I am alive! Life has been crazy, but lately I've had some time to get back into writing! Thank you to those who have stuck with me even with the year I took off. I hope to put up more chapters soon!

Quick shout out to the bestest person in the entire world, SolasTheDreadwolf! I love you so much! *insert all the heart emojis*

I woke with a jolt as Duvaithor shook me by my shoulders. He gave me a small smile as I slipped open an eye. "Come on lazy arse, we are going," he chuckled. Upon further inspection, Duvaithor was already dressed and had packed up our things. I rubbed the layer of sleep from my eyes, stretching as I sat up.

"Where are we going?" I asked, holding back a yawn that threatened to break loose. Duvaithor stayed silent for a long while, watching me pull my armor on, but not in any sort of perverted way. He waited until I was almost done to open his mouth.

"Whiterun…" he replied softly. My attention snapped to his face, my eyes searching his, trying to find if he was speaking the truth or not. My heart skipped a beat as I found no signs of a lie. My lips curled into the brightest of smiles.

"Whiterun…" I repeated quietly. He eyed me and gave a slight, quick nod.

"Yep, that's the place," he muttered, standing. He seemed to dread returning to the town. I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of a certain Companion who resided there. Hell, that was the only reason I was thrilled to return to the city. I didn't want to see my uncle. Who did? I swiftly got ready for the journey, standing tall.

"Alright, let's go," I said, trying to contain my excitement. The elf most likely saw right through it, grumbling to himself as he began walking. I faithfully followed him. Soon, I grew bored and fixated my attention on Duvaithor's stupid red pony tail. It was relatively long, going down between his shoulder blades. But how in Azura's name did it stay perfect? Even in battle it never shifted out of its holder. I ran a hand through my own hair, grimacing. Could I rock a pony tail? No, probably not, that was a big fat no. I'd look ridiculous.

In my daydream, I collided with the dark elf that was now facing me, an annoyed look on his grey face. I blinked, staring up at him, trying to take a step back.

"Seriously, Lydia?"

"What?" I huffed, staring at him. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

"Would it kill you to do your job?" he asked, looking ready to shake me by my shoulders.

"My job? What do you-"

"Mean? I mean is you are supposed to stay alert!" he barked. My face came to rest in bitch face mode.

"Seriously?" I looked around at the wide open field, spreading my arms. "Oh no I hope a butterfly doesn't come and catch us off guard!" I gasped sarcastically, glaring at him. Duvaithor grumbled, turning around again to continue onward.

"I don't need your sass, Lydia. I need you to focus on me…"

I threw my arms in the air and then ran forward, linking my arm with him, batting my lashes, staring up at him with wide-all-seeing eyes. "Oh Dark, I'm so sorry, I'll never do it again…" I said in a breathy voice.

His ears lowered, giving me an 'are you shitting me' face. I simply smiled sweetly up at him, batting my eyes again and again. Duvaithor sighed loudly, shoving me off him.

"Again, with your stupid sass."

"Hey! I am a peach to be with," I chuckled, walking beside him rather than behind him.

"Sureeeeee, whatever you say, Lydia," he mumbled. We were quiet after that for a couple miles. I finally looked back up at him.

"So, whatcha wanna talk about?" I asked, startling him slightly. He eyed me for a bit, mulling over what I had said as if it had been a test.

"That is a wonderful question, one I do not know the answer to…" He said intelligently. I groaned loudly.

"Can't you just say, 'I don't know' like a normal person?"

"Oh my dear, Lydia… I am no normal person," he purred, waggling his eyebrows at me, making me snort and punched his arm.

"Oh shut it, Mr. Dragonborn,"

"Shut what, might I ask? Whatever it is, I'm sure I could close it up for you," his lips curled upwards into a faint, mocking smile. "Anything for you, my sweet Lydia…"

I snapped my mouth shut, wiping the smile from my face. Something deep within my chest shifted, and it was a rather unsettling sensation. I pushed my hair behind my ears, swallowing the bile rising up in my throat.

Duvaithor had stopped walking, gripping my upper arm to pull me back, his arched brows pinched in question. "Lydia? Are you alright? You look rather ill…" he actually sounded mildly concerned. His long slender hand carefully came up, his fingertips brushing my bruised cheek. "Lydia?" he whispered softly, his eyelids lowering slightly, his face peering down into mine.

