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prettieparker86 · 6 years

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Promises To Keep || Part 4

Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Brief adult situations, mentions of POW camps, post-traumatic stress, flashbacks, domestic violence

Gif Credit: @themanicheart-resources, @ckare @sceawere @ivankaramazov88 Thank you for allowing me to use your gorgeous gifs

Tag: Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot someone - @theskinofmyemotions, @ishoutmarcoandyoushout, @small-heaths, @lainey-lane, @londoncharlotte88, @tommysmutnothingbut, @xxdearlybeloved, @twistedrunes, @gilraenpalantir, @athewindsofsummer, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @badwolf-in-the-impala, @mafaldaz, @athewindsofsummer

Note: We’ve seen what makes Tommy and Addy sizzle and spark. So this chapter explores a little more of what made Addy hold on to WIll even after he was gone, while still being torn over Tommy. If I wrote this well enough, I want you to be morally conflicted. I want you unsure of how you want this to end. Everyone had a stake in the game. Everyone has a reason to win. I wrote this story with the intention of it being very morally gray. Everyone is no more a sinner than a saint. Everyone is dirty for their own reasons. Hopefully I achieved that level of conflict. Also, I did do research on POW camps in WWI to try to keep this as authentic as I could. And it’s important to keep in mind this was really the generational that brought to light “shell shocked” and back then society wasn’t really sure what to do with them or how to help them.

Gotta start it off with thanks again... THANK YOU for all the likes, reblogs, and comments!!! I am just blown away by the support for this story. I never imagined anyone would want to read this and hopefully you guys still do.

So I guess it goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway lol…

Likes, reblogs, and comments are encouraged and greatly appreciated. I’m just a lonely starving wannabe writer. Knowing what you guys think means everything!

After that day in the office, you keep your distance from Tommy. You realize he was right all along. You can’t go back to being friends like you had naively believed in the beginning, you had never really been friends from the start. Tommy had always been Will’s friend. You knew him because you hung on Will’s arm, you were Will’s girl.

And while you had grown close in your own way after the war before sleeping together. That closeness was still brought on by Tommy’s commitment to keeping his promise to his best pal. You realized whatever justifications you made while Will was gone, while he was dead, what you did with Tommy in his office that day was cheating. Plain and simple. There’s was no moving that boulder in any other direction.

So in order to live with an action you swore you’d never commit, you stayed away from Tommy, you kept your distance. For the sake of your husband and your marriage, you steered clear of the temptation of Thomas Shelby.

There were times you second guessed your choice to give up on your love for Tommy, to give up the love he had for you. But as the weeks went by, Will let the walls come down and you both grew steadily closer. You began to rediscover your love, rediscover each other.

He began to open up and tell you about the war. Revealing after the explosion he dug himself out, but the Germans found him. He had been kept in a camp with hundreds of other men, surrounded by barbwire fencing. Little by little the pieces came out, some late at night, more after he had a few too many. He explained he lived in a makeshift tent most of the time, digging holes in the ground to keep warm at night when there wasn’t mud.

Men were always sick from typhus or cholera and dying all around him every day, some in his hands. There was never enough food, mostly just soup or scarce amounts of water that became tainted when heavy rains would make the latrine overflow.

After half a bottle of whiskey one night, Will told you he had been kept close to the front line and that in some of his darkness moments, digging trenches and carting away bodies until he was sure he would collapse, he could see the other side, he could see his fellow men fighting, he just couldn’t reach them without getting shot. Breaking the rules meant confinement, in small places with no light for up to a week, or being tied to a post for days, or beaten severely.

He revealed he got the limp from flying shrapnel when he was digging the trenches. Said it got infected and he nearly died. He held on for you, convinced he’d see you again one day if he just held on, but it never healed right.

Will told you how he fought so hard to get back to you, refusing to give up even when he wanted to. He explained the prisoner exchange made the end of the war drag out, and even after they got him back he had spent months in a hospital recuperating.

You were angry he didn’t have anyone send word, angry he didn’t write, but you tried to understand… Will didn’t want you to see him like that. He didn’t want your reunion to be in a hospital bed while he felt broken and lame. Learning what he went through to get home to you, you knew you made the right choice.

You loved him, deeply. Even more now that you understood the nightmare he had gone through. You loved him before you knew what love was. And as your Will began to reveal himself to you more and more, you knew in your heart you couldn’t give up on him anymore than you could cut off your own leg and pretend to not be crippled by the loss.

Will keeps his promise, he keeps trying to be the man he was before. One night he surprises you. Taking your hand gently into his, he leads you out into the night. Lantern steady in his hand, you don’t know where you’re going as Will leads your down the soot covered streets of Small Health. When most of the seedier crowd came out for the night.

You had nearly turned in to bed for the night when he arrived home, excited and impatient like a boy about to sneak away with you. And for a moment he looks like the version of himself in his youth, before the war, sneaking you off before your father notices, to some private rendezvous where you could get lost in each other and forget the world.

You walk the streets side by side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he holds a lantern in the other. No one bothers you with Will by your side, no one messes with a Blinder, let alone one as notorious as Will. He had built a reputation for himself before the war, just like Tommy, that only seemed to amplify since he came back from the dead.

You’re not sure where you’re going until you reach the mass of wood and steel that makes up Charlie’s yard down by the cut. All gnarled and jagged edges in the dark. The stars obscured by the factory smog still heavy in the air, you still feel unsure why you’re here as Will moves on ahead, you trail his step as he clutches tightly to your hand. Weaving you through machine parts and rusted out junk, Will leads you around to the back.

“Does Charlie and Curly know we’re here?” You whisper as if you’ve broken into some place you don’t belong.

“Yeah,” Will nods easily, lifting the lantern a little higher to see ahead his feet. “He gave the word.”

Rounding a corner, you reach Charlie’s barn. You’re confused more than ever why Will dragged you out of your home after midnight to take you to Charlie’s barn, but his secrets are yet to be revealed. Will releases your hand as you both go inside, hanging the lantern on an old nail hammered into one of the posts that holds the barn steady. You look around trying to get a sense of why he brought you here, before admitting defeating.

“What are we doing here?” You finally ask.

“I wanted to bring you to the place.” Will tells you simply as you look around to see what’s changed since the last time you were there.

Not much from what you can tell, but everything is cloaked in shadows and poor lighting. It’s hard to see much of anything, not that you were ever an expert on Charlie’s yard or cared to be. Just another place to waste time in your youth. A place to run and hide, and make mischief of one kind or another.

“What place?” You ask as a quiet laugh breaks free, confused now more than ever over what he means as you snatch up an old horse shoe and give it an easy toss into the hay.

“Where I first knew I loved you.” Will says, the words vibrating at your back, instantly stopping you in your tracks as a shiver runs down your spine. You turn slowly to face him, the lantern casting shadows across his handsome face, making him glow in the yellow light of the flame.

“I was fourteen and you were twelve. I’d brought you here after you got into a fight with your old man. You found me on the street stirrin’ up trouble with Tommy an’ Arthur, an’ wanted to get away, so I took you here. It was late, an’ particularly dark that night, an’ all I had was that stubby fuckin’ candle.” He lets out an easy laugh at the memory.

“But I remember sittin’ in here with you an’ thinkin’ you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Will’s words take your breath away, frozen and transfixed you watch as his slowly moves toward you in a shower of light and shadow. Brining it all back to you, a love nobody could break. The lifetime you shared before the war stole him away. You think you remember that night too. The first night he ever brought you to Charlie’s yard alone, after dark.

“I knew I loved you that night, Addy. An’ if given the chance, I’d have you as my girl the rest of my life. Only girl who didn’ look at me like I was trouble. Who’d look at me like I could be somethin’. An’ I use to think, if a girl as smart and pretty as you thought so, then maybe I could.” Will ends on husky whisper, wrapping you in his words and memories, as he stops in front of you. Softly he touches your cheek with the back of his hand as your heart races and you gaze up deeply into his eyes.

You catch sight of him pulling something from his jacket pocket as your gaze drops down to a little box held in his hand. Opening it up, inside revealed a silver band with delicate pedals and sweet ribbons engraved around a beautiful aquamarine gem.

You nearly gasp at the sight of it as your eyes shoot up in disbelief to Will’s smiling face and back down to the ring in the box.

“Will, what is this?” You ask, hardly able to catch your breath or believe your eyes.

