Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter Nine

Tormund and he went their separate ways almost immediately, and he went through his morning routine, which didn't consist of bathing, but of sticking his head underneath the cold water sluice in the centre of the courtyard and shaking the excess from his hair. That woke him up tolerably well, then he redressed and went to wait for breakfast, Tormund getting himself seated a minute or two later at the side of him. He had no idea what the wildling had been up to in the intervening time.

When Brienne came to sit opposite them, she was dressed ready for training, her armour awaited her at the end of the bench along with that squire of hers.

“Very well,” she said curtly. “Run along now, Podrick. I don't need you yet.”

Podrick Payne looked at her, then at the two of them. “Yes, my Lady.” He immediately did as he was bid, and Clegane understood then that they'd taken his place. He stared at her. She was all clean and healthy pink, her hair still slightly damp from the bath, just getting long enough to cling to her in little yellow-blonde curls. He imagined how it would look if she let it grow just a bit. But then, she'd probably see that as a disadvantage in combat.

Around them, there was the lively chatter of conversation, the smell of cooking bacon and sizzle of fat. Pans clanged and pots clattered, but above it all, he could have sworn he heard her short little sigh.

She glanced around the hall at everyone else, as if to make sure no one was watching them, then she looked at them and sighed again. She rolled her eyes. “Every meal time,” she murmured, to herself. “You know,” she said, louder. “We are in Winterfell. They have a motto here. Breakfast is coming.” Clegane stole a sideways glance at Tormund. He was staring at her like she was breakfast, completely smitten. He smirked, then it occurred to him he was staring at her in exactly the same way.

Fuck it. He rested his chin on his hand, elbow on the table and indulged himself. Below the table, he stretched out his legs a little, only to find the wildling had the same idea. Before long, they were both playing footsie with her again, this time under the table, and she was looking from one to the other of them sternly, trying desperately to keep up the show of respectability. The veneer was wearing rather thin when one of the servers plonked a plate full down in front of each of them.

Immediately, they were all distracted by the food.

“Thank you,” Brienne said politely as he and Tormund dug in enthusiastically.

He couldn't understand why she was so restrained around food. There was a thing about food that both he and Tormund understood all too well. When you were larger than average, you needed more of it. If you intended to keep the kind of muscle they all kept, you needed more of it still. To be battle ready and actively training, more still. Clegane shovelled it in, because winter or summer, he'd known too many lean times with not enough to eat, as had the wildling. She must have known those times too – she must have! And yet, she ate carefully, delicately, with a knife and fork as if there was no such thing as hardship. How the hell did she do it? Discipline he had, but he wasn't bloody insane. When there was food to eat, you ate it. Quickly. Before it disappeared into someone else.

He got about a quarter way through, then realised she was watching him, that cool blue assessing gaze on him as he ploughed his way through the mountain of protein on his plate. He narrowed his eyes. She wasn't going to win breakfast before they even started – fuck that. He stared at her and took a great messy bite from a thick slab of bacon, chewing deliberately, then swallowing. In response she carved a small sliver of sausage and popped it in, chewing with her mouth closed, then taking a sip of her water.

They went through the entire meal in a similar fashion, bite-by-bite, and by the end, somehow she'd consumed as much food as him, with far less mess and fuss. She sat back, hands folded neatly over her midsection as the meal settled in her, victorious. Clegane grumbled under his breath and assumed the same position, then let out a massive belch. She frowned at him.

Tormund was looking between them, one to the other, having just returned to the table. He'd gone off in search of something. He grinned madly. “I win. Look! I already got dessert.” And he held up a shiny green apple. Clegane blinked. An apple! In winter! The beginning of winter, yes, but still... Brienne licked her lips, and Tormund didn't miss it. “You want it?” She nodded, reaching out, but he held it back.

He touched his hand to his lips, then held it out to her again. A kind of silky warm atmosphere descended around their table as he waited to see what she would do. She glanced around, but luckily no one was paying any attention to them whatsoever. She bit her lip, swallowed, and then slowly leaned forward. The look on her face was pure desire. She bit into the apple as he held it for her, closing her eyes. He could hear the crisp crunch of it, imagine the sweetness of the juice as it hit her tongue. She tried to take it from him that way, but Tormund kept hold of it, letting her go with the mouthful, nothing more.

It was one of the most wonderful, erotic, ludicrous sights he'd ever seen.

Clegane and Tormund both looked at the apple. There was a decent sized chunk missing. About a third in fact. Tormund shrugged and took a bite himself. Which left... just enough for him.

“You're not holding the fucking thing for me,” Clegane snapped, and snatched it out of his hand, demolishing the rest before tossing the core onto his emptied plate. The wildling laughed.

