deep Clegane was surprised the walls and furniture weren't vibrating. He'd thought this give and take between the three of them meant there weren't any feelings of possession involved. He was wholly wrong. Because he was aware of the possessive intent in Tormund right then, over him, and it made something in his brain go all kind of pleasantly muggy.

“You've got no business giving yourself away to anyone else,” Tormund said, threatening.

“Oh, come on!” Clegane cried out with a derisory laugh, trying to ignore the effect Tormund's words were having on him. “That's not fair and you know it.”

Tormund took a step forward, and Clegane held his ground, snarling. “He'd given me Blackfyre, for fuck's sake! What was I supposed to do? Besides, it's not like it matters. We're going to die here! Or did you forget that bit?”

“We aren't going to die,” Tormund said, taking another step, as if he, the Hound, could be intimidated! He spat at Tormund's feet.

“Fuck, have you checked up on reality lately? How do you even live like that? Yes, we are! We're all going to bloody die! Look, I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but...”

He was stopped short because Tormund suddenly punched him in the gut, making him kind of double over in pain. They were facing off against each other, but he really hadn't expected it to come to this. The wildling grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him up while he tried to get his breath back. Hissed into his ear.

“There you go,” Tormund said, right into his ear, as if it had been a gift. “Any more excuses?”

Clegane growled, formed his right hand into a fist and pulled back enough to land it right on Tormund's jaw, forcing him to let go. Any normal man would be down and out at that, but this was Tormund. He was half turned away, wiping at his mouth with one hand as his lip trickled with blood. The wildling turned back to face him, laughing. “All right,” he said. “Let's do this. You need to. I can tell.”

Clegane grinned. “Oh, I've got plenty more,” he promised. “Come on at me!”

The wildling charged him, and he obviously hoped to knock him off his feet, but he wasn't that easy, and Clegane merely laughed as he turned Tormund's momentum against him, throwing him to the floor. He got up with a growl, his face deep red with anger, and it was going to be so simple to best him. Hardly a challenge at all. Clegane smirked.

Later on, he would wish he didn't know how it happened, but he did. It was easy. He was easy. Tormund came at him, right fist coming towards his face, so Clegane blocked it. And instead of hitting him, that hand grabbed a handful of his hair. His own right hand was ready to pay Tormund back for that punch in the gut, but the wildling had anticipated him, and he found his fist caught and held for a moment before his hand, and his arm, were twisted painfully behind his back and he was bent over the table. Held there face down, which ordinarily would be impossible of course, but... Tormund was strong. Really, ridiculously strong.

“You fucking cunt!” he shouted, realising he'd been tricked, the side of his face pressed into the slightly worn oak. He couldn't move. Tormund's grip on his hair was hard, and the hold on his arm was painful. One of his arms was free, but all he could do was reach back and touch the side of the wildling's body helplessly.

He could see Brienne had seated herself again, because he could see her long legs, stretched out in front of her chair, but he couldn't look up far enough to see her face.

“We aren't going to die,” Tormund said calmly, leaning over him to speak directly into his bad ear, or what was left of it after his first fight with Brienne, since it was his scar that was exposed. “Say it.”

“Fuck off!”

He struggled, enraged, all of Tormund's body pressed against his, but the wildling's grip on his arm only tightened, and he feared it might break. He became deliberately still, pulling air in and out of his lungs noisily, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Wrong,” Tormund said, and the wildling was doing something, but Clegane wasn't overly good with sensation on that side of his face, and he couldn't understand it right away. In fact, he had to hear it before he knew. “Say it,” Tormund said again, and it sounded as if he licked his lips first. The bastard was actually licking his face! Clegane growled.

“We're all going to die, because you won't agree to the fucking plan,” he said, furious. “You know what? You're right. We're all the same. Even you, which means you get to do things you don't like and be miserable about it, just like the fucking rest of us. You're welcome. Now let me up!”

Tormund didn't move.

“So. If I agree to this plan, you'll agree we're going to live?”

“All right, whatever. Yeah.”

Tormund waited. Eventually, Clegane sighed. “If you agree to it, then I agree, we'll live. All right?”

“Good. You're going to have to let Snow down on your own. However you do it, I don't care. But you do it... you belong to us, with us. Now. And after, for as long as it lasts. Am I clear?”

“Don't,” Clegane said, because instantly that muggy feeling was back, and he wanted to agree, but he couldn't. Not like this. Not held down and made to... it was impossible.

Tormund chuckled, his voice deep, and for a moment his lips were just behind Clegane's ear, and there was no scarring just there. He could feel the smile they made. “Mine,” Tormund whispered, and he remembered that moment between them, just a couple of short hours ago. Only now he had to give the answer.

