Hullo, everybody! I hope you haven't given up on me. I'm trying to keep my word, in terms of not going on hiatus, and me being on Spring Break this week should help with that. Major developments in this chapter, and major, Major, MAJOR developments in EVERY chapter yet to come. I tried to make it longer, Adonnenniell, and the "slow building tension" is reaching its peak, eep246, so just hold on. You'll get what you ask for ;) Keep reading everyone, and I hope you enjoy! -LR

"So, he's the Dragon," Paia asked. "The one from the fortune?"

I nodded.

"It would seem so."

"Hm."

We were sitting astride our horses, watching Marrick from down the road as he took on a small army of Forsworn. It was nearing the end of Evening Star. The twilit sky ran a blend of red, orange, gold and pink over the trees and over Marrick, lighting up the wild, playful expression on his face.

"Ulfric believes Marrick loves me."

"Don't doubt it for a moment," she said immediately.

I eyed her quizzically.

"You believe that?"

Paia nodded, "Nine lashes," she reminded me. "Nine. Would Shazaa have done so for you?"

"People of Shazaa's class don't have to do things like that for anyone."

"Mawe, you sound like Shazaa," she laughed. "'I don't see why I should answer that. We would never be in that situation'!"

"You do that a little too well."

She grinned, but I could see the gears switch in her mind, and her smile began to fade.

"Do you think he'll find you?"

"I'm counting on it," I replied shortly, sending the message that I wanted to drop the subject. Paia picked up on it, but her next topic of choice wasn't far from the last.

"What happened when Ulfric saw him?"

"Nothing, really. Ulfric just . . . walked towards me. Marrick stepped in between us, and Ulfric got angry and then asked him who he was."

"And, did he tell him?" Paia asked. "Did he say he was Dragonborn?"

"He said, 'You know who I am'," I recited, still watching him. There was one more archer left, and Marrick was stalking him. Toying. "That's all," I said, "'You know who I am'." Paia was silent for a while, and when I looked over at her, she was open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "What?"

"He said that?" she asked, bewildered. "Rontu that. . . that is not nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"Are you serious?" she said with a half-laugh. "You have eyes, and don't see; you have ears, and don't hear. Rontu," she smiled, nodding towards Marrick, "Rontu, that man was claiming you." I paused for a moment, in shock, before I burst out laughing. "It's not funny."

"It is, to me," I managed to choke out. At her frown, my laughter died down, a grin still clinging to my lips. "Paia," I said, "You're overthinking this."

"No, you're underthinking it," she argued. "You don't see it, because he doesn't even see it. But, that's the only reason for him to say something like that. You know who I am," she repeated. "He wasn't talking about being Dragonborn, Rontu, he was claiming that you were his. That he had a right to step between you and Ulfric like he did." I thought on this hard, as Marrick finally put the last man standing out of his misery. "He claimed you," she said. "He loves you."

I sighed.

"Paia," I said, as he began walking back towards us. "Do you remember what my father used to say? About Shazaa?"

"That's very vague," she laughed. "Your father had plenty of things to say about Shazaa."

"The one I'm thinking of is very particular. He said, 'That boy leans on broken reeds. And one day, he's going to get a face-full of mud'."

She thought on the proverb a bit before asking me to explain it.

"The reeds were his supposed feelings for me," I said, "and, the mud was reality."

"Rontu, this time is different," she protested. "For him, there's something deeper than superficial feelings, or even the blood tie. He leans on stone pillars, Rontu. Not broken reeds, but love."

"That's not true; we're companions," I insisted, "Friends." I watched Marrick as he came sauntering up to us. "Nothing more."

"Look at all this loot," Marrick grinned, passing me a bag of coin. He picked up the reins I'd dropped, holding onto them while I sorted through what he'd picked up.

"Nice," I smiled.

"Glad you think so. That's your cut."

"My cut?"

"Aye, for letting me kill them all." From over his, I noticed Paia raise her brows, but I ignored her.

"Thanks, then." I looked into the horizon and sighed. "You should mount up. I want to reach Riverwood before it gets too dark."

"Riverwood?" Paia's face was a question. "I thought we were going to Riften."

"Riften later," I said. "We have some business in Riverwood."

"Don't worry," Marrick reassured her, "We'll be quick."

As he lifted up into the saddle, Paia and I shared another look over his head.

Ever since meeting my best friend, Marrick had made no advancements on her. He kept an almost rude distance from her, and the few times he did speak to Paia, he was polite, but not familiar.

It made me smile.

No, I didn't think Marrick was in love with me. He was just trying to change.

"Alright," he said, settling into the saddle. "Let's go."

We continued on at a brisk run; that little ordeal with the Forsworn had set us back a bit. Not to mention, we were on somewhat of a tight schedule. Still, we reached Riverwood relatively quickly.

"I will take the bags inside," I informed them. "Paia, please attend to the horses. And Marrick?" I called. He looked up as he feet touched down on his dismount. "If you could just check us in at the-"

"Nameless?" His eyes bulged out of his skull, brows lifting. "It is you." I swiveled around in my saddle to see a tall Nord woman of long, blond hair and a fine-boned face. Her blue eyes sparkled with mirth as she smirked, hands resting on her waist. "I wondered when you'd be back."

"Gerdur." I glanced at Marrick in time to see him swallow hard, and I watched the gulp travel down beneath his armor.

"So, you do remember me."

She crossed the road from in from of the trading shop she stood before, and stopped a few paces away from him. I glanced quickly at Paia, to say I told you so, but she was already briskly walking towards the inn with the horses' tack, not wanting to hear any part of it. When I looked back at Gerdur, she was looking right at me.

"Will you introduce me to your friend?"

"Ah. . ."

Watching him, I knew Marrick was about to look at me, and I knew the kind of expression I had on my face: humor. I don't know; just seeing his liasons catching up with him, humor was the only option for me. Well. . . I thought, before I could stop myself. Not the only option. . .

In any case, by the time Marrick turned to gauge my thoughts on it all, I was grinning.

