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samthegreenapologist · 1 day ago

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A Final Comfort

Rating: Explicit

Tags: pnv!sex, war, needles, medical treatment (blood), nurse has come to terms with impending demise, loss of faith, drinking/drug use, fucking in the woods, missionary, fingering, handjob(ish), Criston on the depression log

Word Count: 4.3k

The ground was almost entirely muck. The rain and heavy horse hooves kicking up the soil mixed with dropped ale and spilled blood had made the ground quite torn up and muddy. She had tied up her skirt a long while ago, knotted the excess fabric just under her knee and the stockings the young women wore had once been a pale cream color were now a darkened red almost black color. That same color was permanently caked under her nails and she swore when her eyes closed that it was the shade she saw behind her eyelids.

There was always so much blood when they trickled in from battle. The wounded who could walk came in first, they were like stuck pigs sometimes and they got stitches and dressing and pushed into tents away to rest and gods willing not bleed out while those who hadn’t been able to move as quickly or at all were carted and carried in. Sometimes they were already pale, already bled out almost completely. Those men were at least without pain—or that was what she convinced herself of because they were silent with their eyes closed. It was the men who came back screaming and begging that frightened her. Whose bone was sticking out and whose mouths bled or whose flesh was burnt. It was horrid. It was something she hadn’t truly been prepared for when she went to serve the new king’s army as a nurse.

She’d been at the sept only a few moons prior. Becoming a septa hadn’t spoken much to her at all so she jumped at the opportunity to do something different to see something different! A different fate, though here at the camp when those charred men were dragged in she found herself missing the sept, noticing that her shaking hands would pause when the men shrieked as their skin was peeled off and clasp together in a very brief and silent prayer.

“The lord commander,” a man approached her as she tended to a man with mild lacerations on his hand “he’s conscious again.” She nodded a bit and grabbed some cloth handing it to the man she was knelt beside “hold that to the wound—I’ll try and come back to see that it gets closed.” She told him as she stood up wiping her hands on her bunched up skirts. She felt a bit bad for running off since he’d waited a long time because they had to deal with the severely injured first but he’d live…unless infection took him over.

“Lord commander,” she said entering his tent with the man who had led her here. “It’s good to see you with your eyes open.” She told him seeing his dark brown eyes squinting and she had to push up on his eyelid a bit to check his pupils, they were huge and when the knight raised his arm up to block his face she turned to the man on the open flaps of the tent.

“Close those, the setting sun is too much for him.” She shooed the man out and then turned back to the dark haired man, the blunt cut of dense hair was even darker at the moment because there was quite a bit of blood in his hair, likely a mix of his own due to the gash on his forehead and from his fallen men.

She could tell he was still a bit disoriented, a trampling around do that to a person. Apparently he’d gotten off his horse to help somebody after the battle subsided and in the craze of carting the injured out and getting all the men out of the fields and back into the woods towards their war camp setup he had gotten jumbled up in a horse’s legs. His armor was already off, they’d removed it to make lugging his apparently quite dense body easier. She’d seen him unconscious when he arrived to camp but with no obvious pressing injuries had just asked to be informed when he woke. Either his head had gotten jumbled and he’d wake disoriented but fine or one of his organs got stomped upon and was bleeding into his belly and he likely would never open his eyes again. The matter was settled that it was most likely just a head injury that addled the knight’s senses.

“You are quite lucky.” She told him as she began to pour alcohol onto a cloth and dab at his parted forehead, he’d need a few stitches there. His scoff had her pausing as she readied her needle. “Some soreness is not much of a price to pay compared to some of these men.” She’d seen bone outside of countless men’s bodies today. At least the reminder stopped his sniveling and it let her focus on closing the wound that was almost perfectly worked into a line of worry that seemed to be permanently placed upon his brow. She’d never not seen his face pinched in this way.

“They revel already.” He sighed not hissing at all as the thread was tied tightly into a knot as the nurse finished her work. He had expected her to leave once that wound was closed, his head was pounding and he wanted to just hide in the privacy of his tent, perhaps venture out beyond when the camp got more peaceful as the healthy men fell into their drunken slumbers. He would sit in the woods most nights, look past the dense trees to try and see the stars and moon. A glimpse of something bigger than himself, bigger than this army or the king or his duty and oaths.

The nurse remained though and began to undo his tunic quite unceremoniously. He wasn’t used to being undressed by a woman, not anymore and the embarrassment was visible on his cheeks when the queen’s favor fell from within his shirt, it was a bit bloodied and the womanly scent was likely covered with his own sweat and musk by this point in the war. She bent when it dropped to the floor and put it on his discarded shirt without paying it much mind at all. Nothing fazed her much now and she’d learned a great deal about men being here, traveling with this army, seeing how they celebrate and how they cry and rage…hearing them beg as they are faced with sure death. She’d done things to bring men peace and a final comfort that she knew would make it hard for her ever to truly return to a sept without feeling like all who looked upon her knew of her actions. Hells, she’d sought out men herself to feel something on days when her body felt numb and mind needed to be emptied.

