Chapter 3 - Rise Again | Creator's Haven

WildlingKing
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"Destiny is all."

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Chapter 3 - Rise Again Oct 2, 2020 22:09:34 GMT Stigz likes this

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Post by WildlingKing on Oct 2, 2020 22:09:34 GMT

This was a very nice part! Robett was one of those PoVs that I really loved, but also one where my lack of planning was starting to come bite me in the arse. I gotta say you've handled him very well, especially given the narrative almost-dead-end I had left him in

Really looking forward to where his story will go next, which brings me to the choice...

[Stay with Dani] This was a very tough choice to make, because I'd love to see Robett and Jack reconnecting. However, I feel like staying is more in line with where Robett is emotionally. He doesn't want to go back to Castle Black and he feels betrayed by Jack. It just feels narratively right to solidify those feelings with this choice. And then hopefully down the line it might lead to an even more satisfying (or bitter) reunion between them. Oh, and also I'd love to see the relationship between Robett and Dani developed

Stigz
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Chapter 3 - Rise Again Oct 3, 2020 1:14:05 GMT

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Post by Stigz on Oct 3, 2020 1:14:05 GMT

Oct 2, 2020 22:09:34 GMT WildlingKing said:

This was a very nice part! Robett was one of those PoVs that I really loved, but also one where my lack of planning was starting to come bite me in the arse. I gotta say you've handled him very well, especially given the narrative almost-dead-end I had left him in

Really looking forward to where his story will go next, which brings me to the choice...

[Stay with Dani] This was a very tough choice to make, because I'd love to see Robett and Jack reconnecting. However, I feel like staying is more in line with where Robett is emotionally. He doesn't want to go back to Castle Black and he feels betrayed by Jack. It just feels narratively right to solidify those feelings with this choice. And then hopefully down the line it might lead to an even more satisfying (or bitter) reunion between them. Oh, and also I'd love to see the relationship between Robett and Dani developed

Thank you for the kind words on that one

Robett indeed was one of those characters which felt like his story was transitioning to somewhere else, but that "else" part wasn't entirely clear. I've spent a lot of time adding layers and background on top of his original submission, to the point where his character is developing to be one of my favourites in the entire story to write. There'll be some reveals down the track which will be very interesting.

As for the choice, I promise now I'll stop trying to give votes for Robett to leave Dani

In this instance however, the vote really will decide Robett's future storyline (one which I consider as either remaining as the 'Weasel' or finding the true 'Robett'), and there'll sadly be no overlaps between those two storylines I've fully planned out. Either way, I'm really happy with whichever direction is chosen, but perhaps one has a more positive light at the end of the tunnel for Robett than the other, but I won't reveal which one that is

I've been meaning to PM you, but I've been a bit swamped for time and I'm not sure where you're at with drawing submissions at the moment, but I think Robett could definitely do with an updated portrait if that interests you? Can talk about it more over a PM if you like

WildlingKing
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"Destiny is all."

Posts: 341

Chapter 3 - Rise Again Oct 3, 2020 21:18:38 GMT Stigz likes this

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Post by WildlingKing on Oct 3, 2020 21:18:38 GMT

Oct 3, 2020 1:14:05 GMT Stigz said:

Oct 2, 2020 22:09:34 GMT WildlingKing said:

This was a very nice part! Robett was one of those PoVs that I really loved, but also one where my lack of planning was starting to come bite me in the arse. I gotta say you've handled him very well, especially given the narrative almost-dead-end I had left him in

Really looking forward to where his story will go next, which brings me to the choice...

[Stay with Dani] This was a very tough choice to make, because I'd love to see Robett and Jack reconnecting. However, I feel like staying is more in line with where Robett is emotionally. He doesn't want to go back to Castle Black and he feels betrayed by Jack. It just feels narratively right to solidify those feelings with this choice. And then hopefully down the line it might lead to an even more satisfying (or bitter) reunion between them. Oh, and also I'd love to see the relationship between Robett and Dani developed

Thank you for the kind words on that one

Robett indeed was one of those characters which felt like his story was transitioning to somewhere else, but that "else" part wasn't entirely clear. I've spent a lot of time adding layers and background on top of his original submission, to the point where his character is developing to be one of my favourites in the entire story to write. There'll be some reveals down the track which will be very interesting.

As for the choice, I promise now I'll stop trying to give votes for Robett to leave Dani

In this instance however, the vote really will decide Robett's future storyline (one which I consider as either remaining as the 'Weasel' or finding the true 'Robett'), and there'll sadly be no overlaps between those two storylines I've fully planned out. Either way, I'm really happy with whichever direction is chosen, but perhaps one has a more positive light at the end of the tunnel for Robett than the other, but I won't reveal which one that is

I've been meaning to PM you, but I've been a bit swamped for time and I'm not sure where you're at with drawing submissions at the moment, but I think Robett could definitely do with an updated portrait if that interests you? Can talk about it more over a PM if you like

I haven't worked on the drawings in a while, but I just checked where I left off and I actually have the latest set almost done! I'll just need to do some finishing touches before posting them. So yeah, after that I should be able to find time to do more of them.

