A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry! A hundred thousand apologies for being a MONTH late! I can't believe I've let this go for so long and I feel horrible. Life has been rather crazy and not conducive to writing or at the very least posting what I already have written. And so without further ado, I present the next chapter. Thanks so much to those of you patient enough to stick with me and I wish you all a very Happy New Year!
"So we can have that talk now, girl, right?"
Aine glanced up at Ralof, hardly registering that her pulse never leapt or her cheeks flushed at the sight and sound of him. She was just too exhausted. Her watch started at midnight and for the last hour she had enjoyed the peace and quiet, losing herself in her thoughts. She had only dozed prior to Isalf, the other Stormcloak accompanying Ralof, waking her and she was not in the mood for company. They hadn't stayed at High Hrothgar, opting instead for traveling as far as they could and camp came when they couldn't see well enough to continue. It was also decided that they might as well try to be somewhat bright before attempting to trap a dragon. Aine had felt Seamus' concerned looks all evening and she refused to allow herself to be trapped by him. Ralof wasn't so easily put off.
For the first time, she had no desire to be alone with him. Meara's lock of hair and silver dart were safely tucked into her pack and the sapphire ring glittered in the firelight from her right hand. The pain, however, was first and foremost.
Ralof's smile was warm and his blue eyes tender when he sat beside her, ignoring or completely missing her coldness. His knee bumped hers when he settled and stretched his legs towards the fire's warmth.
"Aine?"
"And what exactly should I expect, Ralof? I mean, you wanted to talk earlier because of Meara and Ulfric took that upon himself."
Ralof blinked at her and if Aine was herself, she would feel awful for taking this out on him. But those 'gifts' had accomplished what Percival and Stychus had wanted and she was hurt and very angry.
"I'm sorry, Aine, I… Telling you about those trinkets would have been - painful. Not that I can claim this when you - Ulfric offered and I accepted," He reached out and touched the sapphire ring, his fingers warm against hers, "And I don't expect a thing from you, girl, not a thing."
Aine felt inexplicably angry and she swatted his hand away. Ralof didn't look disappointed or even put out and she wished he would lose his temper. It would make this so much easier, but he merely looked at her and she hated the burn of tears in her eyes.
"The hell you didn't," She hissed, wishing he'd stop staring at her like that. The understanding in those blue-gold flecked eyes brought the tears that much closer and she lashed out with her words because she wanted him pissed off. Misery loved company, after all, "What did you really think, Ralof? That I would be all for a tumble after hearing my best friend's killer left presents for me? That the sight of her hair, favorite tool of the trade and piece of jewelry would make me want to jump you?"
His eyes flickered and the hand she had swatted twitched like he wanted to touch her again.
"Was that really an option?"
Aine jumped to her feet, her face flushing with anger, and she lashed out before her practical side could take control. Ralof was faster. He caught her wrist easily in one hand and pulled her down beside him again. She moved to hit him with her free hand, but it was no use. He held her upper arms without effort and her temper grew more heated. She twisted her arms to break his grip and got more upset when she couldn't.
"Damn it, let-"
"Easy, girl, don't fight like this, you'll hurt yourself. And you know I didn't mean that. Please, my girl-"
"My name is Aine," She snapped and kept trying to free herself, "You really think-"
"Aine then, and yes, I do. You're hurting and pissed off, mostly with yourself. It might hurt a little less to be pissed off with me instead," He slid his hands down her arms and she realized quite suddenly that she had stopped struggling with him. His palms cupped her elbows and she stilled her temper, resting her fingertips against his forearms, "I'm no fool, Aine. You are - very dear to me, it's… there's no use attempting to deny that, but there's no… Never mind, just know that I never intended that seriously. I was just trying to - help."
Aine pulled herself free and eyed him suspiciously. Her temper was hot, but there was no longer that blind desire to destroy everything around her, beginning with the Nord. He looked back at her patiently, his blue eyes unreadable and so kind she felt that sting of tears again.
