Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Series, Skyrim, or any characters I've used except Greta and this version of the Dragonborn.

Previously:

Aela held onto Vilkas' stocky form as her red hair trailed behind like a fiery blaze. Her face grim as she stared over his shoulder. Sylgja's heart ached as she thought about everything that had happened. The woman had lost her husband, her home, everything in but a fleeting moment. Cillian tightened his grip around her waist, forcing her to mold against his tight body as he leaned forward, urging the horse to ride harder, and faster into the night.


Chapter 7 – The Beginning of the End

The group made their introductions as they approached the inn. They had arrived just as the darkness swallowed the last bit of light in the sky. There were only two rooms available. Cillian rented the first room for him and the two women, while Farkas and Vilkas would take the other. Sylgja blushed at the thought of sharing a room with the man, but when the two women stumbled in after him. He informed them that they would have the beds and he would form a makeshift pallet on the floor.

The women protested and he just chuckled mirthlessly, refusing to dishonor either of them by claiming a bed and forcing the women to share one bed, when bad enough there were three of them having to occupy the room already. Cillian went to the small table next to the hearth and unloaded a few items from his pack. Sitting down, he removed his cloak and his hood.

Sylgja went to the bed near to the table and sat down. Peeking up at him, she fisted her hands together before gripping her forearms. Cillian looked up after he had finished and offered her a small grim nod.

"Are you cold? Give me a moment to get my armor off and I'll stoke a fire." She nodded and smiled bashfully before looking away.

She felt a chill run down her spine but it had nothing to do with the cold. She had left with Aela hoping to find some sort of answer, some sort of change from the mundane, from the mine, from the miners, and most certainly from Odfel. But, now that she had found the man that she had been seeking, she noticed things that she hadn't before.

He had a stony face. His mouth was set in a straight line, his gray eyes were cold, and although his hair was long and glistened with a healthy glow in the sunlight it only made him seem more fearsome. When he rode up on his black horse he looked more like a dark angel than a heroic knight with his cape fluttering madly behind his hard agile form. He was more powerful than she ever could have imagined and sitting here by him now, made her feel small. And it made her feel inadequate and frumpy. She had wished that she wasn't so weak.

Aela had been injured slightly but she was able to hold her own against the dragon, and she had killed the ghoulish archer that had attacked them earlier, and the Stormcloak. She had not complained once about the swollen ankle she was sporting. And although she had just lost her husband and her home, all that she had ever known within a matter of moments, she still carried herself and pushed on.

Sylgja had been injured for a much greater time and still found herself giving into the pain in her leg. She was prone to bouts of irritability because of the frustration. It was a wonder that Odfel wanted to marry her at all considering how ungrateful she had been towards the others for all the help they gave her without ever recognizing that they thought her incapable because of her own actions, not because of their own egos.

Maybe she shouldn't have left. Maybe her father was right. All she had done so far was endanger the others because of her inability to react under pressure and how afraid she had been. They were already planning to head to Whiterun though, she couldn't ask for another detour, considering the men had circled back around to Kynesgrove to accommodate the women in finding shelter for the night.

Standing, once he had removed the remainder of his armor, Cillian walked over in his trousers and a beige tunic to tend to the fire. Bending down, he closed his eyes and whispered.

"Yol."

With a sudden gust the flames roared to life and his face was swallowed by the blaze. Sylgja flinched. When he closed his mouth the breath of fiery air suddenly died and all that was left was the burning fire in the hearth. Turning to look at Aela, their eyes met and although she could see the shock in the other woman's face as she regarded the dragonborn, there was still a sense of awe.

She moved to come closer to the others but, with a hiss, stumbled as her ankle trembled. Cillian promptly stood and turned to see what the issue was. Aela wasn't sure how bad it was but told him it felt like it was throbbing. Riding with Vilkas had made it hurt even more every time her ankle slapped against his steel boots or the flank of the horse.

Cillian had her sit on the bed next to Sylgja and he went to his pack to pull out some linens. When he bent down in front of Aela, he tugged gently at the boot but it wouldn't come off. She gripped the edge of the bed so tightly that her knuckles were white as snow. Looking up into her flushed face, her cheeks rosy as she tried to control her breathing, but he knew she was in a great deal of pain. He reached for the dagger at his hip, but started when he realized it was gone.

Sylgja hesitated, feeling her stomach drop at watching the interaction in front of her. Maybe Aela was right? The man was out of her league. How many other women had the Dragonborn encountered in his travels? How many others had he spent the night with? She clutched the front of her dress in clumsy hands. The brown material was rough in her hands.

Sylgja reached down and removed the dagger from where she had secured it at her side. Holding it out, the man glanced at her briefly before taking it and cutting off the redhead's boot. Her ankle was swollen and so bruised that it looked purple. He gently removed the rest of the leather before wrapping it tightly with the linens.

"Thank you, milord." Aela whispered. He nodded, but didn't say anything.