"Gerdur, yes," I said, sliding out of my saddle. "I have heard of you, but not from this one."

"No? Then, how?"

"I am called Rontu," I said. "But you may know me as Na'el. Na'el Death-Prince"

Her face went blank for a moment; I have to be honest, I probably took too much pleasure from people's reaction to my title.

"And, are you not just as my brother said?" she breathed. "The shadow in the night, yes, the warrior sired by Sheogorath himself, but chosen by Ysgramor and Talos." Gerdur smiled. "We have heard many of your tales, Master Na'el."

"Rontu, please," I corrected. "And, I am no man."

Her eyes found my curves, and her smile, though shocked, widened.

"So I see," she laughed. She shifted her gaze to Marrick. "So, how have you come upon this wanderer?"

"How does anyone ever encounter a wanderer?" I replied with a smile. "By accident."

Gerdur laughed, but still kept her attention on Marrick.

"And, how are you, Wanderer?" she asked.

"Well," he muttered. Apparently, his wit left him when under pressure, as well.

"Aye?" Her eyes lit up, lashes lowered. "And, how is your. . . sword arm?"

I wanted to laugh so badly, but all that escaped my throat was a choking sound.

"Well," he said again. Then, suddenly. he met her gaze head-on. "How are your husband and son?"

That gave both Gerdur and I pause. Though, she seemed to recover more quickly than I.

"Hod and Frodnar are well enough," she said. "Maybe, you will come and sup with us?"

This time, I had to turn away to keep her from seeing my laughter, pretending to unharness Queen Alfsigr's tack, though Marrick got an eyeful of it.

"Not. . . not likely," he said.

"Oh. . ." she cocked her head. "Well. Do not be a stranger, Nameless," she said, and the irony was killing me all the more. "You know my door is always open."

With that, she walked away.

And that was the breaking point.

I leaned against my horse's back, pressing my forehead against the leather of the saddle, howling in laughter. Marrick shoved me hard.

"Shut up!"

"She. . ." I sputtered, "she. . .she doesn't even know your name!" That got me laughing even harder.

"Shut it, already!"

I raised my head from the saddle, tears streaming from both eyes, a wide grin on my face.

"Shut what? My door?" I batted my eyes as best I could. "But it's always open."

I kept laughing and laughing, and finally, Marrick joined me.

"Alright, Princess," he grinned. "You got that one."

I crooned, swiping at my eyes.

"A husband and son?" I asked aloud. My eyes found Marrick, as he cast his glance aside. "However did you manage it?"

"Hod- the husband- he. . ."

"He what? Is he weak? A small man?"

"No," Marrick said, shaking his head. "Not weak at all. He's massive. And strong, too. A logger."

"Then, how-"

"He. . ." Marrick wet his lips, before giving a harsh laugh and wry smile. "He. . .watched."

My jaw dropped in shock.

"You. . . you gave him. . . horns?" I blinked in disbelief. "He wanted you to. . . cuckold him?"

"I never meant-" he stopped and sighed. "Aye, I suppose so."

My laughter had stopped.

But, that brought it right back up.

"I do not understand you Nords," I howled. "And, maybe I never will. How could a man allow another person, a stranger-"

"I told you before. I just give people what they want." Marrick shook his head and shrugged. "And, if anything, it was an experience."

"What in hell do you mean, an experience?"

"I have a theory," he announced. Then, he raked his gaze over me. "One that you might like to consider."

"I'll let you tell me what it is, before I hit you for that comment."

He laughed.

"If you don't bend, you break."

"And, what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, just. . ." he shrugged. "Look at you. You have no reason to keep acting as a man, but you still dress like one? No," he said, resolutely, "You're gonna break." I nodded slowly. Then, I punched him in the shoulder. Hard. "Fuck, Princess!"

"What?" I said, dryly. "I told you that was coming." He cursed at me, and I smiled. "What does it matter how I dress?"

"Are you serious?" he asked. "I think it's pretty obvious." I cocked my head at him; it wasn't obvious to me. "I think you're afraid of me, seeing you as a woman. You know," he prompted, "of changing the relationship."

"I am not!"

"Oh, really? Then, when we settle in, change into a dress, show me something interesting." He raised his brows, his eyes a challenge. "Bend."

"That wouldn't prove a damned thing!" I exclaimed, shaking my head. "Men are so strange."

"Men are strange, yes. But women are still stranger."

"On that, I must agree," I said. "What would cause a woman to just blindly give herself to someone?"

"Doesn't that go for you as well?" he chuckled. "What about the man who took your maidenhead?"

I stopped walking, then, and he turned around a few steps beyond me to see why. I cocked my head, looking at him quizzically, a small, but serious smile playing across my lips.

"I would never give myself away blindly," I said, all humor gone from my voice. "I would never allow a stranger to be able to say that he's had all of me."

I kept walking, and never stopped to look at his face. But, maybe, I should have.

Maybe, it would have brought my good spirits back.

We entered the Sleeping Giant Inn to see Paia had left our stuff by the door, and had gone to the bar for a drink. Before Marrick could say anymore, I made straight for her, joining her at the bar.

A young, brawny, black-haired, Nordic man who seemed like he was supposed to be tending the bar, was instead leaned over it, staring into Paia's face.

"Oh? And are you in town for a long stay?"

"Not really," she responded politely. "We'll be gone before the start of next week."

"Wasn't really a long week I was talking about," he said, and raised his brows suggestively. "More like a really long night."

Her brown usually doe-like eyes got the fiery look that betrayed her sweet face.

"I already have a big, Nord dick at home," she responded, not so politely. "I don't need another one."

I smirked as minimally as I could.

My companions were just full of humor today.

The barkeep didn't seem to share my laugh, though.

"Why, you little bitch," he sneered, his face darkening, a massive hand slamming down on the counter, catching her wrist. "I'll teach y-" He stopped mid sentence, his eyes stretching as they slid from Paia to me. "Wha-" he managed, his face turning scarlet. "Whaa-"

I raised my mead to my lips, taking a sip as both Marrick and Paia looked at me quizzically.