“I told you when I married you I’d get you somethin’ better one day. You did such a great job holding everything together while I was gone that we ended up with some money after I took care of a few things for Tommy.” He explains, pulling the ring from the box before reaching for your trembling hand.

“Do you like it?” He asks as he slips the ring carefully onto your finger, next to the simple band of gold you had from your wedding day.

You gaze in wonder at the beautiful ring as it faintly sparkles against the lanterns flame on your finger, running your fingertips over it in awe as your heart beats hard in your chest.

“I love it,” You tell him, your breath heavy with disbelief. Hardly able to believe your eyes.

Taking your cheek gently into his hand, Will lifts your face until your eyes meet once again.

“You waited for me even after hope was gone. Held it together when anyone else woulda fallen apart. Your everything to me, Addy. An’ I don’ know what made ya fall for a fuckin bloke like me, but I’m pretty damn sure I’m the luckiest bastard for it.” He tells you, his words ending in a slight chuckled smirk before pulling you into his waiting kiss.

Your heart pains with the never-ending stings of guilt that wind like fine tendrils around your strangled heart, because you didn’t wait. You betrayed him and if he knew with who it’d break his heart too, but tonight you push that down. You bury it away.

You don’t want to drown held down by the weight of your choices, tonight you just want to be here with your husband. Completely present in this beautiful moment with him. Just the two of you like before the war. So you set yourself free, sighing against the heat of his mouth as the kiss slowly breaks.

“I love you Adeline Darmody.” Will whispers softly to you in the pale light that surrounds you both, his full soft pout faintly brushing your lips with his declarations, before pulling you back in for another slow burning kiss.

Running his tongue along the seam of your mouth, Will seduces your lips to part, deepening the kiss, as warm and wet meet for a taste. His hand finds your back, running along your spine and down to grip at your hip, pulling you deeper into the curve of him. You’re the first the break the kiss, smiling up at him in the shadows of the barn, as your chest rises and falls heavily against the heat of his kiss.

“I love you too William Darmody.” You whisper back to him as his fingers lacing through your hair and he smiles back you lovingly.

Your stomach clenches with the sight of it. Standing here alone with your husband in the pale lantern light, Will looks like the boy you fell in love with before life and the war stole it all away.

Seeing him like this again feels like magic. It sparks and tingles just beneath your skin, your belly clenches and your heart races, you swear you could spend the rest of your days here and never want anything more, if only you could stay like this forever. Who you are today, holding onto everything you had before.

Leaning in, you give Will another quick kiss, but as he tries to deepen it, his arms pulling you close, you push off his chest and slip free of his grasp. Will watches you carefully, his eyebrow arching in question as you slowly back away from him and toward the darker end of the barn. Excitement building in your veins, your heart beginning to race harder as you flash him your best mischievous grin.

“You’re gonna have to work harder than that, Mr. Darmody.” You tease him, watching the rules of the game become clear in his mind as a smirk curls on his lips.

He holds your eyes for a moment and you brace yourself, heart pounding as you await his next move. When Will finally lunges for you, you squeal in delight, slipping out of his reach just before he can get ahold of you.

Moving quickly away, you glance back to see Will moving for the lantern still hanging on the nail, his pupils dark like madness in swirl of his beautiful blue eyes. You hold his gaze a moment longer before slipping into the shadows, deeper into the barn.

You wander down toward what you think is the back, where the piles of hay are stacked. Your eyes slowly adjust to the lack of light that surrounds you, the world transforming into bleeding shades of grey and blackness, all melting and weaving together. The sound of his steps sends you glancing back over your shoulder.

Spotting the faint light of the lantern approaching, you knew Will could find you easily, he still knows Charlie’s yard better than you. It’s then you realize you want him to find you, as you slowly turn back his way. The light from the lantern illuminating you as Will rounds the corner of the stables.

Your eyes meet in the faint yellow light as your hands rise and find the top button to your white blouse. Slowly working it free before your fingers slip down to the next. You watch Will’s gaze become transfixed upon the movement of your hands and the skin you’re slowly revealing to him as he draws closer to you with every step.

“Is this what you want, Will?” You ask suggestively, your voice raspy, breath heavy as you slip free the button held between your breasts, growing more wanton by the second from the heat of his stare. You know what Will wants, you can see the familiar darkness in his eyes. And you know what you want too… Him.

Sometimes it scares you how badly you want him still. As if losing him and thinking you’d never get to feel his love again made you realize how badly you covet it. Things may have been rocky when he first came home, so much time had passed, you were both different, but once he began opening himself back up to you, everything came back with it.

Will’s eyes flash up to yours with your question - full of innuendo, the heat of his gaze, the way he devours you with desire in his eyes, makes your belly tighten and skin grow flush even in the cold.

“Fuck,” You hear Will breath out on a heavy ragged breath as you finish the last few buttons on your blouse. He hooks the lantern on a nail hanging from another beam, practically to you now.

In seconds he’s on you, his mouth insistent and hungry against your own, pushing you back with the force of his kiss, as his arm encircle you, clutching you close against him and your arms tangle around the back of his neck.

When you break, it’s the sound of your breaths, heavy and panting that cuts through the quiet night air. Reaching the stacks of hay, Will hoists you up on a few bails, your legs spreading for him as he tugs your skirt up your thighs and slips between the warm embrace of them.

His mouth latches briefly onto your jaw before slipping down to the skin you’ve exposed for him. Sucking and nip at the sensitive place along your neck he knows always draws a moan from your lips as his hands moving eagerly inside your open blouse.

“You’re everything I want, Addy.” Will says on a deep gritty breath, finally answering your question as you pull the suspenders off his shoulders and begin to frantically pull free the buttons of his shirt.

His palms are cold and rough against your soft skin, the contrast feels deliriously good as your hands work free his shirt, eager to feel him under your palms, feel his skin warm against your own. Your head drops back in a daze against the assault of his soft full lips, your heavy sighs echoing through the quiet barn. You arch against him, encouraging the heat of his mouth as it moves further down your body, taking your blouse with him.

Reaching for the bulge pressed tightly against his trousers and your thigh, you rub your palm against him, trying to ignite the same pleasure he’s bringing you. You unbutton his trousers and Will’s knees buckle against the hay stack as you take ahold of him with a tight grip. A low shaky moan vibrating against the top of your breast as you begin to stroke him just the way you know he likes.

Will’s always been your weakness, from the first time he touched you. Since you first discovered how to make each other melt. The smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him, he makes your body spark and sizzle under his undivided attention, under his love. He knows all your tender spots, every place that makes your whimper and beg, and you know his, all the little tricks and place that leave this fearless Blinder putty in your hands.

You were late. You were never late and you should have known that would only raise hairs, but you had foolishly hoped just this once it’d slip by. That in all the chaos of runners, the counters, John calling out odds as he scribbles chalk to a board, while men shuffle in an out of the building to thrown down their last coin, you’d slip by unnoticed. But your gut was right and your hopes are as empty as dreams come morning light it seems these days.

When you arrive at the betting shop, you slip past what feels like a herd of men, trying to disappear in the sea of them as they carry on at a dizzying pace. You hang your jacket over your chair and get right to it as if you had already been there. Plopping down in your usual chair, grabbing the slips, pulling the tally’s, but Polly is coming over, parting the sea before you’ve even gotten through the first few slips. You catch sight of her out of the corner of your eye as your face drops and you try to discretely pull your hair around your face.

“You’re late.” She says, stating the facts as she comes around your desk.

“I know. I’m sorry. Something came up.” You try to explain as you keep your hands busy, letting the papers slip through your fingers as you keep count, keeping your face down and your hair nearly in your eyes.

“Addy?” Polly calls, looking you over, you practically feel her gaze like a touch to your face, tugging it up to meet her eyes as she stops at the corner of her desk. Her tone neutral in a way that doesn’t make you second guess her call, but the knots in your belly know better as you finally glance up from your desk and meet her eyes. Trying your best to keep your hair in place the best you can.

“Stand up.” She orders almost instantly and you can see it in her eyes as your heart starts to hammer. Watch it register on her face as your duck your head back down to your desk.

“Pol, I’m trying to catch up on-“

“Up now,” she demands insistently, rounding the desk and pulling your chair back insistently.

