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?"
She hissed at him, baring her teeth and recoiling once more. Barton snorted a guffaw, shaking his head. "The gods give you luck," was all he said before disappearing back into the trees, silent as a shadow. The girl watched him go without expression, and her gaze was flat and hateful as it fell back on her captor.
"Go to hell. Again." Snapping the words, she resolutely stayed where she was, bedraggled and filthy. She'd never felt more wretched in her entire life. "I despise you. All of you." She jerked her hands, snapping the length of rope. "I wish to the gods I'd have at least crushed your damned windpipe."
"Let me help you," James says again, a little firmer. "I know it's no castle but it will be good here, I promise. It won't be terrible. I'm not going to hurt you and I'll kill anyone who so much as tries, all right? Stay with me and you'll be safe."
"Why would I trust you at all?" she snapped right back. "You've abducted me, entirely against my will, and refuse to listen to any sort of reason!" Uncaring if she woke the entire forest, beasts and all, Natalia refused to budge, or even modulate her voice to a tone more suited to the night hours.
"It doesn't matter how kind you say you are, or how good you believe yourself to be, Wilding. I'm a prisoner, and you must be slow in the head if you'd ever believe that a prisoner would ever be a willing wife of any sort!" She tossed her head, tangled red curls tumbling down over her shoulders, not even shivering despite the chill in the air.
"So, no! I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and you'd be better off letting them have me, as doing so would hopefully put me out of my wretched misery sooner than being shackled to you!"
James sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He'd thought abducting a wife was easier than this but other Free Folk understand the tradition and while there's a fight, it's understood it ends in a marriage. He guesses kneelers don't do it this way at all.
"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he says, firm on that point. He's said it many times and he's going to keep saying it until she believes him. Between him and his wolf, no one will touch her.
"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's not only insulting, but it's irritating as hell, too." She saw him rub his nose and prayed that he was coming down with a fantastic migraine. If she couldn't pummel him with her fists, maybe she could drive him to madness and make her escape that way.
"What the hell is a 'kneeler'? If you're talking about civilized folk, then men typically ask the woman they fancy if she'd consent to being his wife, they don't simply abduct her out of the blue and inform her that she's now a prisoner for the rest of her life!"
"Kneelers have to have lords and kings. We don't. We're free of all of that," James happily explains. She's still upset, yes, but she's asking questions and that's better than hitting him or trying to run away. If she'll just talk to him, he thinks he can win her over.
"You want that, then? You want for me to bring you flowers and ask you if you want me? Because I will."
He flashes her a bright smile, crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
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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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"Go to hell. Again." Snapping the words, she resolutely stayed where she was, bedraggled and filthy. She'd never felt more wretched in her entire life. "I despise you. All of you." She jerked her hands, snapping the length of rope. "I wish to the gods I'd have at least crushed your damned windpipe."
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He doesn't know how much plainer he can make it.
"Can you trust me at least against the others?"
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"It doesn't matter how kind you say you are, or how good you believe yourself to be, Wilding. I'm a prisoner, and you must be slow in the head if you'd ever believe that a prisoner would ever be a willing wife of any sort!" She tossed her head, tangled red curls tumbling down over her shoulders, not even shivering despite the chill in the air.
"So, no! I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and you'd be better off letting them have me, as doing so would hopefully put me out of my wretched misery sooner than being shackled to you!"
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"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he says, firm on that point. He's said it many times and he's going to keep saying it until she believes him. Between him and his wolf, no one will touch her.
"How do kneelers do it? How do kneelers marry?"
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"What the hell is a 'kneeler'? If you're talking about civilized folk, then men typically ask the woman they fancy if she'd consent to being his wife, they don't simply abduct her out of the blue and inform her that she's now a prisoner for the rest of her life!"
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"You want that, then? You want for me to bring you flowers and ask you if you want me? Because I will."
He flashes her a bright smile, crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
"I'll bring you every flower I can find."