Stigz
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Chapter 3 - Rise Again Oct 11, 2020 7:05:12 GMT

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Post by Stigz on Oct 11, 2020 7:05:12 GMT

Edric

His forearms were scraped and bloody for his efforts, chafed raw from the tight bounds that Edric assumed had been stolen from the Wall when the deserters fled north. Would serve a better purpose around their necks. They had chosen to gag him after the first hour of his consciousness, not for an avoidance of screams or begging – they had kept Victor ungagged for that amusement – but because young Rickard had damn near lost a finger when his hand came too close to Edric’s teeth. The Wild Bear had lost some teeth for that.

It had been five days since Khort had betrayed them and they had been dragged to this cottage as their captives, treated like dogs for their wild amusement. Victor had lost all shred of his hope to survive, hanging by his wrists limply as blood dripped from his nose, but Edric’s fight still remained – and his battles were not in his benefit. They had punched out some teeth, pulled off finger nails and possibly broken a rib or two. Breathing had grown harder with each day, but nothing had been hospitable since their arrival here.

Regardless of the pain, the suffering and the pointlessness, the Wild Bear fought on. When his strength returned with a burst, he chafed his bloody wrists against his bindings with the ambition to loosen them, to free a hand. A freed hand frees the man, he told himself as he clamped down hard on the gag, although his yelps of endurance caught the attention of his fellow captive, who jerked awake with the reminder of his own inflictions.

Victor had gotten it worse than Edric, if that had been even possible. He had been the first to break, and they had taken their pleasure with him. Bael had taken fingers, Carley had taken his cock, and Khort had given him his own cock. It had left the once optimistic ranger silent, but to rekindle his expression, Bael had melted the ranger’s hands in the hearth. The flesh had charred beyond repair, and his hands were little more than burnt stumps at the end of his arms. They had stripped him bare, his skin as pale as milk. Were it not for his shallow breaths, Edric would be convinced his brother were dead.

“Edric,” Victor groaned with a powerless tone, his voice shallow and distant. The Wild Bear gave his forearms a rest as he turned his attention to his brother, who kept his gaze to the floor. “I miss my sister, Edric,” he muttered with a choked tone, and Edric could see tears running down his cheeks, mixing with the dried blood on his face. Victor mustered the strength to gaze upon the Wild Bear. “I’ll never see her again.”

Edric shook his head, but even his attempts to reassure him were filled with doubt. It was no secret that Victor was fading, and as much as Bael tortured him with more pain inflicting methods, Victor was becoming less responsive with each new visit. Victor dropped his again, and Edric groaned as he rubbed his bloody wrists at the ropes again before growling with frustration and agony. His winced and shook his head, his eyes flying around the room until they spotted a knife stuck in the table by the door of their torture room. If he could just get over there… and do what? His fading hope seemed to invite the attention of his torturers.

The door swung open, and first Edric heard the giggling laughter of Carley Winter, and then laid eyes upon three. The wildling bitch was pleasant on the eyes, but that was the only saving grace to her vile presence, and her admiring gaze looked upon her lover – whom looked at Edric will malicious eyes. Bael had never had much to do with any of the men at Castle Black, but he’d made a point to stay away from Bael Rangeld and his goons whenever he had spotted them. They had given hell to the weaker and isolated brothers at the Wall, but that was nothing to the kind of torment they had given to him and Victor these last five days.

“Still got some fight in you, aye?” Bael observed with a smirk as he cut the gag Edric’s mouth, carelessly slicing through his cheek in the process. In return, the Wild Bear snarled at his predator, facing death in the eyes. “Good, I like it better this way,” Bael remarked, and behind him Khort had cut down Victor and slung him over his shoulder, taking him away for his own dirty pleasures.

“Leave him alone you craven!” Edric shouted, his throat dry and bloody. Khort tossed Victor on the ground and turned his attention to Edric, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing his head back.

“Knock out some more teeth, will you? I could do with a new mouth,” Khort chuckled, and Bael flashed him a sadistic grin as he watched Khort turn to egress. Victor desperately tried to crawl to his freedom, only feeding to Khort’s amusement. “Where do you think you’re going, slut?” Khort growled, dragging Victor back by the ropes around his ankles. The ex-ranger unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants, and Victor turned his eyes of horror to Edric, who could do nothing but watch. Watching might have been easier than what was to come, as the Wild Bear spotted Bael returning to him with two sharpened blades.

-

Night had fallen over the Haunted Forest, and Edric sat defeated, tied to his chair with his newly inflicted wounds. Bael and Carley had left an hour ago to hunting, and Khort had retreated back to his room, taking Victor with him. Darkness had flooded the room, save for the light that crept under the door and cast a small glow on the floor near it. It was alone in the dark that Edric felt it all at once. All of the hours of torture peaked to his attention, surging through his body and egressing from his dry lips, which were saturated by the gag stuffed in his mouth. His energy was exhausted from hours of torment and effort to survive, his mind wandering aimlessly through his thoughts with nowhere left to look, and his body unable to sleep. His sleepless nights were his worst torture.