"How convenient for you," She finally managed, her voice hoarse and dusky, "All right, Ralof, you've successfully stemmed the tide, for now. But I still can't believe that was all meaningless."
"Who said it was meaningless? If I thought I could get away with it I'd pack you off into the wilds right now and to hell with everything - and everyone - else," His low voice was husky and he never dropped his eyes from hers, "But as yet, I haven't been so lucky."
The remnants of Aine's temper kept most of the embarrassment at bay, but her cheeks still flushed and she had to fight to meet his gaze.
"And now you're still… honestly, I…"
She trailed off, hating this inability at finding the right word, and had to drop her eyes to the ring.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
That simple request was really too much, but she couldn't say no. She sighed and shook her head, satisfying herself with a refusal to look back up at him.
"I don't really know. I've been angry and sore about this for - forever, it seems - and now that bastard is playing games with me and I - there's nothing I can do to stop that. There's nothing, here and now, to put an end to all this bullshit and - it hurts like hell. This feeling of absolute helplessness is infuriating and exhausting, and I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. And then to get that from you, of all people. To hear those words from Ralof, someone I think I… I just can't, Ralof, it-"
His fingers landed against her mouth at that, stopping her flow of words. Aine felt her cheeks heat, wondering how the hell she had meant to end that sentence. She made the mistake - the wonderful mistake - of looking up at him and the last of her anger was gone. His blue eyes were mesmerizing in their tenderness and his half-smile sent her pulse skipping wildly. He slid his hand over to cup her cheek and the ball of his thumb wiped an escaped tear from the corner of her eye. The callouses sent a pleasant shiver through her and his other hand was a warm, insistent, weight on her hip. Somehow his face was inches from hers and she wrapped her fingers around the wrist of the hand that held her and waited for him to make the next move because she was at an utter loss.
"You don't need to tell me, girl," His voice was as husky as hers and they were so close, his breath caressed her lips. Aine closed her eyes and just wanted to surrender. He could take it - her - whatever the hell he wanted here, she was done, "Just let me help with some of the burden tonight at least, huh?"
"And what the hell do you think I'm doing here?"
She heard the chuckle in his throat, felt that hot escape of it against her mouth, and she tipped her chin even more. Ralof bent closer, his lips brushed hers, feather light, and then everything screeched to a halt.
There was a familiar twanging sound and she suddenly found herself on the ground behind the log they sat on, Ralof's weight was heavy on her and she had to breathe a moment before she could even start to make sense of this. It was such a shock, going from something warm and heady to something cold and hard so abruptly, and she lifted her hands against the Nord's shoulders, worried something was wrong with him. Hell, it was an arrow she had heard, after all.
"Ral-"
He quickly covered her mouth with one hand, lifting himself just enough to look down at her while he shook his head. He lowered his lips to her ear and spoke in a voice below a whisper.
"I'm sure that was only a warning shot, but we're not risking your pretty neck for it."
Aine shivered when his breath ghosted over her neck and her practical side was loud and fierce when it ordered her to focus. She met his gaze and strained to hear anything resembling a scout. Save the pop and hiss of their fire, there was nothing.
"So we risk yours instead? I can't say that sits well with me."
Ralof grinned down at her and it seemed remarkable that they could so quickly, so completely, forget the precariousness of this situation. Then again, the log they just vacated provided some shelter from detection on that side and on the other was a sheer rock wall with enough bushes and trees tangled across the top that it would be impossible for someone to shoot down on them.
"Well, girl, let's be honest: I can't do a damn thing about those dragons and we've got to keep you safe," He paused and looked down at her for a moment. Aine felt her heart leap at that look and the danger faded even more into the background. He promised things he shouldn't and lowered his head a little. She tipped her chin a second time and felt his smile, "One of these days, Aine Bird. Now be a good girl and stay here."
