Alto Wine

"Well, what did she say?"

Nura's gray eyes landed on the Nord's amused face. He knew that she had done it. She nodded and saw him smile.

"The fact that Faendal is not an option anymore does not mean that you can stop wooing her," she said. "If you truly care about that woman, that is."

Sven raised his eyebrows. For a moment he stared at her. This woman barely knew him, and yet, she had managed to see through him. "Fair enough," he conceded, and he reached for his coin purse. "There you go. As agreed, 25 Septims."

Nura took the money in silence and put it in her purse. She started walking away but not before long, she heard footsteps behind her.

"You dropped this," he said, giving her the map that she had acquired from Hadvar's uncle. Before she could hold it, though, Sven took a look at a location that had been recently marked. "Bleak Falls Barrow? That's not a place for a lady to go on her own. It's a tomb. Who knows what you'll find in there?"

"In case you have not noticed, I am not a 'lady', Nord," she snapped. "And I am sure that I will find corpses. As for those who took what I am looking for…" She held the mace in her hand confidently.

Sven took a good look at her. A Redguard through and through, with dark caramel skin and black braided hair. Someone had given her a worn-out armor, which would barely protect her from the cold peaks. Her arms and legs bore a few scars, minimal compared to the three marks that crossed her left cheek. No man or animal he had ever heard of could have made those marks. There was a story behind those scars, he knew it, and he was curious about it.

"I'll show you the way," he offered.

"There is no need," she replied.

"I won't go all the way with you, woman," he said. "But the path Lucan marked on your map became too dangerous after a minor avalanche last Sun's Height." He could see that she was not convinced. He sighed. "I won't attack you or steal from you, I promise. I won't romance you either," he joked. "As you very well pointed out, Camilla's the object of my affection."

Nura's eyes stared into the Nord's icy blue eyes. That amused look was still there. "Very well. Show me the way."

They walked quietly, after Sven's initial attempts of conversation failed miserably when they encountered the wall of silence that she had quickly built up between them. Every now and then he looked at her and the same furrowed brow greeted him.

"Here we are," he announced happily. "It'll probably take you less than an hour to get there."

She looked at the path that he had led her to. Steep, but solid. She turned to him and said, "Thank you." She did not wait for a reply, and started walking up the trail, leaving him behind.

She had been trekking for a while when she heard some growling coming from the right. A huge wolf had come out of his lair and was now baring his teeth at her. She calculated the distance between them. The wolf ran towards her and she held her position until he was close enough. Her mace came down on the animal's skull, smashing it from above, as its jaw hit the rocks under it. She was letting out a sigh when she heard a snarl coming from behind. She turned around just in time to see the figure of a male wolf jumping over her, briefly blocking the sunlight.

Its agonizing body fell on top of her. An arrow, stuck on its belly. Before she could kill it off, however, another arrow went through its neck, and another pierced through its ribs. Nura looked around and she saw Sven, his Nord hair shining in the sunlight.

"It's a good thing I decided to follow you, isn't it?" he said, flashing a smile.

"That was a good shot," she muttered. "Are you an archer?"

"Not a particularly good one, no." He scratched his head. "But apparently my fingers are good around all sorts of strings, either from a lute or a bow."

Nura swallowed and looked at the bard. He was still smiling stupidly. She rolled her eyes. "Very well," she said. "You may come with me."

He saw her beat the draugr almost effortlessly. She was grateful when he aided her with the numerous traps. Together, they figured out the entrance to the last chamber. His arrows went through the undead that had arisen from the last sarcophagus they had found before they encountered the Wall.

"I've heard of this," Sven said in a trembling voice. "Those carvings… They are old Words. They don't speak to just anyone."

Nura stared at him and laughed. "Are you afraid, Nord?"

He frowned. "It's no laughing matter, Redguard. That's Dragonish over there. You'd do well keeping away from that."

But Nura was already getting close to the Wall. Something compelled her, and even though she knew better than ignoring the words of a bard, something in that wall drew her towards it.

The blast of the word hit her square on the chest and she found herself pushed back. A body blocked her, impeding her fall.