After that they went around lazily for a bit, staking out their practice arena in the main square. No fighting on the hill today. Or at least, not in the morning. They paced the area back and forth, taking their sweet time as an audience gathered around them to watch. They took their time so that the meal would settle properly. No good fighting on a full stomach. By the time he was strapping his armour on, watching the lad Podrick doing the same for her, at least a full hour had passed by.

He felt fit and ready. He stretched in a slow, lingering warm up, circling his shoulders, letting the muscles open out fully beneath his armour. For once it wasn't snowing. The morning was bright and clear, sunny from the east where the sky was blue, but the sky directly above them and to the west was layered with long banks of light grey cloud. He looked up, then caught Tormund's eye. The wildling looked up too.

“Sky is as deep and endless as the snow,” he observed. And it did look that way. It seemed too vast for the world below it. It made him feel bigger just looking into it, and it suddenly occurred to him why the wildlings might like to live as they did, why they might like to live where they did. He looked back at Tormund, and something passed between them, an instant of understanding. He shook his head to clear it. More sorcery from the Gods, no doubt. He didn't dislike Tormund, he'd just rather get to know the man all on his own without their help.

He drew in a breath, and then stalked to the weapons rack he'd set up for himself a few days ago, uncovering it. There were a selection of blades here. Some of them were the new dragon glass. His favoured sword was here, the one he'd travelled with some time ago; a single handed steel. There was a two-handed monster of a sword that he fully intended to get to know. A couple of others. Since Brienne seemed in a good mood, he took the one most familiar to him, purely out of a consideration for his own defence.

By the time he'd attached it to his belt and strapped it to him, it was time. An expectant hush had fallen over the courtyard, and it was quiet enough that the drawing of their swords sounded more dangerous than it had any right to for a practice session. He noted that she was playing with that Valyrian steel again. Like he and Tormund didn't have enough to contend with as it was.

Inwardly, he shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tormund sidling up towards him.

“Any tips?” he murmured. Clegane huffed in response, remembering how long Tormund had lasted before.

“Yeah. Try and keep up this time,” he said, grinning at Brienne as an invitation.

She went for him first, and she was quicker. But not stronger. They exchanged a few strikes and parries, and she wasn't trying to kill him. He wasn't trying to kill her. This was practice, that's all, and he relaxed to let himself savour it, seeing her eyes sparkle with enjoyment at the other side of the duel between them.

Yet as they continued he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop the blows becoming heavier and the game turning ever more serious to the delight of the audience around them. It was inevitable, and still she countered him, not only defended but pressed her advantage. She was wonderful. The sound of their steel was the sound of his entire life. It had given him everything he ever wanted, until now. He stared at her as they fought, hungry for everything she could give to him. She could satisfy his every desire. They could fight, then fuck. And fight, and fuck. She would scream when they fought, and moan when they fucked. She could win or lose at this, but he'd always get the prize afterwards, her cunt squeezing and hot around his cock, his name on her lips...

He lost his concentration.

Only for a moment, but it was enough to lose his place, and she took it from him, merciless, forcing him back into a retreat, blade flashing before his eyes. He growled and lashed out, desperately improvising, scoring a hit on her at last. Her eyes flashed but she couldn't deny him. She nodded once as he withdrew for now, his heart full of victory, and she turned her attention to Tormund.

He watched closely from the sidelines, far more carefully than the crowd, his sword thrust back in its scabbard for now, and mentally made a list of mistakes he saw them both make, mistakes he told himself to avoid when he faced either one of them going forward.

She was winning, clearly. Although to be fair if she wasn't hefting that Valyrian steel around they'd be a lot more equal. It weighed less, and so it meant she had an unfair advantage. He should bring it up with her later, because he was absolutely sure that she would want to fight fair. His lip curled in a cynical sneer at the thought. He watched as she forced Tormund back right to the edge of the fighting area with a flurry of passes, similar to how she'd played with him. When she'd done it to him, he'd improvised to get the win, and his lifetime of experience had helped him. To his credit, so did Tormund, in his own fashion. The wildling opened his mouth and flickered his tongue at her.

Clegane felt his jaw drop a little. Brienne stopped, dead still, her face as white as the snow, staring at Tormund as if he were an insect about to be crushed under her boot. “You fucking lunatic...” he murmured under his breath, suddenly standing up straight instead of lounging against the weapons rack. “You fucking dead lunatic...” There was absolute silence from the onlookers. You could have heard a pin drop in Winterfell courtyard just then, but it wasn't a pin that went down.

She threw her sword to the side, where it landed in the dirt in a shocking clatter of sound. Too loud. Tormund didn't know what to do, so he stood there, awaiting what was going to happen next. Clegane saw it coming before Tormund did, and winced in unwilling empathy. Brienne marched close to him, pulled back her arm, and punched him clean in the face.