“I do not think it wrong to enjoy what is left of this life. I try to.” She said softly, responding to his distaste for the men’s drinking and merriment beyond this tent, as she pressed upon his heavily bruised chest. Its blue and purple coloring blended well with his dark chest hair but she still noted it. He breathed a bit stiffly but it didn’t seem breathing caused him pain.

His brow furrowed as if to say she would not die, she would not be in battle for she held no sword.

“You think there will be sympathy for a woman who aids the usurper’s army?” She raised a brow and pressed a bit more firmly to his belly where there was some heavy bruising. She didn’t even flinch when his hand shot up to her side gripping it, she couldn’t tell if it was out of pain or just the body’s reaction to being touched there. “Nobody in this camp will live should she sit the throne…I should pray for death instead of a life suffering as some toy for the winners.”

Criston Cole looked up at her now, shocked by how plainly she had spoke of her fate, or what she thought would be her fate. His hand was still holding to her side as she stood before him tending to his ailments and at that verbalization of her future his fingers began to stroke against her back a bit, a small comfort, he hoped, at least.

“These men will protect you— I” he told her thinking that might bring her some sort of comfort though he couldn’t promise her that he’d protect her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to, he was certain of his death by this point, having known since he left King’s Landing after returning the king’s crumbled and burned body.

An eye for an eye was a never-ending loop that led to two graves. He knew that now.

“You don’t honestly believe you’ll be slaughtered and these drunk buffoons will live and have the bravery or care to stop a raping?” She shook her head a bit. “It’s a sweet thought, I hope it gives you comfort.” The young woman sighed as she turned to her medical kit and pulled out some poppy looking to him, hand holding it out.

“No,” he said looking to his hand that had been displaced from her waist when she had shifted to get the liquid that would numb him of the aches he felt. The woman lingered before him looking down at him and waiting to find out what exactly his no was in reference to, the poppy or his peace of mind.

“No thoughts give me comfort now.” He admitted and the woman twisted the stopper from the small bottle and took a small sip from the vial before dropping it back into her kit. If he did not want it she would gladly indulge!

Her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip a bit— it had been cracked from her teeth biting into it for most of this afternoon while she focused on the wounds before her— though her tongue was bitter now from the flavor of poppy so she paced to the table beside his cot and poured herself a cup of the ale. He’d not deny her, or maybe he would and he’d send her away from this place. Either way she’d get some relief. Be it through the alcohol or space from this place. “I am glad they still have ways of distracting themselves.” She admitted and looked out of the tent flaps a bit, able to see the men surrounding the fires that were now erupted around camp as they enjoyed the barrels of ale and wine that were seemingly always supplied. The throne kept its warriors’ thirst appeased, especially in losing battles.

The knight had wanted to have solitude but he also could not find it in himself to send the nurse away. She’d been here since the first march, he’d recalled seeing her apply a salve to one of Gwayne Hightower’s leg wounds to fight off infection.

“What comfort do you have…stolen sips of poppy?” He questioned her. She’d been in this environment for months, he’d assumed a day of witnessing war would be enough to have a woman deserting her posting.

She laughed dryly and smiled still facing away from him and watching those outside of the tent. “Sometimes—though I think you’ll find men and women take comfort in the same things.” She’d heard men weep into their blankets at night and she’d certainly found that the body’s pleasure distracted the mind. They were not all that different.

He blinked a bit, his eyebrows pinching together and turning up as he looked her over, as if something about her physical appearance might assure him that she surely did not mean what he felt she was alluding to. Had he been using her body, gaining pleasure to grasp at seconds of escape from the hells they found themselves in?

“Does it disgust you? Make you want me less?” She had read his expression so easily, and wondered briefly if the man was dull? How could one still think there were things left untarnished in a place like this. To still be shocked a maid had taken up laying with men as she pleased? It was shocking to see a man’s bone push through their shin…to see them drown in their own blood. Wanting the comfort of a kiss….the warmth of arms wrapped around you and the pinch of your body being entered by another? Those no longer felt surprising to her, she was utterly desensitized to the world she previously thought was scandalous.

The Lord Commander stood and closed the distance between him and the nurse, her skirts flowing a bit out as wind came into the tent and he reached to her hand that held the small cup filled with a mixture of the poppy and tea. His dark eyes met hers as he pulled the cup from her hand and set it down on the table that had a map laid across it. One he poured over every night trying to think of some way to win these battles, to not doom every man under his charge. He wanted to tell her the drink wasn’t suitable for her, that she shouldn’t wish to feel numb.

