Notes: This is a reply story to Djali is Queen's "A Night's Keep," also found on this site. I've started at chapter 2 because her story is chapter 1. If you don't read her story it might not make a whole lot of sense. Read it, though. If you're a fan of Aveyond (and Lars) as I am, you'll like it. I liked it so much I wanted to finish it! I had to add Elini in, though.

Warnings: some romantic suggestive situations - nothing really explicit but probably not suitable for young children.

Lars is a little OOC at one point. I make him cry LOL!

I am a ridiculously hopeless romantic and it shows. If you are not a fan of mush, you might want to go elsewhere X3

Chapter 2: Dawning Revelations

Lars may have been able to control himself – if just barely – while conscious, but in sleep he had no knowledge of anything except his dreams. Unaware of his actions, the sleeping boy turned his body toward Rhen and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. Thankfully Rhen was still exhausted from training in the bitter cold all afternoon and did not wake until just before dawn.

Lars was still holding her when she awoke, his face softly touching her hair while his heavy breathing warmed her neck. Slowly Rhen became aware that someone was touching her in a gentle, tender way unlike any touch she had ever known. It was pleasant, in Rhen's semi-conscious state, to feel those strong arms around her and the warmth of soft breath on her neck.

As she began to awaken more fully, however, she soon wondered who exactly it was that embraced her like this. She slowly opened her eyes and raised her head a little, being careful not to disturb her as of yet unknown companion. As her back was to him, she could not see his face.

She pulled her hand from underneath the covers and rubbed her still sleepy eyes.

"Where am I?" she said softly.

Presently she began to become more accustomed to the dim pre-dawn light and took in her surroundings. Wooden cabin walls, well plastered to keep out the cold, framed a small room with just one simple window and a warm fire – much lower now – in the stone hearth. Red printed curtains trimmed the window and a cold, dim light fell through the panes. In her limited vision – partly obscured by her attempts to let the man holding her sleep – she could make out a carved wooden bedstead towering over her with gauzy fabric hanging from the posts, and a matching nightstand with an intricate iron candlestick. Next to it sat a pitcher of cold water and two wooden glasses. There was a carved wooden table with two chairs in the far corner, and a soft armchair beside the fire. A washing basin and dingy mirror stood this side of the bed. Muffled sounds of much activity drifted through the door. Wherever she was, it was somewhere with a lot of people around.

It was cold. Rhen shivered and turned to see snow falling in a delicate dance outside the small window. Suddenly she realized exactly where she was.

Thornkeep: a small dwarven village in the snowy north. Slowly details of the past evening came back to her and she froze in shock as she realized the identity of the man – still holding her in a tender embrace – sleeping next to her. She blanched. It could only be one person. The sorcerer's guild ring on the hand wrapped around her confirmed her fears.

Lars.

Her first reaction was revulsion. He made her life miserable, yet he had the nerve to wrap his scrawny arms around her and hold her close? She pulled her body up, trying to move farther away from him without waking him. Oh, how embarrassing it would be if he woke with her in his arms like this. She shuddered at the thought.

Lars stirred on the bed beside her and softly muttered in his sleep…Rhen could not say why, but something in that voice made her stop squirming and listen – closely. Even in his sleep, his voice faltered slightly with emotion as the words left his lips.

"…I'm sorry… Rhen… so… sorry…"

She fell back on the pillow, flabbergasted. Lars was dreaming of her?! And he was apologizing… with such feeling to give him that tremor in his voice? Wasn't it just last night that he was horrified at the idea of sharing a bed with her? A commoner?! Rhen was nonplussed. And, as much as she hated to admit it, a little flattered too.

She needed air – and now. Rhen slowly began to turn away from him, trying to extricate herself from his embrace without waking him, but it was no use. As soon as she turned, he stirred and pulled her even closer. Rhen blushed and blanched at the same time when he nuzzled his face against her neck. She could feel the roughness of his shaved face and the softness of his cheek. The contrast was… intriguing. When his warm breath brushed her chilled ear and throat, exposed above the covers, she shivered. She was not sure if it was from the sensation of his breath on her skin or the cold.

He murmured her name in his sleep… barely more than a whisper… but a very discomfited Rhen heard all the emotion – dare she even think it – love in his tone. It was unthinkable that stuck-up elitist Lars who hated "commoners" and had once owned her as a slave would whisper her name in such a tone: unthinkable and impossible.