This wasn't about them, though, it was about me and the barkeep.

I put my tankard down on the counter, and flicked my gaze up to meet his bewildered one.

"Fill me up?" Gasping and sputtering, he did as I bid him. "Do you feel that, boy?" I murmured. "Do you know what that is?" He nodded, face reddening still. "Do you think I missed?" I smiled, at his heaving breaths. "I didn't."

I threw back the last of the brew, and point some septims on the table, standing from my seat as Paia counted them.

"Rontu," she called. "Rontu, you overpaid."

I smirked to myself, as I sheathed my dirk.

"No, I didn't."

Paia looked from the blade back to the bar, where Marrick was already silently observing. There, just beneath the place where the bartender's manhood hung, was a clear hole, a slit in the bar. One that my dirk would fit perfectly.

Her jaw dropped.

"When did you-"

"She did it when he slammed his hand down," Marrick said, tracing the cut with his finger. "No one felt or heard it."

All three looked back over at me.

"Where," I asked, "is the attic room? We would like to rent it."

For a while, there was no answer.

Then, behind me, there came a woman's voice.

"Attic room, eh?" she asked. She was dressed in a simple, shapeless, blue house dress with worn leather ties. She was Breton-born, with pale yellow hair, pulled back tight in a ponytail. "Well. . . we don't have an attic room here. . ." Marrick and I shared a quick glance. ". . . but, you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home."

Marrick looked at me, as if to say What now?

I passed him one back to say, Let's just wait and find out.

"Right," I nodded. "Come on, you two."

As soon as we made it into the room, the woman came in as well.

"Do you kno-" Marrick started to say, but she cut him off.

"Not here," she said, "it's not safe." He and I shared another look, which the woman noticed. "Follow me. And, close the door." Paia complied, checking outside it first. When the door was shut, I noticed how the woman hovered by a tall wardrobe, and realized a few moments before she opened it that it had a false back.

"So," she said, raking her gaze over Marrick once we'd reached a table in the secret room she'd led us to. "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn." She smirked. "I sure hope they're right."

With those words, she put the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller on the table.

We all stared at it in silence. But, that didn't last long.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Marrick-"

"No!" He snapped, cutting my off, "Are you fucking kidding me, woman?"

"Hey!" she snapped. "I gave you the Horn, didn't I? Just hear me out." She waited while he glanced at me, and nodded. Then, she sighed and began. "Well, for starters, my name is Delphine. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you. . ." she raked her gaze over him again, "well. . . someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you any more, I need to make sure I can trust you."

"How did you know to go after the Horn?" Marrick asked.

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn." She smirked not too kindly. "They're nothing if not predictable. When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, not some Thalmor plant."

"And, are they after you, the Thalmor?" I wanted to know.

Delphine gave me an appraising look, as though she was seeing me for the first time.

"Yes," she replied. "We're very old enemies. And, if my suspicions are correct, they might have something to do with the dragons returning. But that isn't important right now. What is important is that you might be Dragonborn."

"Might," Marrick repeated, and shook his head. "Dunno if I like that."

I nudged him with my elbow. "Shut up."

He nudged me back, "You shut up." He turned back to Delphine, who was watching us curiously. "Why are you looking for me?"

"For the Dragonborn," she corrected. Marrick grunted. "We remember what most don't: that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul." Her blue eyes trained on him. "Can you do it?" she asked. "Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

"Who's asking?"

"Don't be daft," she snapped. "You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But, I'll see for myself soon enough. Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life."

"What?" Paia whispered. She looked from me to Marrick. "But, I thought they just returned. . ?"

"No," said Delphine, shaking her head. "No. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life." She looked to Marrick. "And I need you to help me stop it."

"This is ridiculous. Dragons may have returned, but not from the dead."

"Ha," Delphine laughed. But, it wasn't a funny laugh, at all. "A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine. Well, it turned out he was right," she sighed, "and I was wrong."

"This is insane," Paia muttered under her breath. "Why should we trust this woman? This stranger who thinks dragons- which aren't supposed to be here in the first place- haven't returned, but have come back from the dead?"

"I don't think they are, I know they are," Delphine argued hotly. "I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

There was another long silence.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Marrick asked again.

"Marrick!"

"Marrick, what?" he asked, exasperated. "We just wasted how many days on this fucking trip? Princess, we have important things to do. She's getting in the way of that."

"I-"

"You what? You agree with her?"

I sighed. He was right. And, it was ultimately his choice.

"I was just going to say, it's your call," I assured him, "Whatever you choose, I'm behind you."

He almost hid it, but I could see his small smile. Marrick turned back to Delphine.

"I'm not really one for following orders," he warned. "Tell me what to do, and I'll go and do the exact opposite. Say jump, I tend to stand still. Say not to jump, and I tend to leap. Keep that in mind."

It was my turn to hide a smile. He was giving her a chance.

"Very well," said Delphine. "I and a. . . reference of mine discovered a map of ancient dragon burial grounds. The next place will at Kynesgrove, I'm sure. We leave as soon as you're ready."

Marrick turned to Paia.

"We'll set off tomorrow, then," he decided, "and we may as well start lugging the tack into a room."

She groaned, and opened her mouth to complain, but she was cut off by a loud, booming voice.

"Never mind that, lass, I can take them for you."

I turned to see a mammoth standing in between Paia and Marrick. No lie, this man looked as if he was the fruit of a love affair between a giant and human. Paia seemed relieved that she wouldn't have to face carrying the tack again. But, Marrick. . . Marrick had gone much, much more pale than he already was.

Never before had I seen this man afraid of anything.

I tell you now, his eyes were bulged out from their sockets, and the vein at his right temple jumped and jumped and jumped with his heartbeat beneath his paled skin. He was scared shitless.

"Nameless!" the man mountain boomed again. "Haven't you the courtesies to speak to your old friends?"

I shut my eyes and bit my lower lip hard to keep from laughing.

This was Hod.

This was Gerdur's cuckold husband.