“What do you take comfort in, Ser Criston?” Eyes soft and fluttering while closing what little space was still between them and kissing his lip. Her mouth parting a bit over the cut on his bottom lip. Metallic flavor filled her senses and she made a small noise when his head turned suddenly and his nose rested beside her own as he too parted his lips.

His strong hands and calloused fingers caught on the blood dried fabric around her waist and made her body flush to his, a small hiss leaving his throat when his bruised ribs were pressed against because she was now eagerly pushing him back towards the cot. Was she set to ride upon him? Did she even think of what she did with men or did she just chase the feeling of pleasure—of any sensation?

Spoiled and desperate.

That was what he thought as she pulled her skirts up holding them at her waist and looking expectantly down at him just waiting for him to undo the strings of his trousers and pull his prick out.

“This isn’t right…” his voice was hoarse from shouting commands earlier in the day. “I’ve an oath.” He sat up and grabbed at her clothes urging the fabric out of her grip so it would fall back down to cover her. Her glare was judgmental with some irritation mixed in and she said nothing as she turned, took the cup of poppy and left his tent.

He stayed sitting on the edge of the hard cot for hours. Just watching the flickering of fire against cups of ale as the men reveled in having another day of life. At least he supposed that was what they celebrated considering he was beginning to believe there was no winning in this. No revelry to be had at any grounds won. It wouldn’t matter, not in the end.

Eventually when the noise died down and just the most drunk of men hobbled about the camp he emerged from his tent and walked through the camp straight out into the silent darkness of the thick forest. He didn’t much care if he got lost…perhaps he hoped he would?

The silence maintained for only a short time because not a few minutes’ pace beyond the camp’s perimeter did he hear crying. It was garbled, as if stuck in one’s throat.

The nurse had been out here a long time so her eyes had adjusted quite a bit to the darkness. She saw the Lord Commander before hearing him, that was how silently he moved. She was crouched beside a thick fallen tree, picking at the loosened bark and no doubt having imprints of the tree against her arms and face from leaning against it for so very long.

“I don’t think there is any true comfort I can find.” He answered her question from the tent finally when he got close enough to realize it was the nurse bent against the big log. “Not in this lifetime.”

Her hair was undone and her clothing had been changed, she looked much softer now than she had in the tent. Perhaps now that the chaos and disarray of the battle had dulled she too had calmed a great deal. She felt everything now that the adrenaline had worn off and the poppy effect had departed. He sat down on the log just looking out at the thick blanket of darkness just beyond them and he felt a few strands of her hair that were sticking to the rough surface of the log and he silently untangled them and then urged her face to turn towards his leg and rest against the linen of his knee instead of onthe wood. He could feel the deep impression of the valleys in the tree against her cheek and he rubbed at the soft flesh until her blood rushed there to round her skin out. He could feel the wetness from her eyes spread over the tops of her cheek and he swallowed hard. His mind racing as he thought of what he had to look forward to. Of the next time he would enter a sept…he likely wouldn’t. Perhaps the shame he had felt in the past wouldn’t ever get to reach him and this time he could simply enjoy natural human pleasures. That’s what sex was, a normal urge. One he had felt so much guilt for in the past and now looking out at this darkness he felt shame for pushing her away earlier, for denying them both a comfort to try and maintain his good sense, to try and avoid her feeling the shame he had felt so many times before. In the princess’ chambers, the queen’s rooms, brothels and the kitchens of the Red Keep. When he had shamefully sought out or given in to the comforts of women.

His hand on her cheek began more insistent, his touch intensified and his fingers tricked back behind her jaw and ear and got lost in her loose hair. It had her making soft pleasant noises. Soon enough he was dropping down onto the ground beside her and the knight’s hand pulled her face towards him so their lips could connect again. This time he parted his mouth open a sliver first and he was the one to glide his tongue into her warm mouth. She didn’t taste like poppy this time, the bitterness gone from her tongue.

Her body sunk lower until her back was pressed to the ground and Ser Criston hovered before her, his breathing was heavy but not rushed. Nothing he did was frantic, it was all soft and slow. The kisses to her mouth and the ones he trailed down her neck. His hands even groped at her chest slowly, feeling her breast fill his hands until she would eventually relent and moan for him. She blinked up at the darkness of the sky as he moved lower and she couldn’t see his features above her. He had taken to removing her shoes, kissing at the tops of her feet. He didn’t care if they were dirty, he didn’tseem bothered by much at all anymore. Certainly not having qualms with her interest in him or the knowledge that she had laid with other men at the camp.