But it had just happened.

Now Rhen was curious. Just what was this contradictory man dreaming of? She turned to face him. His nose was just touching hers. That was too close: she pulled away a little so she could see his face. Lars had returned to deep sleep and did not stir at her movements. It occurred to her that now might be a good time to slip away, but she stayed where she was.

Rhen had never really taken much time to look at him. Staying too near him for any amount of time usually ended with her being reprimanded or insulted, so she tended to avoid him as much as possible. But now, convinced he was asleep and therefore unaware of her, she took her time, tracing each feature. Rhen was surprised to find that he was handsome without his customary scowl. His skin was lightly tanned from the sun, and olive toned. He had a strong brow and chin, less strong now for the serenity of his expression. His lashes were short and dark brown, in contrast to the vivid hue of his hair.

She had never noticed the straight, delicately defined, yet masculine nose and tender lips, dented at the top and slightly parted in his sleep. She was suddenly overcome with a temptation to kiss those lips - and she nearly leaped out of the bed immediately upon realization of this incomprehensible desire. Appalled at herself, she pulled back against his restraining arm suddenly, desirous to get as far away from him as she could. Lars stirred in his sleep at her restless movements. Once more he murmured her name in that deep, gentle tone. She stopped squirming for fear of waking him, and – finally – he turned to his back, freeing Rhen from his embrace. She slipped out from under the covers, grateful for the wide expanse of freezing air now between his warm body and hers.

"Thank goodness," she thought in relief, "that was getting far too close for comfort."

She looked at him in utter bewilderment, her shock overriding the nipping of the cold air on her thinly garbed skin. What on earth had come over him – holding her like that? Had he slept with his arms around her all night? And why was her heart beating so quickly? She shook her head, trying to free herself of these new and confusing thoughts. The cold air and her current lack of sufficient clothing served to allow her more practical nature to take over, for the moment at least.

"I should dress before he wakes."

She slipped her tunic over her head and pulled her skirt over her hips. They were her winter traveling clothes, lined with warm fur. She tugged soft, fur-topped high stockings over her bare feet, grateful for their warmth. As she was fastening the buckle of her belt, she heard Lars' voice again, murmuring in a tone both tender and… almost tortured. She froze in place, still gripping the belt; his voice was too impassioned to ignore.

"I… I love…you… Rhen…"

Her face paled. The belt dropped to the floor, forgotten for the moment. Surely he did not - could not possibly have just said that: not Lars! Suddenly she remembered Talia's warning about dreams when the guardian of the dream world woke. Had Lars been attacked by some demon in his sleep – a demon that turned him into a love-struck fool? For a brief moment she was frightened.

Rhen shook her head. Not a chance. For one thing, he was still a man – not some twisted creature of the dark. For another, the last thing Ahriman's demons wanted to encourage was love. She leaned on her arms and examined his face bemusedly. He stirred again.

"His dreams must be lively," she thought to herself. She watched as Lars tossed restlessly on the bed and still more shocking confessions fell from his lips.

"Rhen… forgive me… please… love you… so much…"

Rhen fell back into the armchair – conveniently placed quite near the bed – so shocked by this new utterance that she felt close to fainting – and Rhen was definitely not a swooner. Lars – snooty, stuck-up, shallow, elitist Lars – was in love… with her?! She leaned forward on her arms, thinking hard. No – it must be an effect of his dreams, surely! But Lars having a dream like this made no sense if it truly was merely a dream. Hadn't she heard somewhere that dreams revealed the truth of someone's heart – whether they willed it or not? Was it just a dream then, or... was it something more?

An unwilling Rhen began to become aware of a new emotion – or perhaps not so new – in her own confused heart. She didn't want it to be just a dream. She wanted it to be true! She flopped back in the chair again, completely thunderstruck.

"When did this happen?"

She thought about it, carefully analyzing their behavior and relationship over the last few months they had known each other. The concept of love between them was completely absurd! They had done nothing but insult each other since the day they met. A small voice whispered in her mind: he's not the same now. He's still insulting sometimes, but not nearly as much. And he had dropped that horrible nickname and called her Rhen, her own dear name.

In the last couple of battles even, if she thought about it, he had been willing to put himself in harm's way to protect her – although at the time she thought it was merely to try and show her up. And he had passed it off as that each time by reminding her that in his not-so-humble opinion she – a commoner – was unfit to wield magic. Still, it was undeniable that he had, indeed, risked himself to protect her. Had he felt this way for a while, perhaps unwilling, or unbeknownst to himself?

