"Where is Lady Brienne today?" Sansa spoke, the panic clear in her voice.

"Don't worry Lady Sansa; Lady Brienne will be joining us shortly. She is getting a wound treated at the moment and will be in our company soon after." Pod reassured the Stark heir softly.

Brienne had noticed that Pod had grown a slight attraction to Lady Sansa; she'd noticed it ever since their journey with the lady had begun. She had thought about letting him down gently, but technically it wasn't her place to discuss the matter and if Pod wished to try and take things further with Lady Sansa- then he could try, but deep down Brienne knew nothing would come of it.

Shortly after that conversation ended with a contemplated nod of the girl's head, did Brienne walk through the door to where they had been previously held several meetings. She stood tall, adept; not letting her injury make her look weak, if anything, she was stronger.

The Lady Sansa upon seeing the warrior of a woman, who had recently become her protector, rose up from where she once sat and rushed towards her worriedly. "Lady Brienne, Podrick told me you were hurt?"

The others turned to look upon her as well, she purposely avoided Tormunds' eye. She felt uncomfortable, yet slightly embarrassed, but for what, she did not know. "You needn't worry M'lady. I am well. My wound is taken care of."

Sansa sighed with relief, "Thank goodness, you had me worry, let's sit. Jon says we have much to discuss."

Jon smiled her way, "We're glad you could join us Brienne. Pod told me that you grabbed the sharp end of a blade, what compelled you to do that?"

"Well, unless you wanted to burn the body of another wildling, then perhaps I shouldn't have grasped it when I did."

A familiar voice sounded itself again, sending shivers down her spine every time she heard it, "You did what? You...saved one of my people?"

Brienne didn't know what drove her to do what she did, she wasn't thinking, in the midst of battle thinking gets you killed. So she simply did what came naturally to her, she fought, she saved, she killed; it was her expertise. "Yes."

As she sat down with the others at the table, Brienne felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. He was looking at her, no, he was staring at her, and she could feel it. They were sat across from one another, just like the day previously, but they had had more interaction since then, actual physical contact; everything about him unnerved her.

Jon was quick to begin their meeting and hurried to get it over with, "Thank you for meeting again, I know it's getting late but I just wanted to inform you all-" He sat- the sigh he exhaled filled with fatigue. "Rickon is safe, we were successful today and I thank all of you that risked your lives for my brother. We unfortunately lost two of the free folk who had volunteered to help...Tormund I'm sorry."

The atmosphere in the room filled intensely with the sense of loss, regret. Brienne glanced towards the 'wildling fellow with the beard' and it pained her to see him appear so extremely lost, so alone.

"Getting Rickon back in safety was only the beginning. We killed plenty of Ramsay's men, we took his hostage, he'll be furious. He'll start a war with us, free folk included. We have to stick together or we won't have a chance. Brienne, you were right about him being impulsive, so he'll attack as soon as he can, but for now we rest. Tormund, just let me know when you want to have your funerals and we'll help."

"Thank you Snow."

One by one the room began to deplete; Brienne, Sansa and Pod all stood outside together.

"Lady Sansa, Pod, you both should get some rest."

Sansa pulled her furs towards herself, feeling the harsh cold against her skin, "What about you, Lady Brienne?"

She grasped at the strap leading to her hefty blade, "Do not worry about me, m'lady. Get some rest. Pod, I'll wake you bright and early for your next lesson."

"Of course m'lady."

Brienne watched as Sansa and Pod walked towards their accommodation whilst partaking in deep conversation, perhaps Pod had a chance after all.

The fatigue that plagued Jon and the others didn't seem to overcome her, all that pent up adrenaline had left her immobile to feel anything else for the longest while. Despite that bloody scenario which was the so-called plan to save the one, Rickon Stark, not only built up the sensation of adrenaline, but you would have thought that once the battle was over that adrenaline would deplete also, no, the process wasn't as quick as that.

Brienne still felt the racing of her heart, equalizing in the thrill of the rush, she was on edge, her hand never leaving her blade. She remembered what Lord Commander Snow had said about there being a battle to come, one that would either break or make the remnants of the North; alas it was as though her body thought that battle would happen at that moment, even though her mind knew that wasn't the case.