He'd never seen a crowd make way so quickly. Tormund flew backwards into them by a good foot and a half, landing on his back. They made an astonished sound of shock. Clegane made sure to look around. He wanted to be certain everyone had seen Brienne of Tarth beat some other big bastard apart from him. Oh, they'd seen it all right. He suddenly frowned up at one of the balconies, where Jon Snow stood, looking down on the proceedings. What was he doing there? Didn't he have better things to bloody do? Like organise a war against the dead, for instance?

After that the onlookers quickly drifted away, not wanting to aggravate the Lady for themselves, until she stood there alone, fist still clenched and held in her other hand, glaring down at Tormund as if daring him to get back up. Was he even conscious? Clegane saw her trembling even if no one else did, and he started forward, concerned for her.

“Brienne,” he said, carefully, slowly, holding his hand out to her shoulder.

She whirled to face him, brushing off his hand in the process, angrier than he'd ever seen her, then stooped to pick up her sword, thrust it back in its sheath, and stomped out of the square. As she left, she shouted: “Podrick! Come!” The lad scurried after her, half hunched over and subservient. Clegane couldn't say he envied the squire at all. It was the life of a mouse for him, but he supposed the boy chose to live it. He heaved in a breath. Since there wasn't anything else to do, he thought he may as well check to see if Tormund was still alive.

He looked down at his feet, only to see a deranged grin pasted on the wildling's face. “Did you see that?” he asked. Clegane frowned, wondering if she'd knocked some vital part of Tormund's brain loose.

“Aye, I saw it. You fucking mad cunt. What do you want to go and do a thing like that for?”

“Not that!” he said. “She hit me!”

Clegane just looked at him as he continued to grin.

“She is starting to love me,” he said with certainty. “I can feel it.”

Clegane hummed, not altogether sure he agreed with that assessment. “Right. Are you feeling that in your heart? Your cock? Or is it just in your left eye?” He raised his hand helpfully to illustrate.

Tormund scrambled to his feet and laughed. The sound of it boomed around the empty square. “Everywhere!” he said, throwing an arm around Clegane's shoulder.

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

After a decent period of time had gone by, sometime in the afternoon, between them they determined to seek her out. They found the squire, Podrick, playing card games in the main hall. He was losing badly. Upon questioning, he said he didn't know where his Lady was, but he also said she wanted to rest for a while, undisturbed.

Clegane laid a friendly hand on his shoulder, and he almost seemed to jump out of his skin. “You want some advice?” he asked, as kindly as he could, and Podrick shrugged, swallowing. “Save your money. Don't play cards with cheaters. You see that one over there?” He nodded to the opposite side of the table. “He's got four fucking Kings. I see you got two.” Podrick nodded, rather hesitantly, it had to be said. “That deck of cards has got more fucking Kings in it than Westeros.”

He stood up straight and walked away with Tormund, while behind him he heard the other players accuse Podrick of cheating. He shook his head. There was just no helping some people.

When they reached the door to her room, she declined to answer to their knocking. She was stubborn, and she couldn't possibly be sleeping. So he simply shouldered it open. “Out!” she said immediately, standing up and pointing at the door, which was now hanging madly by one hinge.

“Wait! I didn't fucking do anything to you, now did I?” he argued, feeling that events had taken a rather unfair turn.

Tormund was kind of huddled behind him, probably in case she still had fists. Brienne smiled at him sweetly. “Well, now you've destroyed my door,” she said. “Out.”

“No.” He stood still, arms folded. She glared.

“I will throw you out,” she threatened, advancing on him, until they were stood face-to-face.

Clegane only laughed. “Now you're talking!” he said. “Come on then, woman. Try it. You know you want to.”

Suddenly, it was as if all the tension drained from her, and she leaned against him. He caught his arms around her waist, pulling her tight to his body. “Mmm... see now. That's much better.” He nuzzled his way in to her neck as she sighed.

“You can stay,” she relented. “But he's definitely out.”

Tormund chanced a peek from behind him, and Brienne gasped out loud. She straightened up, stepped out of his arms. She hissed in a breath, tutted, and reached out to touch the amazing black eye that had showed up during the course of the morning.

“Oh, Tormund! I'm so sorry,” she said, automatically. “I didn't mean to really hurt you.” He could believe it of her, too. She'd been amazingly pissed off.

“It was my own fault, beautiful angry Brienne. I was an idiot,” he said seriously, as Clegane huffed and stalked over to the bed, suddenly in a bad temper. She'd pointed out previously that she never apologised for his bruises, and now here she was, mothering and fussing over the wildling, who in his opinion, fully deserved the one he'd gotten.

“All right,” she said, terse. “You can stay too. But you hurt me, and worse... you embarrassed me earlier. I swear if you ever do that again –”

“I won't,” Tormund said quickly.

“If you ever do that again,” she said firmly, nodding at him to be sure he understood. “I'll kill you.”