Resigned to her will, you reluctantly your stand, because when Polly insists you’ve learned there’s no getting out of it. But you don’t look at her as you chew on your bottom lip. Keeping your eyes down, scanning the top of the desk, and hair in your face. But Polly doesn’t need or ask for permission as she moves to you, sweeping the hair back behind your ear and grabbing at your chin for a better look. You cringe even before she does.

“Holy shit,” Rolls heavily off her tongue, disbelief dripping from her words.

“He do this to you?” Polly inquires low on her breath, tilting your chin toward the light to examine the fresh bruise along the edge of your face, riding the ridge that joins your cheekbone and eye socket.

“It was an accident…” You try to explain before a pair of eyes that feel sharp like daggers pierce through you from across the room.

Even now you can feel the hold of them from a mile away. Your breath quickens with a new alarm as your eyes glance over quick and spot Tommy standing next to the door of his office. Hands are shoved tightly in his pockets, but his is jaw flexing, eyes zeroed in on you and Polly, before he bursts to life like a fired pistol, grabbing his jacket and storming for the door.

“Fuck,” You swear on a harsh frantic breath, pulling from Polly’s grasp as you watch Tommy storm out the front door of the betting shop. You don’t even need to bother asking to know where he’s headed and that’s exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“Watch me stuff, Pol.” You practically beg her in haste. Your frantic eyes meeting her gaze, you can see she has questions of her own – about you, about your face, and why your chasing after Tommy, but there’s no time for any of them as you take off after him before he does something that will only make a bad situation worse.

Like a man on a mission, Thomas Shelby storms down the dirty streets of Small Heath. Women and children scurrying out his way as men nod or bow their heads in a show of respect as he marches by like a force of nature. By the time you make it out of the betting shop you have to practically race down the lane to catch up with him. Clutching your long skirt, your heels sink in the mud and filth as you make haste down the crowded streets of early morning.

“Tommy,” You take ahold of his arm as you finally reach him. Trying to reason with him, but Tommy only shrugs you off and keeps pounding the soot covered streets, billow of smoke from his cigarette blowing past his lips, and trailing him like the stacks from a nearby factory.

You realize in that moment you’re going to have to be more forceful in your approach if you have any prayer of getting through to him. Racing around to the front of Tommy, you press firmly against his chest, pressing your weight into his waistcoat and button-down as you dig your heels into the dirt and soot, trying to make him stop.

“Thomas stop,” You demand more firmly. “Don’t make me make a scene in the street in front of everyone.”

Your words break through his anger, Tommy waivers for a brief moment, his gaze faltering from the determined road ahead of him and down to where you press against him. It’s only a brief moment, but you seize it as you snatch his hand in your own and drag him into the nearest alley way, where you can have a word without all of Small Heath hearing about it. Having surely caused enough of a scene as it is, since no one - short of Pol - grabs at Thomas Shelby the way you just did and gets away with it… But most of Small Heath still doesn’t know what else he let you get away with and you intend to keep it that way.

“It was an accident.” You tell him the moment you’re alone. Trying to catch your breath after taking chase as you release his hand and turn to face him before he can take off again.

Tommy let’s out a huffed breath and shakes his head at the ridiculousness of your statement. He’d be amused if he wasn’t so angry. Tossing his cigarette to the ground, he steps into your space, moving in on you. The heat of his eyes, the formidable stride of his gait, cause your feet to step back as Tommy approaches, trying to hold onto the distance between you until your back hits the brick wall and there’s nowhere left to go. Tommy’s all-encompassing in his approach, covering the front of you, his shadow swallowing you as he stops barely a foot away from your body.

Your heart begins to pound hard in your chest with the closeness you two haven’t dared to share since that day in his office. Tommy’s hand reaches out for you, tucking your hair behind your ear to get a better look at the bruise along the edge of your face. His callused thumb runs delicately along the tender discolored flesh, sending shivers under your skin with the feel of his touch once again as you watch fire ignite in icy shards of blue, and realize, Tommy hates it even more from close up.

“He was dreaming.” You explain softly on a shaky breath, watching the anger of his furrowed brow as you he inspects you to ensure there aren’t any more and you try not to savor the feel of his touch of your face. He’s so close your almost afraid to speak anything loud, afraid when he responds the heat of his breath will only weaken your resolve.

“Dreaming…” Tommy scoffs loudly at your explanation. He steps back from you, having heard enough, he turns toward the entrance of the alley. Driven to return to his hunt for Will and have him answer a few questions of his own, but you swiftly snatch at the lapels of his jacket and move in front of him, blocking his way. Forcing Tommy to look at you as you protect your husband from an unfair wrath.

“It’s like with Danny, Thomas. He has nightmares almost every night. And sometimes he has them awake too.” You try to explain it the best you can as your chest tightens with each word.

“Sometimes it’s like he’s not even there. Like he doesn’t even know where he is or who I am.” You struggle in your desperation, trying to put words to something you don’t even fully understand yourself, but you need Tommy to understand Will didn’t hurt you intentionally. Will needs help and you feel if anyone can understand the price of war, it’s him.

Tommy stops pressing forward, his eyes falling and holding yours, and you can tell he’s finally listening. Finally understanding the gravity of the situation. Because Tommy does understand. All too well in fact. Before Addy he hardly slept and never peacefully. And after Addy… he tries not to close his eyes unless he absolutely has to. Just another ghost to haunt him in his dreams. Only this one, she took what was left of his soul.

“He was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him, but it was like he couldn’t even see me. He thought he was being attacked. I got him good gettin’ him off me. The glass cut his head open when it broke. It probably needs stiches, but he’s too damn stubborn to have it looked at. He thinks he deserves it Tommy… after what happened to me.” You ramble, your thoughts scattered, your breath as frantic and confused as you feel. You knew none of them came back the same, but you weren’t prepared for how helpless you’d feel when you couldn’t fix it. When you couldn’t make it better or even lessen the pain.

“It’s like he couldn’t see me, Tommy. It’s like I wasn’t there at all.” You bite at your bottom lip, tears springing to your eyes.

“When he finally came too, he was bleedin’ everywhere. He wouldn’ even let me help him. He wouldn’ let me near him once he realized he struck me. He’s terrified of himself. He blames himself for everything. An’ I don’ know how to help him.” The words fall from your lips on a desperate breath as your shoulders tremble and shake. Your eyes welled heavy with tears you can’t hold inside any longer as you finally say the words aloud you’ve been holding so tightly inside you. Trying to stay strong.

Your hands wipe at your cheeks, pushing away at the tears as fast as they come. Just when you think things are starting to come back together, it all falls apart again. You were startled when Will turned on you. Terrified when you saw his fist coming down on you as he held you to the bed. Grabbing the glass from the nightstand and smashing it into his head had been instinct alone. Everything happened so fast, in the blink of an eye in your mind.

But the eyes that held you to that bed weren’t the Will you know. His lips mumbling something in a language you didn’t understand. But none of that was scarier or broke your heart more than the look on Will’s face when he finally came to his senses. When he realized he had put his hands on you. Watching Will rip himself apart over what he had done, watching him lose faith and trust in himself a little more everyday… Nothing in this world could have prepared you for how painful and powerless that would make you feel.

Without words, Tommy pulls your tightly against his chest, his hand slipping into your hair, the other rubbing at your back. Unable to watch you crumble and not reach for you. Tommy swore to himself he wouldn’t touch you again after that day in the office and your distance only affirmed that was the right choice. But finally having a moment alone with you, even his best intentions proved weak.

And you’re just an malleable as you strive for distance, as the smell of Tommy engulfs your lungs, whiskey rich and smoky harsh, you feel your heart beating faster. It’s like breathing life back into your soul. A chamber all his own. A place only Tommy can reach.

You want to bury yourself deeper into him, wrap your arms desperately around him. You know you’ll be safe there, from everything you can’t fix, everything that makes you feel like a failure, but then you catch yourself. Catch yourself being weak and giving in to the fire. You know in your heart, you can’t keep doing this. It isn’t fair to any of you. And you don’t want to hurt Tommy any more than you want to hurt Will. That was the promise you made to yourself when you left Tommy’s office that day. You’re only making things worse when you let the fire reignite.

And what if someone saw you? How would you explain this… wrapped in Tommy’s arms, breathing him in? Your heart begins to race and clenches as you quickly untangle from Tommy. Taking a step back as your eyes scan nervously about your surroundings to see if anyone is watching, but everyone out on the street seems too busy trying to make the most of the day, enough to get by.