"I'm fine," I choked, cursing my voice for not staying true. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as his fingers stroked my skin, his other hand coming and cupping the other cheek.

"Are you sure about that? We could… take a break from this walking. Just for a little while." His voice was low and careful. I opened my eyes, surprised to find his face inches from mine. I gulped, moistening my chapped lips; my eyes flicking down and landing on his mouth. It looked soft and daring. My gaze slowly returned to his eyes. His expression had softened and his shoulders had relaxed.

"Yes, I am fine, now let's hurry up and get to Whiterun. I want to see Farkas." The second the Companion's name came off of my tongue, Duvaithor's entire body went ridged. His grip on my face turned painful and a hard set had taken over in his white eyes. It appeared that all vulnerability had vanished from his being.

"Right. Wouldn't want to keep you from your mutt, now would we?" his voice was stone cold and bitter as he ripped himself away from me, walking at a fast pace, his long legs taking him several paces ahead. I stood there, frozen. I suddenly felt incredibly cold. I hugged myself, shivering. I slowly began to follow him, my head hanging low. Every part of me was tense with regret. I was too numb to even snap at him for insulting Farkas. For some reason, after that entire occurrence, I found that I couldn't say anything, much less defend a third party. I snuck a glance to the dark elf, seeing with certain queasiness, that from his erect posture, that he was definitely furious.

I sighed heavily, slowly making my way after him the rest of the way. I tilted my head up to see the sun setting just beyond the familiar sight of Dragonsreach. A horrible pain inside my gut sprang forth, as if I had been hit with a war hammer. How could I possibly feel any sort of homesick to such a place that had been my prison for many years? I shook my head absent mindedly. It had to be nerves. I was about to go see Farkas! Would he even be happy to see me?

As we approached the gates I ducked my head low to avoid the eyes of the guards. I didn't feel like being laughed at. It was embarrassing enough to be recognized as the Jarl's troublesome niece, but being seen while fulfilling out my punishment as housecarl? I might as well stab myself in the neck and get it over with already.

Beside me, Duvaithor let out a heavy sigh as he resituated his gear. He tightened the straps a bit, muttering something in Elvish. I nearly opened my mouth to ask what he had said, but I didn't really feel like getting shouted at in the middle of the market place. I kept quiet as he made his way up to the familiar and iconic mead hall: Jorrvaskr. My heart lifted and began pounding within my chest as we drew closer to the building. I couldn't contain my smile as it carefully etched into my face. Duvaithor grumbled, opening the door and holding it open for me, to my surprise.

"Well go on," he huffed, not looking like his chivalry would last much longer. I hurried inside, Duvaithor following me in quickly. The door swung shut behind him as I stared out into the mead hall. The large fire pit was lit, filling the room with warmth and a dim light. A few Companions sat around the table, drinking and laughing. A woman stood, crossing the room to approach us. Her war paint was smudged, but it possibly added to her looks.

"Lydia, Dragonborn, I hadn't been expecting you until tomorrow," Aela commented as she climbed the few stairs.

Duvaithor looked about ready to throw a fit. "I'd appreciated it if you spoke directly to me, and not my servant, thank you very much."

I scoffed, sending him a dirty look. "Servant? If you SERIOUSLY think I am going to ever accept that title, you are sorely mistaken," I hissed through clenched teeth. Aela gave a low whistle, looking from Duvaithor to me.

"Perhaps… You two would like to get some rest? It is getting late, and well… This is all rather awkward for all of us." Aela muttered, eyeing Duvaithor, who was glaring daggers at me. "So… Lydia, you know where the spare rooms are. I'm sure the two of you can find some beds," she added hastily.

"Yes," I nodded, turning to head to the stairs. "I remember where they-"

"I require private quarters with my housecarl." Duvaithor stated bluntly. I squeaked, spinning around to gawk at him. What did he mean by THAT?

Aela seemed slightly taken aback, but quickly molded her features into that of a mask. "I'm sure that can be arranged. Our harbinger is away, so you may use his quarters, Dragonborn." She glanced over her shoulder to me. Her green eyes sparked with confusion. She decided that by my own perplexed expression that I didn't understand either.