His mind roamed back to Bear Island, where he and his brother played under the Weirwood, screaming and laughing as if they had no fear in the world. Little did they know then that they’d be ripped apart by family politics, and later death. Guilt overwhelmed the Wild Bear as his brother’s lifeless face flashed before his eyes. His father’s words rung through his head. “It should have been you.” Edric had abandoned his duty to go and kill wildlings, and now the gods were punishing him for it.

Tears flooded his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, and he surged back and forth on his chair with resentment. “You’re a disappointment, you’re nothing!” his father yelled as he slapped him with the back of his hand, sending the chair onto its back legs. His brother pushed him from the back into the dirt, breaking his nose accidentally all those years ago, and surging the chair forward. “Why did you run away, brother?” William asked, and the chair slid back further this time. "I trusted you." The chair hurled backwards, and Edric watched Bear Island fly out of reach as he fell backwards.

The chair collapsed on impact, the bindings around him loosening except for those around his wrists. His eyes widened at the realisation, and he quickly fought himself up to his feet. He heard footsteps outside the room, they would have heard the bang, and he stumbled with haste to the table where he had seen the knife. If he could find it, he could work on his hands. His body bumped into the table, causing another loud thud, and from the sounds of it making the knife fall onto the ground. Fuck! He dropped to his feet, scrambling around the floor with his hands tied behind his back looking for a needle in a haystack.

“What the fuck was that sound?” Edric then heard, and he froze as he recognised Khort’s thick raspy voice. The deserter on the receiving end gave a weak response.

“I- I don’t know? I thought it was you,” he stated with a timid tone, and the following sound indicated Khort had given the boy a hit over the back of the head.

“If I am woken again, I’ll rip your fucking intestines out, you hear? Go check on the little shit,” Khort ordered, and Edric heard his heavy footsteps return to his room. The Wild Bear’s heart beat frantically as his hands fumbled on the floor, searching desperately for the knife, and the lighter footsteps etched their way to his door. It opened, and light flooded into the room, and Edric spotted the knife in front of him, but then found himself staring into the eyes of Rickard Flint.

“What the fuck…” he mumbled, and Edric quickly slid the knife behind him with his foot, getting a hold of it with his hands. He quickly tried to work the blade at the binds, but Rickard snapped into action and unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Edric. “Drop it!” he warned, and Edric froze as he stared at the tip of the blade – barely an inch away from his face.

“You don’t have to do this, Flint. Cut me loose and come with me to Castle Black, I’ll vouch for you, I swear,” Edric attempted to bargain, but Rickard shook his head defiantly.

“There is no Castle Black anymore! Everyone’s dead, and you’re about to join them,” Rickard stated, and Edric widened his eyes as he watched the builder lift his sword above his head. The Wild Bear crept backward but hit the wall, and Rickard brought the sword flying down. It hit the ground beside Edric as it fell from the builder’s hands, and Edric gazed back up at the builder with confusion, until he spotted the arrow lodged through his throat. It had shot through the window and pierced him exactly where it had supposed to, it was a shot any archer would be envious of, but in this circumstance Edric was thankful for the mystery arrow.

He cut away at the bindings and grasped his wrists, feeling blood return into his hands but also feeling the increased swelling seer with pain. Outside the hut, Edric heard the clanging of steel. He reached for Rickard’s sword and pushed himself upright, glaring down at the builder who choked on his blood. He gave him the mercy of his blade before taking his first steps outside of the room he had endured so much pain.

Fire had caught the hut alight, and Edric felt the weight of the dull iron blade after a moment of holding it. Mounted on the wall, he identified his weirwood bow, Silent Sister. He made his way to it, until he noticed the door to another room opening. His gaze was met by the cold eyes of Khort, who glared at Edric with seething anger.

“Better bring your ass to my sword you little shit. I can still play the card of a loyal brother if you’re dead,” Khort stated, and Edric lifted his sword into a defensive position as he glared back at the ex-ranger.

“You won’t live long enough to get that chance,” Edric promised him, making Khort roll his eyes as he swung his sword at him. The Wild Bear merely dodged the swing, and his blade arrived just in time to deflect the second attack. Edric thrust his sword at Khort’s belly, which the ex-ranger avoided with ease and smacked Edric with the back of his hand.

“I told Musgood you were a little shit. It’s your fault Keran died, you know? Your fault that the Lord Commander left his post and caused a mutiny. They’ll make you hang for it,” Khort stated with a bloodthirsty grin. “Perhaps I’ll save them the effort!” he growled as he charged Edric to the floor, knocking his blade from his hands. Khort fastened his hands around Edric’s throat, crushing his windpipe with the intention to suffocate him. Edric clawed at the ex-ranger’s eyes but was too weak to truly retaliate. His eyes bulged and his vision darkened.

