"One horse. No other sound in these woods but you. No bags packed for a long journey or a hunting trip," James says, watching her and her dagger. At least she wasn't one to simply faint at the sight of him. That was good. That was very good.
"I know these woods better than you do," he goes on to explain. "And there's worse things in them than me come nightfall. There's worse with me, if you understand. I don't want that for you. I can't pretend I didn't see you. Everyone will know."
"Get away from me," she snarled, brandishing her dagger. All the while, she inched towards her horse, more than determined to leap onto Vanya's back and leave this ruffian spitting out clods of dirt. At least she'd had the foresight to dress in trousers for this little outing; skirts would be the death of her right now.
"I'm not afraid of the woods, or the creatures in it," she shot back at him, still keeping him in her direct line of sight. "Nor am I afraid of you." Scarlet flashed as she gave her head a toss. "You can definitely pretend you didn't see me. Just turn around and leave. I've not come here looking for trouble, but if you don't shove off, you'll find more than you imagined."
"Wildings steal their wives," James says, looking at her with a newfound respect. "And you're worth stealing. Most kneelers would be crying by now. You're not going to get away. I can get to you faster than you can get to that horse."
He's so much taller than she is, he'll cover in two strides what would take her three or four.
"And you want me to steal you over the other men in these woods. I'm kind to women."
Natalia just blinked at him, thoroughly nonplussed. Then she gave a bark of laughter, sure this was all some sort of crazy joke. "'Worth stealing'?" Then her eyebrows snapped down and she scowled, hard. "Just try it," she dared, lightly adjusting her grip on the dagger. "You'll be choking on your tripes before you ever lay a hand on me, Wilding."
But escape was preferable to a scuffle, so Natalia opted to take her chances and bolted for the mare, though she never slacked her grasp on the dagger. Her bow was still lashed to Vanya's saddle, if nothing else, she might be able to clobber this insane bastard with it!
It was then that his wolf decided he would make a leisurely appearance and James hoped it would be enough to startle both the woman and the horse. He crossed the two strides to her and reached for her wrist, trying to twist it so the knife would drop limply from it.
"The more you fight, the better it is," he reminds her in a low voice. "So keep fighting me all the way back to my tent. I'm going to enjoy being married to you."
The sudden appearance of an altogether massive black wolf surprised both the grey mare and the redheaded girl frantically trying to climb into the saddle. Natalia hit the ground hard on her rump, the wind nearly knocked from her lungs. Vanya tore her tether and bolted, crashing through the brush with a shrill whinny. The woman was just scrabbling to get back to her feet when she screeched as her wrist suddenly bent backwards, forcing her fingers to open and the knife fall from her limp hand.
That didn't stop her other hand from making a fist and swinging it hard, the pain delicious where her knuckles collided with bone, her solid right hook impacting with the Wildling's left temple. She gave no thought to the lupine behind her, but damned if this arse was going to handle her so!
"I will not!" she shouted, all too ready to fight further. She jerked her other hand away and struggled to her feet, muttering some of Lord Mormont's favorite curses under her breath. "Nor will you abduct me, brigand! I'm hardly some common milkmaid to faint at the sight of you!"
The blow to his temple was enough to make him stagger for a moment but only just. He was a bigger and tougher man than that and she was too small to truly knock him down without something bigger than that tiny knife.
He loops an arm around her waist and pulls her up over his shoulder. Yes, he was abducting her, because that's how you get a wife. Don't these kneelers know anything? How else would you find a woman worthy of having your children if you didn't know how she could fight?
Rumlow comes out from the trees at the sound of the noise and laughs, his more harsh than James' amusement.
"A kneeler? For fun in the woods?" James shakes his head. "Hands off, she's not yours to play with and leave bloody. I'm marrying her." Night, for good measure, growls in Rumlow's direction.
Softer, James says to the girl - "I won't hurt you. You can fight and that's fine, I expect that. But don't think I'm going to hurt you. I'm not. That one will, though, so I'm keeping you safe from him."
