Hullo, everyone! TODAY IS A SNOW DAY! So, I made this chapter with snowiness in it! You know, white, soft. . .full of FLUFF ;). I hope you enjoy! -LR

For the first time in five years, I slept in late.

Partly to avoid Marrick. Partly because I didn't have anything to do.

But, mostly to avoid Marrick.

I didn't change out of my longshirt, and I didn't pull on any trousers, and I didn't get out of bed. And, I wanted to be a painting more than ever. The room the Greybeards gave me had a large window with a beautiful view that I could've closed, but left wide open. Snow and wind flew past and in, and the brisk chill kept me awake, though I lay still.

It sounds crazy, but leaving the window open made me feel more like part of the vista. Because, that's what it was: a wide open frame, softly falling snow that no one had stepped on yet. The sun rising lazily on the horizon, a red haze sweeping across the sky before fading to orange which then faded to grey.

It was beautiful.

At the apex of everything coming together, it seemed like the whole world softly sighed at the same time, and me with it; the perfect escape.

I just curled into my mountain of blankets, took in the view jealously and allowed myself to pretend for a moment that I was someone else.

"Princess?"

The hoarse whisper drew me out of my trance, and I bit down on my lip. Marrick. Of course it was him; it had to be him. I couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Princess," he called through the door again, "Are you awake?"

I shut my eyes, No.

"I got some Dragonborn shit to do with the Greybeards. I'll be outside, if you look for me later."

I don't care.

There was a long pause.

"Are you awake?" he asked again. Then he cracked open the door. "Are you even in there?"

Don't you come in here!

Ignoring my unvoiced demand, Marrick entered the room, and the first word he said was, "Whoa."

I opened one eye to sneak a glance at him. He stood tall, all in black, as usual, and was a few strides into the room, staring out of the window into the snow.

"Are you seeing this?" he whispered. "Princess, do you see what I'm seeing?"

Yes. That, and nothing else.

"Nah. Guess not," he sighed, and started to stretch. "Too busy faking sleep hn, Princess?" I opened my eyes fully, no use in keeping up a farce when you've been had. But, I didn't look at Marrick; I looked at the view. "Oh, gonna ignore me, are you?" I rolled my eyes. "Fine, then, you don't have to say anything," he groused, irritated. "But what I know is that you have five pairs of trousers, and they're all on the floor."

I slowly brought my gaze up to glare at him

You wouldn't.

"If you don't talk, you're getting fucked," he said dangerously. My jaw dropped. "Just sayin'."

I stared at him, stupefied before slowly covering my face and hunkering deeper into the blanket.

"Alright, Princess, you asked for this."

"Wait! Don't!"

"Too late now."

His hands grabbed at the blanket, and mine went to fight him off.

"What are you talking about, too late!?"

"If you can fake sleep, I can fake deaf."

"You just responded to me!"

He paused, and I poked my head out to look at him, only to get the shock of my life. Not only were his shirt already off, but his belt was also already undone.

"Did I?" he asked mockingly, "When?"

"You just did it again!"

"What?"

"Just now, y-"

Marrick jerked the blankets out of my grip. I sat there, astonished while he sported a triumphant smirk. Before i could manage a word of protest, he lunged at me, pinning me to the spot, looking gleeful.

"You're going to need to stop doing that."

"One time with me, and you'll be begging the complete opposite."

"You're killing me," I groaned, shoving at his shoulders in vain.

"I advise you to stop struggling; it's kinda turning me on." I've never been more still in my whole life. "Good girl."

I let out an aggravated noise.

"Why do you insist on-"

"Don't regret it," he said with a smile. "I told you, don't regret it; it was nothing. So don't hide in bed because of it."

I didn't say anything because, really, what was there to say?

The snow blew in around us like diamond dust and for the tiniest instant, I could clearly see that pretty silver thread that led from his chest to mine. His night-dark tail was tossed by the chilly North Wind, and he was smiling.

At that moment, I didn't want to be part of the painting that was outside my window; I wanted to be a part of the painting that was Marrick. Wild abandon, recklessness, wrecklessness, free.

There is nothing like you, I thought to myself, and I swear to Mara it was that fool thread that made me say it aloud:

"There is nothing like you."

Of all his expressions, fury, humor, irritation, arrogance, and even surprise, his face took on one with which I was completely unfamiliar. One that I am still too scared to name.

His smile widened the way all smiles should, like his lips couldn't help it. And his eyes warmed to their ink-dark depths.

"Back at you, Princess." I smiled back at him. "Now, if you hadn' heard me before in the middle of your fake-sleeping, I'm gonna go learn some Shouts."

"I'll be here," I reassured him.

"You'd better be," he called over his shoulder, as he fastened his trouser back and left the room, twirling his shirt and whistling.

