Thank you all for your kind words and patience. It means so much to me that you have stuck this long with the story. I'm utterly exhausted right now, but needed to get this out to you. I'm sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes; I'm relying too heavily on my computer to catch any of them right now.

BEWARE: There may be some triggering content in this chapter related to sexual assault, so please read with caution.

As always, happy reading! Leave a comment with your thoughts after you're done. It literally makes my day to read your comments/theories/worries. Love you all!

Jace squeezed his eyes shut.

Go to sleep, he begged, who cares that she's run off. Not your problem.

Jace waited for sleep to come, but his mind was still fully awake, a small voice growing louder that had him pounding his fist three times onto the wooden floor beneath him.

"For Odin's sake," he growled as he pushed himself up on his elbows, turning his head to glare at the door as if his red headed captive would come waltzing through the door any minute laughing in his face, but nothing happened.

He had heard everything; from the moment her breaths gave away her consciousness to the gentle click of the front door closing. Did she really think that he would let his guard down enough for her to actually escape him if he didn't want her to? A part of him had wanted her to disappear, her presence in his life, no matter how little, had already impacted him more than he cared to admit.

Good riddance, he thought, frowning at the door as if she were still on the other side.

However, his well-trained senses did not detect any movement on the other side of the door and something about that was unsettling. He knew the woods better than anyone, he had grown up in them and he knew that the night spirits were unkind to those who trespassed into the shadows unaware.

Jace growled as he lifted himself onto his feet, the fire at his feet long since been smothered out, the cool air swamping him. He muttered a string of obscenities, not sure if he was actually mad at his captive for attempting escape, after all, what kind of captive didn't yearn for freedom, or more at himself for allowing her to get so far?

The all-knowing sightless eyes of his father's drifted through his mind, his words beating into him as if to shame him for giving up so easily his task. Jace hated feeling guilty, especially when he had brought it on himself. His father had given him a charge and he had thrown a giant fit, drank himself silly, and let his own selfish emotions down a path that would only end horribly.

Making his decision, Jace walked towards the front door, finding his favorite hunting knife on the table before heading out into the still cool night. The moon was large and afforded him enough light for him to see as he took off towards the trees.

As he passed the fence lining his territory, he noticed that his bow and arrows were missing.

So she was a runaway and a thief?

Jace shook his head, not surprised that the little minx thought enough to take some weapons. Turns out that the girl was smarter than he gave her credit for, but she didn't know the land like he did and he knew she couldn't have gotten far.

Jace breathed in a steady breath into his lungs and put on a burst of energy as he crossed into the shadows, predatory instincts taking over as he started the hunt.

A terrible noise pulled Clary from the deep respite of her subconscious, making her eyes flutter open before she squinted them against the blazing whiteness of the full moon's gaze. She gasped against the pounding headache starting behind her eyes and naturally tried to raise her fists to put pressure there, but is startled to find she cannot move her hands.

She froze- every muscle locking up as a cold, wet feeling flows beneath her skin. Clary tried to calm herself, feeling her heart rate and breathing pattern increase as she finds she can't move her feet either. Something wasn't right, but even as she tried to remember how she got there, she couldn't, the headache just grew stronger.

A whimper fell from her lips as she looked down at her left hand tied against the hard, stone slab she was lying on. Her whole body ached as if she had been here a while, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins now is pushing away the pain and propelling her towards fight or flight.

The terrible noise was back and this time it had Clary's head swiveling to the right, yelping when the terrified body of a goat thrashes next to her. She pulled away from the goat out of instinct as the goat's head thrashes underneath its own bounds, the instincts of the animal telling it that it's in danger.

The terror of the goat propelled her own need to escape and doubles her effort into getting out from under her bonds, but the ropes are too thick. With every move that she made, she only ends up digging the rope further into her skin. She could already feel the warm slickness of her blood pooling at her wrists and ankles as she struggles against them.

She swallowed the pain, not allowing herself to give up, she can't, not now. But a sound on the other side of the goat has her whole-body stiffened to the point of almost breaking under the strain. She knew who it is without even looking over the goats still struggling form and an icy dread fills her like a lead weight inside her bones.

Her eyes found Ivar's already looking at her with his creepy smile, his own eyes traveling up and down her body. Clary could tell she is still fully clothed, but until now, she had never felt more naked in her life. Her body begged to curl in on itself, to hide her from his lecherous gaze, but the bonds held tight to her captive.

"I'm glad you're awake, Kitten," Ivar spoke, taking lazy steps towards the stone table, eyeing her struggling form as she pulled away from his advancement on instinct. "I have so many plans for us tonight."

Clary whimpered as she felt his meaty, left paw claw into her hair, hating the way his hot, sticky hand slithered through her hair and then down her neck, her chest, settling on the slight roundness of her stomach.

"Let me go," the unspoken please on the edge of her tongue, heavy between them. She shuddered when Ivar's response was to smile down at her as his hand began to rub small circles into her shaking abdomen, the length of her skirt shortening with each movement of his hand. She felt like crying out, vomiting, anything to rid her body of the sickness that was building in her chest and gut, but the tears refused to fall and her stomach had laid empty for hours.