A smile broke out over his face. “That's all I want to hear,” he said. Clegane shook his head. Fucking lunatic.

“You want to hear a death threat?!” she queried in disbelief.

Tormund shrugged happily. “Well, you know,” he commented. “It's a start. For us. Isn't it?” They stared at each other, and he'd be damned if she didn't actually giggle at him! Clegane pulled a disgusted face at them both. How the fuck was this happening? Before he could think any further it got worse, since Tormund swept a giggling Brienne up into his arms and started towards the bed.

“Clegane,” he said. “Get the door. Woman's right. You did break it.”

Grumbling, wondering if in fact, he was a mouse too just like that little squire of hers, he got up and stamped angrily over to the door. He picked it up off of its one remaining hinge, and smashed it roughly into the door frame with his fists until it was jammed solidly in there. No one would be getting in or out now unless one of them knocked it down again. He turned around, and glowered, because Tormund was making out with his woman on the bed, half laid on her as he kissed her.

They stopped, and looked his way. Brienne smiled at him. “Come to bed,” she said, and she actually held her hand out to him. “We have some time before we go out on the hill. I want to...” She stopped and seemed uncertain as she looked at him. “I mean I want to do some more... things. With you.” She was blushing again. “With both of you.”

When she looked at him like that... how could he help it? All was forgiven in an instant. He settled onto the bed, and turned her head towards him, taking her lips in a deep, searching kiss. She tried to match him, but couldn't quite keep up yet. They were still dressed, and he wasn't losing control. This wasn't like the day before. He deliberately manipulated her into lying beneath him, encouraging her to let her legs splay to either side, then he moved against her suggestively, rubbing against her.

“Ohh!” Her eyes had been closed, but now they opened wide, and she shook her head. He stilled, placed a finger on her lips.

“Nothing's going anywhere, see,” he reassured her. “It's just like pretending,” he said. “You like it?” He moved again, and again, simulating the act, letting his weight hit her just there at her sweet spot, and she brought her knees up to his hips, rocking beneath him, her head thrown back in pleasure as she cried out.

“I like it! Oh, please!” she gasped. He gave her more, until he was getting almost as much from it as she was, until he knew she could fucking feel him, because she looked into his eyes, and he saw her feel it. Clegane smiled, but he didn't forget. There were two of them, and they shared.

“Very good, Brienne,” he murmured, not bothering to stop, noting that she was moving beneath him just as he'd suspected she would. “I like it too. Just a couple more.” And he did it, what he said, making sure she felt it, relishing the way she was clinging to him, the way she had almost wrapped those fantastic long legs around him. She shivered.

“Sandor,” she whispered, shocked at this new sudden turn of events, but he didn't let her rest. He leaned down.

“And now I've had a little fun for myself,” he said slowly, “Tormund gets to have a turn on you as well.”

She moaned low in her throat as they exchanged places without even waiting for her agreement to such a thing. He'd wondered vaguely, from time to time, if she knew just how illicit this was, how forbidden this sharing between them all was. This sharing of her like some kind of gift between them. Maybe not for Tormund. Maybe it was normal for them. But for him, for her... this was very definitely not usually on the menu. Two women and a man, you could come across that any day of the week in any whorehouse in Westeros. But this, this was wholly different.

Now he knew. She understood all right. Brienne was proving to have all kinds of surprising qualities indeed. Tormund was well up for the game, and he repeated the same suggestive fucking movements as he had, making her writhe and buck beneath him. Her eyes had darkened to that stormy blue again, and she was all but begging for it. To Clegane what came next was suddenly completely irresistible. He settled down beside them, and while Tormund called her his beauty, making her sigh and shiver with the nice things he said as much as the things he did, Clegane began to whisper very dirty, wicked things into her ear. He whispered the things he thought she might be dreaming of in the secret parts of her mind, about them, about being with them both, especially after the night they'd shown her. And then it didn't take long for them to make her come without even undressing her.

“You two,” she said at last, when it was done, and they were all laid side-by-side with her in the middle. “Just like pretend, you said,” she accused, prodding him in the ribs with a pointed finger, “only I wasn't pretending!” She stretched her arms and legs, and then just as suddenly relaxed with a wanton moan.

“And I'll just wager you want to go back out there and fight again now, since we cut our training short earlier,” she complained.

Clegane smirked at her, and it was too good an opportunity to tease her to pass up. She'd virtually gift-wrapped it for him. “Aye. While there's still some daylight left would be good for me.”

She turned her face into the pillows. “Gods! Can I have, like, ten minutes or something first?”

To be continued...

Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying it. More to come soon, hopefully with a bit of oral from Brienne this time. Mmm... well, it's definitely got to be their turn, right? Please review! Responses will be found here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/61848-pippychicks-review-replies-tv/
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

We're All Going to Die