AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please be advised that this chapter takes a dark turn as Clary finds herself face to face with her worst nightmare. Triggers include past sexual assault, rape and other dubious behavior due to implied, untreated mental illness. If this content makes you uncomfortable in any way, please skip this chapter as it is not my intention to ever make any one of my readers uncomfortable.

As always, I hope you guys enjoy the reading, even if things get a little messy this chapter.

Clary could have sworn she had already past this particular tree before, her head watching as it passed by for the fifth time at least, or was it the sixth? She groaned, coming to a stop with her head on a swivel, not knowing which way she had gone before that led her back to this same spot.

There were just too many trees surrounding her, making it difficult to discern anything past her immediate vicinity, save a large rock or two that broke up the monotony of annoyingly tall and narrow trees.

Clary finally admitted to herself that maybe running blindly into an unknown forest wasn't her brightest idea, but she wasn't about to give up quite yet, the night was still young.

Clary closed her eyes and imagined herself in the forest beyond the borders of the castle's shadow, walking along a narrow path wondering how long she had been walking when she heard someone riding up behind her.

Alaric, her father's best friend and second in command, had been sent by her mother to find her in the thick of the forest and return her home. Her mother was always worried about her getting lost and Clary was too stubborn to admit that she usually did get lost, but Alaric was always there to help her.

She remembered him telling her to close her eyes and to let the earth speak to her. She couldn't imagine what he had meant by this, but she trusted him and so, standing in an unknown world, surrounded by unfamiliar things, Clary stilled her mind and closed her eyes.

The first thing she heard was tiny feet skittering across the forest floor, small woodland creatures running from bush to bush as they gathered their nuts and berries before the predators woke with the sun. S

Clary smiled, remember Alaric saying that when animals were close, water surely would also be near. She could use a cool drink of water right about now, actually, and she trained her ear to listen for the familiar sounds of running water.

It took her a moment, but her right ear perked up to the steady sound of a running stream, not too far from where she was standing, the thought of water nearby making her head snap in that direction, smiling when she finally found a sense of direction.

She silently thanked her mother and Alaric for knowing her better than she knew herself, helping her even when she was a half a world away.

Eager to quench her rapidly growing thirst, Clary took her first step toward her hidden oasis, but froze when she heard a loud snap, as if a large branch had cracked under enormous pressure.

Her eyes scanned the foliage around her, but she couldn't see anything through the darkness. She imagined a large bear on the other side of one of the trees, one large enough to accommodate the massive animal skin that she had been covered with in Jace's small cabin.

She gulped as she heard another, louder snapping of a small twig or branch, noticing that she couldn't hear any of the small, nocturnal creatures that had just been out moments before. The whole forest was quiet, as if even the trees knew that a predator lurked in their mist.

Every hair on the back of Clary's neck and arms stood up as her senses went on high alert, her instincts telling her that she was being watched from somewhere in the dark shadows. Even the moon had hidden behind dark clouds, making it that much harder to see around her.

Clary could feel her adrenaline kicking in as her heart began to pick up its pace in her chest and her breathing become more labored. Her body was preparing to make the decision before fight or flight and it had her walking on pins and needles in her mind, poised for any sudden movement that would send her into action.

She waited there, standing there as she scanned the immediate vicinity the best she could with her untrained eyes. She didn't know how long she had stood there, but she made the decision to keep moving, that it wasn't safe for her hear. She needed to get to the river, then she could look for higher ground, even if that meant climbing one of these blasted trees.

Seemingly making up her mind, Clary turned towards the direction the water was flowing, but didn't registered the dark silhouette that materialized before her until it was too late, face planting the solid object before she fell backwards onto the dirtied earth, losing her bow and arrows in the process.

She struck her head partially against a rock not too far from where she was standing, the impact of her fall knocking the wind out of her momentarily. She groaned on the floor of the forest, thinking that she had walked directly into a tree.

However, at that precise moment, the moon chose that exact moment to materialize from behind the clouds, illuminating the very real predator that loomed above her. Clary immediately sat up, the pain in her head nearly making her double over in pain, enough to throw up the meager contents of her stomach, but her body froze as a familiar form was brought to life before her eyes.