“Gah!” Khort exclaimed as he released his grip on Edric, turning his attention to a new assailant from behind him. Edric spotted Victor struggling to keep a grip on the blade he had just thrusted into Khort’s back, and he received a hard punch in the gut for his efforts. Edric pounced at the opportunity and reached for his sword, lunging it into Khort’s chest before he had a moment to react. The ex-ranger’s brow lifted as he realised what had happened, and winced in agony as Edric twisted the blade, making him suffer. He fell onto his side and stared at the blade lodged through his chest with shock.

“Finish it,” he begged, “kill me!” he screamed with panic, and Edric looked at the flames building on the walls.

“The fires will do that for you, slowly,” Edric remarked, grabbing Khort’s blade and slashing his ankles to ensure he wouldn’t be able to move. He turned to Victor to express a victorious smile, but found his brother laying motionlessly on the floor. “Victor!” Edric screamed, rushing to his brother’s aid. He didn’t respond. Edric hurled him over his shoulder, grabbing Silent Sister off the wall and charging out the main doors. They tripped out into the snow and rolled away from the blaze. Edric watched the fire consume the hut, and within, he heard the screaming of a man he had once called his brother.

“Edric…” Victor coughed, and the Wild Bear turned his tamed attention to his brother, crawling to his side. His naked flesh shivered against the snow, and Edric made an effort to cradle him close. “My sister…” he mumbled, and Edric nodded.

“I’ll get you south again, you’ll see her,” he swore, and a sad smile touched Victor’s lips before his eyes seemed distant, then rolled motionlessly to the back of his skull. Edric stared at Victor with tears building in his eyes, shaking him in an attempt to bring him back, but he knew nothing ever would. He had tried to save his brother once, and now he had lost another brother in his arms.

“Edric!” a voice called from afar, and the Wild Bear reached for his bow to defend himself, but suddenly recognised the face of his caller. The First Ranger’s face was bloody, alike with his mace, but his relieved expression turned sour as he recognised Victor. “Gods,” he uttered as he knelt beside him. “I had hoped I could save you both,” George remarked with remorse, and Edric’s wet eyes turned to the First Ranger.

“Where were you?” he exclaimed with a choked voice. “Khort betrayed the Lord Commander, but they never found you. Did they get Jaremy and Wulfric?” Edric asked with a weeping tone, knowing that Khort had told Bael of them, but George reassured him with a shake of the head.

“I tracked you two here a few days ago and rode back to the Fist to get them. They have the attention of most of these deserters, and are doubling back to our camp south of here. We will go and meet them,” George informed them, but struck with grief, Edric shook his head.

“Bael Rangeld, and his bitch, did this to us. They’re still out here, somewhere. We need to find them,” Edric stated, and George frowned as he glanced around them.

“We need to regroup. The Lord Commander is still out there, it’s our duty to find him,” George stated, but Edric snarled.

“The Lord Commander is the reason we’re in this mess. Besides, Bael gave him off to the wildling king. If he’s not dead already, he’ll wish he was. There’s nothing we can do for him other than avenge him and Victor,” Edric stated, and George stared at the corpse of Victor before cursing under his breath.

“We must regroup first,” he stated, but Edric shook his head with anger.

“If we run now, they’ll regroup! We have to find them now and kill them, or they’ll fucking kill us!” Edric shouted, and George put a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand your situation here, and I swear we’ll find them, but we should regroup first. We can wait them out,” George stated, but Edric feared Wulfric and Jaremy wouldn’t be of similar minds, and George would turn on his word once he had gotten Edric away from this place. He couldn’t risk that. He had to act, with or without George’s help.

[Find Bael and Carley alone] [Go back to the others with George]

WildlingKing
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"Destiny is all."

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Chapter 3 - Rise Again Oct 22, 2020 18:53:36 GMT Stigz likes this

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Post by WildlingKing on Oct 22, 2020 18:53:36 GMT

Well damn, that was a grim and brutal part. I'm interested to see how this experience will shape Edric's character going forward.

[Go back to the others with George] Edric should probably start learning his lesson about acting recklessly.

Stigz
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Chapter 3 - Rise Again Dec 6, 2020 6:08:02 GMT LiquidChicagoTed likes this

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Post by Stigz on Dec 6, 2020 6:08:02 GMT

Ah so it's been a while since I've done any writing. Got swamped with exams, did really well with them and got accepted into honours for next year so academically things are going great. I rewarded myself with buying more guitar gear and a PC setup, and I've just been lost in all that to even think about writing. I managed to get Lenlie's part finished today though, just to build up some more Thenn tension

Lenlie

A grand army massed outside the halls of the Magnar, eagerly awaiting the departure that would lead for vengeance. The Thenns had been humiliated at the hands of Fleshbearer, and they would not forget his betrayal, nor forgive it. Lenlie suspected Sigira would march this army day and night until she avenged her father, and Lenlie only hoped that she would not meet the same fate.

The Princess stood at the steps of the main entrance to her ancestral halls, embracing her young brother and passing on some words to Skjorn the Scholar, who stood diligently by his Magnar’s side. While the Scholar was loyal to the Princess and the Magnar before, Lenlie believed he had some reservations for being placed in stewardship of the Vale instead of marching alongside Sigira. Admittedly, Lenlie felt similarly, but more for concern that Sigira was leaving with few friends at her side.