"Um. Okay," I said finally. I winced at the sound of my voice as it was thrown around the now silent room. The other Companions had quieted down to watch the scene unfold. To my relief, Farkas and his twin did not appear to be one of the crowd. "Let's go then."

Duvaithor followed me down the stairs and through the corridor to Kodlak's quarters. Just as Aela had stated, he appeared to be away. I slowly sat down as Duvaithor peeled off his knapsack from his shoulders and his sword from his hip. To my surprise and horror, he began stripping right there. I averted my eyes to the papers on the table as he got undressed and then dressed once more in more casual and comfortable clothes. He turned to me once he was finished. I could feel his eyes lingering over me for a few minutes. I couldn't bear to look at him, so I kept my attention on a letter with a small ink spill on it. He made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a grumble, turning to the door, and leaving without a word. I remained in my seat for a couple of moments to calm my racing pulse. Once in a more relaxed state, I stood, changing into my own normal clothes. I grimaced at how filthy they had gotten. Maybe Aela had something I could borrow.

I slowly padded down the hall, trying to keep quiet for a reason I did not know. My skin was itching for a bath, but I knew my Thane would never let me leave while he was surrounded by the Companions. Was he scared of them, or merely hesitant? I couldn't decide which was more likely. I couldn't recall a single time I had seen the dark elf scared. Pissed, yes, but fearful? Not once.

"Lydia," a rough voice called from behind me. Though the voice was crafted to be vicious, a certain tenderness seeped into its edges. A small smile itched to crawl onto my face. I turned slowly, taking him in.

"Farkas. I was afraid you went with Kodlak," I whispered as he approached me. He chuckled at that slightly.

"Afraid? Now that's not the Lydia I know," he smiled, his white teeth gleaming as he gazed down at me. He wasn't in armor, but his arm was wrapped up, hinting that he had just came back with an injury. He noticed my glance and shook his head. "You should see the other guy. I can show you his head, if you'd like. It's pretty cool, actually. It was a really clean cut. Aela did it with a hunting knife of all things," he rambled. I scrunched up my nose, silencing him.

"Another time perhaps."

"Oh, alright," he laughed softly, bringing his hand up to touch my cheek. He paused, taking his hand away as if he was thinking better of it. I blinked, finding this incredibly out of character. When did Farkas ever second-guess himself? Especially when wooing women?

"Farkas?" I asked lightly, my hand brushing his hand. His bright blue eyes were a shade darker than before.

"You smell like blood," he commented in a gravelly voice. I stared at him.

"Um. Well yeah? Babysitting the Dragonborn isn't exactly the cleanest job to do, Farkas, I don't understand why you're so-"

"No, Lydia. You smell like him!" Farkas stated harshly. I opened and then closed my mouth, confusion in my eyes. That was replaced by hurt when he stepped back. He saw my expression change and gave a heavy sigh. "You just don't understand, Lydia."

"Then tell me? You aren't making any sense, Farkas. Why are you acting like this? You've always been straight forward with me. Why aren't you now?" I pleaded, reaching up to grab onto his shirt. He didn't move away, but he had a grimace on his face as my fingers hid in his tunic.

"Because this time… It's just different, alright?" he sighed, taking my hands from his chest. He held them in his own, looking at the floor. I couldn't help but notice the startling difference between them. His were large and strong, mine weren't exactly dainty, but comparatively, they could have been.

"Tell me how…" I begged, squeezing his hands. He closed his eyes, as if he had wished I hadn't asked him that. He shook his head, pulling me down the hall and into his room. I blinked, having never been inside there before. I wasn't surprised to see a bar counter in the corner. It would have made me smile if the situation had been different. I tilted my head, spying a lute resting against the far wall beside his bed. I turned to him after he closed the door.

"I don't trust him, Lydia," he stated.

I snorted, staring at him incredulously. "What and you think I do? Have you seen the guy? There is something seriously wrong with him."

"Exactly," he cried out quietly, looking terribly sad. I frowned, sitting down on his bed, staring at my hands in my lap. He sat down beside me, fidgeting. "You can't stay with him."

I shot him an accusing glare. "You think I have a choice? I'm bound to him, Farkas. He is my Thane, I can't just break that. What? Do you think I enjoy being his human shield?" I spat venomously.

Farkas whined like a shot puppy, looking to me, his blue eyes dark and shining. "I can't watch you with him, Lydia. He is going to get you killed. Or worst."

