Happy Holidays Everyone! Hope you all had a great whatever-you-celebrate and have a great new year!

Thanks so much for all the love of the last chapter, I'm glad you all liked it! This chapter took a more serious turn than I originally planned, but it's still pretty awesome in my opinion.

The flagon was lost somewhere along the way, smashed on the ground from where it had slipped from her fingers. The chill in the air barely pierced the haze of heat that had settled on her body the moment Rollo had shoved her against the wall of a random home and pressed his body against hers. The simple fact that all men towered over her minuscule height had always irked her. Now, however, as Rollo caged her between his arms and ducked her head to press hot open-mouth kisses to the side of her neck, she could hardly complain. In fact, she was a second away from thanking the Gods for gifting her with her small frame when the man surrounding her in heat swooped down and lifted her easily. She stifled a gasp as her skirt was bunched up to her waist and Rollo's body pressed between her legs, keeping her pinned against the wall.

Her breath escaped her slowly, fogging in the night air as his hands grasped her now bare thighs in an iron grip and urged her to lock her legs around his waist. The position settled her in exactly the place they both craved and his hips jerked forward in response. She gasped again, fingers twisting in the fur lining the coat he still wore. She pushed at it, hoping to make it fall off, only for him to growl low in his throat and pull away so that she was forced to cling on or fall to the ground. She tightened her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck before tilting her head back to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Not here," he growled in response, already walking down the street once more, his hands firmly planted on her ass.

"You started it," she teased as she leaned forward to nip at the thin layer of skin over his pulse point. His fingers twitched under her skirt and she grinned into his skin, feeling triumphant.

"You'll pay for that."

She could only laugh in response. This was nice. Safe. Familiar. She had Rollo had spent nights together before. Many, though they were hardly frequent. The easy banter as he held her close made something settle in her chest, a fear she had carried with her since England vanishing as though it had never existed. She had no doubt that it would return with the first light of day, the night being the blanket she had once hid under as a child, sure that monsters couldn't harm her there. But Rollo would always be there, and even if he returned to his more stoic, distant nature as he was want to do come morning, he would still be there and that was comfort enough.

The inside of Rollo's home was hardly warmer than outside, the hearth empty of any fire and Lifa remembered they had planned on staying at the Longhouse for the entirety of the night. Though the newlyweds tended to retire rather early in comparison, the marriage of the Earl meant the entire village would celebrating all long night long. Though Lifa could hardly feel left out. Her own plans for the night seemed much more pleasurable than watching her brother stumble about making a fool out of himself until he passed out drunk.

Rollo was hardly gentle as he dropped her unceremoniously onto his bed. She slid back against the furs with a huff, but before she could even shiver at the cold air hitting her exposed skin, the man was hovering over, trapping her once more between his arms. He rested on his elbows, allowing his weight to cover her without crushing. He nipped and sucked at the skin on her neck, creating a mark she was sure would last at least a week until she was whimpering beneath him. She tugged uselessly at his coat, wanting there to be less layers between them, but he ignored her. Instead, he continued to leave a trail of bruise-like marks on her skin while slowly peeling her dress away.

Her skin prickled with rising goosebumps as he sat back, tossing her clothing away. When he didn't immediately cover her again, she blinked through her pleasure haze to find him kneeling between her legs, staring down at her with a blank expression. She frowned. While the expression itself was not new, the situation was. Never before had he hesitated in taking her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, shivering slightly in the chilly air, and studied her lover. He was staring down at something around her midsection. She froze in realization, glancing down only to confirm her fears. How had she forgotten about that? How could she have allowed herself to let anyone see, let alone Rollo?

Lifa scrambled to get away from the man, to find some sort of covering. Her dress lay a few feet away in a heap on the ground. She made to get off the bed, only for an arm to band around her waist and yank her back. She fell onto her back a second before a man was hovering over her. The memories brought harshly to the forefront of her mind by the scars still clearly visible on her abdomen made her lash out unthinkingly. Panic made a lump form in her throat, made breathing difficult as she thrashed, her hands hitting ineffectually against the wall of muscle above her until her wrist were caught in a strong hold and lifted to be pinned above her head. She struggled harder, twisting her body in a desperate attempt to get away. Dimly she was aware that the man holding her down meant her no harm, that he was one person she trusted more than anyone else in the world, that his voice held a small hint of panic as he ordered her to calm down. Her name was repeated several times with no effect to her rising panic.

Finally, he seemed to realize that whatever was happening was out of his control. With a quiet growl that had her whimpering in fear, he twisted around, pulling her with him until she he was seated in the middle of his bed with her draped across his lap. Her breath was still short, the lack of air making her light-headed enough that she could no longer struggle, though she continued to tug uselessly at the hold on her wrists. He switched his hands so he held her arms still with one large hand while the other pushed the coat off his shoulders and swung it around her flushed body. She was wrapped gently in the warm furs and cradled to a wide chest, no longer pinned, simply held. One warm palm brushed soothingly through her hair as Rollo leaned back against the wall, getting as comfortable as possible while he waited for her to relax.

Lifa was unsure how long they sat like that before she sagged in his arms, full awareness coming to her accompanied by embarrassment. She never wanted Rollo to see her like that, never wanted him to see her at her lowest. She had wanted him to continue to believe she was strong, whole. She may have planned on telling him about all of this since the ship, but that was under better circumstances, under her own terms. He would want nothing to do with her now, the weak little girl who couldn't even protect herself from attack. She was a disgrace to her people.

She hadn't realized she'd been crying – or for how long for that matter – until she reached up to push hair out of her face and felt how wet her cheeks had become. She sniffled pathetically and pushed away from Rollo. Surely he wouldn't want to be around her any longer. However, his arms tightened around her waist, keeping her close.

"Have you come back to yourself now?" his words were harsh but his touch gentle as he helped her wipe away the evidence of tears.

She looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes, and nodded.

"Good," he grunted, settling down further on the bed until they were both half laying down, her head tucked against the side of his neck. "Then perhaps you could explain what exactly just happened."

She bit her lip, sinking further into his embrace. If he hadn't tossed her aside yet, it was simply because he didn't understand. Once she told him, she knew she'd have to leave, return to her home, pack her bags and walk away once more. She wouldn't be able to ever face him again. And if someone else found out…

"Lifa," his voice was softer than normal, almost like he was coaxing a scared animal. "You've never had trouble speaking to me before."

She had to swallow several times before her voice worked, and even then it was almost too quiet to hear, "Much has changed."

His hand sneaked under the coat still wrapped around her and settled on her stomach where she could feel his skin catching on the not-yet-healed scars, "I saw." He paused, perhaps thinking she'd elaborate without prompting, "What does it say?"

Tears welled in her eyes again, glad that he at least wouldn't be able to read the English words, and she shook her head. She just couldn't say it aloud. It made it far too real.

"Lifa," he said her name, almost a plea.

It was struggle, but she couldn't refuse him. Never could when he used that voice on her. He only spoke like that to her, and only at his most vulnerable moments when they were alone, away from the rest of the world. It was impossible for her to resist the instinct to give him what he wanted, needed, in that moment. And yet, she could speak, couldn't say the words. Instead she told him one sentence, clearly not the whole story and she knew it wouldn't be enough, but it was the most she could say in that moment.

"English men do not like to be denied what they believe to be their right."