“Yes,” he said back instantly, forgetting everything else but Tormund's body heat, the strange reassurance of his weight, his hot breath.

Tormund hoisted him up, but didn't let him go, and he hissed in pain when the wildling's grip tightened to remind him not to struggle. “Beauty,” Tormund said as he opened his eyes at last. “Is there anything you want before I let him go?”

Brienne got to her feet, and Clegane watched her walk to stand before him. At last it occurred to him how he might have upset her with his casual admittance that he'd pledged himself to Snow, but before he could even open his mouth to apologise she slapped him across the face – hard. Clegane let his cheek rest against Tormund's shoulder for a moment, biting his lip as the stinging set in.

Tormund hissed, then laughed. “Even I felt that one,” he said in amusement, then set him free.

Clegane instantly put about five feet of space between himself and Tormund, all but snarling again. He stomped to the door and pulled on it. It didn't budge. “Where's the key?” he demanded, turning around. They both just stared at him.

Brienne sighed, then glanced at Tormund with a slightly mischievous smile. The wildling laughed and tried to peek down her shirt. Clegane rolled his eyes. “I'm not going in there to get it,” he said, sullen, holding out his palm. “Hand it over.”

“Oh, I know you're not,” Brienne told him firmly, returning to the table and straightening a chair. She and Tormund took their places at the other side. “You're not leaving here until we're all on good terms again. So you'd better sit down.” She stared at him, unsmiling. “Now.”

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Clegane seated himself at the other side of the table, facing the two of the them. After what had happened, he couldn't seem to get comfortable, and he fidgeted. He also couldn't stop shaking his head. Belatedly, he remembered how Tormund had licked the side of his face, and he spent at least ten seconds wiping all the dampness away with jerky motions of his hand as Tormund watched him.

“How can there be any terms between us after that little stunt?” he asked, already making plans. “Fucking dick!” He said it, but he couldn't help thinking of Brienne, and then it really hurt, and he laid his forehead on the table in defeat, groaning.

“Will it help if I let you hold me down over the table?” Tormund asked, and Clegane looked up, startled, only to catch him smirking. He instantly imagined it.

Tormund made to get up. “We can do it now if you want,” he said, actually eager.

“No. It won't be the same,” Clegane complained. “You'll only enjoy it, you mad fucker,” he said slowly, and as he said it he knew it was true. He shook his head again and looked away, rolling his eyes. Brienne laughed lightly, catching his attention.

“You want some advice?” she asked, and he shrugged, frowning. “I've been where you are. He'll get what he wants in the end, so you might as well give in now. Save yourself some time.”

Clegane looked back to Tormund, and it was suddenly impossible to remain angry with him. “Oh, fuck it,” he said with a sigh. “No, don't get up! It's fine. I'll live without having you over the table.” He thought about what Brienne had said. “At least for now,” he added in an undertone, and she smirked.

“So,” said Tormund at last, settling back down in his seat. “All we need to do now is decide on your punishment for betraying us. Then we're done here.”

“Oh, fuck me!” Clegane groaned. “Doesn't this shit ever end?” He waited, head held in his hands, but no one said anything, so he looked up.

“Well, go on then, what'll it be?” He felt kind of disappointed after everything. Everything came down to pain in the end, even this. He shouldn't have expected anything different, should have known better. How much pain was he prepared to accept to know her? To know Tormund, even. Perhaps that would be endless. He sighed heavily. He'd gone and walked into Hell with his eyes wide open. It was a sure bet he'd do it one day, but he hadn't thought it would look so much like Heaven. “Say something, will you?”

Tormund stared at him, and then whispered to Brienne. She smiled and nodded, then whispered back. At last Tormund sat back in his seat. He looked like he'd won the game. “Me, I get to touch you tonight, just like you invited me to this morning. Brienne has agreed to it.”

Clegane felt his jaw drop. “W-what?” Tormund tilted his head, as if he was enjoying it, to study his reaction. “Are you completely demented?” He thought about that question for a second or two. “Yeah, you are.”

“It's what I want,” Tormund said, shrugging.

Clegane shook his head. “No. That can't be all. That can't be it. I don't believe it. What else?” The wildling frowned for a moment, then he brightened.

“Oh, yes, there is something else.”

Right, Clegane thought. This was it, then. The real thing. He steeled himself to hear it. Probably some weird wildling torture, like being left naked in the wilderness to see if you can survive the exposure. Or maybe something to do with stoning. They had a lot of stones north of the wall. Then he recalled what Tormund had done to that follower of Bolton's and gulped despite himself.

