So this is Winterfell, Brienne thought.

As soon as Jon Snow had stormed through the gates of the castle and reclaimed his family's home, she had received a letter from Sansa, asking for her to return to the Starks and help them in their coming battles, whatever those might be. She and Pod had immediately set out for Winterfell, because she felt it was her duty - to Catelyn Stark, but also to the cause of setting things right in the Seven Kingdoms.

And so here she was, late this evening, reclining in bed in one of Winterfell's many rooms. There was a warm fire going in the hearth and it helped take the chill out of the room, so much so that she had removed all her armor and her clothes and was lying with just a blanket to cover her. Truth be told, it felt good to be so unencumbered - to be free of her heavy armor, and to shed the garments that she had been wearing for weeks.

But this break in her questing - what felt like relaxation after months of duty to the Starks, and surely more to come - also made her uneasy. She felt as though she still had to be alert and ready for battle at any moment, as if danger lurked around every corner. She was anxious and tense.

And so, when she heard a noise outside of her door, her body immediately sprung into action. She gathered up the blanket around her with one hand, leapt out of bed, and grabbed her sword from where it was resting against the wall. She threw open the door and positioned herself in the hallway, sword yielded, for some kind of threat.

But it was no threat. It was him - that red-headed Wildling they called Tormund. The one she'd noticed was staring at her, several times, when they were at Castle Black and now that she'd come to Winterfell. It was unnerving to notice how much attention he paid her. She wasn't accustomed to men giving her any more of their time than necessary. But after some needling from Sansa, and his unyielding stares, she had begun to let herself indulge in the fantasy that he was interested in her, as a woman - that he was looking at her the way so many men looked at beautiful women, the way she'd seen eyes follow girls like Sansa across a room.

She never let herself dwell on these thoughts, though, because they couldn't be true. She'd been told, many times by many people, how unattractive she was. How men saw her as a lumbering beast, a woman trying to be a man, a woman who would never catch any man's attention. Those words stung at first, when she was younger, but she'd grown used to them by now. She didn't let them sting her now, but she could only protect herself if she refused to let her imagination wander. She couldn't bear to have hope about this man, only for him to cruelly reject her.

But now here he was, right outside her door, face to face with her. She realized this was the first time she'd ever been alone with him, without Jon or Sansa or anyone else in the room with them. And she looked absolutely ridiculous, clutching a sword and posed for a fight, wearing nothing but a blanket wrapped around her.

He looked momentarily concerned about the way she was wielding that sword, but soon his face broke into a grin. "Sorry, m'lady," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you. I couldn't sleep so I was taking a walk around the castle."

"Oh," she said stiffly. "Well carry on then."

Brienne turned to go back through the door to her room, but he didn't leave. After a moment he blurted out, "You look lovely this evening, m'lady."

She whipped around to face him. "Oh, that's funny, I'm sure," she spat out sarcastically. "Quite original. Can you leave me be now?"

He took a step toward her. "I wasn't joking. I've never seen you without all your armor and I think you look very nice." He grinned impishly. "Especially in nothing but that blanket."

She blushed, deeply. She'd never had a man say flattering things to her sincerely - let alone such suggestive things. She didn't know how to respond.

He was one step closer still. "I can leave if you want. But I can't pass up the chance, now that we're alone, to tell you what I've been wanting to say since you came to Castle Black." He paused. "Do with that what you like."

She didn't move. She was frozen in wonderment, not believing his words - that he could be speaking about her, Brienne, in this way. As if she were lovely. He was very close now, only inches from her, and this time she did not order him away.

And then he reached up, coiling his hands in the short chop of her hair, and pulled her face to his. His lips were on hers, and as his tongue brushed against them, she instinctively knew what to do, what she wanted, even though she had never kissed a man before. She opened her mouth to him, as she had waited for so long to do, and they pulled close to each other. Here she was, out in this hallway of Winterfell where anyone could come upon them, kissing him deeply like she was brand new to life.

She broke away from him, suddenly self-conscious and aware that they could be seen at any moment, that she was standing in the middle of the castle being overly familiar with this man she hardly knew while wearing nothing but a blanket. He looked at her, concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Not … not here," she said. "We shouldn't." She turned to head back into the room and there he was, following her inside. He closed the door decisively and came back around to her, taking her face in his hands again and continuing the kiss. Then slowly he moved her back, further into the room, and when they reached the bed her lowered her down so she was sitting.

His lips broke away and she was momentarily disappointed, until they found the skin on her neck and he began kissing her there. She gasped - she had no idea how delightful that could feel - and felt him smile against her skin. She was still clutching the blanket around her body, with a corner of the fabric balled up in a fist pressed against her waist to hold it together, but slowly his hand moved downward until it over hers, and then gently he pulled her hand away. The blanket fell off her body, pooling into a heap on the bed, and she was completely naked to him. I should be embarrassed, she thought, but she wasn't - somehow it felt good, right here and now, to bare her entire self to him.

