Episode one: A Cold Whisper {Game of Thrones} (COMPLETED)

Harley

*Flashback*

Harley heard the crack of Oliver's leg before she heard his wail.
"Shit! Shit, shit! Shit!" came Erik's booming voice.
Oliver screamed.
She saw the bone sticking out of his leg, snapped like a twig.
"What the fuck! What do we do? Shit!"
Harley smacked Erik across the face, ecstatic that she finally had a reason to.
"If you don't shut the fuck up I'll snap your leg as well!" she spat.
"Wouldn't that be counterproductive..."
She pushed the lumbering beast aside.
"Oliver, hey - look at me," she said calmly, "that's it..." Harley exhaled a long slow breath, "this is gunna hurt..."

*Present day*

Harley felt for her dagger. It was tucked away where she usually kept it, in the waist band of her trousers. She felt comfort knowing it was there, if she ever needed it, and so being naked with Erik was definitely not the ideal situation, in Harley's opinion.

Farlan was not in their family tent. Neither was her mum. Harley was alone.

She heard the entrance to the tent open, and close. She shut her eyes and prayed to all the Gods that the person in her tent was anyone, but Erik.

"Harley." sounded a familiar voice.

She turned in an instant, opening her eyes to look upon him.

"Oliver!" Harley allowed herself to smile, "how're you doing?"

He was supporting his weight with crutches that they had made from bits of some branches in the woods that Oliver had gotten injured in.

"A lot better, thanks to you."

They smiled at one another.

Another whipped open the entrance to the tent, a large man with a grizzly ginger beard and hair.

"Tormund..." Harley started.
"Where's your daddy?" he grunted.
Harley's words were caught in her throat.

"I... why?"
"We need him." Tormund stated, giving Oliver a funny look.

Oliver was a skinny man, with messy hair like most of the freefolk. He had big teeth and a wide grin when he smiled, which was rare. Oliver was very prone to injuries. He had long, dark lashes and a thin brow. His cheek bones stuck out of his narrow face.

Harley suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of sadness. She decided to be honest, "I dunno where 'e is, Tormund." she looked to her feet to hide her expression.

Oliver turned to Tormund, slowly, due to his impractical crutches.
"If you don't mind... giving us some alone time...?" he said to the man twice his size, if not thrice.
Tormund looked from Oliver, to Harley, back to Oliver. He broke into a husky laugh, "I admire your ambition," he chortled, giving Oliver a slap on the back. He left the tent, continuing to laugh away to himself. When Harley looked to Oliver's face, it was red with embarrassment.
Not this again. Harley let out a sob.

"Are you okay?" Oliver shot, a worried look spreading across his face.
"You can't - fancy me, Oliver!" she exclaimed in a voice of desperation, "you just can't!"
Oliver's face softened, "look Harley, I know about Erik and... I'm willing to risk it, for you." he said softly.
She shook her head vigorously, "you don't understand -"
"I do understand! Harls you can't let him bully you like this, you're your own person, and a beautiful one at that." he smiled coyly and gazed at her.
Harley paused, "nobody understands." she whispered, "you don't know what he's done."

There was a few seconds silence.

Oliver tried to speak but Harley cut him off, "please just... get out." she whispered, her black eyes now swimming with tears.
"Harley -"
Another swish of the tent entrance. Harley's heart sank in an instant.