So...um...yeah. The only excuse I have for not writing is that I simply haven't been inspired to. I've tried all my usual tricks to try and write but none of helped. I'm still not sure if my slump has passed or if this is just a temporary reprieve, but honestly with how infrequently I've posted on this since I started it it's really not that much of a surprise anymore. Here's to hoping the wait in between chapters isn't quite as long next time and that I manage to write some for my other stories as well, as they've been sadly neglected for just as long if not longer.

Thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed, and special thanks to everyone who reviewed. I may not have time to answer, but I promise I read every single one. You're all the reason I push myself to keep trying to write even when it feels like pulling teeth :D Hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

Her eyes widened slightly and she felt Rollo's hand spasm against her side before his arms slipped more securely around her. Lifa felt her face heat up as he twisted slightly, partially hiding her behind his bulk. Ragnar raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"What do you mean?" she was almost startled by how steady her voice was.

"You need to teach her," he growled, striding further into the room before collapsing into a chair at the small dining table in the corner.

Lifa gently patted Rollo's arm, assuring him she was alright as she slipped away. This was good. A distraction. Something she could focus on that had nothing to do with her disgrace.

"You mean Temperance?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She bent and picked up Rollo's discarded coat from the night before, ignoring Ragnar's huff. "What exactly do you want me teaching her?"

"Everything," he actually sounded exasperated. Lifa turned to fully face him, wrapping the coat around her like a blanket before joining him at the table. "But start with our language."

Her lips twitched in amusement, "Right. That's for the best, really. But…" She paused, staring at the man very nearly pouting at her. The man expecting the woman he had stolen to make all the sacrifices for a people she knew nothing of, for the husband she did not choose. There was no doubt that Temperance would need to learn all she could of their people, but that hardly meant her own heritage, her own beliefs should be completely forgotten.

Ragnar groaned, rolling his head back to glare at the ceiling as if it held all the answers, "I know that look. That look always leads to trouble."

Lifa raised one eyebrow in question.

"Your brother shares that look."

Rollo snorted, moving to sit beside Lifa fully dressed. The blonde had to force herself not to look over at him, not wanting to be reminded of the past few hours. This was her distraction and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. Her resolve nearly shattered when he slid closer on the bench seat they shared, his arm dropping around her shoulders to settle her against his side. Ragnar's eyebrow's nearly met his hairline in his surprise but Lifa managed to keep him on task.

"I will help you on one condition."

He sighed in dismay, his eyes pleading for her to not say what he must have guessed would be her decision.

"It's unfair for you to expect so much of her and give nothing in return. I'll teach her, if you learn her language."

He gaped at her for a good five minutes wherein Rollo pressed some cold meat toward her, urging her to eat. When he had finally come back to himself, Ragnar scoffed, refusing outright. He didn't see the point of learning a language no one under his rule would ever know.

Lifa cradled the goblet of wine Rollo was sharing with her, studiously ignoring the butterflies battering against her ribcage in favor of staring seriously at the younger brother, "The point is to show her you don't think so little of her. She will trust you more if you show you are trying to get to know her rather than have some sort of control over her." He looked thoughtful, gaze unfixed on a point somewhere passed her head. "Not to mention if you plan on going back to England for the next raids."

He focused back on her, leaning forward to brace himself on his crossed arms as his blue eyes sharpened, "Explain."

"You would be able to communicate with the people there, Ragnar. You would understand when they spoke. As much as I'd hate to admit this, you are smart. You can use that to your advantage."

A smirk slowly stretched across his face as the possibilities formed in his mind. She smirked back, seeing an easy victory. A sharp nod was his reply as he pushed up to his feet, "You will start with her. Today." When Rollo made no move to release her from his side, Ragnar huffed, "Now, Lifa."

She rolled her eyes, "Alright. Leave so I can get dressed."

His lips curled up in a sly grin Floki must have taught him while she was away, "Like I haven't seen it before."

Before she could retort, threaten to cut off his most beloved limb, Rollo was out of his seat, fisting his brother's collar in a tight grasp and shoving the younger man into the wall. Ragnar's eyes widened in surprise and a hint of fear. Every line of Rollo's body was tense, fury rolling off him in waves. Lifa sat frozen in shock as she watched, wide-eyed. The elder brother spoke too quietly for her to hear, but Ragnar's eyes softened slightly as he spoke, gaze flickering between his brother and where Lifa still sat. With a miniscule nod, Ragnar jerked away and out the door.