You wipe the remaining tears that have fallen from your eyes and suck a sharp breath in, trying to compose yourself.

“He needs a friend, Tommy. He’s lost and hurting, and I don’t know how to help him.” You practically plead.

For being best mate’s since childhood, Tommy has steered clear of Will since he came home. Will hasn’t said much about it, he wouldn’t, and the fact that Tommy blows everyone off these days makes the odd circumstance easier to swallow, but you can see it hurts Will and you blame yourself for that too. If you and Tommy hadn’t – Maybe Will would have someone to turn to in his time of need.

Tommy shakes his head at the notion of what you’re suggesting as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, letting it dangle from his lip, before his deft fingers slap a match against the box in his other hand. His easy dismissal only ignites the fire in your belly and amplifies your frustrations. Your world is hanging on by a thread while Tommy roams about Small Heath carefree having walled Will out of his life, like he’s punishing him, right along with you.

“An’ why not? Thought he was your best pal. You’ve known him all your life. Or is Thomas Shelby too mighty for a broken solder now?” You challenge, jaw growing tight as your irritation gets the best of your tongue. As Tommy gets the best of you, the way he seems to do so easily, both the good and the bad.

The fire in your tone gets a rise out of Tommy quick as he plucks the cigarette from his lips and counters you. No less immune to the embers that smolder between you, always ready to spark and reignite.

“What do you purpose, Addy? Should I invite him to the Garrison for a drink after I’ve been fuckin’ his wife for months? An’ what should we talk about, aye? Ask him if he loves the way you let out that little gasp just before you cum or perhaps how fuckin tight an’ wet you get? Or is that only for me, love?” Tommy comes at you, his tongue as sharp as the razors on his cap. As piercing as the daggers in his heart every time he’s reminded how much you love Will. How he lost you to a better man. Watching from the sidelines as you and Will grow closer with each passing day.

“Stop it!” You snap at him crossly, snatching the cigarette from his fingers as he draws it back to his mouth, tossing it violently to the ground below as you resist the urge to smack him hard across the face. Your chest huffing, how dare he think he can speak to you like that.

Tommy looks down at his cigarette you just threw in the mud, head tilting slightly as his jaw tightens in irritation before his gaze returns to you and he slowly moves in on you once again.

“Don’t you see, I can’t be his friend, Addy. I fucked his wife.” Tommy’s voice is low and dangerous, penetrating and calling for you as your back stumbles into the wall once again trying to evade the power he has over you.

“An’ given the chance...” Tommy tells you, his voice dipping down to a gritty whisper as he leans into your mouth. His hand finding and gripping at your jaw as his thumb dances around the edge of your bottom lip, but never quite touches the plump flesh. Your heart is pounding, you’re struggling to remember how to breathe as you gaze into Tommy’s hypnotic eyes and recognize the heat blowing back at you. You’re a cornered animal, backed into a trap. You still want him, you still miss him, and worst of all, Tommy knows it.

You close your eyes, trying to wall him out, trying to numb your heart and stay strong. You don’t know how you got here, in love with two men, but you’re trying to do the right thing.

“Tommy, don’ do this…” You whisper, your breath desperate.

And despite how selfish and cold Tommy can be at times, he does as you ask, instantly, because you wield power over him too. He steps back from you, releasing your face, but as your eyes open once again and you meet his gaze, you see it – undeniable pain. Tommy still wants you too. Still loves you, you were the only thing that breathed life back into him after the war, and your rejection, even for reasons you both understand, has still been incredibly painful for him.

His head bows, his cap taking the space in your vision his face just held, razors shining as the early morning light pierces down upon them, peeking out from a bleak overcast sky. When he glances back up at you a new cigarette is lit and hanging from his lip.

“If he touches you again he’s answering to me.” Tommy states firmly, unequivocally. There’s no question and you can see there will also be no persuasion. He’s giving you his word of warning now.

“He won’t.” You swear it. Will never has before, not even close. He threatened any man who thought of raising a hand to you. And the look in Will’s eyes when he realized what he had done… You’re certain it’ll haunt you the rest of your days.

Tommy’s seas of blue linger on you as the sun breaks through the clouds once again, bathing your both in touches of heat and light. There's a calling in his eyes, you recognize it as the sun pierces his pupil before Tommy swiftly turns and walks away without another word. One hand stuffed in his waistcoat, the other pulling away at a cigarette that encircles him in a cloud of smoke.

“Atleast tell me how to help him.” You yell back at Tommy as he goes.

“You can’t. We can’t be fixed, Addy.” Tommy hollers back, never turning back to face you until he reaches the end of the alleyway. Only then does he look back over his shoulder, your eyes locking in the moment.

“Didn’ you know? We died over there in the mud.” He tells you like a bullet aimed straight at your heart, before he turns back and disappears into the crowded Small Health streets. Leaving you alone with your thoughts and your plight.

Will comes home late that night. You expect him to be drunk, but he’s not. He looks painfully sober as he comes to stand beside you in your tiny hutch kitchen. Drawing your hands into his as he leads you over to your kitchen table, having you take a seat before he drags the other directly in front of you and lowers into it. He bought you your favorite treat from the little candy shop down by the church where you got married.

One of the things you love so much about him, he never forgets the little things you love, but you can tell none of that matters to him tonight as his hand brushes the side of your face, moving your hair back from the spot where he struck you earlier that morning. His thumb sweeping tenderly over the spot as his face twists in agony. His eyes growing that tortured shade of blue that breaks your heart.

“It’s a’right, Will.” You try to reassure him. Thankful he’s finally willing to touch you, be near you again, after being terrified of himself and inconsolable after what he’d done this morning.

Will’s blue eyes shoot to yours as you speak, tears glistening in his baby blues as his jaw clenches tight.

“No, it’s not Addy.” He tells you, his hand clutching desperately at your cheek as his words drip and drown with guilt and remorse.

“It’s not a’right. Nobody puts their hands on you, understand? Least of me.” His voice breaks at the end, cracking under the weight of own his desperation.

You reach for his hand on your face and cover it with your own, holding him close as his face falls and shakes from side to side with shame. He scrubs angrily at his eyes as the tears escape, before his face lifts and his gaze returns to you, his thumb stroking gently at your cheek.

“Your safety is the only thing that matters me, understand? If something happens again. If I- If I disappear or somethin’, don’ try to wake me, don’ try to help me. You get as far away as you can, understand? Do whatever you gotta do. I need you safe.” He tells you earnestly, his eyes drilling into yours as his hand presses into your cheek to affirm his point.

You can feel it from every bone in your body, Will needs you to hear him right now. He needs you to promise, and you’re just about to until he pulls his gun from behind his back and places it on the table beside you both. The weighted metal sounding heavy and ominous as it lands on the old wooden surface. Your eyes shoot to it in horror before flying back to Will’s.

“I wan’ you to take this. You do whatever you have to do to protect yourself, understand? Promise me, Addy.” His voice is desperate as tears spring to your eyes and mirror his own. You can tell this has been eating him alive all day as he tries to come up with a solution.

Your heart begins to pound as you shake your head slowly from side to side.

“No,” You whispers to him. “No Will.”

“I need to know your safe, even if that means from me. I couldn’ live with myself if I hurt ya again. I’d want ya to pull that trigger, Addy… If it meant keepin ya safe, I’d want ya to do it.” He pleads with you, his breath heavy and desperate.

You can see it in his eyes, he loves you so much, but he’s scared. You’ve never seen him this scared. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know how to stop it and he doesn’t trust himself anymore. He doesn’t believe in himself, but the thought of hurting you again is more than he can bare.

“I can’t.” You gasp, tears falling from your eyes, no longer able to hold them inside the rattle of your chest any longer.

“I can’t do that, Will.” You can’t even bear the thought of shooting of him. You were scared when he turned on you this morning, but the thought of shooting him scares you more. You can’t shoot the man you love. You can’t turn on each other.

“Shhh, it’s ok. It’s gonna be a’right.” Will soothes you as your tears starts to fall, drawing his head down to yours as he softly strokes your cheek, wiping at your tears.

“That’s not gonna happen. It’s not gonna come to that. I just need to know your safe.” He whispers to you softly, like he used to when you were a scared little girl.

Alone in the building after your father went off to the pub. Leaving you to fend for yourself and protect yourself against the other boarders in your apartment, some single men. Never knowing what would happen if someone tried to have their way with you, but Will was there, holding your hand well into the night, promising to fight off anyone who tried to lay a hand on you, before he’d sneak out when your old man stumbled home.