So she decided not to fight, but to take watch instead till she resumed the correct frame of mind.

Brienne had never been on top of The Wall before; she never thought the opportunity would find itself available to her either. Having only seen it from a distance, she gaped up at it in peril often whilst in and around Castle Black, but she'd heard the stories, just like the stories of the type of people that accommodated Castle Black. The famous, most recent myth was that Jon Snow had been slaughtered by his own men for showing kindness to others, to those for thousands of years the Night's Watch had not shown kindness to, and in the end-run he'd been brought back to life through magic; that turned out to be true, so perhaps the other stories and myths were in fact the truth as well.

The wind seemed to hiss from this height, and the cold, well after a long while, started to feign warmth. It was the baited shivers, those which caused the body to convulse and the lengthy bursts of smoky wisps that gave away the danger, the immobilization, which was The North.

The Wall was an elevated 700 feet tall, distancing over 300 miles, so Brienne had overheard during one of the dinners. She'd found that Northern men who enjoy their ale, seem to take pleasure in boastful conversation too- but then she'd found that to be the case with most Southern men she had come across. Perhaps it was something to do with the ale...

Nevertheless, due to the entire atmosphere upon The Wall and the sheer tranquillity in the air, it was no wonder she heard the heavy footsteps advancing towards her before whomever it was even came close.

They seemed to try and keep their sounds inaudible, but with the frosted breeze a worthy companion, and a long history of trouble in every corner, her calloused hand quickly found its way to her trusted blade, grasping it firmly, defining her ready for the onslaught.

However it was when she observed the glimpse of ginger and familiar warmth, followed by a gruff, foreign voice, that her hand visibly relaxed.

"Saw you come up here, an' thought you might want some company."

Brienne spared him no glance, "Is that so?"

"Aye."

Hereby the atmosphere instead turned from perilous to just plain awkward, the long moments of silence painfully dragging. Brienne was definitively aware that she and this 'Tormund' fellow had never really had a full blown conversation at any previous time, besides from the odd sentences conveyed whilst on horseback, but that whole incident she preferred not to think about.

She found herself to be pulled hesitantly from her thoughts by an uncomfortable clearing of the throat, "I also want to thank you..."

It was at this she turned, "Whatever for, ser?"

Now that he had gotten her attention and complete focus, she was quick to notice when he turned on 'the charm'- which in her opinion was the absolute worst attempt at flirting she'd ever seen in her life. It's not like she'd been on the receiving end of much flirting either, but she had been in positions beforehand to witness such things, and this was abominable in comparison.

Though she had to give him points for effort.

With the magnified grin brightening his face, he somehow managed to control himself in order to have a serious discussion. "I wanted to thank you for saving one of my own. I don't know anyone that would risk themselves for a wildling, maybe Snow, but that's different lass; it means a lot to us, is all. Also, the name is Giantsbane, Tormund Giantsbane."

He held out his equally calloused hand in respect, "My apologies...Tormund." (Should she be worried how easily the name fell from her lips?) "I suppose you may call me Brienne, as long as the phrase 'lass' is refrained."

Their hands clasped, shook once and parted. A symbol of trust, assimilation, approval.

"Perhaps, Brienne, we might get to know each other betta, which does sound very promising, don't ya think?"

She felt her ears easily burn, the raw blush creeping up her neck, the newfound sweat transpiring within each orifice. He surely couldn't have been insinuating what she thought he was, could he?

No, she was definitely taking something which was obviously innocent and decoding some other kind of 'intimate' message from it.

Brienne had no idea what was going on with her whilst she had been lodging within Castle Black, or why these odd 'incidents' only seemed to happen around this particular wildling fellow.

Yet whatever it was, honestly it scared her, she remembered feeling something similar to the elder Lannister, yet knowing that whatever was between them was too complicated, it made walking away that much easier.

Whatever this was occurring with Tormund Giantsbane, was new, it was different, and she knew that walking away would not be an option that would come so easily this time.