Natalia yelled as loud as she could when the Wilding hauled her up and tossed her over a broad shoulder, as if she were only so much baggage. A sack of potatoes, perhaps. But her histrionics came to an abrupt halt when she heard a new voice, this one definitely coarser than the first. She couldn't see this newcomer, but from the sound of it, he wasn't all that pleasant.
Nevertheless, that didn't make her current predicament any more appealing. "Let me go!" she seethed, squirming like an octopus. "I don't belong to you, you cretin! I'm not a slave! Nor am I going to be your wife!"
The wolf's growl silenced her shortly, but she could see that the animal wasn't looking at her, but rather the newcomer facing her captor. Not a promising sign. Still, she wriggled and huffed, seeking for anything within her reach she might use as a weapon. If she could only work her fingers into his belt...
"We don't have slaves. We're Free Folk," James says, exasperated. Kneelers really don't get it, at all, and he guesses that's why they don't see eye to eye on anything. Back at their camp, there's rope, and he'll have to tie her up so he can do anything other than hold her struggling body.
"You are my wife. We don't do ceremonies," he explains. "I stole you, Gods say you're mine. That's all we need to be married. You won't want for anything."
She's still fighting, which is good. If she'd given up, he'd worry.
Ignoring his prating, Natalis ground her teeth, but at last she managed to get her small clever fingers into the Wildling's belt, and from there, yanked up the end of his woolen tunic only to dig all ten fingernails into his skin, clawing like a cat and raking into his flesh as hard and as deep as she possibly could.
She kicked her feet, screeching in her fury, trying to knee him in the face if she was able, but she wasn't about to just hang limp and accepting like some ridiculous southern dishmaid! "Damn the gods! I don't want you at all! Let me go, you whoremongering, thieving bastard! Let me go this instant!"
The slickness of her fingers told her she'd at least drawn blood, but the redheaded girl kept clawing, trying to hurt him as much as she possibly could.
She had drawn blood but it was more of an annoyance than something that would truly fell him. He grunts a little and adjusts his grip on her, making it clear that he's not going to be letting her go any time soon. Not until he can bind her hands.
"I'm not a whoremonger," James says mildly. Rumlow lets out a low laugh and nods his head, clearly amused at how the kneeler's daughter has his clansman by the balls.
"He's not," he says. "The White Wolf hasn't had a woman in over a year. Not for lack of opportunity, either. We thought his cock froze off."
When the newcomer fell into step behind his clansman, Natalia managed to look up at him through the tangle of her curls, and wasn't surprised to see a truly haggard countenance, small, cruel eyes, and a thin mouth set into a sharp, leathered face, and her stomach involuntarily recoiled.
Still, she bared her teeth in a decidedly unladylike hiss, snarling at the both of them. "I don't care about the frequency of your rutting rituals," she growled, trying to clear her eyes of her hair (and failing, given her precarious position). "The lot of you are nothing but animal-fucking good-for-nothings, so what difference does it make!"
"I've never fucked an animal," James says, tightening his grip on the girl's waist to keep her from moving as much. When he could bind her up, it would be easier, but for right now he has to make do with what he has. And he doesn't want Rumlow getting hold of her.
"Only women. Only if they want it," James says. It's his hard and fast rule. He'll never fuck a woman who doesn't want it.
"You smell as if you have," she shot right back, squirming even more when she felt the arm that held her tighten. "Like sheep, actually." The Wilding behind them laughed, snorting in dirty amusement, she was sure. Natalia shot him a glower, then almost swallowed her tongue when her captor spun around a time or two, revealing a small fire, several lean-to's stretched between the thick trees, and even more of these fur-covered bastards converging in curiosity.
Her stomach again roiled, the severity of her situation increasing. She had to get away from here, away from them, and she had to do it now. In her heart of hearts, she could only pray that Lord Mormont would come to rescue her if she couldn't do so herself. She had no intention of being this creature's 'wife', regardless of how kind he made himself out to be!