She sighed heavily. This was the last thing she needed. There were more important things to worry about right now. The world was at risk and she had to save it. She didn't need to worry about Lars right now. She picked herself up from her chair. She needed to gather their belongings so they could be on their way as soon as possible.

She couldn't resist another look at his sleeping face, however; it was so rare that she saw him with a clear expression that she couldn't help but be fascinated. She stood by the bed for a long moment: she watched his breathing, his eyes flitting in dreams, every small movement of his face, feeling her heart beat more far wildly than she thought it should. This was still Lars, after all.

The rising sun suddenly shined in the small window as the snow clouds broke for a moment – the Snow Queen must have needed a rest – and Lars turned away to avoid it. His bare chest and shoulders were exposed as the cover slipped, and he shivered. Rhen shivered herself, aware now of the chill in the room. She went to stoke the now dying fire. After a moment of poking, it blazed forth, sending a wave of warmth through her chilled body. She turned to see Lars still shivering, his upper body exposed to the cold. An inexplicable tenderness washed over her, and she quietly walked over to him and pulled the blanket back over his bare shoulders. His shivering stilled as the room began to warm again under the combined heat of the revived fire and the rising sun.

"It's dawn," Rhen said quietly to herself. "We should be going soon." She picked her belt off the floor where it had fallen and fastened it on her waist. She laid out her mantle and gauntlets, and placed her boots nearby. In the brighter light of the room she noticed Lars' own royal blue cloak and robe lying in a pile near the bed. She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm always taking care of you, you know," she said quietly.

Her smile faded. "I wonder if you ever notice?"

She picked the robe and cloak up from the bare wooden floor and laid them carefully out for Lars on the chair nearest his side of the bed, along with his boots. Then she poured a little water into one of the wooden cups, and some for Lars in the other. She tipped her cup and drank the near freezing liquid down. It invigorated her. She poured a little of the water on to a clean washcloth and warmed it near the fire. Once she washed her face and tied her hair in her usual loose braid, she was ready to go.

Lars, however, clearly was not. He was still out cold. She decided he'd slept long enough.

"Lars! It's time to be up! Get moving lazybones!"

He groaned and turned away from her blunt voice. "S'too early…" he slurred groggily, "lemme sleep."

"Pathetic."

She shook her head as his breathing slowed and she knew he'd fallen asleep again. "Well… if he won't get up on his own," she thought, a mischievous grin forming on her face, "I'll make him get up!"

She looked around the room for something to achieve her purpose with slightly devious glee. The water pitcher? No… that was too cold. It might really make him hypothermic in this weather. She needed him to be healthy and able to act on a moment's notice when they were out in the wilderness. The fire poker? No, he might jerk in surprise and really hurt himself. She didn't want to maim him. She just wanted to shock him a little bit.

Suddenly an unbelievable, irresistible idea came over her, but it frightened her too. He would definitely wake up, she was well aware of that, and it would be quite a thorough shock to him. It wouldn't cause him bodily harm either – but was it worth the risk?

Rhen looked at him, unsure, but unable to resist. She walked toward him. Her feet made no noise as she approached his sleeping form. Her slender body did not move the bed much nor rouse him as she rested her arms over it and leaned over his face. She moved closer to him, drawn to him like a moth to the flame. She couldn't help feeling like this might end the same way: with one of them getting burned to a crisp. She winced slightly at the thought, but still was unable to pull herself away.

Oh, this would wake him alright – with a vengeance.

She inched slowly closer to him. She could feel his soft breathing on her cheek. But she stopped suddenly, her lips less than an inch from his. She couldn't go any further. What if… what if… he really did care for her? What if he didn't? Could she deal with his reaction? He might react poorly – in fact, he was quite likely to. Was this really wise?

Probably not.

She pulled away slowly, trying not to wake him, but sensed her and stirred in his sleep. Rhen froze - again. She was captivated by the gentle expression on his face, and terrified that he would wake. He breathed in and out, slowly, still asleep. She watched him, still only inches away from his face, uncertain of herself, but unable to pull away.

He drew his brows together slightly as his voice, low and thick with sleep murmured her name again, in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Rhen… I… love you."

She leaned into him then - all hesitation gone - and kissed him tenderly.

Hope you liked! R&R