Shipwrecks Angst-a-thon fic
Title: Play Until The Sky Is Black
Pairing: Jarl/Val
Prompts: carrion birds, accident
Rating: At least Teen for sexual content, canonical character death and goreyness towards the end.
Summary: They never talked about anything important.
When he comes home disgruntled, she knows why. Styr thinks he's much too young for command and cares not to hide that from him. Although she's loath to admit it, Val's of a mind he's right. Jarl is ambitious, and prickly to boot. She wouldn't have spirited him away from his own folk otherwise.
“Where were you?” She asks, stirring the contents of the pot.
“With the Crow.” He replies in the exact same tone he had once flung “Thief,” at her and Val had laughed then, tweaked his nose and said if he'd seen her first, it could have been a different story.
“Your loyalty may be called into question, then.”
That amuses him, at least a little. He reaches for her, snaring her delicate waist, caressing her belly where Dalla's has swollen. Maybe he means something by it, but she doesn't believe he has the capacity to love anyone else besides her. It still hurts with him sometimes, just the way she likes, and surely a child should be born of a more selfless act than his hands sneaking down into cotton and heat.
Val disentangles herself in a way of which her sister would be proud, and pushes him into their chair, straddling his lap. His cock is already pressing into her but she grips his wrists, keeping them underneath, and whispers,
“Finish what you've started, Jarl.”
He is stubborn at such encouragement so she helps him with it, guides his fingers to the right place and grinds until she's satisfied. She soon tastes all the salt that caused, working her tongue around old bites on his thighs, touching as much of him as she can, because she has a bad feeling about tomorrow. His shadow seems to take flight as he rises in search of supper, and she shakes her head, wraps her arms around his narrow back hard enough to bruise, holding him close.
In the morning she tries to persuade him to stay, to make Styr realise how valuable he is, in that they can't start without him. He bluntly tells her to pick another subject, seeing as he’s been raiding eight years, he doesn’t need the Thenn's respect when he has Mance's, had Alfyn's, besides I can take care of myself.
They find him in the pine trees, miraculously intact compared to some of the broken bodies below, but speared through the middle by a wickedly sharp branch. There's talk about Jarl afterwards, about how recklessly he led those men, and how it is a terrible thing, to fall to your death. As for Val, she accepts that he met death up there on the ice, climbing with a knife between his teeth. He always climbed too fast.
Pairing: Jarl/Val
Prompts: carrion birds, accident
Rating: At least Teen for sexual content, canonical character death and goreyness towards the end.
Summary: They never talked about anything important.
When he comes home disgruntled, she knows why. Styr thinks he's much too young for command and cares not to hide that from him. Although she's loath to admit it, Val's of a mind he's right. Jarl is ambitious, and prickly to boot. She wouldn't have spirited him away from his own folk otherwise.
“Where were you?” She asks, stirring the contents of the pot.
“With the Crow.” He replies in the exact same tone he had once flung “Thief,” at her and Val had laughed then, tweaked his nose and said if he'd seen her first, it could have been a different story.
“Your loyalty may be called into question, then.”
That amuses him, at least a little. He reaches for her, snaring her delicate waist, caressing her belly where Dalla's has swollen. Maybe he means something by it, but she doesn't believe he has the capacity to love anyone else besides her. It still hurts with him sometimes, just the way she likes, and surely a child should be born of a more selfless act than his hands sneaking down into cotton and heat.
Val disentangles herself in a way of which her sister would be proud, and pushes him into their chair, straddling his lap. His cock is already pressing into her but she grips his wrists, keeping them underneath, and whispers,
“Finish what you've started, Jarl.”
He is stubborn at such encouragement so she helps him with it, guides his fingers to the right place and grinds until she's satisfied. She soon tastes all the salt that caused, working her tongue around old bites on his thighs, touching as much of him as she can, because she has a bad feeling about tomorrow. His shadow seems to take flight as he rises in search of supper, and she shakes her head, wraps her arms around his narrow back hard enough to bruise, holding him close.
In the morning she tries to persuade him to stay, to make Styr realise how valuable he is, in that they can't start without him. He bluntly tells her to pick another subject, seeing as he’s been raiding eight years, he doesn’t need the Thenn's respect when he has Mance's, had Alfyn's, besides I can take care of myself.
They find him in the pine trees, miraculously intact compared to some of the broken bodies below, but speared through the middle by a wickedly sharp branch. There's talk about Jarl afterwards, about how recklessly he led those men, and how it is a terrible thing, to fall to your death. As for Val, she accepts that he met death up there on the ice, climbing with a knife between his teeth. He always climbed too fast.