There's rope at the camp, a good amount of it, and James rolls his shoulder so he can get the girl to her feet so he can bind her hands and feet. He won't bind her tightly, she's no prisoner - she's a wife - but he has to make sure she won't get away.
"I'll keep it loose unless you try to escape," James says, trying to meet her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I mean that, all right? I'm not going to hurt you unless it happens by accident."
Natalia found herself parked with her back to a spruce tree and her hands and ankles tied with several lengths of rope. Incredulous, as she still couldn't believe this was happening, she just stared at her captor, momentarily dumb. The others were still staring at her, sizing her up, she feared, and the one with whom they'd arrived leered, like a hungry predator, just out of reach. That one actually unnerved her.
"Don't do this," she told her abductor. "My family will come for me. And they will kill whoever stands between me and them. You don't want that, do you?" She didn't believe reason would make a difference, but it was the last recourse. She couldn't just strangle him; the angle was wrong and she didn't have enough leverage. "Just let me go. Raid what you want, I won't raise any alarm. Just...let me go."
James touches her chin lightly. "Don't worry about the rest of them. I'll set the wolf over here and they won't bother because they like their limbs attached. When it's time to sleep, you can sleep in my tent and they're not getting through a wolf and me."
He softens his voice a little more. "Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat. As for your family - they won't find us. We know the woods better than you kneelers ever do. How do you think we've managed to poach so long?"
She jerked away from the touch, giving him a cold glare in return. "Go to hell," she spat, recoiling as much as she was able. "I hate you. Now and forever. Get away from me, degenerate." The girl drew up her knees, curling in on herself as much as she was able.
Rumlow strolled over right about then, gnawing on a roasted leg. "Gotta lotta fight, that one," he observed. "Sure you can handle her, White Wolf?" He managed to make the label a little mocking, almost desultory. His gaze was bold, however, as it swept over the bound female.
"I can handle her," James says stiffly. "Better than any of you. She
belongs to me and no one else so don't try anything. Night, to me." The
wolf lumbers over and settles at the girl's feet, more protective than
anything else. Direwolves can sense the emotions of their masters and
because of his own protective feelings toward the girl, Night is protective
too. Especially against Rumlow.
"You have to be hungry," he says, softer and to the girl. "Anything?"
Natalia refused to answer, turning her head and giving him only the fall of her long scarlet curls, hiding her face from their inquisitive eyes. The wolf lying down nearby gave her pause, but the creature only yawned, licked its chops, and lowered its great head atop crossed paws. She heard the mocking Wildling give a dark chuckle, but thankfully he retreated back to the fire to join his other clansmen.
This couldn't be happening; she had to be dreaming. Silently, she willed herself to wake up, sure she'd open her eyes to see her warm, familiar quarters back at Mormont Hall, and would giggle over this bad dream later, when it had appropriately faded. She even dug her nails into her palm, trying to snap herself out of this nightmare. To no avail, alas.
Later, when the fires are lower, James comes over again and takes the rope to unbind her from the tree. There's a good bit of length in it and he leads her to the edge of where they've camped and near a small stream. Maybe he steals his wives but he's not a brute and he is going to give her the chance to wash and do anything else she might need before the night was up.
"Come on," he says softly. "I'll give you a little privacy but you still have to be tied because I know you'll run. I know it's different, what we do, but things don't have to be that different between us in private. I will be good to you. Better than anyone."
That length of rope was more than enough for her to snatch in her bound hands, loop around his miserable neck, and pull as tight as she possibly could, trying to cut off his wind at the very least. She didn't care 'how good he'd be' or if he was a 'good man'; she was still a captive of these brutes and she wasn't going to just submit without a damn good fight!
The coarse rope burned her hands, but she didn't let go. Nor did she care if the scuffle woke the rest of his clansmen; they'd be next if they dared lay hands on her!