"Well met," Marrick said, with all the countenance and courage of a mouse. His usually wide shoulders were slouched, his arrogant chin was tucked and he had visibly shrunk in this man's presence.

"I heard it from Gerdur that you were back in town. Say, we never had your name from the last time you. . . came.." I turned towards the bar, a hand clamped over my mouth and tears streaming down my face. "I expect you'll be supping with us tonight. We've dessert, too. All you can eat." I pounded the counter with my fist. "You should definitely stop by tonight. Get a load off."

I was whimpering softly to myself, my eyes shut tight.

You will not laugh. You will not laugh.

"I'm so sorry," Marrick said smoothly, "but, I won't be able to stay. This time, I have urgent business to attend to. In fact, we set off. . ." he peered out of the window, at the sun. "Right about now."

Delphine's brows narrowed.

"I thought you were renting a room just now?"

Marrick shut his eyes tight.

"Oh? Well, you may as well save the coin!" Hod thundered happily. "You're welcome in our home, you and your companions. There's always plenty to eat."

I fought back screaming laughter, forcing my face to remain calm.

"Believe me," I smiled, "we're happy to come."

\

So I had said.

Dinner was spent watching Marrick being fondled by both husband and wife.

Gerdur spent the meal with her foot in his chair, pressed against his cock. Marrick's plate was bare. Whenever he reached for something to eat, he seemed to remind himself of something else and he withdrew his hand. He also tried excusing himself from the table, only to have Hod materialized out of nowhere, and put those ham-sized hands on his shoulders, squeezing them, and saying some joke along the lines of Marrick needing to "get his fill", while Marrick turned either pale, yellow or green.

From the start, we were all drinking Blackbriar ale, since that's what Paia was accustomed to, what with her not being much of a mead or ale drinker. But then, Hod came from their kitchen with an odd-looking bottle.

"It's a special brew," he said, and smiled fondly at Gerdur, taking her hand. "One that we've been saving for a special occasion." Marrick nudged me, and I waved him off, trying to catch all of the sexual innuendos in this speech. "I am so very full of happiness that you have chosen to dine with us, I could just," he made a spurting motion with his hands, that made me have to bite my lower lip to hold my laughter, "overflow. I want to thank you. . ." Marrick nudged me again, and I stepped on his foot, hard. ". . . and so, I propose a toast," he raised his glass, and drank, and we all followed suit. Marrick nudged me yet again, and I turned on him fiercely.

"What?" I hissed, as I lowered my glass.

He nodded towards his plate.

There it was, plain as day, carved into his venison:

DON'T DRINK THE MEAD!

"Oh," I muttered. All of a sudden, ,the room began to spin, and I understood everything. "Ohhh. . ."

\

I came to about ten or fifteen minutes later.

Everything around me was darkness. Darkness, and the smell of stale flour, and wheat and cream. The darkness was the least of these; at least I could see and think through it. Beyond me, I could see a door, that was obviously locked. I could feel Paia up against my back; we were tied together about the waist, but each of our wrists were tied together, separate from the others'.

"They sure worked fast," I commented. "La, Paia. You awake?"

"Oge`," she sighed, "Yes. Don't they know that Redguards are resistant to poison?"

"Whoever does?" I gauged the room again. There were barrels all over, and the smell of wheat and flour was still everywhere. We were in a storehouse, I figured. Then, a thought came to me. "Did you turn your wrists?"

"What else?" Paia replied wearily.

Growing up in the Ebon Chain, we are trained how to do everything. How to ride. How to live. How to sneak. How to fight. How to die. How to be captured. One of the chief components of a "successful" capture, was to ball your fists, pressing them together so that your thumbs meet. This done, when the captor goes to bind your wrists, you have room to maneuver them.

We slid off our bonds and stood up together, braced against each other. The flour smell was filling my nose and lungs, making me want to sneeze. There was a thatched roof, and walls. The walls. . . My eyes narrowed.

"Paia," I said. "Back step four paces. There's a sickle on the wall that I'm going to grab by the handle and give to you."

"Whenever you're ready."

We carefully, yet quickly sawed our way through the rope that held us together.

The entire time, she didn't mention the fact that Marrick was nowhere in sight, nor did she need to. I was all-too-aware of the fact.

Finally, the ropes fell away to our feet, and as soon as they were off, I betrayed my feigned calm, grabbing an axe and chopping away at the wood-thatched walls, my blood roiling and my eyes wild.

I can only imagine that this was how I appeared, because Paia never said a word.

The only thought in my mind was his name.

I made it to the door of Hod and Gerdur's house and slammed into it with the axe. I crossed through the house, past the table that no one had bothered to clear after drugging Paia and I, and into what I knew had to be their bedroom.

Why else would Marrick's colorful language be coming from it?

The door was locked when I tried it.

"Not now, Frodnar!" Gerdur called sweetly. "Papa and I are having play time."

I nodded to myself, before heaving up the axe, and smashing it down against their door, again, and again and again. When I burst through, Gerdur was screaming from where she sat naked astride Marrick. His shirt was torn open on his body, she had undone his belt, and his arms were tethered to the bedposts, the veins clear under his skin from his straining against the ties.

I was in an eerie calm, smashing that door in. Really, all I could think, see, feel, was Marrick and his blatant fear. That was the only thing in me at the moment; nothing of myself. All Marrick. All fear.

"What in Oblivion!" I turned around at the great shout, to see Hod, chained to a chair like a wild beast, a iron cup around his cock, and a wild look in his eyes, as he glowered at me. "Are you insane?"

At that moment, his presence in me began to die down, and I was filled back up with me. All me. All humor.

I dropped the axe, which stuck fast into the floor, and I threw my head back and laughed.

Cackled.

Hooted.

"Me? Insane? Maybe," I managed to choke out. I looked to Marrick and smiled, as he watched me, dazed. "Maybe. But, not like you."

I kept laughing and laughing, and finally, Hod had had enough of it. He rose awkwardly, still chained to the chair, and lunged at me, bellowing. I side-stepped him easily, letting him slam himself into the wall, an act which knocked him out on impact.