He paused for a moment to take off the furs and the shirt that were covering his torso and then returned to her. This time his lips pressed along her collarbone, kissing her there, and then moved downward. His tongue found her nipple and she surprised herself by groaning in delight. His hand was on her other nipple and he kept on like this, kissing and caressing her with his mouth, while desire flooded more and more though her blood. There was a sensation, almost an ache, she felt between her legs - one that she'd never felt so keenly until now, one that needed to be satisfied, and soon.

But then he stopped, pulled back, and looked her in the eyes. "We don't have to go no further," he said. "I can go on back to my own bed." She considered him, there before her with his chest bare and her breasts wet from his mouth and her body throbbing with want. She had a vague idea of what might come next, and she'd heard gossip from other women about the indignities that might be awaiting her if she said yes to him, but she was so far gone with desire that she didn't care. "No," she said. "I want to."

To her surprise, he shifted himself downward, until he was kneeling on the floor before her. She wondered what he might be doing as he gently pushed her legs apart - but then his arms were wrapping around her thighs and he lowered his face into her. Her body flooded with more pleasure that she could have ever imagined as he worked his mouth on her, steadily but firmly. There was one spot in particular, where that throbbing ache was pulsating from, that he was concentrating on. His tongue was cool and wet there, and as it mingled with her own surprising wetness she reveled in the sensation. She leaned back, bracing herself against the bed with her arms and throwing her head back in delight. She was moaning, and she didn't know how or when these noises had started escaping from her lips, but now she couldn't stop being so vocal about the way he was making her feel.

And he didn't stop - he just kept going, increasing the pressure as his tongue went faster on her. She felt something building up inside her, rolling forward without control as he kept on with what he was doing. And then suddenly she was losing control, her body engulfed in a wave of pleasure as she cried out loudly. She arched her back and her legs quivered as she threw her head backwards, closing her eyes as the wave crashed through her body, reaching every part of her.

She was panting, gasping, trying to catch her breath as he looked up at her, grinned - and then put his head back down and continued. She didn't know if her body could handle another round of delight like that, but soon she didn't care - the feeling of his mouth on her was amazing. Divine. She was moaning again, engulfed in pleasure, and soon he had taken her over the edge again, her body shaking against the last strokes of his tongue on her.

Finally he stood up to face her, placing one hand on her shoulder and slowly lowering her down until she was lying across the bed. In one swift movement he unlaced the ties on his fur britches and let them fall to the floor. He was aroused, she could see, very much so, and the sight of him large and stiff in front of her made the ache between her legs come flooding back to her, as if she hadn't already satisfied it twice, mere seconds ago. He was in front of her now, gently pressing against her, and then slowing easing himself into her.

It hurt, she couldn't lie, but the sting of him entering her was quickly overcome by the way he felt inside her. This was different than the last sensation - different but pleasant. Her desire was mounting again, this time stoked by every movement of him inside of her, every stroke in and out of her. She was gasping, trying to catch her breath as he moved faster and faster, and her control began slipping away from her again. And then suddenly she was tightening around him, one final wave of pleasure moving through her body as she arched against him and cried out, gripping his back tightly. That was all he needed to send him over the edge, and he called out loudly while pushing deep into her one last time.

He slowly eased his way out of her and then flopped next to her onto the bed. For her part, she was panting and weak, as if she had just fought some monstrous battle. He turned his head sideways to look at her, took in her limp, breathless form, and grinned. "You liked that, no?" he said.

She was aware of herself, suddenly, how naked she was and how exposed she had been with this man she hardly knew. This man who had buried his face in the deepest parts of her body. Who had been inside and on top of her, with her body pressed around his arousal. Who had seen her moaning and screaming and losing complete control - three times. Instinctively she clutched the blanket around her again.

"Don't go getting all shy now," he said. He had maneuvered himself so he was lying flat in the bed, his head resting on top of her pillow. His eyes were closed now, and his words came out sleepily. "This is just the beginning of what I'd like to do with you." He smiled without opening his eyes.

Brienne didn't know what to say. She looked away from him, towards some point in the middle distance, unsure of what to think about the things they'd just done but also delighted. Eventually the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile and she turned back to look at him - and he was dead asleep. Right there in her bed. Snoring.

Well, she couldn't move him at this point, or ask him to leave. Instead she stood to blow out the candles in the room, and in the dark she made her way back to the bed. She pushed him aside slightly and he stirred but didn't wake. Then she got in and laid down beside him.