"How delicious," a cold, sinister voice rang above, her blood running cold in her veins as she stared up into the dark and violent eyes of her worst nightmare.

"Hello again, Kitten."

"Ivar," Clary gasped as she scampered backwards, trying to put as much distance between herself and the giant as she could. She didn't dare turn her back on him, not even for a second, but he stepped with her, keeping her within reaching distance with his easy, languid strides.

"Are you lost, pussy cat?" Ivar asked tauntingly, smiling a wicked smile that made a pit form in Clary's stomach as he chased her retreating form, like the predator he was. She knew she was being manipulated somehow, allowing him to coral her like cattle into some sort of cage, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him, couldn't risk him getting the upper hand even for a second.

"Stay away from me," Clary warned as she swatted his outstretched hand that tried to grab he, he chuckled as he continued to chase her through the dirt path she was creating. He was able to grab at her leg for a moment, pulling her slowly back to him through the dirt, but he let her wiggle free, enjoying his game of catch and release as he played with her.

"It would seem that the gods made good on their promise to return you to me, pet," Ivar purred as he continued to stalk her through the forest, "Do you remember the last time our paths crossed?"

Clary let her eyes fall to Ivar's nose, a slight crookedness that hadn't been there before and felt immediate satisfaction as she remembered how her fist connected with his face when she had fought so hard to escape before she was taken from her home.

The nose would never completely heal the same, she imagined, but it allowed her a brief moment of satisfaction before the reality of her situation came crashing back to her.

Ivar was more than three times her size and she would be kidding herself if she believed she could outmaneuver him when he held the higher ground, that and she was too frightened to turn her back on him for even the briefest of moments to jump to her feet.

She was screwed.

Suddenly, she wished she hadn't left the relative safety of Jace's cabin, knowing now that it had been stupid to run away in a place that was foreign to her. She was always running into trouble, when would she ever learn?

Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched a cruel smile play on Ivar's large, looming face as he watched the fear cloud her soft, feminine features. She had traded one captor for another and something inside of her told her that Ivar was not the gentle type. He was all of her worst nightmares rolled into one.

She was so fucking screwed.

Ivar lowered himself onto his hunches, that sickening smile still stretching his features as he waited for Clary to realize she had no way of escaping when her back hit the sharp edges of the large tree's bark. She hissed as the edges dug into her skin, leaning forward to get away from them.

Either side of escape was occupied by massive tree roots sticking up out of the ground, blocking any exit save the one that had a large, scary Viking ready to pounce should she make a move.

Like the clueless, little mouse, Clary had allowed the predator to lure her into its trap, claws out and ready to devour her at a moment's notice.

"Gotcha," Ivar whispered menacingly before he pounced, catching a fistful of Clary's hair in his hand and lifting her to her feet so she barely touched the forest floor with her feet. Her eyes instantly watered as the pain shot through her system, her hands raking against his hand and arm, struggling to dislodge his painful grip from her hair.

"So," Ivar chuckled darkly as he watched Clary struggle in his grasp, "Kitty still has her claws."

A growl slipped from Clary's throat and she doubled her effort at attacking Ivar, swiping at his face as best as she could with her outstretched arms, but he was too quick for her and the pain of his grip was quickly causing her body to give up the fight.

Ivar picked her completely off the ground, allowing his free hand to wrap around her throat as he brought her closer to his person, bring his mouth next to her ear.

"The gods knew you were mine, kitty cat," he purred into her ear, his hot sticky breath making her want to vomit all over him, "and now I have you all to myself."

Every part of Clary's mind and body rebelled at the idea of being alone with Ivar, being his, and so she renewed her struggle, but Ivar just smiled as he placed just the right amount of pleasure around her throat and watched her through laughing eyes while she faded into the darkness.

"Good girl," Ivar cooed as the young girl's body when limp in his hold, "Just relax."

