It had been nearly two years since the fateful events at Helgen. Indra often caught herself thinking of it still. Her mind lost in memories, the warrior-maiden didn't notice the burly blonde Nord taking a seat across from her.
"Indra?"
She jumped slightly at the sound of her name, the mead in her hand spilling over the side of the goblet slightly.
"Ralof," she sighed his name.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he grinned broadly, taking a chug of his own beverage.
"It's alright. I was just… lost in thought," she smiled back, admiring the handsome captain.
Ralof was one of the few people who knew her true identity. He'd been there for her when the weight of the world became too much to handle. She'd had no choice but to confide in him after he found her smashed and crying hysterically in a corner of the Sleeping Giant Inn. At first, he was like a big brother, but her feelings began to grow more intimate. She was afraid he would reject her, so the famous Dragonborn never acted on her feelings for the older man.
"So, Stormblade… I hear you'll be leading the charge against Solitude."
"Ugh, let's not talk of war right now," her ice-blue eyes met his, "It's been a long few weeks. I just want to get drunk."
He chuckled and raised his cup, "to getting drunk, then."
Indra clunked her mead with his and downed the remaining alcohol.
A few more drinks in, Indra gazed at Ralof over the rim of her cup.
"What?" he narrowed his eyes slightly as he caught her.
"Why are you not married yet?"
He was not ready for that question.
"I… haven't found the right person, I suppose."
"I'm sure the ladies are lining up at your door, a handsome stud like you!"
His cheeks blushed and he averted his eyes, "No one wants an old and broken soldier…"
He looked back at her when she did not respond. Her eyes bore into his soul, a small smile playing on her lips.
He couldn't help but smile back at the gorgeous young woman.
After procuring several bottles of the strongest liquor in the city, the pair managed to climb their way onto a wall overlooking the snowy landscape of Eastmarch.
Ralof tossed his empty bottle onto the iced-over river below, the shattering of glass breaking their comfortable silence.
"I still have nightmares…" she spoke softly, her words slightly slurred.
He looked at her. She was shivering despite the thick fur lining her cloak. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Indra leaned into his warmth, his embrace comforting.
"I see their faces and hear their screams when I close my eyes," she continued, "all the people that have lost their lives because of me."
"Only a beast kills without feeling," his arm tightened slightly, "you told me that, remember?" He looked down at her, his eyes filled with understanding and acceptance.
"Please stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone," her eyes looked at him pleadingly.
He tightened his arm around her and they finished the remaining bottles in silence, eventually stumbling their way to Hjerim.
Ralof dropped onto her bed face first, still fully armored. He turned over and lifted his head at the sound of metal hitting the wooden floors. His face warmed as he watched her remove everything but her tunic. His mouth went dry as his eyes moved over her.
He sat up quickly, "What are you doing?"
She looked up at him and frowned, "You're still wearing your armor."
She began unbuckling his armor, dropping the individual pieces beside her own discarded set. He remained still, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. Instead of cooling down, his temperature steadily rose as more of his clothing came off. Her fingertips brushed against his arm softly as she pulled his gloves off, the sensation sending tremors down his spine. She must not have noticed his reaction, because she moved to lift the mail shirt over his head, leaving him in just leather trousers and the wool shirt he wore underneath his armor.
"Indra…" he whispered hoarsely as she straddled him suddenly. He lifted his hands, unsure of what to do with them.
She smiled and took his large hands in her smaller ones, guiding them to rest on her hips.
He'd always thought she was beautiful; she often wore her pale blond hair in a braid of some fashion, but it hung down to the middle of her back in thick waves now. He longed to run his fingers through it, but he was caught in her mesmerizing icy-blue gaze, his mind lost into the depths of her almond shaped eyes.
Her fingers worked the plait in his hair loose, brushing her fingers through his own heavy golden mane.
Ralof's eyes fluttered closed. A deep hum reverberated through his chest. He felt her breath on his lips as she leaned closer. The smell of heavy alcohol gave him pause. He placed his hands on her cheeks, keeping her from getting closer.