"What's worse than him killing me? Pray tell."

He swallowed, his throat moving very slowly. Instead of answering that question, he simply said, "He is evil, Lydia."

"Evil how?" I asked, watching him stand and walk towards the door.

He paused at the door, his hand on the wall. I could see blood staining his bandages. "Just… Evil, Lydia. And it is an evil I can't save you from." He turned his head to look at me over his shoulder. "I can't bring you back from this."

I numbly got to my feet, going to him as he returned to staring at the door. I carefully wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my head against his strong back. The muscles beneath his skin shifted as he tensed under my touch.

"I don't need you to protect me, Farkas. You know that." I whispered, inhaling his wet dog-like scent. He stiffened considerably, his body ridged.

"I was afraid you'd say that," he muttered, slowly pulling my arms away from him. He opened the door and walked out, shutting it, sealing me inside his own room. My lower lip trembling as his footsteps carried him further and further away from me. I choked back tears, ripping the door open and hurrying back to the Harbinger's quarters. I closed both sets of doors, leaving me alone in the sleeping chambers. I dropped down on the bed, letting the silent tears run down my face. I had to pull myself together before Duvaithor came back from Gods know where.

I curled up in the blankets, rubbing my face into the pillows, trying to get a grip. My mother had always told me to never cry, that men wouldn't take me seriously with misted eyes. But by the divines, this is not how I wanted this visit to go at all. This wasn't what I had envisioned those nights leading up to today.

The curtains along the stone arch opened, freeing the image of a soft green field in the summer time. I tilted my head, glancing back to look at the archway that no longer existed. I shook my head, telling myself that it had never been there, that I had always been outside. I walked forward, feeling the lush grass under my bare feet. A breeze gathered up my black curls. Curls. When had my hair ever fell in curls? My fingertips brushed delicate cotton as it flowed around me, settling in a fluid white dress around my body.

I looked up, taking in the field once more. Only this time I wasn't alone. A large man stood a few paces away, wearing gentleman's clothes with white accents. His hair was trimmed and his skin free of dirt. A radiant smile spread across his face as I was suddenly in front of him. "My Lydia," he breathed, his lips brushing against my ear.

My Lydia. My lungs burned suddenly as he wrapped his arms around me, a numbing sensation washing over me, flooding my veins. It felt like a shot of sunlight spilling over my skin and insides. He pulled me close to his chest, his lips trailing up to rest at my forehead. I let my eyes close as the warmth wrapped me tightly against him.

"My Lydia."

My eyes snapped open at the voice that spoke. It was no longer rough and soft. It was poisoned honey, tempting and deadly. The scene had drastically changed. It was in the middle of a bitter winter, dark as midnight. Snow and ice had killed all of the life for miles long ago. The warm immediately left, a spark of frigid frost diving deep within my soul, freezing my blood. Everything suddenly felt horribly heavy, as if I was trapped below the surface of an ice-covered lake.

A slow smile was painted on the man in black who held me to his slender form. My breath was caught in my throat as I stared up at him. His eyes flashed against the light of the moon, red filling my vision. His eyes. They were a blinding and twisted swirl of reds and blacks, nothing like the fascinating white they had been every second before now.

I tried to move back, but he had me pressed against him, fitted snuggly against every curve, every indentation on his body. His dark skin contrasted against the white of the snow, his red eyes looking me over.

Something slippery slid down the front of my chest, the low cut of the dress clinging to my frozen skin. I glanced down to see red spilling down and dripping a small river onto the snow at our feet. I began to shake; trembling in his arms as he carefully rubbed my back.

"Oh my Lydia… We will be so happy together…" Duvaithor breathed, leaning down to press his face into my neck. I felt his tongue slowly trail along it. A cry filled the air; my head sagging back, my mouth open in a permanent scream. My vision was sprayed with an empty sea of red, blinding pain searing my soul.

"Lydia," a voice called, pulling me back and away from the world of crimson. I snapped up into a sitting position, screaming. Duvaithor yelped, jumping away from me, as I lashed out at him.