Another war cry cut through the air, and I turned to watch Gerdur, amused, as she threw herself at me, now clothed in a bed sheet. I side-stepped again, this time, sticking out my foot so that she tripped and fell right into her unconscious husband.

That done, I turned to Marrick.

He was watching me, still seeming to be in a daze.

I sighed, and walked over to his side, drawing out my steel dagger, and cutting his bonds.

We sat in silence as he sat up, and rubbed his reddened wrists, not daring to look.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, "So. . ."

"Not. A word." He drew up quickly to his full height, and I chuckled to myself as we moved towards the bashed-in door. We stopped, however, at the sound of rustling. Movement. I looked to see Gerdur, beginning to rise.

Groaning in pain, she slowly and gingerly turned to face me.

"You," she coughed, her eyes confused, and angry. "Why-?"

"Redguards are resistant to poison," I said. "Thanks, though, for the nap." She seemed to process this, and so, I decided to continue. "Now, let me return the question in kind."

Gerdur placed her hand on Hod's back delicately. He stirred under her touch; she smiled.

"He does it because he loves me," she said hoarsely. "And I do it. . . " she gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I do it, because I'm a fool."

"Alright. . ." I prodded.

She sat up, prepared to open her heart.

"It's just, I've always had this insatiable sexual appetite-"

"Alright!" Marrick said uncomfortably, cutting her off. "That's our fucking cue."

"Wait!" she cried. I glanced back at her, meeting pleading eyes. "You. . . you won't tell Ralof. . . will you?"

I opened my mouth, before really having an answer. Finally, after thinking it over, I did.

"No," I sighed. "He wouldn't believe me, anyway. What you do is private is your business. But this," I said, gesturing to the tethers, and to Marrick's wrists, and to the pile of Gerdur and Hod, "this is not what either Ralof Mara would want for the two of you. Find your love and happiness in each other. Not this."

Her eyes swam, as she watched me, on the cusp of saying something, while having nothing to say.

\

"Just drink it, you'll feel better."

"No."

"Drink!"

"NO!" Marrick boomed, throwing the wineskin to the floor of our rented room. "How am I to know it isn't laced with something?"

"Hm, I wonder how, " I said, tapping my chin. "Oh, that's right: because it fucking isn't!"

"Now, now, Rontu," Paia tutted. "You can't blame him for being anxious. After all, it's your fault we almost weren't able to save him." She turned to the window of the rented room, where Delphine's voice could be heard, calling for her. "I'll be right back."

I waited until she was gone to bring it up.

"Marrick."

"What?"

"You are the best fighter I know."

"Awe, that's so sweet."

"So, why weren't you able to take on a couple of crazy people?" He shot me an irritated look, but I ignored it. "I'm not letting this go," I warned. Then, I remembered something. "Marrick. . . Marrick, were you afraid?"

He looked at me, incredulous.

"Me, afraid?" He reached for the wine. "Maybe I should take that from you."

"You were, weren't you?" I pressed, holding the skin out of his grasp. "Back in their bedroom, I could feel it. Hell, I could almost breathe it. You were, weren't you?" His gaze burned straight ahead, into the wall. "You were afraid of an old, slow lumberjack who runs into walls and a skinny, throwable wench with suspicious fetishes."

His head jerked up.

"It's not them that scares me, it's-" I raised my brows pointedly. Marrick sighed again. "It's. . . it's what Gerdur said. About her husband doing. . . what he did, because of her. Because he loves her." He shook his head. "I just can't wrap my mind around it."

"You're afraid of love." He whipped his head around at me, a dry look on his face. "You are. Well, at least of its power. What it can make people think or do."

"That's ridiculous," he snorted. "Afraid of love? I am love."

"You're love?" I asked, incredulously. "Really? That, in there, was love?" His gaze found the wall again. "You and I both know what a bold-faced lie that is. There may have been misguided love on Hod and Gerdur's part. But, you didn't have any love. You hated it, if anything."

Marrick said nothing, just stared blankly at the wall opposite him.

I knew I was right. What was more, he knew I was right.

There was a difference between love and lust, and as blurred as that difference, that thin line can become, it never truly disappears. Marrick had lived his whole life on only one end of the spectrum. The other, to him, was alien and unfamiliar and frightening.

He was afraid of love.

"Well, what about you?" he asked, then. "Aren't you afraid?"

"What?"

I turned to see him, looking at me, looking into me.

His dark eyes studied me, took in my cheekbones, and my eyelashes and the ends of my hair. My nostrils, my eyebrows, my hairline, my soul. Just watching me, lazily, as though it were his right.

"Like I said before today. Of me seeing you differently. Like, not as a man, or a friend, but as a woman." His hand rose so that his fingers barely brushed my cheek, making my breath hitch. "Well," he asked again, softly, "aren't you?"

He's baiting you, Rontu.

I put the wineskin on the floor, by my feet, faced Marrick directly, saw his soul the way he was seeing mine, and cupped his face in my hands.

He's baiting you, Rontu.

Well this time, I went for the trap, headfirst.

I pressed my lips to his.

Soon, after that, my tongue.

And, right after that, my mind.

I lost it all to him, in that one kiss.

And when we drew back, it all still hung in the air between us, everything that had gone unsaid for so many months. Everything I ever thought I knew about him, about myself, about us was made anew and I was looking at it all with brand new eyes.

He could see it all, too, I could tell.

Without a single word spoken between us, no thinking, no over thinking; he reached for me, and I reached for him, and we turned our kiss into something else entirely. Something inflamed.

I was tearing off his shirt, and he was tearing off mine. Even when we were bared to one another, we didn't take any time to revel in it; we wanted to be joined together.

Marrick held me by my waist and the base of my head, tilting up my face to kiss me again. His tongue was hot and wet, wrapped against mine like he was trying to taste my soul. I could feel his cock, hard and thick and pressed against my thigh, as I straddled him. I was wet beyond belief, and I felt so fucking empty. Not only in that I needed his sex, but also with the feeling that I needed his whole essence- everything Marrick- under my skin.