"Hush now, my pet," Ivar murmured as he let his eyes rove over her trembling body, "I'll have you begging beneath me soon enough." His eyes flashed to her's own her gasp and he smiled. "That's right, kitty cat, tonight I make you mine."

Clary cried out as he bunched up the hem of her skirt in his hand, his fingers sliding across her bare skin. She felt the first dry heave leave her body as if her very soul was being ripped from her chest. His fingers were caressing her inner thigh as his tongue ran along his bottom lip. He gave her warm, pliant flesh a small squeeze and leaned down whispering, "You feel so warm, pussy cat. Purr for me."

"Please, please, please," Clary whimpered frantically as his fingers moved dangerously close to the apex of her thighs. She felt just the skating of his index finger against the last scrap of material that barred him from her virginity before a loud noise startled the both of them.

Clary froze, waiting for Ivar's next move and was startled when she felt his hand retreat from beneath her skirt.

She released a horrible sounding sob as he straightened up, his attention on his belt as he fiddled with something. Clary closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, panicking as her vision began to blur under the sudden onslaught of tears pouring down her cheeks.

A flash of light caught her eyes as she opened them back up when she felt Ivar looking back at her. She immediately recognized a knife in his hand and stilled, but she noticed that he wasn't looking at her, but the small animal that still lied next to her.

Clary looked back at Ivar as he raised his large arm far above his head, his eyes focused on the kill. Clary opened her mouth to shout, to scream, to do anything but nothing came. Not until-

"Oh, God!" Clary croaked, turning her head away just as Ivar brought his hand down, his forearm lying across her heaving chest from a moment, before yanking the knife back out. She felt small, warm droplets of the goat's blood flick across her face and she gagged, unable to throw up any contents as her stomach had been empty for hours. Still, the dry heaves came, wave after wave. She begged someone or something to put her out of her misery, to render her unconscious for what came next.

At first it was silent and then she felt the warm, wet tip of a knife against her cheek, pulling her head back towards the middle. She felt puffs of air washing over her face and refused to acknowledge the looming giant above her.

"Open your eyes for me, Kitten," he breathed over her, the knife caressing her cheek as if the touch came from a lover, "I want to look into your eyes as you beg me to let you come."

"NO!" Clary yelled upwards, turning her face against the knife and hissing at the pain, "Don't touch me!"

"I am the master here, pet!" Ivar yelled back, his free hand coming up to clasp her jaw, pulling her head back to hip, making a shot of pain raise down her neck. Her eyes opened at the pain and she wished they hadn't because now she couldn't look away. Ivar's face was twisted into a cruel smirk, his yellowing teeth stark against the pale moon for just a moment before his slippery tongue came out to slither against her freshly bleeding cheek.

Clary held her breath, all of her senses on high alert as she felt his hand leave her jaw and slither its way back to her naked leg. It didn't take him long to find the smooth, warm patch of skin on her inner thigh a place that made her squirm and sick with nausea.

"The gods have given me a feast tonight," her murmured as he brought his lips to her ear. "And I plan to eat my fill."

Clary struggled beneath him, her last-ditch effort to free herself, her primal instincts to give escape one last shot overwhelming any other fear in that moment, but Ivar just chuckled as he loomed above her and angled his head, his gross and cracked lips above hers. She saw him lick his lips and she knew it was over.

Clary closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate, begging anyone who would listen to take her to a faraway place. Anywhere but here…

"Let the girl go, Ivar."

Clary gasped, her eyes flying open as the strong, cool voice washed over her. She could honestly cry at this moment, but her body was suspended in a rare fit of immobilization. She couldn't do anything- couldn't blink, couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.

There was just one word, one name, like a mantra running through her mind.

Jace.

Ivar growled, his teeth coming together in a snap of frustration as he pulled himself off of her and stared at the intruder on the other side of the clearing. He stared at the prince, calculating his chances and thought favorable at the outcome once a sneer transformed his face.

"Come to watch the show, Your Highness?" Ivar asked, making a show of where one of his hands was currently rubbing up and down her trapped right leg. "Perhaps you would enjoy a round or two when I'm done?"

"Let. Her. GO." Jace repeated, a steeliness in his voice that had the hairs on Clary's arms standing straight up. "I will not ask again."

"You always did know how to ruin my fun," Ivar sneered, removing his hand all the way from out under her skirts, reaching for his belt. "No matter," he added, "I'm not the sharing type anyway."

Ivar leapt over the stone table, a feat that was miraculous for his size, but Jace had been ready and easily parried his body enough to miss Ivar's massive build from colliding into him.

Jace fell into a fighting stance, his legs spread shoulder length, and bent at the knee while his hands held large battle weapons, fit for a warrior.

Ivar fell into his own stance, his shoulders broadening out into their full length, his width large enough to block out the moon's beams for a spell if given the right angle, still, Jace faced him head on.

