Brienne didn't often have nightmares, or at least she never told you about them. But when she did, they were bad. They more traumatic memories than abstract nightmares, but that made them all the more real in her mind.

She could recall every detail of that day perfectly. Her body ached and blood dried on her face, rope burns on her arms from being dragged along by those Bolton brutes. She could almost feel Jaime's weak body tied to her back. Smell the blood and sweat in the air.

And then she could hear Jaime's rugged voice in her ear.

"When we make camp, you'll be raped. More than once. They've never been with a noble woman."

The nightmare continued in a blur. More sensations and sounds than actual images in her mind. Probably because Brienne had kept her eyes closed tight that night. But she could still hear, feel.

When she woke up, she was gasping like a fish out of water. A hoarse sound left her throat as if she'd been yelling. She felt unbearably sweaty and her face was wet with tears. And then she felt you. She couldn't understand you, but she knew you were trying to talk to her. Her breathing was ragged and her freckled face crumpled as she whined.