"Damn you, woman!" he shouted as he released her. "I told you to stay away from that! Are you hurt? Let me look at you."

Nura shook her head as his fingers moved over her face and down her neck. His hands made their way down her arms, her hips, and her legs. She looked at his face. There was no indication of lust or interest from his side. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about her. She blinked, confused.

"Thank you for retrieving it for us," Lucan said to her as he shook her hand. "You truly are a friend of ours."

"It was no problem," Nura replied. "I should be on my way now. I must reach Whiterun before the night falls."

"I trust you're staying over for some wine, Sven?" Camilla gazed at the Nord.

"I thank you, dear lady," he smiled at her charmingly, "but I'm afraid I must accompany our mutual friend to Whiterun. We wouldn't want her to find any trouble on the way there, would we?"

Nura opened her mouth to protest, but Sven's hands pushed her out of the general goods shop before she could say anything, and closed the door behind them.

"What was that about?" she said, once they had walked away from the establishment.

"I told you I was intrigued by that Dragonstone. I'm sure the Jarl's wizard will be able to tell us what it is." He strode towards the bridge eagerly, but she remained standing there. He turned around and flashed another smile. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get to Whiterun!"

As it turned out, many days went by before the Jarl granted them an audience.

"It's as if he didn't care," Sven grumbled as he cut a rabbit's leg and offered it to Nura. They were sitting by the fire to the west of Whiterun. They had killed the bandits who had owned the camp. "A dragon, and he doesn't care. Why do we have to prove our worth to gain an audience with the man?"

"You are taking this personally," Nura said, her mouth full. "I still do not know why you have not returned to Riverwood. It is not your duty."

Sven scoffed. "You would starve if I wasn't here, woman. Or you'd eat wolf only, since that mace can smash the bunny rabbits into a pulp, and that wouldn't be edible."

Nura looked at his grumpy face and smiled. Before he could see her, however, she hid her face behind her meal and took another bite.

Sven rushed down the tower. He couldn't believe his eyes.

Nura was standing before the dead dragon, ancient blood dripping from her mace. She only had time to take a few steps back from the dead beast when a light swirled around her. She looked as if she had not noticed what had happened.

"Nura!" His hands held her from the shoulders. "Are you all right?" He was barely aware of the voices around her. They were whispering what he had suspected.

Dragonborn.

Nura felt his fingers under her chin. She looked up and found his worried eyes over her face.

Sven.

Camilla's man.

"I am fine," she said, detaching herself from his grasp. He lowered his arms and gave her a strange look.

"You don't have to do it, you know," he said. "You've got enough coin already. There's no need to take on this foolish quest."

"Amren is one of my people," Nura sighed. "Mana'huadra lette had'hua. 'In unity lies our strength'."

"Ajsen dabyhua'lahum, illeyian nes'tess. 'When you do good to people, you enslave their hearts'." He saw her watch him, her eyes wide open in surprise to see the words of her people coming from the Nord's mouth. "Let him retrieve the sword on his own. The whole area is dangerous to just roam around, and the path he has marked is a treacherous one."

"This is a Redguard you are talking about," she snapped at him. "You want to watch your mouth when you talk about my people."

"It's not about-! By the Nine – why are you so stubborn, woman!" Sven grunted.

"You do not need to accompany me anymore," Nura said. "You already have what you wanted from this journey. You have remained here far longer than you had said you would. Return to Riverwood and continue with your life."

He stared at her. She held his stare. They heard the murmuring of people around them -stall vendors, children, grunting guards- but they did not care. They could have been alone in the world. They were only aware of each other's presence.

"If you want me gone, then I'll leave," he said after a long time. "But not until you return with that damned sword."

Nura bashed the bandit's face with her shield and pushed him off the bridge. She charged ahead, knowing that Sven guarded her back, and in that inconvenient moment, the truth hit her – she had grown accustomed to his presence. She had taken him for granted, and he would be gone once they returned to Whiterun. What was she thinking? He could still stay, if she asked him to.

