Chapter Two

A Diversion


Hello again everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, favorited, or just plain read the story. I very much appreciate it. :)

There is a somewhat graphic scene in this chapter – you have been warned.


Hadvar made it a point to keep quiet for the majority of the journey to Whiterun. He'd seen in Y'lara's eyes that she had no interest in him accompanying her to visit the Jarl. Admittedly, his concern for her safety was merely a pretense. He was more curious, than anything, of this strange, golden creature that had thrust herself into the middle of the fray between Stormcloak and Imperial.

Not a word was passed until they reached the stables outside of Whiterun.

"Your duty to me has expired, Soldier," Y'lara stated, her voice frigid as the snow of Winterhold. "I can carry on alone, now."

"I really don't think you can," Hadvar disagreed easily, smirking at her. He knew she was up to something. He hardly believed her to be an Aldmeri Dominion agent…but one could never be too careful. He did not trust her, but neither did he doubt she had something of a consciousness."You haven't slept since Helgen. Someone needs to look after you."

He had kept an eye on her the entire time in their travels, eying her hands and lips for the hint of a spell to escape and debilitate him. He was prepared to resist, to somehow silence her before she could shake his presence. But the only spells came in the form of fire bolts hurled at wolves and a cloak of invisibility as they passed by a giant.

"You haven't slept either," she countered soundly, removing the hood from her head and shaking her long golden hair from its confines. "I can take care of myself, fool Nord."

She began to walk and he kept step with her easily. "And you're wrong, stupid Elf," he retorted, earning a searing glance from her fire-orange eyes. "My duty to you does not expire until you speak with the Jarl."

She sneered, "Don't trust me to deliver the message of your doomed home?"

That stung, but he brushed it off. Riverwood was not doomed. He would make damn sure it was not. "In a manner of speaking, no, I don't trust you," he answered easily enough, a smile of challenge on his lips.

"I have no interest in doing harm to you or yours," she informed him bluntly. "In not speaking to the Jarl, I would neglect to return the favor imposed upon me by your aunt. I will speak to Balgruuf You have my word. Now, we are to the city gates. Please leave."

Hadvar only turned toward the approaching guard and squared his shoulders, doing his best to appear large and intimidating. Not that Y'lara couldn't do that herself – she stood almost a head taller than the guard.

"City's closed with the recent dragon attacks," the soldier informed her gruffly. "Gate's locked."

"I bring news of the dragon attack," Y'lara stated smoothly.

One of the other guards guffawed rudely. "'ear that! She brings news o' the dragon attacks! A damned Altmer! What tricks are you pullin'? We'll not let one of your kind into the city."

Hadvar spoke loudly as Y'lara was opening her mouth to retort. "By order of the Imperial Legion, open the gates! This woman is a messenger and nothing more. We will be gone from your city once the message of the dragon attack on Helgen has reached the Jarl."

The guards turned to look at him and remained quiet among themselves for a bit. Finally, one muttered, "So the rumors are true then. Open the gates, Rulf!"

The great wooden barriers began to swing open and the guard returned to addressing Y'lara. "We'll be keeping an eye on you, Outsider."

Y'lara nodded and stepped forward silently into the city of Whiterun. Hadvar had to practically run to keep up with her lithe agility.

In the darkness of the night, the city slept. Not a soul wandered the streets save the occasional guard. All remained indoors asleep. Hadvar gestured up to the great structure on a large hill overlooking the city. "That's Dragon's Reach. They say it was built to house one of those fierce reptiles back during the Dragon Wars and one of the High Kings had one as a pet-"

"I don't care for the lore of this city," Y'lara spat. "I am here for the Jarl, not the culture."

Hadvar tsked. "Sounds like the little elf is grumpy." He smirked, "You know what that means: bed time." He draped an arm over her shoulder and steered her toward the Bannered Mare.

"Don't touch me!" She scathed, gripping his wrist and throwing his arm away from her as though he'd somehow burned her. "I've tolerated your company to this point, but my patience wears thin. Do not trifle with me, Nord."

Hadvar folded his arms over his chest and raised a brow. She hadn't attempted anything because, no doubt, she was aware of him watching her and keeping an eye out for disabling spells. But he voiced a difference challenge. "You're going to see the Jarl then? At this time of night? They'll have you thrown out on pretense."

Y'lara simply glowered at him, flames burning behind her eyes.

"Come. Get some rest. You can visit the Jarl in the morning. Whatever 'important' business you have to attend to can surely wait."

The two of them simply stood and glowered at one another, each challenging the other. Thankfully, Y'lara brok eye contact first and marched toward the Bannered Mare. Hadvar let out a sign of relief and proceeded to follow the Altmer. He requested their rooms and paid for them, ignoring the muttered curses Y'lara flung his way as he did so. He understood the words, so they couldn't be spells.

The inn keeper stood and led the pair to their rooms, casting cautious glances over her shoulder at Y'lara as she did so. "I hope you find everything to your liking," she stated with a hurried curtsey before she drifted off to her post downstairs.