It became an itch I couldn't scratch, and I needed him to reach it.

He bit down on the skin of my shoulder, his thumbs brushing my nipples.

I threw my head back, groaning his name.

"Say it again," he hissed. I could feel his sex pressed against mine now, the fabric between us our only barrier, my breath exploding from me in sharp gasps. "Say it again, Rontu; who's doing this to you?"

He took hold of my waist, gripping tight and our drawn breaths hitched as I rolled my hips against his.

"Fuuuck," I groaned against his lips.

"Who's doing this to you?" he asked, sucking on the skin between my jaw and my ear. "What's my name?"

What's his name?

My eyes shot open; I stopped moving entirely.

And, the words that crossed my lips were not what either of us expected.

"Marrick-"

"That's right-"

"-Marrick, we need to stop."

\

When day finally came, and the horses were packed, and we had eaten and were all set to go, Marrick still had not said anything. Neither had I. After telling him to stop, he did exactly that. He was very calm, but never met my eyes once. I kept trying to apologize, but he never met my eyes. He just reassured me that it would never happen again.

It wasn't how this was supposed to happen; it wasn't the right time or place. But regardless of either the time or the place, I knew one thing. I knew I wanted him.

All my worst nightmares were coming true: I now shared everything with the Dragon of my fortune.

Soul. Body.

Heart.

I was ruining everything. The lines were blurred.

We rode for the entire morning, arriving in Kynesgrove in late afternoon that day.

Already there was great tumult.

"Don't you go up there!" screamed a woman, a young girl clutched to her chest. She was running down the hill, at whose peak the burial site was promised to be. "Don't you go up there!"

"Calm down," said Paia, soothingly. "Just calm down. What's wrong?"

"Dragons! Dragons are what's wrong!"

At those words, a booming noise filled the air, forging into different high and low sounds. It seemed to take forever for me to realize that it was a language. A tongue so ancient, the only people alive who knew it were five monks on a mountaintop, a would-be king, and a combat-addicted vagabond.

"It's him," Marrick muttered under his breath. "It's Alduin."

Without another word, he charged up the hill, with Paia, Delphine and I at his heels. We rounded corner after corner after corner, winding to the hilltop. And, what was revealed there, hovering in the air, was something that still haunts me to this day.

"Lorkhan's eyes!" Delphine gasped. "Look at that big bastard!"

A dragon he was, but the term did not do him justice.

He was, truly, blacker than darkness itself, his scales more like armor than skin. Evil, curved horns raised from the peak of his skull like a twisted crown. His talons were as great meathooks, his tail like a great, writhing serpent itself. His eyes were blood red, weeping with an insatiable appetite for destruction and flesh.

The foul voice was coming from him.

Alduin.

The stories did him no justice, either.

I looked on in awe, as he directed his words to the obvious mound of soil and rock; a dragon's tomb.

"Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse!" thundered the black beast. "Slen tiid vo!"

As he spoke, the earth of the mound shifted, and trembled before blasting apart to reveal the bare-bones skeleton of an ancient dragon. They danced before my waking eyes rising up and reassembling, Alduin's words speaking scales onto them. Once fully arranged, the pale beast looked up to Alduin in reverence and they began to Speak.

"Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokri iha suleyka jun kruziik?" he asked.

"Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir," replied the World-Eater modestly.

Alduin seemed to smile, and he looked to Marrick. "Ful, losei Dovahkiin?" he asked, amused. Marrick snarled. "Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi."

"I don't know what the hell you're saying," Marrick hollered, "but, you can take whatever it was, and blow it out your ass!"

"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" the great dragon sneered. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah. Sahloknir, " he called, turning his gaze onto the arisen dragon. "krii daar joorre."

Without another glance in our direction, the Bane of Kings flew off, forcing all of nature, tree and beast and man alike to buckle under the power of his wings.

"What was that, fucker?"

He wasn't seeing the big, pale serpent training its gaze on us.

"Marrick," I said, watching it bewilderedly, "I think he was saying 'Handle my lightwork'."

The dragon reared its head back, blasting a torrent of ice and frost. I grabbed Paia by the arm, and hauled her away towards the left, while Marrick leapt to the right.

"Come on," Delphine called. "We have to keep the thing grounded."

I nodded tightly, and turned to Paia.

"Let's go!" I yelled. "Stay close to him, so he can't take off."

She nodded, and we sprinted into the fray, hacking and slashing and bellowing.

\

"I'll be damned, you did it!" Delphine exclaimed as we stood over the huge, pale, broken body. She looked at Marrick approvingly. "That was well done. Come on. I've been wanting a closer look at one of these buggers." As she took a few steps closer, a sight I still had yet to get over awed her: the flowing of bright, gold scales from off the dragon's hide and into Marrick. "Wait. Something's happening... gods above!" Delphine, now stunned and nearly speechless, looked to him in dumbfounded amazement "So you really are... I... it's true, isn't it? You really are Dragonborn." He did not answer, only finished wiping off his twin blades. She sighed, "I owe you some answers, don't I?" She opened her arms. "Go ahead. Whatever you want to know. Nothing held back."

He sheathed his blades, perched atop a boulder, and gave her his attention.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"I'm one of the last members of the Blades," she said. "A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer. For the last two hundred years, since the last Dragonborn emperor, the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that dragons are coming back, our purpose is clear again," she said, her eyes bright. "We need to stop them."

"Who are the Blades?" I asked.

"Exactly," she said, with a mirthless smile. "Nobody even remembers our name these days. We used to be known across Tamriel as the protectors of the Septim Emperors." She sighed, "Those days are long gone, though. For the last two hundred years, we've been searching for the next Dragonborn to guide and guard, as we are sworn to do. But we never found one." Delphine glanced at Marrick. "Until now."

"What do you know about the dragons coming back?" he wanted to know.

"Not a damn thing. I was just as surprised as you to find that big black dragon here."

