"Get the fuck out, Ygritte," Tormund growled.

The ginger headed girl's grin widened, her eyes alight with mischief as they danced from you to Mance and back again. "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for—"

"OUT!" Tormund pulled his dagger as the girl left leaving the three of you alone.

The man before you with the flash of rage in his eye was not your husband. He was the Wildling that slaughtered your village, leaving bodies strewn in pools of blood in his wake. The arms around you lifted. Your body trembled as you turned, worried you would fall without Mance to steady you.

"Tormund," you said, voice quavering. Tears that had started to subside rose again. His eyes flicked from Mance to you. His glare never lifting. Heartbeat racing, you stepped forward, hoping you could calm the storm building in the atmosphere.

"You get out too," he commanded, pointing to the exit with his blade.

You looked to Mance, who nodded, before treading carefully around Tormund. The cacophony of yells hastened your steps. You had to get away. You couldn't be the cause of your friend's death. Couldn't see blood spilt by Tormund once more, knowing that you were the cause. What would happen to the peace between clans if the King-Beyond-the-Wall was murdered?

This was not at all how you envisioned your reunion. You had wanted to him to be happy to see you. To run to his arms. To have him carry you back to you tent, where he would ravish you soundly. You shook your head at the foolishness of your dreams, confused by them and even more so by your reality. Everything with him always felt wrong and yet still somehow right.

Pausing at the mouth of your tent, the guilt and fear clouding your thoughts lifted. You had done nothing wrong. Mance had done nothing wrong. The only guilty party in this situation was Tormund. He kidnapped you. He brought you beyond the wall. He took everything from you. Took your virtue. Left you without saying farewell. And he had the audacity to be angry with you? For seeking solace over your worry for him? Heart slamming against your chest, you turned from your lodging and headed towards the caves, the snow crunching under your strides. Tormund could wait for you now.

Determination and spite carried you forward. You were not the same woman he took from your home. No longer bound in servitude to your father, where your safety depended on the whims of drunken men, you had gained a level of freedom and respect you had never known. He needed to acknowledge that. Acknowledge you.

Secretly, you were glad Tormund had left. Glad for the opportunities Magda and Mance had given you to learn new talents as well as use the ones you had already crafted. Had he stayed, you were sure you never would have left your shelter. But you still couldn't abide the way he had left you. Sneaking off as though you did not merit a farewell. It hurt. And the fact that it pained you so, scared you. The weight of those emotions, the reasons behind them were not something you cared to dwell on.

Grabbing a lit torch, you entered the mouth of the cave, the sound of falling water growing as you neared the spring. Igniting a brazier, the smell of water and rock surrounded you as light danced along the walls. Memories of your first night haunted every sense whenever you were here. And now your hopes for the future resided here as well.

Your fingers trailed the pine needles and leaves that covered the topsoil in your wooden gardens, insulating the seeds that you had planted. You did not know if all the plants would grow, but you could have sworn you had spotted a little bit of green poking through the dirt. If this worked, it could change the way of living for The Free Folk or at the very least give some much-needed variety to the meat they consumed.

"I told you to go home," a deep voice bounced off the walls surrounding you, resonating in your bones.

"No. You told me to 'get out.' You never said where to go after that." You turned to face your husband standing at the other end of the raised garden.

His eyebrow quirked at your open defiance as he stalked towards you. "That doesn't sound like an obedient wife."

Raising your chin, eyes meeting his, you replied, "No. It sounds like a free woman." Your feet moved of their own volition, carefully keeping you separated from him as you both circled the wooden box between you. "I've done just fine without you. I don't need you telling me what to do." Your eyes darted to the cave entrance, measuring the distance.

His predatory gaze flickered in the light of the flames as he watched you, his eyes never leaving yours. "What did I say would happen if you ran from me again?"

Goosebumps tickled your arms, heat pooling between your legs as you remembered his threat. Threats were not supposed to entice. Panic overrode good sense. You bent down quickly, fingers closing around a small loose stone. Tormund's blue eyes widened in surprise a moment before the rock made contact between them.

Slipping as the gravelly ground slid beneath your feet, you made it past the cavern's mouth before you heard your name bouncing off the walls within. Self-preservation spurring you on, you flew down the paths between the domed tents. People sitting around fires turned to watch, some laughing and some yelling. Their words lost in the pounding of your blood that filled your ears.

Strong arms surrounded you as your feet flew forward and your back slammed into Tormund's chest. One large hand gripped your throat gently, squeezing slightly as you struggled against him. "Fight me all you want. But you'll remember who you belong to before the night is done."

You struggled against him on principle, knowing there was no over-powering the large man. Tormund pulled you into the home you shared with him. Spinning you to face him, he grasped the front of your coat and pressed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Thoughts of biting him dissipated as his tongue pushed past your lips weakening defenses. It was too late to resist when you finally realized his hands had been loosening your coat which was pushed down your shoulders, sliding off your arms to the ground. You found yourself on your back, Tormund straddling your body, wrestling your arms above your head, securing them with strips of leather to the wooden bed frame.