The Ice River girl grasped the hand of the womaniser Thenn that had charmed her beneath the old oak two sunsets ago, and since then they had been inseparable. It had brought Sigira great joy to see Lenlie had been the one to tame Gorgar from his old ways, but in doing so she had kept Gorgar from leaving for war. One less friend at Sigira’s side.

They then watched as the three descended down the stairs to their army, where Skyrnor and Lord Bjalner awaited them. Gorgar turned his gaze a moment to Lenlie before beckoning for her to follow him, pushing through the crowd and going to meet Sigira as she reached the courtyard. A small smile touched Sigira’s lips as she recognised their approach, and Gorgar’s big grin beamed at her before he hurled the young Storg over his shoulder.

“Let go of me!” Storg yelled with laughter as he pommelled the Thenn brute’s back, and Gorgar laughed as he poked him in the ribs. Sigira quickly contained her amusement and grasped Gorgar’s forearm.

“Your Magnar has given you an order… Remember who he is now,” Sigira prompted him, and Gorgar halted a moment with a raised eyebrow before he put Storg down.

“We were just having fun…” Gorgar explained with jest, but Sigira firmly shook her head as she pulled him aside, and Storg brushed himself off. Lenlie glanced over to Skjorn, who was giving his farewells to Denyal Delen, and let out a sigh as she approached the Magnar. She gave him a smirk as he looked up to her.

“Shall we have him whipped, my Lord?” she asked with a sly grin, cracking a smile on the little lord as he rolled his eyes. That amusement quickly drowned in whatever else the boy was feeling, as he crossed his arms and turned his gaze away. Lenlie frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are surrounded by friends and allies, no one expects you to suffer this leadership alone. We are here to help you,” Lenlie stated with support, but Storg only shook his head as he gazed across to his sister.

“I’m not the one who needs friends. I am the Magnar. It’s my sister I’m worried for,” he admitted, and Lenlie turned over her shoulder to see Sigira and Gorgar exchanging words before she returned her gaze to Storg.

“I’m worried for her as well, but she has a whole army to protect her,” Lenlie stated with forced enthusiasm, and Storg nodded.

“So did my father,” he muttered, departing her company to go see his sister. Lenlie frowned as she watched his back, before feeling a prickling sensation run down her own. She was abruptly startled as she turned to meet the cold eyes of Lord Bjalner, and a feminine face accompanied him that Lenlie vaguely recognised.

“Lord,” she greeted shortly, then turning to his partner and nodding, and Bjalner tilted his head slightly without breaking eye contact.

“Councillor,” he uttered in return, playing with the word as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it. The animosity he held for her was still abundantly clear, and seemingly shared with his new companion. “My daughter, Olha,” he introduced, leading the young lady forward by her forearm. Lenlie suddenly recognised her to be the girl who had sat by the albino’s side during the council meeting a couple of days ago. She was a stunning young woman, with dark blonde hair that stretched to her lower back, and a scar on her cheek which embellished strength to her beauty. Like her father, her eyes were sinister and haunting, although she was spared albinism, and her eyes were as black as the Long Night rather than the blood red of her father’s.

“A pleasure, my Lady,” Lenlie stated formally as she bowed to Olha, who only glared back at her with her condescending gaze. Bjalner forced himself a short smile as he clasped his hands.

“I find it curious that Princess Sigira chooses to leave her pet here and yet allow a hostage to fight in a war with her. I’d imagine you’d want your revenge on Fleshbearer for all the vile atrocities he may have inflicted on you?” Bjalner stated, and Lenlie felt her blood beginning to boil, but forced herself to be civil out of Sigira’s will.

“I remain here because the Princess wants me here. I would imagine a great warrior like yourself would be better suited on the battlefield with his men then lingering here,” Lenlie stated, and the albino smirked at her as he crossed his arms.

“True,” he admitted, then turning his gaze to Olha, “but if my daughter wishes to inherit my legacy then she will have to prove herself to me. She has been training her entire life as a warrior, but now she must prove herself as a leader. That is why she will march in my stead,” Bjalner revealed, and Lenlie turned her gaze on the heiress, wondering if she was any match for her.

“Sounds like you have quite a reputation to meet,” Lenlie remarked, and Olha gave her a mocking grin.

“Such is our tradition. I wouldn’t expect a foreigner to understand that,” she said with spite, before kissing her father’s cheek and departing from the conversation. Lenlie and Bjalner watched her approach Skyrnor.

“I’m sure she will fit your shoes nicely,” Lenlie quipped dryly, turning her gaze back to the albino, who suddenly became more menacing in his isolated state. He held his silence, his piercing red glare causing Lenlie’s skin to goose bump and shiver, before his eyes flickered away to a new figure.

“Skjorn the Scholar, or perhaps Skjorn the Steward now?” Bjalner greeted as he spotted the Scholar approaching them, and Lenlie spotted the concerned gaze on Skjorn’s eye as he joined them. He was looking out for her, she realised.