Will leans in and kisses your mouth, soft and deep. His lips pressing into yours in the old familiar way that always makes your heart racing, but your fear quiet. You run your hand up along his hair, but as he winces you instantly remember. Pulling back quick you finally get a good look at it, you see a jagged cut going into his hairline held together by blood and stiches. Tears spring to your eyes once again with the sight of it as your fingertips faintly touch the scalp around it.

“Oh my god Will, I’m so sorry.” You apologize profusely, your throat closing in around your words as you look at what you did to him.

Taking your hand from the cut, Will draws it to his lips giving your fingertips a gentle peck.

“Ya did the right thing, Addy. You defended yourself just like I taught ya. Nobody lays a hand on my girl, she’s got grit.” He smiles at you, trying to win a smile off you in return as he reassures you he’s alright, giving your fingertips one more quick kiss.

“It’s gonna heal up just fine.” He licks his lips and you can tell by the glint in his eyes he has something more to tell you.

“I talked to the Doc today like ya asked, after he stitched me up.” He tells you softly, trying to ease some of your concerns. Rubbing your hand between his before he laces your fingers.

“They don’ know nothin, babe. Nobody seems to know anythin bout what’s goin on in my head. They just tell ya to move on, put it behind you, your home.” Will tells you, a hopelessness plaguing his eyes once again before his face drops down against your laced hands.

You watch as the muscles in his shoulders tighten and tense. He’s struggling. Facing the fight of his life and he’s facing it alone, but not completely. You need him to know you will stand against the gates of hell with him, by his side, and never waiver. If that’s what it takes. Just like he always stood by you.

“But I got somethin.” He sounds a little more hopeful. His face rising again to offer you a sad smile.

“I ran into Tommy today. An’ he gave me something that’s gonna help with the nerves, help me get some sleep…”

Your heart pains with Tommy’s name. It’s a bittersweet elixir, because you know, having seen him today, Tommy spoke with Will because of your talk. He did it for you and that only resurfaces all the old familiar guilt churning inside you as you try to protect Will from what you did and live with it yourself. But then Will’s searching your eyes and he looks so damn hopeful. And you can hear before he ever starts speaking, he needs you to have hope too.

“I’m gonna figure out what’s going on with me, Addy, with or without the Docs. You’ll see, I can be the man you want me to be. I can be who I was before.” He promises you and you can see it in his eyes, he needs you to believe him. He needs this as much as you do.

You nod easily, taking his word as you reach for him. Will pulls you onto his lap, into his arms, holding you desperately tightly against him as he buries his face against the comfort of your breast. You wrap him in your arms, stroking back the long strands of his hair as you place a gentle kiss atop his head and press your cheek to him.

Part 5

#Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #Peaky Blinders #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years

Text

~The Cripple & The Bastard~

~Chapter 7: No good deed~

Previous Chapters: ((Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 - Ch.7))

Image Credit: Myself - badwolf-in-the-impala

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless X OFC

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content.

Chapter Warnings: None.

A/N: Dun, dun, DUN!!!!!!!!! Don’t hate me for how this one ends XD

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"He is angry, Ivar!" Aslaug snapped, ale cup echoing through the hall as she slammed it back down on the table; pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration before narrowing her eyes at her youngest Son.

"You can not continue to hide her forever, she is HIS daughter! What he does with her is none of your concern. If Yara is not returned immediately, he will stop the forge of weapons that are needed for the upcoming raids...and then that? Have you thought about that at all?! ... Are you even listening to me? IVAR?!"

The intense sapphire gaze that had been trained on the bottom of his ale cup snapped up as he glared at his mother. A wave of unspeakable anger surging through every fiber of his being as he leaned forward, eerily calm. Aslaug sat back against her chair, her frustrations evident on her face.

"You speak as though she is no better than that Slave that Ubbe and Hvitserk have been fucking...Mother." His voice was steady, calm even. But the anger that stormed in his eyes and the venom that dripped from his words was enough to make his own mother briefly uneasy.

"She is the Blacksmith's daughter." Aslaug ground out from between clenched teeth.

"So? What difference should that make!?" Ivar snapped back, seething as the fight escalated. "Does that not still make her a person? Some one who should be free to make her own choices?" He argued.

"Yet she is treated no better than a dog! Simply because her father is a monster, and her mother chose to be with someone who actually loved her? That gives him the right to almost beat her nearly to death for the sake of his own enjoyment?! No, you are completely right mother."

"SHE IS A BASTARD."

Silence fell upon the room briefly as Ivar stared at his mother. His father and Brother's watching with intent silence as the argument progressed throughout dinner. Wondering how many times this argument was going to occur.

"And I am a Cripple...yet you do not love me any less?" Ivar finally broke the silence. "So I ask again. Why, does she deserve to be treated any different? Is it not our job to protect our people...Mother?" He leaned forward against the table, chin resting atop his laced fingers as a devilish grin spread slowly across his features. Aslaug turning to Ragnar for assistance with their overly stubborn son. Ragnar simply shrugged.

"We can not rescue every bleeding heart just because we feel like it, Ivar. Until the girl is Married, she will never be free of her father." Aslaug stated for what felt like the hundredth time. "It is as simple as that."

"So we find her a suitable husband." Ivar replied simply.

"Her father will never allow it. Even if you were to find someone...if that were the case, my dear son, that girl would have been married a long time ago. But she is a bastard. She is of no worth, no promise, aside from being a decent Blacksmith. Any man her father feels worthy enough, would never consider marrying someone like her. There is nothing for them in return. No land. No coin. No promise of someday being Jarl or King...the girl has no bloodlines. The only man worthy enough to have a woman such as herself, is not good enough in her fathers eyes; because he gets nothing out of the deal. I like her, Ivar, I really do. She seems like a nice girl, but there is nothing we can do!" Aslaug sighed as her head throbbed with frustration, her point going seemingly unnoticed as her son continued to argue.

"So we persuade him then!" Ivar stated. "Whatever the means--"

"Ivar..."

"There surely has to be something the man wants--"

"Ivar...”

"It can not be--"

"ENOUGH!" Ivar stared in stunned silence for a brief moment before composing himself, blue eyes shifting up to meet his mother’s as she now towered over him, face mere inches from his own.

"It is simply not possible, that is that. This argument is over with." She snapped, turning on her heel as she made to leave the room, stopping dead in her tracks by the next words her son spoke.

"What if I Marry her?"

"No woman would ever marry you!" Sigurd laughed. "Not even one as out of her mind as her." Ivar made a move to reach across the table for his brother, not getting far before they were both silenced by Ragnar’s voice.

"That is enough. Sigurd, leave your bother alone. Ivar, apologize to your mother for upsetting her." Ivar rolled his eyes but complied nevertheless before she left the room.

"We will discuss this later. Understood?" Ragnar added firmly, but it was the familiar look from behind those blue eyes of his that told his youngest son, that this conversation was far from over.

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"Do you think he will like it?" Floki asked as they stood admiring their work. Yara patted the white horse that stood on her opposite side fondly, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she stared at the Chariot they had built for the youngest Ragnarsson. Her hands were beaten, bloodied, and sore from the hours of work they had put in to the gift over the past month and a half. Never having worked metal in such ways as she recently had; but she knew that Ivar's reaction would make it more than worth while.

"I think he will more than just like it Floki." Yara replied softly. "He will love it." Both her and the horse were startled as the spindly man scooped her up into a bone crushing hug with a laugh as he twirled her about before setting her back down with a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, little wolf." He beamed brightly as he ruffled her hair affectionately, to which Yara simply rolled her eyes and shooed his hand away. "I will go fetch Ivar while you finish shoeing the horse." Yara watched in amusement as Floki disappeared from sight; shaking her head as she returned to fitting the metal shoes to the stallions feet. The last of Floki's laughter being drowned out by the clang of her hammer against iron.

They didn't return until later that afternoon, Yara had been resting comfortably in the cool breeze beneath a tree as the newly armored gelding grazed quietly while they waited patiently near the Chariot. Staying just out of sight until the time was right. It brought a smile to Yara's face as she watched the happenings before her unfold. The pride and happiness that filled Floki's eyes as Ivar reveled in the sheer magnificence of the gift before him.