"Get off of me!" you growled, bucking your hips as his hands gripped the remains of your linen shift, rending it in two, your nipples tightening in the crisp air. "I needed that!" you yelled.

"No. I know what you need." He slid down your body, rough hands sliding over your breasts massaging them, rubbing the peaks with his thumbs until you arched against them before tugging your pants and small clothes down to your ankles, making it near impossible to kick him while he removed your boots. Pulling off your pants, his heavy-lidded eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you.

Tormund stood shedding his layers, watching you roll to your side and pull your knees to your chest as if that would somehow protect you. As if you really wanted protecting. His weight dipped the straw mattress as he joined you on the bed, stroking his thick shaft. He caught both your ankles, pulling them until you were stretched beneath him.

Spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them, he said, "Seems your body knows what it needs too. So wet already for me. I dreamed of having you every day I was gone." He slid his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slickness, the head rubbing against your clit.

Heat spread throughout your body, across your cheeks. A fine mist dusted your temples as you refused to give in, withholding your moans, stiffening your back against the need to arch into his movements.

He leaned over you, pressing his body against yours all the while never ceasing the undulating of his hips. He pressed kisses to your fevered brow. "What good does fighting me do, girl? Give in. What's so important that you would deny the pleasure only I can give you?"

Pride. Your pride was important. Wasn't it? Your mind tried to concentrate as his lips trailed down your body, sucking at the tender skin of your neck, pulling at your nipples, drawing them into his mouth as he lavished attention upon them. Your body trembled as you tried and failed to resist the fire he stoked inside you as his kisses traveled further down your body.

Pinning your thighs to the mattress with his hands, his tongue ghosted over your folds, the warmth of his breath sent shivers coursing through your body. His mouth, his tongue, teased and tormented with the lightest of touches. Need and lust conquered pride and rational thought as you rolled your hips, searching for relief. Teeth nipped at your pussy, a low growl of warning vibrated against you. You were at his mercy.

Tormund's head turned, focusing on your inner thighs, his beard promising friction as it tickled your cunt. You bucked your hips against his cheek and shuddered as you finally gained the pressure you'd been seeking. He jerked his head away from you, his hand slapping your cunt eliciting your first moan. Sensing your surrender, he buried his face between your legs, finally lapping at your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue. Your thighs shook as he sucked mercilessly at your clit, bringing you to the cusp of climax before pulling away from your body abruptly.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded. His fingers stroking your slit, gliding effortlessly through your wetness.

Pride be damned. You looked at him hovering over you. "You. I want you inside me." He traced one finger from your clit, through your folds, not stopping until it rubbed against the small hole beneath your pussy. You tried to retreat, but his other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place. "No," you gasped as his finger slowly pushed inside you, waiting for your body to adjust to the strange intrusion.

"You wanted me inside you. Should have been more specific," he said with smirk pulling at his lips. "Someday, I'll fuck this sweet little arse. So tight."

Your toes curled and back arched once he withdrew and began to pump his finger in a slow rhythm any previous discomfort long gone. You were full and achingly empty all at once. You could not help but feel that this was wrong, sinful even. But the pleasure outweighed any shame you could have mustered.

Tormund's other hand slid down your hip, over your mound. His thumb circled your clit. The build of sensation, tightening of muscles began yet again. He movements drew moans from your lips as you submitted fully to the lascivious attentions. Once more he removed himself from your body before you could find completion.

You cried out in frustration, straining against the leather that still bound your hands. "Please," you begged. You were ready to give him anything, do anything to finally come.

"Who do you belong to?" he asked crawling over your body. His fingers gripped your chin, turning it until you faced him.

You squirmed under him, rubbing your soaking sex against his shaft. "You. I belong to you." The head of his cock lined up with your pussy. You lifted your hips, needing him inside you.

Meeting no resistance, he thrust inside you, filling you, stretching you. He pulled back and plunged in forcefully. His pace was demanding, the base of his cock pushing against your clit with each powerful stroke. Overstimulated and sensitive, your orgasm ripped through you. Muscles contracting, vision swimming in blackness, as your cunt clenched around his cock. He did not relent, the snap of his hip prolonging your climax.

Tormund reached above your head, untying your hands. Fingers threading through his long locks, you pulled him down, pressing your lips to his. His moan vibrated against your mouth as his thrusts quickened. You wrapped your legs around his hips as his body shuddered over yours. His dick pulsed inside you, filling you before he collapsed on top of you.

Rolling to his side and pulling you with him, you felt his beard tickled your forehead as he pressed a kiss in your hair. "Let that be a lesson to you. I never want to see you in the arms of another man again" Laughter shook the bed as you were bother overcome with amusement.

"Stupid man. I was crying over you." You snuggle close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you. This is what you had craved. His arms around you and a haze of satisfaction buzzing inside your mind.

"Have you so little faith in me? I've killed a giant. You think a few crows are any match for me? You'll not be rid of me so easily." He stroked your back as you listened to his rhythmic breathing. Quiet contentment fell between you as you fell asleep in his arms once more.