"You've brought no one," Ivar observed, not taking his eyes off of Jace, "You dare challenge me one on one?" He stills. "Your mistake."

Ivar lunged, swinging the large blade he had held against Clary's cheek, but Jace was quicker, moving to the side, forcing Ivar to turn his body. Jace had his back to Clary as he faced Ivar.

"The gods are on my side, young prince," Ivar boasted, the evil glint in his eye all he needed to see his clear victory in the upcoming battle. "But don't worry, I won't kill you quite yet."

Jace kept his eyes on his opponent, matching him step for step, but never allowing him to get between him and Clary again.

"No," Ivar mused as he smiled a crooked grin, "You'll hear her scream my name from bleeding, swollen lips and watch as I take her over and over again."

Jace snapped.

He sprung, catching Ivar off guard in the moment, but the giant was just able to block the blow of Jace's hunting knife that would have been buried into his chest, knocking the knife from his hands. Jace twisted his body around as he mourned the loss of his weapon, but then his instincts drove him to use his fists.

It took him half a second to squeeze his fist and aim quick solid hits to Ivar's lower back, sending waves of pain up Ivar's spine, sending him crashing to his knees. Jace didn't hesitate to put his full strength into his elbow as it crashed into the back of Ivar's head, sending the giant to the ground with a loud thump.

In the next second, Jace was at Clary's side using the small knife anchored to his leg to try cutting her free of the ropes at her hands and feet.

"Jace," Clary breathed, looking at him as if he were a figment of her imagination, "but how-"

"Not now," he cut her off, focusing on cutting at the bonds at her wrist, "later."

"Right, sor—" Clary blanched. "Jace, look out!"

But she was too late. Ivar had appeared behind Jace and grabbed him by the throat from behind, wrenching him away from her in an instant, the knife he had been using on her right wrist dangling dangerously close to the edge.

Clary quickly looked to Jace, who was struggling under Ivar's arm and quickly pulled her hand free of the first rope. Relief poured through her as she snatched the knife before it had time to fall over the edge. She quickly turned to the other ropes keeping her bond and started working tirelessly at them. She didn't have a plan as to what she could do in this situation, but all that ran through her head was escape, escape, escape.

Her left wrist sprung free. And then one foot and then the other.

Run. Run. Run! Pounded like a drum in her head, the sound of skin hitting skin had her body swiveling to face the fight between the giant and her would-be-savior. Clary felt the dry heaves threatening to make a comeback as Ivar landed another blow across Jace's cheek, blood flying from his open mouth.

She gasped when Ivar's other hand came up and hit Jace under the chin, sending him sprawling to the ground. As if hearing the slight gasp, Jace turned his eyes on her and yelled something, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear anything. She just froze, watching as Ivar grab a fistful of Jace's long, blonde hair, pulling him up until he was at eye level with him.

It was odd, a bit startling to see the warriors battling it out before her. Ivar was larger than life, stronger than an ox as he held onto Jace with just one hand as he struggled to keep his feet on the ground. But Jace wasn't completely defenseless, he had the instincts of a true fighter and that made him more of an even match for Ivar. Still, seeing them now reminded Clary of a story she had heard many years ago. It spoke of a single man standing before a giant with nothing but a sling and a stone in his hand.

"Clary."

Clary blinked, bringing herself back to the presence at the sound of her name on Jace's lips, startling her enough to have her eyes laser focused on him, every muscle primed to spring in any direction.

"RUN!"

Her legs spring into action before the word completely falls from his lips and all Clary sees is the lining of the trees. She feels absolutely out of control of her own body as she thunders over the grass beneath her, her arms swinging down when something catches her attention in her periphery.

It isn't until she feels the familiar weight at the center of her back, that her brain registers that she swept up her bow and arrows on her way out of the clearing and she feels a wave relief crash over her again, threatening to trip her over her own feet. She felt her heart pounding beneath her chest, her vision blurring as the adrenaline took over her entire system.

And then a scream.

Clary skids to a stop, her chest heaving under the amount for oxygen her body demands of her this instant. She turns towards the way she was heading, wanting to put more distance between her and the nightmare behind her, but then she hears the echo of that scream in her head and she turns towards it, her mouth dry as sawdust.

Another scream, this one not in her head, bleeds onto her ears and her feet take out from underneath her, only she isn't heading further into the woods, she's heading right back into the nightmare.

Clary knows she hadn't been running for that long when she unwillingly decided to turn back around, but she feels as if it is taking her double the amount of time to make her way back into the clearing. She breaks through the lining of the tree and skids to a halt for the second time.

Her eyes immediately fall to Jace who is lying unconscious on the ground, a smiling Ivar above him as he looms over his idle body. Clary's eyes widen as she sees the massive rock high above Ivar's head and she sees the events unfold right in front of her.

For the second time that night, Clary feels her body move without thought. She feels the familiar tug of her muscles as she pulls an arrow through her bow and takes aim.

Breath in.

Breath out.

And the arrow let loose.