"I won't let you die like this."

"You'll have to, Alessia."

The dremora could feel hot, wet salty tears run down her cheeks. "It's not fair. I fight for Cyrodill and the one thing I want is something that cannot be given to me." She lowered her head, her long black hair cascading around her pauldron covered shoulders. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking with her tears.

Martin shook his head and raised her chin with a hand. "You know where to find me, sweet Alessia." He lowered his hand and placed it in the middle of her chest, against where her heart would be, beating under layers of thick metal, skin and muscle. "You'll find me here."

--

The nightmares had come again.

Blood, whips and terror. Oh, the terror. It haunted her in her dreams. She heard a soft whisper. A soft whisper, coaxing her into returning. Shooting upright from her place in the seat beside Martin's bed, Alessia let out a soft whimper. She tried to stand, move away from that damn chair and his comfort, before she collapsed to the ground, her entire body coated with cold sweat. She sobbed into her arms, angry at herself for having fallen asleep when she was supposed to have been protecting him, and angry at herself for remembering.

She felt arms around her, and she could feel herself being pulled closer to something. She opened her eyes, hiccuping softly, and gazed up at Martin, still in his bedclothes, his arms wrapped around her. Even though she was Daedra, a Dremora, he didn't care. When others had found out, they didn't quite trust her like they used to.

"I'm.. i'm s-so sorry.. I f-failed.." She whispered, closing her eyes. "I.. I should have stayed awake."

"It's not your fault, Alessia." He rubbed the back of her head soothingly, coaxing her long black hair to unravel itself in his hands.

"It is.. I succumbed to sleep. I.. I'd be punished if I was in--"

"Oblivion. Yes. But this isn't Oblivion, and I am not Mehrunes Dagon forcing you to serve me." He attempted a smile. She didn't know how much watching her like this killed him, inside. He gently lifted her, in all her armor and sat her on his bed. He knealt infront of the near hysterical Dremora. "You are beautiful to me." He smiled softly, and took her hands in his, rubbing them gently. "Come on. Get out of that armour. You can sleep next to me, can't you?"

She sniffed, and shook her head. "I'm supposed to be p-pro-protecting you."

He sighed. "And you can protect me better if you're lying beside me." Normally, she was always quiet, always serious. Ever since she had lost that damned Dark Elf to something he had contracted in Oblivion, she withdrew into herself. When these dreams came, she was often horrified, terrified, frightened, scared, everything under the sun, sometimes for hours after the haunting nightmare. "Come on." He raised his hands to her chest to take the damned armor off of her when she scooted herself up across the bed and onto the floor. It amazed him how fast she could move in such large chunky armor. "Alessia, come on. You can't sleep in that armour."

"My.. my amour..?" She looked down at herself and seemed to remember something. She looked up at Martin, a strange look of understanding etched across her features. "You frightened me." She whispered, clutching at the straps that did up her armour.

"They seem to be becoming more real, now."

She nodded, and let out a sob. "I'm so sorry, M-martin.. I don't know.. why I fell a-asleep.. why.. why I did that.."

"It's alright, Alessia." He stood and crossed the distance between her and him and knealt infront of her. "You're human. You're allowed to."

"I'm a Daedra. I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"Even Daedra need sleep." He forced a hopeful smile on his face and took hold of her shaking hands. "Come on. Sleep with me?" He flashed her a handsome smile, which in return she smiled shyly. She nodded, and slowly, shakilly, together they stood. She stood there shaking, her arms wrapped around herself as if protecting her from the cold. But there was no cold to be protected from. It was nice and warm in Cloud Ruler Temple, and she was under all of that metal armour. How could she be cold?

'I know.' He thought. 'The nightmare.'

The nightmare came everytime she slept. The nightmare haunted her every time she closed her eyes. "I'll.. if.. if it's not too much bother."

"Of course not." She smiled softly and moved towards the bed, about to sit on it when he held her back with an arm.