Rays of light beaming through slits in the tent signaled morning's arrival. You rolled over, expecting to find the large form of your husband taking up most of the bed and found yourself laying in a cold spot. He had left? Again?

Anger coursed through your veins, reigniting your feelings from yesterday. You sat up in the cold morning air looking for your clothes and found them on the foot of the bed. One of Tormund's large undershirts lay on top of your coat. It would have to do until you were able to fix or find a new linen one for yourself. You supposed the bodice of your old dress might work if you cut the skirt off. You dressed quickly and turned to tend to the fires when Tormund walked in carrying an armful of freshly chopped wood.

"What is all this?" he asked, ducking under bouquets of snowdrops and sprigs of holly and pines hanging from the frame holding up the tent. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and snarled as you turned your head and walked to the pot containing stew from yesterday.

You stoked the fire and stirred the stew. "The children brought them to me."

He laid the wood down and sat at the table. "The children? The little monsters who inhabit this camp? Why?" He looked at you skeptically.

"To say 'thank you' I suppose." You continued tending to your cooking, doing your best to ignore him.

"Thank you? For what?" He sounded positively alarmed and confused that anyone here would have gone out of their way to show you gratitude.

Exasperated, you relented. "I helped Magda tend to them and nurse them through fevers the week you left. Curious little creatures wanted to know about life south of the wall. I may have told them I used to dry flowers in my kitchen by hanging them from the ceiling so I would have them all year. I came back one day from Mance's and found all these hanging. They were more than a little proud of themselves." You ladled food into two bowls and placed one in front of him at the table.

"And what else has that witch, Magda, been teaching you?" he asked.

You sat watching, waiting for him to pick up his spoon and eat. You shrugged, crossed your arms on the table, and said, "She taught me about plants mostly. Which are for healing. Which are for fevers. Which are poison."

Tormund's hand stopped before reaching his mouth. He eyed his spoon and his expression darkening. "Why aren't you eating?"

You replied, "Why aren't you?" You raised your eyebrows, never breaking eye contact with the fierce man in front of you. He glared suspiciously at his bowl, putting his spoon down. You leaned forward and asked, "Do you, honestly, think I would poison you?"

His eyes traveled up and down your body as if considering you for the first time. "I don't know."

"Good." You picked up your spoon and proceeded to eat a lump of root vegetable. "Remember that the next time you think of leaving me without saying goodbye."

His mouth hung open for a second before closing. The tension in his face seemed to smooth over as realization dawned. "Is that the cause of your ill temper this morning? Hells, woman, I meant to spare you. Nothing worse than a long goodbye. The weeping and wailing." He resumed consuming his meal with renewed enthusiasm.

"Well, you didn't. Don't do it again."

His voice lowered to a gravelly growl. A glint of amusement shone beneath his glare. "Are you, Southron lass, giving me a man of The Free Folk a command?"

The rapacious change in his eyes and voice made you throb between your thighs as heat and slickness spread in anticipation. Lifting your chin in defiance, you whispered, "Yes. I am."

He stood from the table. He walked around and stopped as he towered over you. "And what makes you think you have that power?"

You looked up at him, determined not to shrink at his impressive display of intimidation and remembered what Magda had taught you. "I know what to feed you so you shit yourself to death."

Tormund's head fell back as his laughter filled the air. He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around you, his chest vibrating with merriment. "They'd have to rename me, Tormund Shitstain. Cruel Woman. Alright. You win. I won't leave without a proper farewell in the future."

You smiled up at him, elated that you had won a victory even though you had to threaten him with a humiliating death to triumph. You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him down, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. The first you had initiated outside of the marriage bed. The weight of the small gesture hung in the air as you both realized what had just happened. Tenderness beamed from his eyes as his hands came up to rest on either side of your neck, cradling your head as it tilted back. Your tongue wet your lips as you watched Tormund lean down his eyes never leaving yours.

"Tormund!" bellowed a voice from outside snapping you both out of the spell that overcame you. It was Mance Rayder. You were relieved to know that he still lived.

Placing your hand on your husband's chest, you prompted him. "You should apologize to him. He was nothing but a good friend to you and to me."

He glared momentarily and nodded before leaving the tent. You could hear muffled voices and moved closer to try to discern what was being said between the men.

"Is all well now?" Mance asked. Chuckling, he added, "I heard about you having to drag her back here last night."

"Yes. All's well. She spirited. I may be the one kissed by fire but there's a fire in her. If loved, she will warm your entire home, if abused she will burn it down." The two men began talking of other issues in the camp, and you made your way from the entrance.

You smiled at Tormund's words. A warmth spread in your chest and tears gathered in your eyes as you understood his words to be true. This was your home. Home was where you were accepted. Where you were safe and felt loved. It took being kidnapped for you to truly find yours. As much as you would grieve for the lives lost in your village, as much guilt as you would feel for surviving that brutal day, you would be forever grateful that you had survived. Thankful you had found your place in the world, your home, and as you were coming to realize your love.