"Shit, Lydia!" he said as if I had scared him senseless. I was heaving, staring at him with wide eyes. I couldn't get air into my lungs fast enough as I gripped the blankets until my knuckles turned white. Duvaithor frowned, slowly sitting back down on the bed, reaching over to touch my hand. "Are you…"

"Get away from me," I rasped, my chest still rising and falling swiftly. He grimaced, but pulled his hand back to his lap. He sat in silence, letting me catch my breath. His white eyes gleamed as he searched my face. His own was expressionless, but his eyes seemed to tell a different story.

He knows that I know something. I gulped, clenching my jaw as we both stared at each other.

"What do you want? Was I snoring or something?" I tried to play it off and pretend that I hadn't just woken up screaming from a nightmare. He didn't seem convinced.

"No… But…" he said slowly, his lips dipping into a small frown, his brows coming together. He reached out once more to my hand, this time I didn't stop him. I was frozen as he lifted it, turning it over in his own.

"But what?" I whispered, watching the elf carefully. He looked up at me, slowly moving closer to me. I straightened as his side brushed against mine. He then gently pushed my hair behind my ear to whisper into it. I let my eyes flutter closed as his chilled breath made the hair on the back of my neck raise.

"You're on the bed. I would like to sleep and you are on the bed," he whispered against my ear. I jerked away from him, shoving him square in the chest with a repulsed look written all over my face. He looked indifferent, and slightly annoyed that I had pushed him.

"You disgust me," I hissed.

"Ditto, now move. I was nice enough to get my bed roll out for you in the office. Now go. I need my beauty sleep," he cooed, his eyes shimmering. I got up, stomping towards the door in a fit of rage. He smirked, watching me as he lounged on the king sized bed.

I spun around to look at him as I neared the door, a burning fire in my eyes. I snatched the golden health ring off of my finger, which had been a gift from him, and chucked it at his head. He moved as fast as a silverfish, and ducked out of its path. Before he could give me an accusatory glare, I turned on my heel and walked into the office, slamming the bedroom doors shut behind me.

I stood there for a long time, just standing with my back pressed up against the door. A lone lantern rested on the table next to the letters, making its light flicker off the walls. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm down from my dream and from my anger at Duvaithor's rudeness. As I calmed down, I moved to the pathetic bed roll crumpled on the ground in front of the doors to the hallway. That stupid elf was absolute scum. Instead of sleeping on the floor like a loyal hound, I snuck out into the hall and into a room I had been in what now felt like ages ago. I cracked the door open, and peaked inside, seeing Farkas seated at his small bar. He was drinking, no shock there. He turned, his eyes soft and incredibly sad as he looked at me. I swallowed, holding the door with both hands, hesitant to enter.

"Could I… Do you think I could…?" I started, my voice faint. He nodded slowly, standing as I came in. He met me half way, pulling me into a tender hug, his lips on my forehead, just like it had been in my dream. I hid my face into his chest and let him simply hold me for several minutes, neither of us saying anything.

"You should lie down, Lydia. When is the last time you slept?" he asked quietly, still not moving from our embrace. I gave a small shrug, unsure if he counted my nightmare induced sleep I had just woken up from. He nodded and pulled me to his large bed. He pulled back the covers, helping me inside them. After I was settled, he sat down, gently setting a hand on my cheek. "So long as you are here, Lydia. I will keep him away from you. Even if it is the last thing I do."

I carefully touched my neck, where his lips had been in my dream. I could have sworn I had felt a small prick there only a moment ago, but it must have been my imagination. Perhaps sleep was for the best.

Farkas started to stand, but I caught his wrist before he could get too far. "Wait… Please," I pleaded. He paused, as if he was contemplating what I had meant. "Lay with me," I amended. Realization flashed over his eyes before he gave a small nod, telling me to move over. I did so, and watched as he lay down on top of the blankets, flat on his back. I inched closer to him, hugging his arm to my chest. It wasn't his injured one, but even if it had been, I don't think he would have minded.

"Sweet dreams, Lydia," he whispered quietly, staring up at the ceiling. I knew he didn't sleep due to his beast blood, but it was comforting to know he was willing to lay with me at least until I fell asleep.

"Goodnight, Farkas," I breathed, leaning up to kiss his jaw delicately, before returning to curling up with my head on his shoulder. I listened to his soft breathing for nearly a half and hour, letting it finally lull me to sleep.

I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while and now I finally got it out there. Feel free to tell me what you thought about it! Thanks my lovelies! I'll try not to vanish off the face of the earth this time!