He took a minute to look over her, satisfied that she remained as she had been the first time she had seen him, beautiful, petite, with fire that burned like the sun. He brought her close enough to smell the scent of her hair, something he had memorized the brief moment she had been in his arms while he brought her back to the ships. She had been a force of nature, his kitten, taking him on, not once, but twice, and living to tell the tale, but now she was alone and vulnerable and his.

Ivar scanned the trees around them, searching for any intruders on their little struggle, knowing that he wasn't the only predator among the trees that hunted at night, but he senses told him that they had been alone and that it was safe to move alone.

Throwing his newly unconscious captive with relative ease over his shoulder, Ivar was thrilled at the convenience her smaller form allowed him to manhandle her. His tastes normally didn't encompass such a small package, but this one was special. Her size would certainly come in handy in their near future when his kitten was forced to learn that she was his and he, her master. He was blind to the warrior's spirit his young pet had within her, he knew that breaking her will and replacing hit with his own would require an enormous amount of patience and tender care.

However, Ivar wasn't above having a little fun with his human pets, allowing them to play their silly, little games as they tried to escape him, but he was always there, eager to drag them back home with them no matter how many times they fought to escape. He learned to love the game of catch and release, it was in his predator's blood to stalk his prey and catch them before they made it too far. Who was he to deny himself the pleasure of such a simple game as cat and mouse?

His first experience with a human as a pet had shown him the many pleasures of being a master, as well as the many heart aches that come with it.

Puppy, Ivar remembered fondly, he was such a good boy.

Puppy had been brought to their village to work as a slave for one of the many families that occupied their territory, forced into manual labor as soon as he got off the ship that brought him hear and beaten regularly for his assigned class in social hierarchy.

Ivar had found him one day, picking vegetables from a garden nearby one of his favorite hunting spots, the slave's bright, red hair catching his predator eyes in a fleeting moment. Ivar had spent the next several hours watching the young man, not any older than eighteen as he carried on in his work, unaware that a predator watched his every move.

When night came, Ivar crept into the quarters where the slave was kept and stole the boy, none of the other's making a sound as he absconded with his quarry for fear of his wrath should they make a sound. It wasn't uncommon for slaves to go missing in the middle of the night, used as human sacrifices or for sport, so slipping away was the easiest part. No one would come looking for the lost slave.

The boy was his.

Ivar never asked the boy's name, but quickly started calling him puppy, as he reminded him of the hound his father gave him when he was a small boy. Like the hound, Ivar watered and fed the boy, leashing him to a post in his small hut in the middle of the woods and taking care of him the best that he could.

At first, his puppy had been very naughty, freeing himself of his bonds regularly, forcing Ivar to participate in a game of chase many times before he built a special cage for his puppy. It was made with the skill of a hunter, large enough for medium sized animal to squeeze into and strong enough to keep a small bear from escaping.

His puppy spent a lot of time in his cage in the beginning, clawing at the cages like a wild animal, whining and crying to be let out, but Ivar would just sit there for hours and smile fondly at the little puppy, amused by his fits and tantrums. He would try to hush his puppy, but his puppy would cower away from him, saddening Ivar, but he knew that someday everything would be okay, that things would get easier.

Iva actually began to enjoy the routine taking care of someone else afforded him. He wasn't so lonely with his puppy for company, talking with him, telling him about his day even if his puppy didn't say anything back. That was okay, just knowing someone was there listening was enough for Ivar.

Soon, his puppy began to tire of the fight, accepting the food and water that had been brought to him, going as far as licking the plate clean when he was hungry enough. This made Ivar extremely happy.

He clapped for his puppy's surrender, telling him what a good boy he was and that good boys deserve special attention.

Ivar soon began letting Puppy out of his cage when he was home, careful to keep an eye on him as he became better acquainted with his new home, but his puppy still like to play his games and Ivar was forced to keep him on a tighter leash from then on, never letting his puppy out of his sight. But Ivar didn't mind, he liked spending time with his puppy.

After a while, all the fight in his puppy was gone, allowing Ivar the chance to become better acquainted with him. He no longer cowered away when Ivar reached out to touch him, petting him gently as he did his father's hound and then, as he grew to know his pup, he found the places that made his puppy howl out the moon like one of the wolves that stalked the night. He never fought him, never told him no, his puppy loved him and that made Ivar very happy.