Lifa was left to glance between the door and Rollo's back as he visibly calmed himself down, shoulders heaving in deep breaths. She hesitated, knuckles white from her tight grip on the wine goblet, unsure what to do. Over the years it had only been natural for Rollo and Ragnar to butt heads occasionally. She had grown used to it, but not once had she felt so caught in the middle of it, even when she had once or twice placed herself between them to hold off physical blows. She had no guidelines in mind for this moment, and it unsettled her further from what she had already been feeling all morning. So she took the easiest route.

Draining the last of the wine from her cub, she quietly stood and shuffled over to her discarded clothing. Normally she felt no shame commandeering some of Rollo's clothes for the morning after a night in his bed, but the sickening feeling of worry was twisting in her stomach again, telling her to get out quickly, not to touch anything that was his. He could hardly want her there any longer and she could not force her company on him, no matter how comforting he was unintentionally being.

She hadn't managed five steps before she found herself swept off her feet, the air whooshing out of her lungs in a gasp. Her hands flailed for a moment before finally settling on Rollo's shoulders. She gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look as he settled her back on the bed much more gently than was natural for him. He simply positioned her how he wished, her head hitting his pillow as he brushed the furs aside. She bit her lip nervously. Once more she felt unsure of herself, of her place here. Where was the malice, the disgust? Rollo was being much more calm and soothing than she had been prepared for. It was making her as nervous as a rabbit and she felt the need to run to the safety of the Longhouse and her new job waiting there. She turned on her side, watching as Rollo built up the fire in the hearth silently. She just didn't know what he expected of her. For that matter she didn't know what to expect of him anymore either. He wasn't doing what she had predicted in the slightest.

Lifa tensed as he disappeared behind her, scared of not knowing what he was doing but not brave enough to turn and see for herself. When he settled behind her on the bed, tugging the furs back over them, she sighed sadly and shook her head, "I must go."

"No," he rumbled quietly, his freshly bared chest vibrating against her back. "They can wait."

"For what?" she whispered, almost frightened of the answer.

Rollo, never one for the fine words his brother could wield like a sword, simply slid his hand under the fur, venturing farther until his palm met the scarred flesh of her stomach. Her muscles twitched at the unexpected contact but she stayed still, hoping he would explain his intentions if she simply waited him out. He pulled her back until she was pressed firmly against him and she felt exactly what his intentions were. She tried to shift away, startled, only for him to shush her quietly, his hand drifting lower. Her breath hitched as his calloused fingers buried themselves in her curls, gathering the wetness that had lingered there since the night before. He always had this effect on her no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. Though he hardly ever used it to his advantage, one of the reasons she had continually came back to him in the past. She whimpered lightly as his hips thrust forward lazily and he hushed her again, pressing a calming kiss to the side of her neck.

His breath was hot as he whispered into her skin, "Let me attend to you." He punctuated the request with another gentle thrust forward that had her whimpering for a whole new reason.

Her mind was a whirlwind, her desire battling against her left over fears. She knew what would win – what always won when it came to Rollo – but a large part of her was still too afraid. Afraid of this power he held over her, and what he could do with it. If she gave in, gave over completely to him, and he threw her aside like she still expected him to, she had no doubt it would kill her. It would cut up what was left of her sanity, of her soul, turn her to dust and allow the wind to blow her away. She would be nothing more than a miserable shell that didn't deserve to go on.

Biting back a sob, both from the pleasure his lingering touches were creating and the thought of the lack of a future she would have without him. She had already given far too much of herself to Rollo, any more and he could destroy her entirely. She wanted to push him away, to tell him she didn't want this, didn't want him, no matter how much it hurt to lie. But she made the mistake of twisting her head to make eye contact, her mouth half open to say those painful words. She hesitated at the look in his eyes. Rollo was not as heartless as he liked to pretend around others. Lifa knew this, had always known this, but something about the tender affection (she didn't dare call it anything more) shining down at her had her choking up. She gazed back up at him, trying not to succumb.

"Please," he sighed, breath ghosting across her face.

That one word had her crumbling. Rollo did not say please. He did not put himself at someone else's mercy for anything, did not beg. But for her, he had. He had set aside his pride in order to help her chase away the demons nipping at her heels, or at the very least hold them at bay. There was a determined fire in his voice and in his eyes. His hands cradled her against him like she was the most precious treasure he had ever received. How could she resist?