The first genuine smile she had ever seen, appearing on Ivar's face as he asked if it was really for him. Floki nodding excitedly before signaling for her to bring the horse out, Ivar's eyes lighting up as Yara and the horse appeared before them, Floki hoisting him to his feet as he inspected the craftsmanship of the horses armor.

"You knock kneed old fool!" Ivar laughed excitedly. Running his fingers along the armor that shielded the horses face. "How did you do it?!"

"Oh, you do not have me to thank for this one, my dear Ivar." Floki replied with a grin as he looked to Yara. "For it was not me who nearly broke my hands trying to make it perfect." He added, moving to help him up into the Chariot as Yara started hooking the horse to it, attaching the reigns last and handing them up to Ivar. The look of sheer joy and wonder never leaving his his face. Sapphire eyes noting the bandages on her hands as she held out the helmet for him to take.

"Well than, it seems only fair that you accompany me." He stated, tilting his head in confusion as she stepped back with a grin before disappearing; re-appearing a few seconds later having mounted a second horse. Circling the chariot with a wide mischievous grin.

"You have to catch me first." Turning she trotted away on her own steed, Floki laughing as Ivar struggled briefly to get his bearings on the chariot before taking off after her. They made several laps around the property, Floki cheering excitedly as they thundered by before Ivar turned down a different path. Yara slowing her horse to a walk as she caught up to him, walking in silence for several miles before they reached the clearing atop the hill that overlooked Kattegat. Tying the horses before sitting at the edge of the small cliff that overlooked the Harbor. A comfortable silence filling the air as they watched the sun make it's decent for the evening; turning the sky vibrant shades of gold and red.

"Thank you." The words had caught her off guard to say the least as she turned her attention to look at Ivar. His blue gaze fixed on the setting sun as he spoke. "For helping Floki...you did not have to." He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, shooting her a questioning glare when she started laughing.

"I helped because I wanted to, Ivar." She replied with a soft smile as she looked at him. "Also, Floki might be the greatest boat builder who ever lived, but he is terrible at working metal." She snorted in amusement, holding her hands out in front of her for a brief moment before letting them drop to her lap.

"Besides, it is the least I could do after everything the two of you have done for me." She shrugged, wincing a little as Ivar took her left hand; removing the bandages carefully to inspect the damage. His thumb running over the backs of her bruised knuckles, noting every cut and burn carefully. The roughness to his hands brushing against her skin sending a small shiver down her spin. Turning her head away quickly as she felt the blush burning it's way on to her cheeks as his thumb ran down her bare ring finger lightly before releasing it from his grasp, turning his gaze back out over the water.

"There will be hundreds of ships arriving soon, as we prepare to sail for Wessex." Ivar stated, glancing at Yara out of the corner of his eye. "Jarls, Warlords, Viking Kings...the greatest Army ever seen." He sighed.

"I imagine it will prove to be an impressive sight." Yara stated.

"Have you ever seen a Viking Army before?" Ivar questioned curiously, watching as she shook her head in response. "That will change." Yara gave a small smile at his response as she stared out over the horizon, closing her eyes as she tried to image what it would look like. Never having seen anything more than the tiny merchant boats that use to dock for trade back in her old village, and of course the ships that Floki had been working so tirelessly on; but never had she had the pleasure of seeing one on the water.

"It is truly a magnificent sight."

Yara's breath caught in her throat as the sound of his voice --which had become dangerously close to her ear-- took her by surprise. Having become so distracted by her imagination, that she was unaware Ivar had shifted so that he was angled behind her, hand tucking away the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her braids on the ride up here. Blue eyes watching her reaction intently as his fingers brushed against her neck gently. Her body's first instinctive reaction being to tense at any form of contact, but slowly she relaxed as the fingers trailed from neck to collarbone and back again.

A small smirk tugged at Ivar's lips as she seemed to be fighting a losing battle against leaning into his touch. Giving in eventually as she leaned her shoulder back into his chest, fingers trailing up the opposite side of her neck, settling underneath her chin as he turned her face toward his own. Sapphire gaze fixed on her lips as his thumb traced along her bottom one gently; her own Emerald eyes watching him intently as he leaned forward, closing the gap between them as his lips brushed her own gently. Her chest rising and falling a little faster as he spoke, voice low and raspy as the words rolled off his tongue like silk, making her heart beat in such a frenzy against her rib cage that she was sure by now he could hear it.

"You have never been kissed before...have you?" Ivar questioned.

Yara could feel the heat rising to her face as she shook her head in reply, opening her mouth to speak only to be silenced by Ivar's lips against her own, earning him a small gasp at the sensation it sent surging though her body. Eyes closing as she allowed his lips to guide her own as she turned herself toward him. His strong hands pulling her to straddle his lap effortlessly as her own found their way around his neck.

Ivar grinned into the kiss, one hand finding it's way into her hair as the other pressed against her lower back, bringing her closer as he shifted; his hips rolling beneath her. Stealing his opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth as she gasped, relishing in the small moan the action provoked, her fingers locking themselves in his hair as the kiss deepened. Everything around them seeming to fade away as they became lost in one another. Never hearing the quiet footsteps that approached until it was already too late.

Yara's startled screams were silenced by a large hand covering her mouth as she was yanked from Ivar's lap. Panic taking hold of her as he slumped backward onto the ground, unconscious. Another man moving to bind her hands as her captor gagged her before pulling something over her head to shield her vision. Struggling against their grasp on her as they drug her forward; a hard blow to the back of her skull eventually ending her fight as she was plunged into darkness.

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years

Text

~The Cripple and the Bastard~

~Chapter 1: The Blacksmiths Daughter~

Additional chapters: ((Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 ))

Image Credit: badwolf-in-the-impala

Pairings: Ivar the Boneless x OC

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Verbal/physical abuse, violence, kidnapping, scars, sexual content.

A/N: So this right here is my first ever Ivar fic. I originally started posting it over on my Ao3 account. It’s a little rough, I’m tweaking it a little here and there as I go so bare with me. I started this after taking about a 3yr hiatus from writing, and it’s still a work in process lol...I have 9 chapters to it so far, and though I haven’t updated it in a while, I still plan to continue it. Any ways, I hope you guys like it.

Feedback is always much appreciated :)

If you would like to be added to ((or taken off)) the TAGLIST, just let me know. I figured I would go ahead and tag everyone that follows my other Ivar fic “The Absent Heart” in case you wanted to check this one out as well. :)

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The cart and horse thundered along the road loudly. Farmers and fisherman alike pausing from their work to investigate the noise as it that passed them by. Whispering to one another in curiosity as they watched the older man and young woman that traveled road; their destination fast approaching in the distance. The young woman shrugged off the stares as she kept her eyes forward, ignoring the dull ache that presented in her feet from days of seemingly endless travel. Her father resting comfortably in the cart that carried all their supplies and belongings that were needed for the long journey to their newest home.

The Village of Kattegat.

The mans voice droned on and on but she couldn't be bothered with his ramblings as she took in the beautiful scenery that lay before her very eyes. Her father had caught word months ago that King Ragnar Lothbrok was in need of a skilled Blacksmith to build weapons for the upcoming raids, and he was more than eager to offer his assistance...for a price of course. Everything with her father came with a price. Even his own daughter. The young woman rolled her eyes at the thought. He was such a vile, greedy man. But she knew well enough that he would not be able to take near the kind of advantage of the Viking King as he thought. The stories she had heard...oh the stories. Ragnar was not to be taken for a fool as her father thought, as he was unlike the typical Jarl's he was used to.

"Are you even listening?!" The sharp, familiar sting of pain across her cheek was what finally grabbed her attention, prying her from her thoughts. Turning toward her father she grit her teeth to keep from receiving further punishment for her sharp tongue. Considering it often found her in more trouble than necessary. She nodded in acknowledgment and he continued, narrowing his dark eyes as he glared down at her small from the cart.

"You listen here, whelp! You are to be on your best behavior. Is that to be understood?" The young woman nodded. "Good. I will not have you running about like a child! Especially in presence of someone as important as King Ragnar! First time I catch you screwing about instead of doing you job, it'll be a beating. Is that clear?"

"Yes...Father." She replied. Rolling her eyes as she turned her attention to the town that was now within her reach; and how she longed to simply disappear within it's depths. Never to be bothered by the man she unfortunately called Father, again.