"I'm not so sure I was surprised," Marrick confessed. "The dragon is Alduin. I came across him about six or seven months ago, when I escaped Helgen after he attacked it."

"Are you serious?" Her eyes bulged. "Damn it, we're blundering around in the dark here! We need to figure out who's behind it all!"

"So what do you propose?"

"The first thing we need to do is figure out who's behind the dragons. The Thalmor are our best lead. If they aren't involved, they'll know who is."

"Are you fucking insane?" Paia snorted. "What makes you think the Thalmor have power like that? What makes you think they know anything about the dragons?"

"Nothing solid-" Delphine admitted.

"Exactly," Paia muttered under her breath.

"-yet. But my gut tells me it can't be anybody else. The Empire had captured Ulfric. The war was basically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on. And now the dragons are attacking everywhere, indiscriminately." She had a point. Sort of. "Skyrim is weakened, the Empire is weakened. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?"

"What's this thing with the Thalmor?" Marrick asked. "Why are they after you?"

"Before the Great War, the Blades helped the Empire against the Thalmor," she informed us. "Our Grand Master saw them as the greatest threat to Tamriel. At the time, that was true. Maybe it still is. So we fought them in the shadows, all across Tamriel. We thought we were more than a match for them. We were wrong."

"Alright," I nodded. "Alright. So, we need to find out what the Thalmor know about the dragons. Any ideas?"

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy... it's the center of their operations in Skyrim... Problem is, that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. They could teach me a few things about paranoia..."

"You can fucking forget it," Marrick said bluntly, rising from his seat.

"Wha. . . Marrick. . ."

"I don't see how this has any fucking thing to do with defeating Alduin. No," he sneered, crossing so that he was in her gaping-mouthed face, "This is about your little plight for vengeance. Aye, the Greybeards were old and creaky and boring, but at least they respected me and my decisions. You're just trying to use me; any blind fool could see it. And, if you could imagine," he leaned in even closer, "that doesn't sit very well with me. At all."

Delphine was heaving her breaths, her eyes wide. Marrick smirked in her face, and then pulled back, heading down the hill. We all watched him go. Delphine was speechless. Marrick did have a point; she was very obviously trying to use him for her own personal gain. But, he was wrong in assuming that she wasn't necessary.

With this thought in mind, I informed Delphine that I would speak to Marrick before following him down the hill. I caught up with him at its base, where he sat on the top rung of a fence by the horses.

"You can't make me work with her," he said immediately.

"I don't think anybody could ever make you do anything," I retorted. He didn't smile. "Alright Marrick, we all know that she wants to use you against the Thalmor. But, you're not seeing past that."

He glowered at me, "What are you talking about?"

I sighed, and perched beside him on the fence post.

"I'm going to tell you a story."

He muttered something that sounded like "Fuck me", and I frowned.

"What?" he said, giving me an irritated look. "I said 'Oh, whee!'."

"As a master liar, you should be thoroughly ashamed." He waved that comment off, and I moved on. "The story is about Adjin, from when we were back in Hegathe and he was about twelve years old." I squinted in the dying sunlight. "Adjin was always hungry to learn, especially when it came to the sword. So, he very soon outmatched the other boys of an age with him in my father's classes."

"Knowing Adjin, he was probably humble as hell about it."

"No," I smiled, shaking my head. "He wasn't always the modest man he is now. He was once very arrogant and proud. Like you."

Marrick shoved me.

I shoved him back.

"Just tell the damn story."

"My father wrote to a friend of his, a famous master swordsman. But, you see, he was a Nord."

Marrick's nose wrinkled, "Adjin isn't racist."

"No," I said, "but, my father gave him to this master to ground him and his pride. He wanted him to learn the Nordic style of fighting, with heavier weapons than daggers and dirks and scimitars. And, Adjin wasn't very keen to go into a style that he was clumsy with. Anything he did, he wanted to be the best at it."

"So, what happened?"

"The master sent him back immediately; he was being difficult, and they were both stubborn and strong-willed. My father said only one thing to him, upon his return." Marrick raised his brows, listening. I smiled, "He said, 'Don't ever burn bridges. Especially those you did not have to build'."

He nodded, "You think I shouldn't cut ties with Delphine."

"I don't think it would be wise," I said grimly. "The map of dragon burial sites is one the Greybeards don't have, and she does. We don't have many leads on these dragons and on Alduin. If one is standing in your face, and you didn't have to lift a finger to get it, why waste it because of your pride?" I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't burn the bridge, Marrick. You still need to cross it."

He nodded slowly. Then, he shook his head, laughing.

"Really?" he said, with a smirk of disbelief. "That's what you have to say to me? That there's a bridge I need to fucking cross?"

"Marrick-"

"I mean, the sheer level of hypocrisy, I tell you-"

"Marrick, stop."

"You're really good at saying that, I meant to tell you: 'Stop' and 'Don't'. . ." he raked his gaze over me. "Even when you don't mean it."

"I didn't want you to stop, that's true, but-"

"But, what?" he snapped. "What are you afraid of, Rontu?"

"I'm scared of changing what we are," I sputtered. "I'm scared I'm becoming like every other woman you come across." He was shocked into silence. "Five minutes after Hod and Gerdur try to . . . do what they did," I huffed, "and, here I am, undermining everything I believe in?"

"And what is that?" he challenged. "What is it that you believe in?"

Couldn't he see?

I stared at him, bewildered

"You." His lips parted, as he gazed at me, stunned and wordless. "I believe in you, Marrick." He started to shake his head, but I ignored him, counting off on my fingers. "I believe that you're a good man. I believe that you have a great destiny. I believe that you have a soul and a heart, and I believe that you deserve another chance."

"Another chance at what?"

Couldn't he understand?

"Another chance at a life of goodness and happiness."

He looked at me blankly for a moment. Then, he started to laugh.