"You're wearing armour."

"I have no other clothes." She looked at me pathetically, fresh tears about to well up into her eyes. This girl had seen so much horror. Even the mention of her having no other possessions other than the ones on her back reminded her of Mehrunes Dagon. Martin smiled softly, reassuringly and gently took her hand.

"Aren't we close enough for that not to matter?"

Alessia's brow furrowed in a frown, as if she were thinking. She nodded, almost imperceptively, and Martin smiled softly. He closed the distance between them, and gently played with the leather straps at the front of her Blades uniform. They were both quiet as Martin gently fumbled with the straps of her uniform. Soon, all of the leather straps had been unbuckled, and he pushed the metal off of her shoulders, which fell with a metal clunk to the floor.

By the Nine, he had not seen a more beautiful creature. She was quite different to all other Daedra, her skin a complete black, burned that colour by the lava in Oblivion. Her skin was incredibly soft and smooth, almost as though someone had spun silk around her muscles and skeleton, using silk as skin.

She became shy and raised her arms up to hide herself from his eyes. If he could see her once rosy cheeks, they would be blushing. He ran his fingers gently over her stomach, running over the small bumps that came with scars, long ones that traveled up her stomach towards her breasts. Some were words. He knew what they meant. 'Slave. Toy.'

Her master was cruel.

Suddenly, shocking him out of his reverie, Alessia kicked the metal boots off, sending them to a corner in the room. Her legs were fine, thin and athletic, perfect. She was a Dremora, of course.. They had to be perfect. Fit. Her hands rose to her belt, but he stilled her hands. She had mostly stripped now, all that had to be cast away was the plate legs and chain underneathe, and she'd be completely naked infront of him. She looked up from her hands, and gazed into his eyes. She couldn't see herself in the reflection of his eyes in the dimly candle-lit room. She was pitch black. Even her eyes were black. She could see another tear streaking down her face, and he had noticed it as well. Shaking his head, he raised a hand and gently rubbed it away with the ball of his thumb.

He smiled softly at her, and took her into his arms. This mostly naked girl clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably again. The Hero of Kvatch had her deepest fears, too. Martin gently kissed her cheek, and she sniffled, her lips forming an adorable pout. He had to capture those beautiful lips.

His head descended, and their hands were no longer their own. Hands fumbled with belts and tongues danced a passionate duel, their dance together in time with the beat of their hearts. He gently lowered her onto his bed, kissing down her neck line, happy to show her how much, how long he had loved this graceful creature.

--

Dont go. She mouthed, her gloved hands clutching at his as though it were life itself.

"I have to." Martin whispered.

"I won't let you. I won't."

"This is my battle. You have to live. I fight for you." With that, he kissed her deeply on the lips in a final farewell, before running breakneck towards the centre of the dragon fire, and he became enveloped in flame. She watched in awe as he transformed into the Avatar of Akatosh, a large beast of fire, and watched as he won the fight over Dagon.

Dagon was expelled.

She cried out in ecstasy, running towards him, until the Avatar gave a final roar, and turned into stone. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring, unbelieving. She dropped to her knees, looking up at the beautiful statue of what was the man she loved, of what the man she loved had turned into. She gasped slightly, watching as water leaked from one of the Dragon's eyes. She watched as it dribbled down the dragon's cheek, and she watched as it fell to the floor. A single tear.

She looked up again, and closed her eyes tight. She didn't care for Chancellor Ocato. She didn't care about Cyrodill. It had taken what was most precious to her.

She stood, and angrilly glared at Ocato. "Out of my way, Altmer," She growled, roughly shoving past him, out into the street. It looked normal. Slightly worse for wear, and the Temple had a large dragon sticking out of what should have been the roof, but everything else was the same. She couldn't help the sob that escaped her lips. Everyone would remember the sacrifice Martin made, but nobody would know of her deepest love for him.

Nobody.