She stopped near the back of the cart as they reached the gates, a young viking man -- no more than maybe four or five years older than herself -- and several shieldmaiden's, motioning for them to stop. The young man speaking with her father as she showed the contents of the carts to the maidens, who seemed pleased with their findings, nodding to the man that everything was satisfactory. The young man smiled, a beautiful sight, the young woman observed.

"My father will be please with your arrival." The voice was deep, probably even frightening to some, but she could detect the notes of unspeakable kindness that lie within his voice. His light blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as he turned his gaze to her own. Frowning slightly as he noted that she had most likely walked this entire way on foot as there was no room in the small cart, and the spare horse appearing untouched.

"Please, follow me." He gestured, leading them through the gates and toward the Great Hall.

"Keep your mouth shut! ... Understood?" Her father growled low enough for only her ears to hear. But the bone crushing grip he laid to her arm, one that was sure to bruise, did not go unnoticed by the man in front of them as he glanced back discretely. He was unmistakably a Ragnarsson,and she had noted that tidbit of information when he spoke earlier at the gate of his father being pleased.

Her father truly was an unobservant fool.

"So, this is the famed Blacksmith I have heard so much about!" The voice boomed loudly as the Viking King approached. His Queen and remaining sons not far behind. He father immediately released her arm at the unexpected appearance. The Viking Kings impressive height towering over the both of them as they greeted one another.

"It is a true honor." The young woman had to resist the urge to roll her eyes as her father all but threw himself at the Viking Kings feet. Ragnar chuckling lightly as he waved the actions off. "I am Guunbjorn, The fierce. Famed Blacksmith of Norway!" The King seemed less than impressed with the introduction, but hid it well. Brushing her father off as he gestured to his own family.

"The pleasure is all ours. I am Ragnar, as I am sure you already know." He grinned at the mans annoyance, blue eyes shining vibrantly with amusement as he appeared less than pleased to be spoken to by the King like he was an idiot.

"This is my wife, Queen Asluag." He gestured to the tall, beautiful, woman to his left. "And my sons," turning his attention to the young Vikings that stood behind him. "Bjorn, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar...and I believe you have already met Ubbe." He gestured to the man that stood just behind them. Her father tensing noticeably, but smiling nevertheless.

"A pleasure." He father ground out, forcing a smile.

"And who might you be." The young woman turned her attention to the Viking King as he acknowledged her. Bowing her head in greeting as she starting to speak before being cut off by her father.

"My daughter." Gunnbjorn spoke up, dismissing her presence. "No one of importance really. She assists me with my forge in exchange for remaining in my care. She is a bastard, you see. Good for nothing whore her mother was...a shame really." She could feel her ears flaming red at the word Bastard, and while true, she took spite in how her father relished in making it known wherever they went. Making sure she was known as the embarrassment to her family. Shaming her in such ways to keep her from ever finding a suitable husband someday. But this situation seemed, different. The announcement of her parentage only bringing a larger smile to the Viking Kings face as he brushed the girls father off...again.

"And what might you call yourself?" He smiled warmly at her, reaching out to take her hand in greeting. Placing a kiss to her knuckles as he watched the Blacksmith fume from the corner of his eye. "Bastard Daughter of Gunnbjorn, The Fierce." Pressing a second kiss to her hand, a low chuckle passed his lips, the sensation practically vibrating up her arm as he stood upright once more, smiling down on her.

"Yara." She replied, her voice catching the attention of the Ragnarsson who was seated on a crate outside the market stall to their right. Intense Sapphire blue eyes boring into her almost immediately, sending a chill down her spine that she was quick to brush off.

"Pleasure to meet you, Yara.” Ragnar smiled warmly. "I am sure one of my sons would be most pleased to escort you to your new home while I show your father to his Forge." He stated, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes, turning with his arm around the older man, ushering them forward before Gunnbjorn could voice his protest at the thought of not one, but four Ragnarsson's escorting his daughter. Bjorn having joined his father in escorting the Blacksmith.

"Well...that was...interesting." The voice of Ubbe came from behind her. "He will surely be kept occupied for sometime though." He chuckled. "Follow me and we shall get you settled." Yara nodded, grabbing a heavy pack from the cart and slinging it over her shoulder with ease. The remaining brothers exchanging glances before following suit..well, all but the youngest who drug himself into the seat on the cart and followed along behind. The young woman noting the truth behind the rumors of the youngest Ragnarsson being a cripple.

It was a short walk to the pit house that was to be her new home. It wasn't terribly small like their last home had been, plenty big enough to have at least some space from her father. She sighed, tossing the pack to the floor as they entered the home one at a time unloading the cart. Sigurd making snide comments to his brother, Ivar, that manned the cart and horse still. Watching as his piercing blue eyes blazed with an intense rage, even though he chose not to acknowledge the older boy. But Yara could feel the tension seeping into the air like a thick fog. Anger clenched within her at the thought of how the older boy was treating his own brother.

"You do not say much...do you?" Hvitserk noted from his perch on the fence outside, smirking sheepishly before biting into an apple that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Yara simply cocked an eyebrow at him before returning her attention to the cart that needed unloading.

"Bet I could get her to say all kinds of things." Sigurd laughed, a cocky smirk plastered to his face as he perched on the fence next to Hvitserk. Opening his mouth to no doubt add in whatever vulgar ways he planned to achieve this. But instead he was silenced by the axe that had found its way into the fence between his open legs, startling him backwards onto the ground with a dull 'thud'.

"I would advise you against finishing that sentence...Brother." Ivar spoke up, eyes trained on the second axe that Yara gripped tightly in her left hand. "It appears, that this one is not like the other girls who are charmed so easily by your Serpent like ways." Sigurd sat up with a wide eyed expression that quickly turned into one of anger.

"You Bitch-" He spat, climbing to his feet as she raised the second axe, Ubbe stepping in to silence his brother from finishing a sentence that was sure to be his last had he continued to speak. A firm grip wrapping it's self around Yara's wrist from above and plucked the axe from her grasp after applying a little force.

"That is enough, children." Ubbe spoke firmly, but fought back an amused smile as he fixed his gaze on Yara. Pleased she wasn't one to tolerate his brothers nonsense.

Turning with a fixed glare, Yara snarled quietly as she took back the axe that Ivar held out to her. Fiery green eyes boring into ones of Sapphire blue. An animalistic grin gracing his dark features as she snatched it from his hand. Chuckling to himself quietly as Sigurd skulked away, brushing himself off as he muttered profanities at the girl under his breath.

"You will have to forgive my Brother's." Ubbe apologized. "Manner-less Heathens they are."

"It is fine." Yara ground out from between clenched teeth as she dislodged the axe from the fence. Hvitserk scooting away from her ever so slightly just to be safe as she slipped it back through her belt. "I thank you for your help." She stated. "But I should be taking the rest of our things to the forge to be unloaded now..." She cocked her hip out to the side and crossed her arms as she stared up at Ivar.

If looks could kill.

"You expect me to move?" He laughed harshly. "I do not think so." He narrowed his gaze back her. "I am a Cripple after all...you would not expect me to crawl such a distance...would you?"

"Ivar..." Ubbe's voice warned from behind Yara carefully.

Ears burning hot with annoyance and rage, Yara turned sharply on her heel. Boot digging a hole into the dirt where she'd been standing as she stalked off toward the familiar sounds of metal being worked. Ignoring the amused laugh that came from behind her and the sound of the cart setting into motion once more. Ignoring the gaze she could feel boring into her very soul with every step she took. Leaving her feeling completely exposed and flustered. Never had anyone been able to get under her skin so easily and with just their presence alone it seemed like...but this son of Ragnar clearly had a talent very few possessed, and the worst part was, he knew it immediately, and would no doubt only continue to use it against her.

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years

Text

~The Absent Heart~

~Part 9~

Previous Parts: ((~Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 -Part 8 - Part 9~))

Image credit: badwolf-in-the-impala

Chapter warnings:

A/N: I am so sorry I haven’t posted on this one in a while...writers block has been killing my soul on this one recently 0.0 and I’m a terrible person, I know...especially with the cliffhangers. I have issues lol anywho, the follow up to this chapter should hopefully be up sooner as I have this entire week off. Which means instead of adulting, I’m gonna write instead! **YAY**

As always, thanks for putting up with me and reading my stories. It means a lot <3

If you would like to be added to the TAGLIST, just let me know!