She again pulled her skirts up for him this time, stuffing them under her bottom to make herself more comfortable against the harsh ground and her pulse was throbbing in every vein she had as she pulled at his trousers letting them drop down to pool at his knees which were pressed to the earth as he leaned over her, her legs spread open and her warmed thigh pressed to the outside of his hips.

She watched with bated breath as he stroked his cock a few times, she thought for a moment he was going to simply enter her but after it seemed he had satisfied the ache in his growing manhood he let his hand hang down and his fingers brushed delicately over the apex of her thighs where her body parted and opened. He shouldn’t be surprised to feel that she was damp there for him but from the way his eyes jumped to meet hers she concluded he was.

“I may take comfort in physical pleasure but,” she let out a tense exhale when his fingers found the pearl at the top of her cunt and began circling it. “—but only with men who are handsome.” She was able to gather her senses to finish that sentence eventually. And she was glad she had done so because the man above her smiled. It was warm and made his eyes crinkle a bit, the sight was lovely. A smile she could truly escape in.

“Let me ready you,” Criston began to say as she worked the bottoms of her blouse open between her moans and grasping at his wrist while his fingers played at her like she was delicate pages of a book he was flipping through.

The knight was half curled down now, bending his head down towards her womanhood, but was kissing and biting at her skin as he made his way down. He seemed quite eager, taking deep breaths of her scent in while his very calloused fingers dragged roughly over her pearl. She could recall teachings from the septas that it was a sinful part of their body to indulge. She was never the more grateful to have put aside her faith in this moment. The knight and nurse’s breath almost in sync as he circled faster with his fingers. She managed to reach a hand down to his length once her breasts were finally free and she grasped at his cock, stroking it a few times, feeling he was beyond firm and her thumb enjoyed trailing over the vein she felt on the underside of his shaft. Smiling even when it had him shuddering.

“I don’t need that,” she told him insistently and the knight quickly rerouted to overtake her fully, his hips laid over hers, his chest squishing her pliable breasts and his nose slid along her still tear-stained face to make home above her upper lip as he took her plump bottom lip between his.

She could feel his cock pulsing against her now and his breathing felt eager so she shifted her body down some more, not caring at all that the twigs and pebbles roughed up her back. That was the last thing on her mind. Especially now that she was laid low enough that when he would rut against her his cockhead caught against her heated core. “Please—” she tensed some, her hand gripping his shoulder and hip not wanting him to pull back. “I need this, Ser Criston.” She begged once and when she was going to follow up and tell him she needed him now the words were strangled in her throat by the moan that pushed out instead due to him seating himself within her.

Criston’s shoulders were tense, holding himself up above her and though he almost instantly began to stroke into her fully he did settle his face against her neck, his head now caged in between her jaw and breast which were heaved up by the force of his hips each time he hit the end of her core with his tip. She made a gorgeous, enticing whimper each time his cockhead hit her cervix and it made the knight plant warm kisses in her neck and collar as a response because words seemed lost to him in this moment.

The two laid against the earth together, wrapping around one another more and more until she cried out in pleasure and the Lord Commander had the good sense to kiss at her lips to drown out the noise she was making. He didn’t want this moment to be stumbled upon, for once it wasn’t because he would be forced to stop and run off ashamed but because he truly didn’t want this moment to end. It felt like the last grasp he had on life itself.

He sat up on his knees a bit, his hand grabbing her hips, pushing them flat against the dirt. He was going to spill his seed and if she kept meeting his thrusts like she was it was going to be impossible for him to pull himself out of her.

“It won’t matter, Criston.”

She knew what he was getting ready to do. Leaving her in this moment, when her thighs trembled and her stomach looped into knots while his stones drew up and his length twitched would only leave them both unsatisfied.

The knight looked down at her, a bit of shock in his eyes at her remark. If his seed took it would matter. With two more thrusts though he realized what she meant. His seed wouldn’t have time to thicken her.

“It won’t,” he concluded and came with a low groan and then panted against her chest while she let her hands get lost within his hair. They both went silent once their lungs finally got the relief they’d been begging for. Eventually he pulled from her core when he was softened and his hand cupped over her mound as if he was feeling to see if he’d hurt her. But the nurse had no issue reaching down to pull her small clothes back up and button her blouse. Her skirt cascaded back down to cover her bruised hips and the imprint of the roots she’d been laid over.

“I’ll see to it that you have firm bandages around your ribs before you march down to the Riverlands.” She told him and waited for his nod before walking, a bit lopsidedly, back to the camp. Leaving him to stand, fix his clothes, and sit down on the fallen tree they had just indulged in each other against and take in a moment in the darkness of the woods.

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