"There's no happiness for me, Princess, and as for goodness, I'm as evil as it gets." He shrugged. "And, evil doesn't get happiness. I don't have a soul, or a heart, my destiny is to be the world's bitch and maid and as for me being a good man?" He snorted, and threw his arms out, as if he were presenting himself. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Disappoint?" I smiled. "Is that what all this has been? Marrick," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Marrick, you are everything I said, and more."

Marrick sighed heavily, and slid off the fence post, before turning to his horse.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered.

"Not walking past the house of a girl you once knew, because you see flames in front of it." He froze, his back to me. I kept going. "Not leaving me to be whipped all to pieces by Galmar. Not having to or even wanting to bed every woman you see, Marrick," I laughed. "Marrick, you're not just a good man; you're a great one."

"Rontu-" He exhaled sharply. "A good man doesn't do half the shit I've done. I mean, just think of all the shit I've done to you," he scoffed. "A great man? Are you fucking insane? I've lied to and insulted you. Treated you like shit, really. Even though I-" He cut himself off.

"What?" I prompted. "Even though you what?"

His mouth tightened.

"I'll tell you some other day. . ." He flicked his eyes over me. "Can I ask you something, though?"

"Shoot."

"What you said, about why you told me to stop," he wet his lips, "That you didn't want to change the relationship. What did you mean?"

What did I mean? I laughed shortly, at myself. I meant, I lo-

"I feel as though, if I had woken up, after having you. . ." I bit my lip. "After having you. . ."

"Put in work?" he offered, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, sure. After that, I feel like. . . like I would have hated myself and you. And, neither of us deserves that. Especially since that kiss was entirely my fault. I mean, I didn't mean to-"

"No," he said quietly. "don't say that. Because, you did mean to kiss me. And, I did mean to kiss you back." He smiled. "And, there's nothing wrong with that."

I opened my mouth to respond to that, and when I did, he took me by the base of my skull, and kissed me full on.

He tasted like forest and ocean and wine, his mouth sweet and bitter at the same time; I reveled in it. Reveled in him. Reveled in us.

For once, I reveled in us, and I was not afraid.

We came up for air, and he smiled, his face a scant breath away from mine.

"See?" he whispered. "Nothing, at all."

I lifted my gaze up to his, wondering what he saw.

"Marrick-"

"I'm going to be doing that every so often, from now on," he informed me, his gaze traversing my face lazily. Before I could respond, he stepped away. "And, about Delphine," he said. "I don't agree."

Back to square one.

"Whaa- Don't just switch gears like that!" I exclaimed. "And, in any case, I'm telling you, you need her! Please, reconsider."

"I don't think this is a necessary move for us. She wants me as a stepping stone, not as a companion or hero."

"So, make her into your stepping stone!"

Marrick shook his head.

"I think we've wasted enough time on this little adventure." He crossed over to Fenris, drawing the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his saddlebag. "We still need to return this to the Greybeards. You know," he added, "to people who aren't trying to use me, like everyone else always has."

"Everyone else?"

I was appalled.

"You heard me."

"And what exactly am I using your for?"

"My good looks and company," he shrugged. "What else?"

I sighed.

"I think you should trust me."

"It isn't you I don't trust, it's her," he replied. "What, it's fine for her to question my identity, and when I prove it to her, we still don't know shit about her? No," he said. "I don't trust that at all."

"Marrick. . ." I saw an opening and took it. "Marrick, how about I stay with Delphine and try to figure her out? You return the Horn, and by the time you come back, I'll know exactly who and what she is."

"Are you insane?" he exclaimed. "We just got past the 'I'm afraid of changing the relationship' phase!" I rolled my eyes. "Besides," he said, "if I leave you, and we're too far apart for too long, I could die. Die."

"I'll do all I can to keep that from happening," I said, "and, when you think about it, the distance isn't more than a few leagues. What's more, we wouldn't be apart long, and we should test how far and for how long we can be apart," I pointed out. "Did you ever consider that?"

He studied me carefully, turning my suggestion over and over in his mind.

"Fine," he conceded. "It'll take about seven days for me to get there and back. So, you should be expecting me around. . ." he calculated in his head, ". . . around the first of Morning Star."

I straightened up.

"You'll be back for the New Life Festival."

This is a very important holiday where everyone in Tamriel celebrates the start of a new year. There are parties all over the world, lasting long into the night, and all the taverns and inns have free ale.

"So, I will," he smiled. "Right. We'll celebrate when I'm back. I could use a break. I'm expecting big things from you. Big things." His eyes followed a woman who had called out to him. "That, and a change of scenery."

"What?" I scoffed. "There's a woman alive you haven't toured?"

He eyed me appraisingly.

"One or two come to mind." I smiled. He smiled back. "See you, Princess."

He mounted up, and without another word, began to gallop off towards Ivarstead, seeming to chase the sun. I watched until he vanished.

And then, I watched some more.

After a while, Delphine and Paia came down the hill. They were both toting huge sections of bone and scales from the dragon's skeleton.

"Probably makes a helluva suit of armor," Paia grunted in explanation.

"I didn't say anything," I shrugged.

"It was all on your face." I laughed, as she dumped the materials onto the ground. As she stretched and cracked her back, she looked all around. "Where is Marrick?"

"He's gone on to High Hrothgar, to return the Horn."

"Shit," Delphine said impassioned. "If he's made his choice, then hope is lost."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "If we had gone with him, it would be. But, he means to return. And when he does, I'll have to be gone."

Both women drew in their brows.

"What do you mean?"

I ignored this question, instead asking one of my own.

"How would we get into the Thalmor Embassy?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "I have a few ideas, but I'll need some time to pull things together…" Her eyes seemed to brightened, and I knew she was formulating a plan. "Ride back to Riverwood. If I'm not back when you get there, wait for me. I shouldn't be long. Keep an eye on the sky," she advised, her gaze lifting to the heavens. She sighed. "This is only going to get worse."

"Be safe," I told her, and she nodded before mounting up.

We watched her ride away, before doing the same ourselves.

As we went, the sunlight went with us, and by its last rays, I could see the cord between Marrick and I. I could see it as clear as day.

It was gold.

(A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! - LR)