James should have expected this and he claws at the rope, trying to get it away from her, and he's surprised she has such a strong grip. He ends up reaching for her wrists and pressing in as hard as he could to try and get her to release. It would hurt a little, yes, but nothing permanent. He can't truly hurt her.
Truly hurting her would go back on his word and he's not that kind of man.
The dig of hard thumbs into her wrists sent her yowling, screeching like a feline as she was forced to relinquish her grip. The force of it knocked her off of her feet, and Natalia swore more vile curses with what breath remained as she tried to scramble back to her feet.
The crash of feet in the brush made her jerk up, heart sinking to see one of her captor's clansmen appear, a nocked bow drawn and an arrow aimed right at her throat. "Bloody fucking hell," the newcomer groused, giving his kinsman a dark look. "Keep her quiet, Wolf. She'll have half the Northmen on our heels before dawn, with all of this ruckus."
He lowered his bow, but arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Need a hand in gentling this one?"
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"I know these woods better than you do," he goes on to explain. "And there's worse things in them than me come nightfall. There's worse with me, if you understand. I don't want that for you. I can't pretend I didn't see you. Everyone will know."
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"I'm not afraid of the woods, or the creatures in it," she shot back at him, still keeping him in her direct line of sight. "Nor am I afraid of you." Scarlet flashed as she gave her head a toss. "You can definitely pretend you didn't see me. Just turn around and leave. I've not come here looking for trouble, but if you don't shove off, you'll find more than you imagined."
And that was a promise.
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He's so much taller than she is, he'll cover in two strides what would take her three or four.
"And you want me to steal you over the other men in these woods. I'm kind to women."
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But escape was preferable to a scuffle, so Natalia opted to take her chances and bolted for the mare, though she never slacked her grasp on the dagger. Her bow was still lashed to Vanya's saddle, if nothing else, she might be able to clobber this insane bastard with it!
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"The more you fight, the better it is," he reminds her in a low voice. "So keep fighting me all the way back to my tent. I'm going to enjoy being married to you."
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That didn't stop her other hand from making a fist and swinging it hard, the pain delicious where her knuckles collided with bone, her solid right hook impacting with the Wildling's left temple. She gave no thought to the lupine behind her, but damned if this arse was going to handle her so!
"I will not!" she shouted, all too ready to fight further. She jerked her other hand away and struggled to her feet, muttering some of Lord Mormont's favorite curses under her breath. "Nor will you abduct me, brigand! I'm hardly some common milkmaid to faint at the sight of you!"
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He loops an arm around her waist and pulls her up over his shoulder. Yes, he was abducting her, because that's how you get a wife. Don't these kneelers know anything? How else would you find a woman worthy of having your children if you didn't know how she could fight?
Rumlow comes out from the trees at the sound of the noise and laughs, his more harsh than James' amusement.
"A kneeler? For fun in the woods?" James shakes his head. "Hands off, she's not yours to play with and leave bloody. I'm marrying her." Night, for good measure, growls in Rumlow's direction.
Softer, James says to the girl - "I won't hurt you. You can fight and that's fine, I expect that. But don't think I'm going to hurt you. I'm not. That one will, though, so I'm keeping you safe from him."
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Nevertheless, that didn't make her current predicament any more appealing. "Let me go!" she seethed, squirming like an octopus. "I don't belong to you, you cretin! I'm not a slave! Nor am I going to be your wife!"
The wolf's growl silenced her shortly, but she could see that the animal wasn't looking at her, but rather the newcomer facing her captor. Not a promising sign. Still, she wriggled and huffed, seeking for anything within her reach she might use as a weapon. If she could only work her fingers into his belt...
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"You are my wife. We don't do ceremonies," he explains. "I stole you, Gods say you're mine. That's all we need to be married. You won't want for anything."
She's still fighting, which is good. If she'd given up, he'd worry.