“I do not lust for titles or power, Lord Bjalner, so call me what you will, but know I act only for the benefit of our people,” Skjorn stated, and Lenlie gave her ally a supportive nod as she glanced back at Bjalner, who flashed a grin at them both.

“And who constitutes as our people now? The Thenns? Or the immigrants?” Bjalner remarked, taking his leave. Lenlie let out a sigh of relief as he departed, turning her gaze onto Skjorn, who stood as tall and noble, like a sentinel.

“Times are uncertain, you would be wise not to antagonise Bjalner during his stay,” Skjorn advised, and Lenlie frowned as she crossed her arms and watched the albino lord embrace arms with one of his commanders.

“Why do I get the feeling his stay is more permanent that what he’s letting off?” Lenlie queried, and Skjorn sighed with a nod.

“Bjalner has his own motives, and I believe he would back Skyrnor should anything happen to either Sigira or Storg. I will monitor the situation and handle it if need be, but I want you to focus on Storg,” Skjorn reminded her, and Lenlie nodded.

“What about the Hornfoots? Sigira placed me in charge of their needs as well,” Lenlie stated, and she could see the stress beginning to build in the Scholar’s expression. He turned his gaze to her, and she spotted deep concern in his eyes.

“If Bjalner manages to dethrone Storg, there will be no place for refugees in the Vale. Of course, do as you are instructed, but remember who we are all here to serve. We support Sigira, but Storg is our new Magnar, he is our priority,” Skjorn emphasised, but even Lenlie could hear conflict in the Scholar’s words. Regardless, Lenlie gave him a nod.

“I will do what must be done, as we discussed,” Lenlie promised, and Skjorn gave her an appreciative smile, before masking his concerns as they spotted Sigira and Gorgar approaching them. Gorgar wrapped his arm around Lenlie, kissing her on the forehead, an act which brought a smile to Sigira’s lips. The Princess then turned her attention to Skjorn.

“All is well?” she asked, and the Scholar nodded diligently as he tucked his hands behind his back.

“With Bjalner’s contribution, you have an army of almost two thousand. The lords are all eager for blood and vengeance,” Skjorn stated, and Sigira nodded.

“And they will have that much,” Sigira swore as she pulled Skjorn in for embrace. “I know you wish you could join us, but I know you’ll make my father proud by guiding his son as Magnar here. We will return soon,” she promised, and Skjorn nodded while holding his head up high. Sigira then turned her gaze onto Lenlie and Gorgar, a sweet smile spreading across her face.

“Nothing has brought me greater joy than seeing you two join together. Hold off the wedding until I return?” Sigira quipped playfully, and Gorgar chuckled as he hoisted the Princess up into the air.

“Who else would marry us?” he questioned with booming laughter, and Lenlie gave a short smile as her feelings began to overwhelm her. Skjorn seemed to be the only one to notice this, as he came to her side.

“The Vale will be safe and secure until your return, may the old gods grant you a swift victory,” Skjorn blessed with a change of topic, and Sigira nodded to him before reaching for Lenlie. The two hugged before Sigira whispered in her ear something the Ice River girl would never forget. She then parted from her, giving them a nod.

A horn sounded and the troops began to move, and they watched as the Princess led this great army away from the Vale and down a road of vengeance, a road which Lenlie prayed she would return from.

-

A soft whimper came from her lips as she pressed her hand against his rugged chest, fighting hard to contain herself as he indulged her. All that built up energy made her take control, rolling him over so she could ride him like the southerners did with their horses. She ran her fingers across his hairy chest until they linked with his hands, and the two were connected in multiple forms of their love. He pulsated through her, and for a man known as the Frozen, their bodies proved to be anything but.

His fingers coursed up her chest, cupping her breast and caressing her cheek. She grasped his hand and bit his finger as she quickened her pace, and felt him tremble beneath her a moment. She smirked at her power as she maintained her momentum; hearing him only fuelled her more. She could tell he was close, and if he could last only another few minutes… He intended to, as he hoisted her off the bed and pinned her back against the wall, pressing his lips against her neck as he humped her. Now she couldn’t help herself, allowing a small moan to escape her lips, and she was rewarded for it.

His pace quickened, driving her against the wall of his home as she clutched onto him for dear life, her insides streaming with delight as he pleasured her. They both expressed themselves loudly until she felt him erupt within her, leaving her to feel every inch for a final moment before he carried her back to the bed and covered her with furs. She curled her leg over his as she cuddled him, resting her head on his burly arm and pulling at his chest hair – something he was quick to cease her from doing.

“You sounded like you enjoyed that,” Gorgar stated observantly as he ran his fingers through her hair, and Lenlie gave him a nod as she felt his seed coursing deep within her.