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As the days drug on, Ivar found himself growing only more and more impatient. Freya’s condition only seemed like it was worsening, meaning their journey was put on further delay. Torvi working tirelessly round the clock as he hovered, providing the care she needed to keep the infection from spreading, but she had yet to fully wake from the fever fueled slumber into which she had slipped; save for the night she had woken the whole camp with her screaming.

Lost in the violent throws of a fevered nightmare, shouting incoherently in her native tongue, Saxon -- language she had not spoken in years -- as she writhed helplessly in pain on the makeshift bed in her tent. It had taken both himself and Ubbe to hold her down while Torvi forced a concoction down her that put her back under. It was stressful to say the least...and Ivar couldn’t stop placing blaming himself.

Obsessing over every little detail of events leading up to where they were now. If he hadn’t of drug her to that feast, just let her work instead like she wanted to, maybe she wouldn’t have stumbled into that girl; Runa? Wouldn’t have protected her, wouldn’t have taken her place for the beating that neither of them deserved...if he had just made her stay behind? Hadn’t asked her to come at all? But then again, perhaps it simply had been fated to happen, like Floki keep trying to assure him.

But Ivar refused to let it go, obstinate as ever.

It was weighing heavily on the entire group, driving a wedge between brothers as they argued on what should be done, given the current situation. Sigurd suggesting that he and whoever so wished to join, should take Floki and venture ahead to scout and secure their location. The mere thought sending Ivar spiraling into a rage that took hours to calm him out of. Ubbe only adding fuel to the fire when he suggested Sigurd might have a point, and Hvitserk choosing to side with no one and remain out of the argument. Already knowing that neither party would be able to agree in the end.

“Maybe they are right, Ivar?” Floki had chimed in sometime later, once Ivar had calmed down enough to listen. Earning a menacing glare from the youngest Ragnarsson. Floki holding his hands up defensively. “We will have to leave sometime, my dear Ivar...with or without her, I fear will not be your decision.”

“I do not wish to speak of it anymore, Floki...now leave!” Ivar snapped, dismissing the older man with a sharp gesture of his hand. Floki bowed, an air of sarcasm underlying his actions as he turned on his heel to leave; ignoring the frustrated scream that rang out down the beach behind him.

“As you wish, my Prince.”

The days had started to blur together in a repetitive routine of pacing the beach, scavenging what little food could be found, and sitting at Freya’s bedside...praying to the Gods that she wake soon. Patience was wearing thinner by the day among the men, and if circumstances did not change, and soon, Ivar feared there would likely be an uprising.

“Explain it to me again, Torvi. If the fever is gone, why has she not woken yet?” Ivar demanded impatiently for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I have told you time and time again, Ivar, I do not know when or even if she will wake.” Torvi gave an exasperated sigh. She had expended every resource she had available in an attempt to help Freya; but to no avail. She remained lost in the grasp of what ever dream-world the fever had been pulled her inside of.

“I am not Helga.” She admitted with defeat. “Perhaps if she were here, she would know if something more could be done...it just-- it does not make sense.”

“Her body is here, physically. But her mind? The Gods have pulled her mind else where.” Ivar stopped pacing just long enough to roll his eyes at Floki who had just seemingly materialized out of no where; interrupting the conversation.

“I am not in the mood for your ridiculous analogies, Floki.” Ivar spoke harshly as he resumed his pacing, blue eyes staring at Freya’s motionless form as if she would wake up at any moment. Floki turned his attention to Torvi who simply shook her head at the boat builder, motioning for them to step outside. The conversation resuming once they were out of earshot of the tent.

“I am at a loss, Floki.” Torvi admitted. “I have done everything I can think of...everything Helga has taught me; and yet, she does not wake!” Floki nodded in answer, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he stared out at the vast sea before them.

“The Gods have a plan, Torvi...and while I may not know what that plan is, I do know that Freya is meant to be part of it.” He replied. “One thing I do know for sure, we can not stay here any longer.”

“I know.” Torvi replied. “I have done all that I can here...her fever is broke and the wounds seem to no longer fester. She can be moved, but she will be at the mercy of the sea once we set sail.” Floki nodded in return, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he turned back towards the tent in which Ivar still remained.

“It is a risk we are going to have to take.”

The seas had become increasingly rough, day after day, storm after storm; it made keeping course a constant battle. It also made caring for the unconscious Freya more difficult as they traveled. Most of the men were unnerved by her eerie appearance...so lifeless, yet still so alive. Many had even begun to blame the growing string of bad luck on her.

In the few weeks since resuming their journey, they had tracked off course, drifting for several days in the wrong direction before it was corrected. Multiple men had begun to fall ill from an unknown ailment, and three boats had perished to storms along with the countless men that crewed them. Many a whisper had spread of her body being cursed. Some even brave enough to dare threaten to throw her into the sea, in hopes that perhaps it would please the Gods? Though none dared come close enough to attempt such a reckless thing with Ivar sitting guard.

It was a death sentence in and of it’s self to challenge the Cripple, let alone try to take what rightfully belonged to him. Slave or not, he had already made it clear she was not to be harmed. But with rations running low and tensions running high, many of his fellow Viking brothers were starting to press their luck.

“You tempt fate to freely, Cripple!” One man exclaimed, pointing a finger in Ivar’s direction accusingly. “That Slave bitch is cursed! I can feel it. She should be thrown to the depths as offering to Ægir; for the sake of everyone!” Many of the men and women on their boat cheered in agreement, arguing back and forth what should be done as Ivar seethed silently. Floki’s attempts at reason going unheard as the voices grew louder, drawing several of the nearby boats in as they took advantage of the eerily calm seas.

“You would do best to hold your tongue!” Ivar growled in a murderous tone, pointing a dagger back at the man who was making the accusations. Bracing himself against one crutch as he hovered protectively in front of Freya’s body, alongside Torvi and Floki.

“What in Odin’s name is going on?!” Ubbe yelled as himself and Hvitserk crossed over from their boat to Ivar’s; taking in the scene before them carefully.

“Your Crippled brother has lost his fucking mind!” The same man from before shouted, pointing to Freya’s body that lie safely at the rear of the boat, just out of reach. “She’s cursed, I can feel it in my bone! Her body needs gotten rid of!” Cheers of agreement erupted again into the evening air.

“Over my dead body!” Ivar roared over the noise as he lurched forward, dagger ready. Ubbe stepping in between his brother and the rest of the boat, allowing Hvitserk to take stance in Ivar’s previous place guarding Freya.

“Enough!” Ubbe yelled, the boat falling silent for a moment as everyone’s attention fell to him. “I know we have had some ill fated luck, but that does not mean we are to start throwing people overboard. So long as she still draws breath, she stays.”

“But--” The man started to protest, cut off by the sharp glare Ubbe gave in return.

“I would choose silence, if you wish to keep your tongue.” He stated, one hand still planted firmly against Ivar’s chest. The youngest Ragnarsson sneering after the man as he turned, retreating through the throng of people that had gathered, stepping onto the other boat without another word.

“Reign it in, Ivar.” Ubbe warned lowly as he turned to face his brother. “We are all on edge, but now is not the time, nor the place. Understood?”

Ivar remained silent as he narrowed his gaze back at his brother. Rage burning rampant through his sapphire eyes as he took his place back beside Freya protectively as Ubbe ordered everyone to return to their places.

The wind starting to pick up steadily as storm clouds grayed what little light was left in the sky. Hvitserk exchanging a worried glance with Ubbe as Floki rushed to the front of the boat. The atmosphere shifting abruptly as the swells started to grow and raindrops started to fall from the darkening sky. Lightning cracking overhead violently, followed by an ominous rumble of thunder that shook everyone into terrified silence.

“Drop the sails! Drop the sails!” Floki shouted franically, several men rushing to get it lowered as the surrounding boats followed suit. Ubbe pushing his way to the front, stopping short of where Floki was perched on the bow, clutching to the wooden serpents head like his life was about to depend on it. Watching helplessly as the eye of the storm barreled toward their fleet.

“What do we do?” Ubbe questioned as he looked up to the boat builder.

“We pray to the Gods that that mans superstitions aren’t right, my dear Ubbe...that is what we do.”

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Additional Notes: In Norse mythology, Ægir is a sea jötunn associated with the ocean. He is also known for being a friend of the gods and hosting elaborate parties for them. He is the namesake for the exoplanet previously known as Epsilon Eridani b.

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