His eyes opened and he stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly parted.
"Indra… you're drunk."
She shook her head, "I want this, Ralof," she whipered, struggling to get closer to him, "I want you…"
Her hands traveled down the front of his shirt, her fingers sliding under the fabric at the hem and working their way back up.
"By the nine, woman," he groaned, his fingers finally weaving through the strands of her silky hair. She wanted him, and who was he to deny the Dragonborn.
She smirked and yanked the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. She pushed him down onto his back and explored the hard planes of his abs and chest, lightly tracing his scars with her fingers.
Ralof moved his hands up the soft skin of her bare thighs, his thumb running over a scar of her own near her hip. She leaned down over him and brushed her lips against his teasingly.
"Tell me what you want, Captain," she whispered against his mouth.
He grabbed the back of her head and crushed his lips to hers. He delved his tongue into her mouth as her lips parted in a moan.
Ralof flipped them over, sitting back on his knees slightly. She looked like an angel to him, and angels didn't wear damned old and filthy tunics. He tore the offending garment down the middle and pulled it off her.
His settled over her, latching his lips to hers again. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His lips trailed kisses from her mouth to her jaw and neck, leaving small love bites on the normally flawless milky skin.
She arched into him and moaned softly dragging her nails across his skin as he sucked her hard and sensitive nipple while his hand kneaded and pinched the other. His ministrations moved lower, dipping his tongue into her navel as he spread her legs. He looked up at her face as he spread her sex, flicking the bundle of nerves with his tongue.
She squirmed and moaned softly, gripping his hair tightly. Alternating between sucking and licking her clit, she quickly climaxed. She tasted sweet and he couldn't get enough of her, but he reluctantly moved his mouth from her and slid back up her, his arousal pressing against her through his breeches.
She was breathing heavily, her eyes half-lidded, but she smiled sweetly at him as she ran her thumb across his lips, wiping some of her nectar from his mouth.
He returned her smile before kissing her softly. Her hands skillfully unlaced his pants and pulled them down over his hips. He kicked them off the rest of the way before settling between her legs.
Indra guided him to her eager entrance and he pushed in slowly, groaning as her heat engulfed him.
His name fell from her lips as he stretched her, her nails biting into his skin. But he didn't care. The pleasure erased all else from his mind as he began to move at a stead pace. They kissed again, a little sloppy but neither seemed to mind. They moaned into each other's mouths, their tongues dueling, but neither dominating.
Soon, the pressure on his lower spine alerted him to his oncoming orgasm.
"Indra," he moaned her name against her lips, and she responded by pulling him closer to her. Her breath hitched as her body clamped around him, his name falling from her lips as she climaxed again. The tightness was too much, and Ralof came hard, grunting as his seed shot into her.
He fell against her, his head resting on her chest as his heart beat slowly calmed. Experienced fingers worked through his hair, relaxing him further.
Ralof rolled off her; she shifted onto her side, draping her leg over his and settling her head against his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, her fingers lazily drawing patterns through the gold curls on chest.
All traces of drunkenness gone, Indra spoke softly.
"I've wanted this for far longer than I should admit… I don't want this to end in the morning."
He stilled her movements on his chest, placing her palm over his heart, holding it there with his callused hand.
"This has been yours from the moment I first laid eyes on you two years ago, sweet."
She lifted her head and looked into his soulful blue eyes. His hand caressed her cheek, his thumb idly stroking the scars on her cheek.
"Even though I'm broken?" she repeated his own words; the meaning both physically and emotionally.
"Maybe two halves can make a whole."
She smiled at his words, kissed his lips softly and relaxed against him. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes.
"Thank you for easing my pain."
He pulled the furs over them before tightening his hold on her and shutting his own eyes.
"Good night, sweet."
"Night…"
They both drifted off into a most peaceful sleep either of them had had for a very long time.