“You’re the best I’ve ever been with,” Lenlie admitted, and Gorgar grinned with pleasure to this news, making her roll her eyes. If he knew the competition, he’d understand the compliment was no great feat. Regardless, Lenlie knew Gorgar was the only man she had been with where she had found pleasure herself, in both fucking and companionship. She had to remind herself they had only been together two days, she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. And now I may be carrying his child, she suddenly thought, rolling onto her side. Gorgar placed his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his voice sweet and charming, but also concerned. Lenlie frowned as she thought of how to answer? What do I tell him? She was worried about Storg, scared for Sigira, and then there was Fleshbearer… The creature which Gorgar unknowingly compared himself to, the monster that beat and raped her on a daily basis only for his pleasure to see her in pain. She owed her life to Sigira, and now she feared her becoming exactly what she was if Fleshbearer should win this second war. The thought haunted her.

“It’s nothing,” Lenlie dismissed, and Gorgar rubbed her shoulder with a sigh. He then turned and sat up, and Lenlie turned to watch him get dressed. Her eyes dropped for a moment before flickering back to him weakly. “I’m afraid, Gorgar,” she confessed, and Gorgar turned his gaze back to her, giving her his attention. Lenlie’s eyes darted around as she tried to find a place to start, but it quickly overwhelmed her, and she found herself tucking up into a bowl before him. Naked and vulnerable, a position she had been familiar with for far too long. Yet to her surprise she was not met with the back of Fleshbearer’s hand, a blade or something worse, but instead a kiss on her forehead. Gorgar climbed back under the furs and rested his head on his arm.

“Talk to me,” he prompted as he caressed her arm, and Lenlie gazed at him intently as she slowly came out of her shell.

“In the Ice River clans, we know nothing but survival. Our ways… are not just because of tradition, but necessity. We don’t form close attachments, because we know that our fellow clansmen may be our next meal if the winter is unforgiving. I have been victim to that life up until now. Now I’m doing more than surviving, my life has purpose and I’m… loving. I never even knew such a feeling existed, and now I’m overwhelmed by it, and fearful of losing it. You, Sigira and Storg have become my family, and I can already see us being torn apart, as does Skjorn. I’m fearful of what is to come…” Lenlie expressed, and Gorgar stared at her a moment before wrapping his arms around her.

“There’s nothing more that I wish than for us to be marching with Sigira to avenge our fallen. I’d love for nothing more than to capture Fleshbearer and let you have your way with him, but instead we are here, and we are safe. Many may not appreciate the age of Storg’s ascendance, but he is their Magnar, and they will come to accept that with time. Skjorn is more a worrier than a warrior, that’s why Krygorn appreciated his council, but don’t listen too deeply to his words. They’re more concern than need for worry,” Gorgar stated, and Lenlie gazed up at him, perplexed at his lack of concern for the situation. Perhaps I am just overthinking it, Lenlie suggested, but that thought did little to put her mind at ease. She slipped out of his arms and began to dress herself.

“I need to get some fresh air,” she announced, and Gorgar nodded as he reached for his boots.

“I’ll come with you,” he insisted, but Lenlie shook her head as she forced a smile for him.

“I think I’ll go alone. I’m not great company right now,” Lenlie stated, and planted a kiss on his lips before he could argue. Gorgar frowned and let out a sigh before nodding, he knew better than to try and stop her. Lenlie grabbed her coat and then fastened on her furs, slipping on her boots before heading out the door. She was no stranger to the icy winds of the true north, but she couldn’t deny that the Vale had a bite of its own which would take some getting used to.

She set down the path from his house for the refugee camp just outside the main township. Lenlie had been making an effort to bond with the Hornfoots since she had been elected by Sigira as their representative on the council, though it had been harder work than she had anticipated. It appeared that the Hornfoots shared a similar amount of disdain for the Ice River clans as the Thenns did, albeit all the Free Folk hate each other one way or the other. Lenlie only wished their mutual hatred for her would be enough to align the two clans together. She would have to find another way.

She was met with cold stares and sneers as she entered the camp, and felt a constant looming threat over her shoulder as she walked among them. She spotted Thenn guards handing out blankets and bread to those who approached them, but few Hornfoots seemed to take the handouts. Lenlie approached one of the guards who sat by a display of pelts, seemingly bored as he twirled is bronze dagger between his fingers. His eyes raised a moment as he spotted Lenlie’s approached, and he let out a sigh as he sheathed the dagger and stood at attention.

“Councillor,” he greeted, and Lenlie nodded to him as she glanced at all the untouched rugs. She crossed her arms and stood by his side, glancing at the refugees.

“How are our guests?” she asked, and the guard raise an eyebrow to the title she had bestowed on them before rolling his eyes.

“Stubborn and unappreciative. We are sacrificing our own grain for them and all they do is sit here and mope,” the guard remarked, before rescinding as Lenlie gave him a foul glare.

“They sought the Vale for refuge from a tyrant king, it’s our duty to see that they are guarded from something that is a threat to us all. Have these essentials handed out to the tents, perhaps they are not fond of asking,” Lenlie suggested, and the guard frowned before relaying the order. It seemed her words had pricked the ears of a Hornfoot nearby, who came to meet her.

“We don’t care for your grain or furs, Thenn, we did not run here to hide,” he remarked, and Lenlie turned to study the young man. He was imposing in stature, glaring down at her with his beady black eyes. His head and face were shaved, and purposely scarred, and a bone earring hung from his left ear. He was strongly built for his young age, and flexed it off with nothing more than an open pelt over his shoulders and furs over his legs. Lenlie would’ve figured the man no older than his late teens or early twenties.