\

"You two bring darkness here," Arngeir asked conversationally, "Don't you?"

We were sitting on the steps of the monastery's back porch, watching Marrick practice the Whirlwind Sprint and eating a loaf of bread. The fallen snow had long since been corrupted. Now, it was dirtied, stepped on, ruined.

My thoughts drifted back to my morning encounter with Marrick, and the silver cord I could see stretching between us, when I tilted my head just right. How could anything that pretty be dark?

"Depends," I shrugged, ripping loose another piece. "Define 'darkness'."

"Bloodbinding."

I glanced at him.

"You knew." He nodded. "That's why you looked at me how you did, when we met you."

He nodded again, impressed, "Yes. If lore is to be believed, your very soul is fastened to the Dragonborn's. Do you have any idea what that may encompass?"

"Not a one," I said, breaking another piece. "We're both kind of stumbling through the dark, right now. But I'm going to do what feels right. I'm sure it'll figure itself out."

We watched Marrick for a little while longer.

"What do you know about Alduin?"

"He's a big dragon, blacker than black. He embodies the end of the world, but Marrick is destined to challenge him."

"I was expecting you to say he was destined to 'defeat' him."

I shook my head.

"From what I understand, that bit's up in the air. The legends don't specify the Dragonborn slaying the dragon."

Arngeir quirked a brow.

"Forgive and correct me if I am wrong, but are you not from abroad?"

"I am," I nodded. "I'm Redguard, from Hegathe. But after my arrival here, I joined the Stormcloaks and made some Nord brothers. They love to tell stories."

"I see," he chuckled. But then, he stopped abruptly. "They collide, don't they? Your being a Stormcloak and his being Dragonborn."

"Yes," I smiled, watching Marrick as tried the Shout once again. "I will desert as soon as he's done here."

"What?"

"Defeating Alduin comes first; you of all people know that. Marrick and I can't separate, or he dies- I have to go with him."

We were silent, the snow drifting around us, and Arngeir was the one to break it.

"How many lashes?" he asked.

"Eight," I replied, like I was giving the weather. "One for each of the divines."

"Does he know?"

"I figure I can get him to wait outside the city. By the time he understands, I'll have already dealt with it."

Marrick shouted the Words of Whirlwind Sprint and shot through the row of opened gates before they could close, completing the test perfectly. He turned to where we sat, and raised a hand. I raised mine in return and smiled.

"The Imperials have no place invading Skyrim," Arngeir said, "so I already know the sort of men who govern them. But Ulfric I thought to be above this."

The corners of my lips quirked up.

"Is that a bias I hear, Master? And here I thought the Greybeards were neutral in the war."

"We practically raised Ulfric. He stayed on with us as a boy, even has a Shout as a souvenir."

"Are you proud of his being a hero?"

"Being a hero is nothing without having first learned how to care for someone apart from yourself."

That gave me pause.

"That is very true," I sighed.

"You are thinking of Marrick."

I decided to dodge that.

"If you're worried about Ulfric, you needn't be. He's easily the best man I know."

"Even so," Arngeir said, "the punishment for desertion is not one that you deserve, my lady. Bring the Dragonborn in with you. He can vouch for your story and spare you the whip."

I opened my mouth to combat this, but he raised a palm.

"If you need me to beg, plead or command you, I will. Do not let him go through with this thing."

"Master Arngeir. . ." I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and saw Marrick strolling towards us, hands in his pockets. "I will. Thank you."

He nodded, and stood to receive Marrick.

"Well done, Dragonborn," he smiled. "You have completed your training." Marrick smiled back and winked at me. "Before you depart, however, I have one final task for you."

"How's that?"

"We would ask that you retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, father and founder of the Greybeards. Do this, and all qualms of your identity will be extinguished."

Marrick passed me a glance.

"What do you think?"

"Go for it," I shrugged. "I'm right behind you."

"We can stop by the Stormcloaks so you can drop out or whatever," he reassured me.

I forced a smile.

"Naturally."

"Come on, then," Marrick said, walking up the steps and opening the door. "We'll be back before you know we're gone," he called over his shoulder.

"Remain true to the Way and you will find your way back," Arngeir called back.

Yeah, he threw in "the Way" for Marrick's benefit.

But, I knew that it was meant for me.

Next to even Marrick, I was the liar of all liars and I'd have to fess up sooner rather than later. For some reason, that sounded like death to me, having to face my Nord brothers and Ulfric like that.

Maybe that was my punishment for leaving bed and facing the facts.

Maybe that was my punishment for wanting to be a painting.

(A/N: I chose "Stay" by Rhianna, and "Breathe Me" by Sia for this chapter. What'd you pick for a soundtrack? Let me know! I look forward to the reviews! -LR)