Disclaimer: Me no own.
A/N: Okie! So. Two chapters in one day. That's good, eh? This one is kind of sad, but you learn more about Silas' past. ;) As always, drop me a review if you please. Enjoy.
Chapter 7
"Do you ever have strange dreams?" I asked Silas quietly as we sat around the table, nibbling at what was left of our dinner. Silas hadn't eaten very much, and I was beginning to wonder when he was going keel over and die of starvation. This was the first time I had seen him eat anything, and it was like the food made him sick. He fidgeted while I shoved food into my mouth until my plate was clean. You never know when you'll be able to eat again, I thought.
"I used to have strange dreams, but lately I find myself waking from a dream and not remembering what it was about." I thought on that for a moment, wondering if there was a way to make myself forget my dreams. "It's quite frustrating."
"Why is that? I would be happy if I forgot my dreams," I said, taking a sip of mead from my tankard. The strong liquid burned a path from my tongue to my stomach.
"The only thing I remember of them is being high up, looking at the world from above. Almost like I was…. flying." I studied his face, watching his brows furrow as he thought. "That's all I remember about them. I wish I could recall more, because I think that my dreams are good ones."
I envied him. The only dreams I had were horrible, frightening things that made me want to cower in a hole and never sleep again. With the exception of last night's strange dream, I always met death in the most terrible of ways. Drowning, falling, bleeding to death, being burned…. I longed for pleasant dreams.
We sat in silence for a few moments, pondering our nighttime forays into our subconscious minds. Eventually I stood from the table, stretching my back, legs, and arms before releasing a huge yawn. Deciding to turn in for the night, I walked to the bedroom. And then I remembered.
"Shit!" I hissed, smacking my palm against my forehead. Two people, one bed. What the hell am I supposed to do? I questioned myself. I felt Silas' presence behind me and turned to face him.
"So, uh…. What should we do?" I asked him. He thought for a moment, and then looked down at me, a hint of laughter in his expressive eyes.
"We could always share it," he suggested. My mouth fell open. "Unless you don't trust me," he added.
"I… uh… heh…ah…," I stammered. "I guess…that could work." And so we got ready for bed, extinguishing the torches mounted on the walls, leaving two candles lit on my side of the bed. Silas lowered himself gently onto the right side of the bed, and I slid beneath the covers on the other side.
We lay in the semi darkness, listening to each other breathe. I was blushing furiously. I had never lain in the same bed with a man before. I was hesitant to move lest I disturb him. I snuck a glance at his face, and the silvery scar on the right side of his neck caught my attention again.
Up close, I noticed how soft his skin looked, marred only by the roping scar. I reached out hesitantly, intent on brushing it lightly with my finger, just to see if his scar would feel the same as mine did. As soon as my finger touched the uneven line, the muscles in Silas' neck tensed, and I found that my wrist was trapped in his gentle yet firm grip.
"Sorry, I was curious," I said, worried that I had upset him. His green eyes glinted in the flickering candlelight, but I saw no anger in them like I expected. Instead, I saw pain long hidden, repressed fears, and a bit of embarrassment.
He released my wrist, replaced his arm at his side, and closed his eyes. I wondered if I had just ruined our young friendship.
"My uncle," he whispered into the gloom, "did not approve of my father's marriage. He had lived in Windhelm all his life, and saw all elves as inferior and disgusting. My father invited him to visit against my mother's wishes, and when my uncle arrived a month later, she left. I never saw her again."
I watched him as he sat up and lifted the black shirt off over his head. I could only see his well-muscled, smooth back as he stared at the wall.
"My uncle saw me as vermin; a creature not worthy of life. One night while I was sleeping, my uncle crept into my room and tried to slit my throat. My father had heard him moving around, and tore him off of me before he could finish his task."
Silas stood from the bed and turned towards me. My hand flew to my mouth as I gasped in horror. The scar started halfway between his jaw and collarbone on the left side of his neck, angled down towards his sternum, and then made its way in a jagged line down between his pecks and ended just above his navel.
"My father killed his own brother to save me. After that we left the city, and we spent our days wandering the wilds around Whiterun, sleeping in caves or camped beside rivers. A few years later, a saber cat killed my father. I've been on my own ever since."
"How old were you?" I asked quietly.
"I was eleven when he tried to kill me. Sixteen when my father died." I felt a hot tear slide down my cheek. This man standing before me had been through something horrible just because he was half Bosmer. It made me sick.
I stood on my knees, wobbling slightly on the bed, and made my way over to him. He stood like a stone, unmoving and hard, staring at the floor. I slipped my arms around his middle and pressed my face into his chest, trying to give what little comfort I could. I held him for what seemed like hours before he slowly lifted his arms, placing them gently against my back.
I felt so small, cocooned in the strength of his arms. As tears streamed down my face, he brought a hand up and softly stroked my hair.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"It's all in the past," he softly replied. I nodded. I wished that I could have been there for him. I could have done something, I thought. Anything.
His arms fell from my back, and he gently pushed me away. I watched him as he quietly picked his shirt up from where he had fallen on the floor. I stared at his scar for a moment before it disappeared beneath the black shirt.
I returned to my side of the bed, deeply regretting my curious nature. As I felt him settle into the bed next to me, I blew out the remaining candles and let the blackness consume me.