“I am no Thenn, but I am tasked with aiding you and your people,” Lenlie stated, to which the young Hornfoot sneered.

“You’re the Princess’ bootlicker I’ve been hearing about,” he chastised, and Lenlie struggled to keep herself composed as he loomed over her. The guard beside her tightened his grasp on his spear.

“You can call me Lenlie, who are you?” she asked, and the Hornfoot lifted his nose.

“Maror, but my folk call me the Mangler, want to know why?” he asked, and Lenlie shrugged carelessly, only fuelling his vicious grin. He leaned in and whispered it into her ear. “I cut the limbs off my enemies, leave them mutilated and mangled, and take their parts as my prize,” he revealed, pulling back to see her expression. It was nonchalant, and her response was as well.

“I eat my enemies,” she remarked, and the Mangler’s eyes widened with some surprise, but she turned her gaze back to the guard who was observing this whole conversation. “What are you doing standing there?” she asked coldly, and it snapped him into action as he grabbed an armful of rugs and headed off. Lenlie rolled her eyes as she watched the guard drop the furs off outside of a tent. “Give it to them!” she reiterated, and the guard frowned before following her command.

“So, you’re from the Ice Rivers,” Maror deduced, resting his hands on his hips as he studied her. “What’re you doing working for the Thenns?” he asked, and Lenlie sighed as she crossed her arms.

“I travelled here with Fleshbearer when I thought we were making an alliance with the Thenns. Princess Sigira rescued me from him when she saw what he was doing to me, so I’ve been in her debt ever since,” Lenlie stated, and the Mangler nodded. “Why aren’t your people accepted our help? You came to us, it would make all of our lives easier if you would comply,” Lenlie added, and Maror smirked at her.

“For thousands of generations, the Free Folk have hated one another. We’ve plundered and raped and murdered one another for as long as we could remember, and I quite like that way of living. So when some Nightrunner calls himself king and unites my people to his cause, I don’t come running to his enemy to hide from him, we come here to help you fight him. So why the fuck has your army left without us?” Maror asked bitterly, and Lenlie raised an eyebrow before nodding.

“Sigira didn’t want endanger what remains of the Hornfoots by dragging you to war. Alliances are important to her, and she wishes to build relations once this war is over and we can start over,” Lenlie stated, but she knew the truth had been because of what had happened to her father. The Thenns would not want to march with another foreign army they blindly put their trust into. Maror growled with frustration to her response.

“So we are to just sit here like dogs until she returns? If those are her intentions then I think the Hornfoots will fare their chances against Redbeard’s army. We’d rather die fighting than cowering,” Maror stated, turning her back on her, and Lenlie gazed around before reaching out her hand.

“Wait,” she insisted, and the Mangler turned his cold gaze back on her. “If it’s a fight you want, I think there may be one brewing here,” Lenlie stated, and the Mangler raised an eyebrow with interest, which then was interpreted as a threat.

“What are you saying, girl?” he asked with a tone that could cut steel, and Lenlie immediately felt herself beginning to sweat anxiously. She did her best to hold her ground.

“Not with you, but among the Thenns. Since Krygorn’s death, there’s been dispute as to who should rule the Vale. Krygorn’s heir is young but by Thenn tradition he is the rightful ruler, but many would support his nephew instead. I believe he may try to take the title by force after this war is done, if not before,” Lenlie stated, and Maror gazed at her profusely before shrugging his shoulders.

“Why should I care about some Thenn infighting?” he asked, and Lenlie frowned as she tried to find a reason. It was clear they didn’t care for Thenn hospitality, but it was vital for Sigira to have a Thenn-Hornfoot alliance.

“Because Krygorn’s nephew would see you and your people dead before an alliance was considered. I know you don’t appreciate our hospitality now, but Sigira is trying to hold your best interests in mind by allowing you refuge here; and while you may not wish to admit it, I know the young, sick and elderly among your group would not stand a chance against Raymun, Fleshbearer or the wrong Thenns,” Lenlie remarked, and Maror gazed back at his people before crossing his arms.

“What is it you’re suggesting then?” he asked solemnly, and Lenlie crossed her arms as she looked to the ground. Bjalner was spreading his web of support all throughout the Vale, and Lenlie wagered that if he were to take the Vale by force, they would severely outnumber those who were loyal to Storg. They’d need the Hornfoots by their side to have anywhere near a fighting chance, but the question arose as to how they should be used. Lenlie could bring the Hornfoot warriors into the stronghold, giving a greater presence and purpose for them in the Vale as well as displaying their strength, and it may serve to prevent any action Bjalner may make. However it could also be viewed as a threat from the albino lord. Keeping them in the refugee camp would hold the element of surprise should Bjalner act, but they could perhaps be too late to the action.

[Bring the Hornfoot warriors into the stronghold] [Keep the Hornfoot warriors at the refugee camp]

Chapter 3 - Rise Again

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