She swung the mace about and across the last guard's face, sending his dead body flying against the wall. Sven would surely marry Camilla when he returned to Riverwood. She was tired and upset. She opened the door and walked down the steps of the second tower when an arrow zoomed by, scraping her right arm. She screamed and rushed towards the archer that was attacking her, but before she could get to the woman, three arrows in succession shot her enemy down.

Nura shivered – not from the cold, but because of his presence there. She had gotten used to him, and she would see him leave soon; she would see him return to Camilla.

"Let me see that," he murmured as his fingers wrapped around her arm. He sighed. "It's too dark out here, and those clouds announce rain soon. Let's go inside, so that I can take a look at this near a fire."

"I am fine," she protested, once again detaching from him. Even in that poor light she could see his eyes, giving her that strange look he had given her the night that she had become the Dragonborn. She turned to the corpse of the last bandit that he had killed for her, hoping to find something of value there. She heard him walk away and let out a long sigh. The rumble of thunder and the sudden rain took her by surprise, and by the time she got to the tower, she was drenched.

"Here," he said, throwing a bundle at her from the floor above. "Change your clothes while I make something to eat."

She looked at the clothes that he had given her. A common dress. It was certainly not pretty, but it would keep her warm. She undressed quickly and slipped into the garment. As she climbed the steps, she felt her heart thumping a little louder. He was not there. She kept climbing the steps and found him on the second floor, in front of the fire. Her eyes immediately focused on the bed at the back of the room. She tried to look away as soon as possible.

"I've added some potatoes, but most of the dinner was ready."

"Eating the food of the dead?" She arched an eyebrow.

He looked at her, a half smile on his lips. "Scared?" He saw her shook her head. "I thought so. Pour the wine. I know you don't usually drink, but we should keep warm tonight."

She went back down. "There is only a bottle of Alto," she shouted back. "Three of them, in fact."

"The Alto will do," he said when he came down, bringing two bowls of warm stew with him. "What do you Redguards drink?"

"Warm spiced mead," she said simply. "Or ihlammur tea."

"I've never had that," Sven said. "You never talk about your land."

"I have not been in Hammerfell for a long time now," she said, as she took the tankard of Alto wine from his hand. "I came to Skyrim looking for someone." Her lips pressed against the rim of the tankard and she took a swig. The smooth aftertaste of the drink surprised her, and a short time later, she found herself asking for more.

Sven knew that he could press her for more information, but for the first time, he thought that his curiosity could wait. Perhaps the following morning, when they traveled back to Whiterun together for the last time. After the first bottle had run out, she stood up and went to the shelves near the alchemy table. She returned with a few books.

"I'm surprised these bandits could read," she said.

"I suppose they must have stolen them from the guards that used to keep this place. Oh, I know an alternative ending for this story," he chuckled as he took one of the books.

"Tell me about it," she said, resting her arms on the table.

Sven raised his eyebrows. She was looking at him expectantly. He had never seen her so animated. He wished he had not left his lute back at Breezehome. His voice was warm and gentle as he told her the story of the Lady Barenziah. As the tale progressed, she kept pouring wine for both of them. Sven drank occasionally, when she interrupted him with questions, but he saw her drink several times, and by the time the story finished, she looked more vulnerable than ever.

"I think you've had too much wine, my lady," he said softly.

"I'm not a lady, Sven," she muttered. "And the wine didn't get to me that much."

He laughed. "Let's not argue. You take the bed upstairs and I'll sleep on this bedroll down here. Do you need help climbing the steps?"

She shook her head in silence and lifted the dress a little so as not to trip on the steps. Through the corner of the eye, she saw him take off his armor and slip into the bedroll.

The bed felt cold. She got up and searched in one of the chests for an extra blanket. Amren's family heirloom was there. A simple iron sword. She snorted. Such a silly thing, an everyday object – surely the kind of thing that would normally be taken for granted…

She went back to bed, wondering if Sven would be cold as well. After all, he had taken off his clothes before getting under the covers. The memory of his broad back came back to her, making her feel warm inside. But no, he was Camilla's… And yet… It had to be the wine they had drunk. That damned Alto. She closed her eyes and found herself thinking of his blue eyes and the looks he gave her. She rubbed her thumbs against her fingertips, remembering his blond hair.