On special occasions, Ivar brought puppy up onto his bed and spread him out along the animal skins he had collected over his years of hunting. He would kiss his puppy's neck, his chest, his abdomen, before taking him in his mouth completely, watching as he brought his puppy to a moaning climax among the covers. Then, Ivar would turn him over and slide his thickness inside him, bringing himself tumbling over the edge of his climax.

Once satiated, Ivar would pull his puppy to him against his chest and soothe his puppies whimpering, whispering words of comfort into his ear as he softly pecked warm kisses along the back of his neck and shoulders until it was time to return him back to his cage where he left him there for the rest of the night.

It really was the best couple of months of Ivar's life.

However, what the gods gave to Ivar, they could surely take away.

And they did.

One fateful day, Ivar returned from a long day of hunting to a horrifying scene in his home. His puppy was lying in a pool of his own blood with a self-inflicted knife wound to his chest. Puppy had somehow escaped from his cage, even after Ivar had made sure that the locks were secured, but Ivar knew that some things couldn't be explained, especially with gods who grew jealous easily if their followers found distractions. His puppy had certainly been a distraction for him and he paid for it with his life.

Ivar mourned for his lost puppy, his one true companion for days, for weeks until he finally made the decision to look for another, hoping to fill the void that his puppy had left. However, none of the ones he brought home with him lasted very long. He found himself impatient with the lot of them, crushing their windpipes with a single hand after he grew weary of them begging for their freedom. He tried to teach them, he really did, but he found that he couldn't care less whether they lived or died and so more often than not, it was by his hand that he snuffed out every single of them.

After five or six attempts at finding himself a new pet to love, Ivar began to feel that he would never again find his puppy and so when word spread that there was going to be another raid of the Christian territory of Northumbria, Ivar jumped at the chance for a distraction from his grief.

In the thick of battle, Ivar found himself in the thrill of feeling his enemies blood splatter across his face as he cut them down with his axe, but just when he thought he had mended himself again, he saw her.

Small, fierce, and red hair that burned like fire, reminding him of his puppy and he was hooked. He had found his next pet and the thought of finally being whole again was like a sweet drug flowing through his system.

He saw a brightness in her, something that reminded him of the fire that had been in his puppy at first, but this one was different. Her light was brighter, burned hotter and he wanted to get scorched by her flames.

She stood up to him, his kitten, brave in the face of imminent danger, eager to show him her courage and that made him see that she wouldn't give up as easily as his puppy had. Perhaps she would be the one to survive his unique form of love He hoped so. He couldn't bear the thought of losing something so precious again. That she would fight to survive, probably causing him quite the headache, but at least he wouldn't be alone ever again. She would be his, forever.

He felt the dangerous coil loop around his heart, poisoning it from the inside out and he smiled as he stood opposite her on the battlefield of her home. She caught the eye of the predator and she wasn't going to get away, not ever.

Ivar promised himself that this time would be different. He would be more patient with this one, his kitten, a burning desire to keep her with him always solidifying himself in his cruel mind.

He would double and triple check the locks on her cage, never giving her the opportunity, the hope of escape. He would die before he let her get away or for someone to take her from him.

She was his.

Ivar breathed in a lungful of air, picking the scents of the different trees out one by one, a calming mechanism he used when he felt himself spiraling out of control in his thoughts. He got what he wanted, the light bundle currently sleeping over his shoulder and no one to tell him to give her back.

He promised the gods a sacrifice worthy of their gift to him and set about picking up the discarded bow and arrows strewn on the earth around them. It wouldn't be very smart of him to leave behind any signs of their struggle. Weapons without someone to claim them in the middle of the forest would raise questions he didn't want people asking, so he bent down and scooped them up, all without waking the sleeping damsel dangling along his back.

Feeling as if the fates had finally seen things his way, his future looking brighter than before, Ivar picked a jaunty tune to whistle as he turned back towards the way he had come and disappeared into the brush one more.