Tormund cleared his throat. “When I use my fingers to fuck you tonight, I get to do it until you come.”

What?! Clegane felt suddenly weak limbed. He was kind of glad he was already sitting down. He stared at Tormund, and all at once he realised this was serious. This really was what Tormund had chosen. “If that's the kind of thing you want, why not just fuck me with your cock?” he demanded crudely. Tormund smiled, nice and slow, letting him work it out all for himself.

This morning, he'd all but asked for it. And then he remembered how it had started with Brienne. So slowly as this. What he'd said when Clegane had been involved too, and Tormund had told him to relax...

You want her to like it, or not?

This was about making him like it. So that later... Clegane gulped again and stood up, twitching and uncertain. That wasn't fair!

“You!” he accused, pointing at Tormund, who sat there grinning. “You can't do this! You can't just seduce whoever you want!” He scowled. “I won't bloody well go along with it!”

“Yes, I can. Yes, you will. Do you understand?” Tormund asked, still with the lunatic grin. “If so,” he said, crafty, “repeat it back to me.”

His mouth was suddenly dry. He hesitated. Oh, no! No way! “Seven hells! I can't do it!” He growled in frustration. It was only words. “Come on, Tormund! This isn't fair!”

“If you want, you can come over here and whisper it to me,” Tormund suggested, and Clegane shuddered in horror. He didn't know which one was worse.

He took a deep breath. Looked into Tormund's eyes. “Tonight,” he repeated, as quickly as he could “you can do whatever you want. I won't protest. And you're just going to have to make do with that,” he said pointedly. He slumped back down into his chair in defeat, shaking. “I fucking hate you. Ginger cunt.”

Tormund smiled and nodded. “Good. That'll do.” He sighed as if he were already imagining it. “And now, it's her turn.”

They both looked at Brienne, and she looked from one to the other of them, then something seemed to occur to her, but instead of saying it, she blushed. Leaning in, she whispered it to Tormund, and he grinned. “Shall I tell him?” Brienne nodded.

“Beauty says that she would like it if, when I've finished fucking her tonight, you would clean her. Only, she'd like you to do it with your tongue.”

Brienne was still blushing and now she hid her face from him. This seemed like a gift, not a punishment. “I agree. I mean, I will. Gladly.” He waited until she dropped her hands and looked at him. Until they were both looking at him.

“I'm sorry,” he said, much more seriously. “To both of you. I didn't think, and the sword was in my hands. Blackfyre, and I was overcome by what it meant to be given something like that, and I just didn't think. I should have waited. And if I couldn't do that, I should at least have told you straight away, instead of letting you find out like this.”

“You let Snow down,” Tormund said seriously. “You find a way. Because when this is all over, you go where we go.”

Clegane nodded, and he felt thoroughly chastised. A small part of him knew he deserved it. Only Brienne seemed to understand the complexity of what Tormund asked, and she shook her head slightly at him, her face full of concern.

“Do we practice, or make up in your room, beauty?” Tormund asked as they all stood up.

Brienne finally smiled and withdrew the key, walking to the door with it. As she passed Clegane, she embraced him briefly in forgiveness. “As much as I'd love to play with you both,” she said, regretful, “if we really are on the move, I need to send a raven to Tarth. My father needs to know.”

There was a kind of thoughtful hum from Tormund. “I should see how my girls are, and how my people are getting on with being organised. We've never been great at that.” He sighed. “Clegane?”

“It's been more than a week, and I've spent all my time with you two. I really should go and see Beric. No doubt he's got something mysterious to say about it all.” The other two nodded.

Brienne paused, then turned and looked directly at Tormund. “He's right, though,” she said. “You were being childish. It's a good plan. I'm glad he got you to see it. Otherwise, I'd have had to knock some sense into you.” Then she unlocked the door and they left together. Snow was stood outside, loitering like a guard.

“The plan is on,” Clegane told him, standing still as the other two filed past. “But we need to talk, and soon. After this war, I can't remain pledged to you.”

Snow blinked. “I thought we knew it was suicide,” he said slowly, as if Clegane had gone mad. Perhaps he had. Perhaps it was catching. “Didn't we?”

“Well, just in case it isn't. I got... certain prior commitments. I just got reminded about them. Forcibly.”

Snow suddenly grinned. “Oh, so that's what all the...?” He nodded. “I thought you were killing each other in there. We'll talk soon. All bets are off for after if there is one. I won't hold you to a vow then. But we'll talk about it. You know it's not as easy as that, for the sake of honour.”

“I know.” Clegane clapped him on the shoulder, and hurried about his business.

To be continued...

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