Instead he reached down and grabbing her hand lifted her to her feet slowly. Aela stood hesitantly before taking a few tentative steps and realizing that she could move freely with a great deal of pain lessened. Brushing her long hair behind her eyes, she grinned, looking up at him proudly.

"It feels uninjured!" She exclaimed, and he chuckled before patting her arm gently.

"You fought well today for being such a novice." He said, "Who taught you to shoot?"

"My husband did."

"The one with the dark hair?"

"Aye." she whispered.

"And where is your man now?" He asked her.

"He is dead, milord." She whispered. He nodded grimly.

"I am sorry to hear that. You fought bravely, he would have been honored."

Sylgja leaned over and touched Aela's shoulder before embracing the other woman in a tight hug. Aela reached up and gripped Sylgja's forearm lightly, but she didn't push her away. He stared hard at Sylgja for a moment. His eyes studying her face, the exposed skin of her collar and her neck, and down to her meaty midsection. Feeling the weight of his scrutiny on her flesh, she lowered her eyes.

"And you, where did you think you were going?" He inquired, his light eyes calculating as he watched her squirming under his gaze.

Blushing, she peeked up at him, but couldn't catch her breath let alone find the words to speak under his stony stare. Was he angry with her? She had embarrassed herself with the way she behaved, but she had apologized for it. He had still defended her when her father had struck her so surely he wasn't that angry with her. She hoped.

"You're a bit far from home." He continued.

"We have no home." Aela replied. "We were attacked by the Stormcloaks shortly after you had left and he took a maiden from our village after killing my husband and burning everything to the ground."

"Ulfric attacked Shor's Stone?" The dragonborn questioned, "But there's nothing there for him to conquer."

Seeing the girls tense in front of him, he rephrased that.

"Not people, I meant it's a settlement, and a small one, not a hold. There weren't enough men to have been an actual challenge. That's not his style. And you're sure it was the Stormcloaks?"

"Aye!" Aela snapped. "The leader was a blonde man wearing a bear's coat."Sylgja flinched as she felt his eyes on her again.

"That sounds like him for sure, but something doesn't seem right." The girls just peered up at him, but said nothing. Aela's face was set in a grimace and Sylgja's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"What happened to the others?" He asked.

"Just my husband was killed and only Greta was taken. Everyone else has gone to Darkwater Crossing." He nodded contemplatively.

"Where were you going?"

"Whiterun, I was seeking the Companions assistance." Aela replied, he regarded her for a moment before turning to Sylgja.

"That's a long journey on foot. And you thought you were going as well?" She blushed furiously under his intense stare as he glared at her.

"Why? You have no training and a weak leg."

"Well, I thought-" She whispered, but he didn't relent.

"You weren't thinking. You endangered yourself and your companion by tagging along on a journey that you're not fit for."

"Milord-" Aela began and he promptly cut her off with a dark look.

"I took you home once, only for your men to attack me because you were promised to another. Do not mistake my kindness again. I have no time for traitorous women." She started sobbing uncontrollably.

Aela shifted her body, wrapping her arms around the other woman to offer some comfort. He said nothing for a moment, just watching the two smaller women on the bed. Aela had been fierce and proud, but he sensed a frailty about her that she projected onto the small brunette. Mentally he sensed the women weren't that different. Although capable physically, she had a lot to learn about the emotional aspect of warfare. Weakness will get you and those around you killed. He knew Farkas and Vilkas would aid her in whatever she needed, but they had nothing to offer the lame miner woman, other than protection, which Cillian could handle on his own.

"Get some rest. I'll see you back to your family and the Companions will escort your friend to Whiterun." He muttered before turning to leave the room.

Wide eyed, Sylgja watched him storm out of the room as she sobbed hysterically. She had lost track of how long they sat embraced on the bed. Her tears finally subsided and Aela pulled away slightly and peered into her face. Her green eyes stared into Sylgja's brown ones before she smiled gently.

"He's a brute. But an honorable one." She murmured

"Wait, what? Are you defending him?" She cried.

"Nay." She replied, shaking her head. "Just trying to help."

"I don't want help! I want to go to Whiterun with you."

"Then don't let him make that decision for you."

"But you heard him. He's a stubborn man." Sylgja protested weakly.

"Aye, I did. But you're also a beautiful woman. He can be persuaded."

"I'm not beautiful like you…and maybe he'll listen to you, but he's angry with me."

"Then fix it." Aela said, and she promptly stood up. "He's the reason you came after all."

Walking over to her bed, she slipped out of the armor she had taken, and changed into a light shift for bed. The innkeeper's daughter had provided her with a few spare linens since Aela had lost her pack to the dragon's fiery breath. The only thing recovered was Filnjar's sword. She would never have forgiven herself if that had been lost forever. She climbed under the covers and stared at Sylgja while she rested on the pillow.