Hadvar gestured that Y'lara should step into her room first. The elf let out a long breath before doing so. He could see how her jaw clenched in anger, how her brows seemed to be eternally knit into a scowl. She was infuriated with his presence and, perhaps, some demented part of him rather enjoyed irritating her. After all, she was behaving rather ungraciously toward his hospitality to this point.

He retreated into his own quarters and removed his armor, leaving only the red tunic so that he could rest more soundly. He would be keeping his ears sharp, however. He didn't want the pretty little elf leaving her quarters without her escort.


It was sometime in the wee hours of the morning when Hadvar felt a gossamer touch against his face. Years of Legion training and nights on watch has honed his instincts into a rather dangerous point. Still half-asleep and surprised, he pulled the steel dagger from the hilt at his waist and slashed with an angry snarl at the shadow above him.

The blade met no flesh, but a firm hand gripped his wrist and twisted violently, causing him to drop the dagger onto the bed. There was a small murmur and the dagger was suddenly flung from anywhere near his grasp.

However, beyond disarming him, the shadow did nothing. He hurried to blink into awareness, keen on seeing who the trespasser was.

"You soldiers are ever the predictable type," came a woman's voice from above him.

"Y'lara?" He grumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. He moved to stand and questions readied themselves on his lips: how had she crept into his room without being heard when the bolt was firmly in place? What was she doing here? Why did she feel it necessary to surprise him in the middle of the night?

"Shh," she murmured, pressing a slender finger against his lips.

Where the pad of her finger met his skin, a shocking warmth traveled through his lips to his gut and then to his groin. He was unable to stop the groan of awe and ache that escaped his throat as she coaxed him back onto the bed. She removed her finger and straddled him, resting on his stomach as her nimble fingers began tugging on the ties of his tunic.

"What are you –"

"Shh," she hissed once more, her finger finding his lips again and sending another arch of pleasure through him, causing him to stiffen and grunt with the sudden heat.

She deftly slipped his tunic up and over his head before lowering her lips and placing soft, gossamer kisses against his neck. Her fingers slid down his chest and over his shoulders, each stroke creating more bolts of the painful pleasure through him and to his loins. Hadvar couldn't think, his thoughts began to fog with carnal, lust-filled thoughts of her, thoughts that would normally have never overtaken him. He didn't realize that the throbbing need came from the bolts created in her fingers, forgot that she was a mage. He was reduced to a shivering, twitching mass as he gripped the bed sheets, desperately trying to restrain himself. "Y'lara…please…s-sto-"

Y'lara's hand slid below his breeches and gripped his throbbing member. The touch of her hand to the sensitive part of him made him convulse in ecstasy. He sat up violently and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest, a final request to halt her actions. But she would have none of it. Her grip tightened on him and she began to slide her hand and fingers along the length of him. He groaned deeply, his thoughts lost on everything except how badly he wanted to claim this woman. His mouth sought hers, to taste her and force some of the searing, wonderful agony onto her.

She deftly avoided his hungry mouth and slipped out from his tight grasp. She pressed a hand to his chest and forced him back down onto the bed, her fingers becoming more eager in their coaxing him. Hadvar did not try and reach for her again. It was all he could do to control the noises that threatened to escape him.

"By Talos-!" came his strangled groan as she began working the tip, the most delicately sensitive part of him, between her fingers, the arcs of need and burning suddenly crashing like waves against every wall or endurance he had. His belly knotted and tensed to try and stem the flow, to prevent the dam from bursting.

It was too much. What she was doing was too impossibly good. His struggles had him drenched in sweat from the strain of containment. But it seemed as though the more he resisted, the worse the urge came to break. And he could not withstand it any longer.

He burst with a loud growl, stuttering against her as the sweet release finally came. He felt the scalding heat of his own fluid against the skin of his chest and stomach, his eyes rolling back as the clouds of bliss dissipated with such quickness as to leave his head spinning and stars in his vision. He searched for her face, an instinct born of having been intimate with women before. Her gaze was cold and impassive as she withdrew her hand from him and wiped his mess callously on his red tunic before tossing the garment at him.

When he moved to catch it, he found that he could not. Every muscle in his body was paralyzed, save for what he was able to do with his eyes.

"Don't worry, it will wear off," she stated as she silently moved away from the bed and slipped her pack over her shoulder.

He simply gazed at her helplessly, unable to voice the demands that were on his tongue.

He didn't seem to need to, however. She anticipated him well enough.

"You brought this on yourself, what with your escorting antics," she stated as a justification. "I'll be heading to Dragon's Reach alone. By the time I'm finished reporting to the Jarl, the spell will wear off. Don't bother trying to find me – it will be a waste of your time."

She glanced to him once more and smirked wickedly, approaching and bending to pat his cheek. "Don't give me that look, little Hadvar. You enjoyed it."

That fact alone made his blood boil. This woman – she knew men all too well. He'd been watching her the entire journey for something like this. How better to paralyze them with a spell than to associate the poison with pleasure and then laugh as they flailed pathetically afterward?

"Thank you for escorting me," she said formally as she opened the door a crack and replaced the lock on the inside. "Now go home and wait for word from your Legion."