Silly Nord. He was probably cold down there, and he was too proud to come up and ask for a blanket.

She climbed down the steps quietly. In the darkness of the place, she saw him sit up.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. His voice was low and warm.

"No problem," she replied. "I thought you might be cold."

"I'm fine," he said. "You?"

"I'm fine," she replied. She swallowed hard as she left the blanket on his bedroll and knelt beside him. "I think I had too much wine," she murmured.

"Me too," he said, his face veiled in the darkness.

"Liar," she replied and leaned forwards, pressing her mouth against his. When his fingers held her chin, her body quivered.

His lips parted and pressed against hers tenderly, alternating between long and short kisses. His hands caressed her face and slid down over the sides of her neck.

"If this is just the wine…" he started saying.

"Does it matter?" she asked quietly.

She could swear she had seen a glint in his blue eyes as his fingers untied the laces of her dress. His tongue drew a trail from the curve of her neck to her earlobe and she felt weak in his arms; she pulled his body close against hers. He covered them both with the blanket she had brought for him and was surprised when she kissed down his chest. He tilted her head up and kissed her softly, his teeth pulling on her lower lip teasingly, before stroking it lightly with the tip of his tongue.

Sven heard her moan softly and murmur his name before she parted her lips and met his tongue with hers. Her hands ran over his arms, looking for his touch. He gently scratched down her back, pushing just hard enough for her to feel his fingernails. Nura squirmed against him and slid her fingertips through his hair. She pulled his head to the side and nibbled on his neck as she felt his hand sliding to the inside of her leg, slowly stroking her inner thigh.

Their mouths pressed together, they let their hands run freely over their bodies. Sven ran the back of his fingers teasingly across her belly, moving slowly upwards, barely touching her breasts. Nura bit his neck, making him shiver. She smiled. With a swift movement, she sat astride him, pinning him down.

The room was bathed in moonlight now, and she could see him now. There it was – the intense stare he had given her a few times; the look that made her lose her mind. Sven slid his hands down her sides, pulling her hips against his own, sliding slowly beneath her. She moaned and squirmed, joining him in the rhythm. Stopping the motion of his own hips to replace it with his hand's movement, he slid a finger between her lips and began to rub the little nub hidden between them. Nura opened her eyes in surprise and gasped. She raked her fingernails down his chest and he bit his lower lip in pleasure, but continued moving his hand – still just rubbing and spreading, brushing up between the lips.

Nura moved her hips slowly against his hand – there was no shame in her actions. She would never know if it had been the Alto that had made her act like that, but she suspected that the wine was just an excuse. She did not have time to think, for Sven spread her lips with his fingertips and lifted his hips, the tip of his penis guided by the backs of his fingers to be pressed just short of entering her, pushing but not quite hard enough to slide in. Nura moved her hips firmly against him, encouraging him to enter her, and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. Sven began to rock his hips against hers, not parting from the kiss. She moaned loudly against his mouth, kissing him repeatedly. He met her kisses with his own, moving his hips more forcefully. She arched her back and moved her hips up and down, raking her fingernails along his side. He thrust harder into her at the feel of her actions, pulling her hips almost desperately against his.

Nura let out a whimper of pleasure and moved faster against him, finding it difficult to hold it any longer. He felt her tightening around him and thrust into her a final time, a trembling moan escaping him as he spilled his warm seed into her. She gasped and kissed his lips softly. Sven pulled her off his hips and held her close to him, feeling her heart beating fast, just like his.

He covered her with the blanket and gently ran his hands up and down her back, and smiled when she cupped his face in her hands. He kissed the scars on her cheek and remembered that she had never told him the story behind them, but he did not mind. They would have all the time in the world to talk about that.

"Stay with me," she whispered sleepily, cuddling against him.

In the darkness, he smiled and kissed her forehead. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you now."

...