Sylgja glanced back at the redhead with her hair cascading around her face on the small pillow. She looked tired, but her eyes were still alert. She was drained. Sylgja didn't even have words to consider how terrible these last two days had been for the other woman. How scared she must have been fighting that dragon. How hard she fought to protect the others. How hard she pushed away at her grief. How hard she fought to remember his face.

Picking up her small pack, she pulled out a thin clean shift and promptly changed for bed as well. Spotting the amulet as she went to close her pack, she took it out of the small sack and slowly placed it around her neck, while she fingered the bronze insignia. Closing her pack she tossed it gently to the floor before peeking up at Aela again.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Aye, I will be." She replied. Sylgja wasn't convinced.

She went to pull her covers back when suddenly the door opened and Cillian entered slowly. She froze. Aela winked and promptly pulled the covers over her face.

"I thought you would be sleeping." He said gruffly, as his eyes razed over her face before traveling down her soft feminine body.

She wanted to hide, the shift was almost completely see-through. Aela's was a darker opaque white. The disparity between the two was simply a matter of quality. Once Sylgja paid the others for their services and the courier for the weekly correspondence with her parents she had barely anything left over. She didn't have fine linens. She was a miner's daughter. Everything she owned was dirty.

He closed the door and walked over to the small table by the fire before sitting down. He had a bottle of mead in his hand. He drank the last of it in one gulp before sitting it on the table and turning to meet her gaze again. She took a few hesitant steps and stopped in front of him. Her chest heaving with deep shuddering breaths, as she tried to calm herself. His face was level with her breasts. He stared through the fabric at the rounded globes before looking up into her eyes. The brown curls framing her sweet face were in complete disarray.

"Don't tempt me woman." He rasped quietly. "Not when I can't have you."

"Please, I would like to go to Whiterun with you." She whispered, reaching up to touch his face lightly.

She flinched when he gripped her fingers tightly, as he removed them from his skin. He glared into her blushing face, as he pulled her towards him roughly.

"You'll not fool me again with your lies, wench." He growled, his warm breath tickling the skin on her neck and her collarbone.

"I haven't been dishonest." She cried weakly. "I'm wearing an amulet of Mara-"

"I'll not fall for that again." He interrupted, "You were wearing it last time and still dishonored your virtue."

"I don't understand?" She whispered.

"What happens if your belly grows large with my babe? You're promised to another man."

"But I'm not!" She protested, sobbing as she stared into his face.

"How am I to marry another, when I'm meant to be yours?" She whispered.

Cillian stared intensely at her for a moment. He didn't say anything, just sat watching her as she continued to cry. Her pretty face was flushed as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. He leaned in and kissed the swell of her breast before nipping lightly at the succulent flesh underneath the thin fabric. Sylgja gasped and stumbled slightly when he suddenly stood to his full height and pulled her flush against his hard body.

Faintly she could hear the bard start singing in the other room and suddenly became aware of the fact that they weren't alone. Aela was right there, but he didn't seem to care, probably thinking she was sleeping. Sylgja knew she wasn't. She peeked over at the other woman's still form under the covers and Cilian gripped her chin lightly and turned her face back towards his. His eyes shining brightly in the dim light of the room as his gray ones stared into her large brown eyes.

"If you're to be mine, you will be mine only. Even when I'm away."

"Aye." She whispered, "I've never been with another."

"Give me your amulet. I'll not have anyone coming for you." She reached up slowly and took her amulet off. Her breasts strained against the fabric as she lifted her arms.

Staring into his face, she handed it over to him. He placed it onto the table behind him before turning around and capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. Pulling away, as she clung to him, he chuckled softly. His chest rumbling against her soft form.

"I was wondering how you were faring." He admitted, tracing her lip gently, noticing that the swelling had gone down significantly.

"My father is not usually a violent man." She replied quietly. "Harsh in word, not by fist."

"Nord men are rough with their women, but I'll never strike you. You have my word." She nodded gently, staring earnestly into his handsome face.

"Get some rest." He murmured, shoving her lightly towards the bed. "We will leave early for Whiterun."

"Where will you sleep?" She questioned, peeking over her shoulder at him.

"On the floor, I'll not tempt myself with your soft body at my side." Blushing, she frowned when he chuckled before slapping her lightly on the rear as he moved to walk past her.

"Get some rest. I'll be back." She nodded, looking up into his face as she climbed under the covers, lying down gently.

He nodded back and after checking on the fire, turned and walked back into the main hall at the inn. Sylgja sat up immediately.

"Aela! He said I can come." she whispered. The other girl slid from under the covers and peered back at the brunette.

"Oh you'll come alright. I was sure he'd ravish you in that night dress." She chuckled. Sylgja threw her pillow at the other girl who promptly caught it and tossed it back.

"Don't tease me." She huffed. Aela only laughed harder.

"Goodnight Sylgja." She whispered sweetly as she lay back down. Her green eyes still twinkling.

"Goodnight." The brunette swiftly replied before falling quickly into a restless slumber.


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