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She kicked her feet, screeching in her fury, trying to knee him in the face if she was able, but she wasn't about to just hang limp and accepting like some ridiculous southern dishmaid! "Damn the gods! I don't want you at all! Let me go, you whoremongering, thieving bastard! Let me go this instant!"
The slickness of her fingers told her she'd at least drawn blood, but the redheaded girl kept clawing, trying to hurt him as much as she possibly could.
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"I'm not a whoremonger," James says mildly. Rumlow lets out a low laugh and nods his head, clearly amused at how the kneeler's daughter has his clansman by the balls.
"He's not," he says. "The White Wolf hasn't had a woman in over a year. Not for lack of opportunity, either. We thought his cock froze off."
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Still, she bared her teeth in a decidedly unladylike hiss, snarling at the both of them. "I don't care about the frequency of your rutting rituals," she growled, trying to clear her eyes of her hair (and failing, given her precarious position). "The lot of you are nothing but animal-fucking good-for-nothings, so what difference does it make!"
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"Only women. Only if they want it," James says. It's his hard and fast rule. He'll never fuck a woman who doesn't want it.
"I won't hurt you."
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Her stomach again roiled, the severity of her situation increasing. She had to get away from here, away from them, and she had to do it now. In her heart of hearts, she could only pray that Lord Mormont would come to rescue her if she couldn't do so herself. She had no intention of being this creature's 'wife', regardless of how kind he made himself out to be!
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"I'll keep it loose unless you try to escape," James says, trying to meet her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I mean that, all right? I'm not going to hurt you unless it happens by accident."
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"Don't do this," she told her abductor. "My family will come for me. And they will kill whoever stands between me and them. You don't want that, do you?" She didn't believe reason would make a difference, but it was the last recourse. She couldn't just strangle him; the angle was wrong and she didn't have enough leverage. "Just let me go. Raid what you want, I won't raise any alarm. Just...let me go."
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He softens his voice a little more. "Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat. As for your family - they won't find us. We know the woods better than you kneelers ever do. How do you think we've managed to poach so long?"
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Rumlow strolled over right about then, gnawing on a roasted leg. "Gotta lotta fight, that one," he observed. "Sure you can handle her, White Wolf?" He managed to make the label a little mocking, almost desultory. His gaze was bold, however, as it swept over the bound female.
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"I can handle her," James says stiffly. "Better than any of you. She belongs to me and no one else so don't try anything. Night, to me." The wolf lumbers over and settles at the girl's feet, more protective than anything else. Direwolves can sense the emotions of their masters and because of his own protective feelings toward the girl, Night is protective too. Especially against Rumlow.
"You have to be hungry," he says, softer and to the girl. "Anything?"
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This couldn't be happening; she had to be dreaming. Silently, she willed herself to wake up, sure she'd open her eyes to see her warm, familiar quarters back at Mormont Hall, and would giggle over this bad dream later, when it had appropriately faded. She even dug her nails into her palm, trying to snap herself out of this nightmare. To no avail, alas.
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"Come on," he says softly. "I'll give you a little privacy but you still have to be tied because I know you'll run. I know it's different, what we do, but things don't have to be that different between us in private. I will be good to you. Better than anyone."
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The coarse rope burned her hands, but she didn't let go. Nor did she care if the scuffle woke the rest of his clansmen; they'd be next if they dared lay hands on her!
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Truly hurting her would go back on his word and he's not that kind of man.
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The crash of feet in the brush made her jerk up, heart sinking to see one of her captor's clansmen appear, a nocked bow drawn and an arrow aimed right at her throat. "Bloody fucking hell," the newcomer groused, giving his kinsman a dark look. "Keep her quiet, Wolf. She'll have half the Northmen on our heels before dawn, with all of this ruckus."
He lowered his bow, but arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Need a hand in gentling this one?"
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He doesn't want anyone to hurt the girl and he knows more than one of his clansmen would without a thought. He extends his hand to her.
"Here, let me help you up."
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