She missed his weight and warmth the instant he rolled clear of her. She felt vulnerable and, protection or no, the log still blocked the fire's heat and she felt the cold creep in. Ralof's boots made a quiet sound and she could just barely make out the hum of whispered conversation. Her mind wandered to how the hell they were going to investigate without being seen in the firelight and her fingers began rifling through her belt for one of her veiling fog tricks. She kept coming up empty and suddenly remembered that she had moved them into one of the pouches behind her left hip to accommodate… It didn't matter now. Her position didn't encourage a quick grab and she risked detection enough to roll onto her side and lift herself a little to get at them.
Not a sound was made, but she felt the sudden presence behind her. Her hand immediately dropped instead to one of her knives, but whoever it was was faster. A rough hand seized her wrist and the other clamped down over her mouth, shoving her back to the ground. She made to lash out with her free hand and couldn't suppress a muffled moan when a boot landed on her wrist, pinning her down.
"Well, now, this is a surprise," The voice stopped Aine in the process of kicking the man who held her and she went ice cold to white hot in a matter of a blurry second. She probably did some damage trying to wrench her pinned arm free, but it would never register, "It just proves one never can tell what to expect."
Every nerve in Aine's body had stretched painfully tight at the sound of Stychus' voice and the words just doubled-down on that. She could hear faint scuffles and something like a struggle in the camp, but it didn't matter. Her blood rushed in her ears and she tried to twist her head from the restraining hand on her mouth. Stychus' boot still crushed her wrist and she was starting to loose feeling in her fingers. The man holding her was oblivious to her kick and she had just opened her mouth as much as she could to bite into the meat of his hand when Stychus spoke again.
"All right, with that neutralized we can discuss business," He lifted his boot from Aine's wrist, "Get off of her, Percival."
Everything came to a painful standstill and Aine's temper was that steady, unrelenting burn that was infinitely more dangerous than the quick explosions. A hazy white mist settled over her eyes and she had to remember to breathe. She wanted both of these men, but Percival Coyne was the easier target. Attacking Stychus would just get her killed and she couldn't simply sit back and do nothing.
Percival waited a minute and then tried to roll away from her before she could react. It didn't work.
Aine's anger gave her a speed she never normally had and her kick caught him in the gut, sending him stumbling backwards. His legs hit the log and he fell onto his back, Aine after him before anyone else could move. She landed on his chest with her fists already pummeling. Every foul name she thought of escaped her and she hit everything she could reach.
"How could you? Lousy bastard! How could you?!"
Percival hadn't made any move to protect himself or attack her and Aine was lost in her fury. Hitting him like she was quickly lost its charm and she wanted blood. She jerked one of her daggers free and ignored the sudden chorus of her name. It sounded like a fly and she brushed it aside as easily, turning the blade in her hand and angling it to bleed this man like the swine he was.
The tip of the knife arced down and a hand fisted in Aine's hair, yanking her head back and making her drop the knife with a cry. Her hands flew up to free herself and she felt the terrifying red haze creeping in again.
"Damn you, let me go! Get the hell off, you bastard, let me go - ahh!"
The hand tightened, if possible, and it felt like he was trying to tear her scalp completely off. It was Stychus and he pressed a blade to her throat. Aine felt the bite of its keen edge and went still. Her breath came in ragged gasps and she watched Percival gather himself into a crouch, her anger burning fiercely.
She was only vaguely aware of Ralof's pitying expression and Seamus' white-faced shock. They were well-guarded, along with the other Stormcloak, and Aine knew - his 'inferno' or not - Seamus had never seen her like this before. And if she was being honest, neither had she. Not that it mattered now.
"Well, now that that's out of our system," The Imperial's voice was brisk and happy sounding. Aine's fingers clawed at his grip and he brought her up with another jerk, the blade drawing a fine thread of blood. She hissed and about lost it when he clucked his tongue, "More or less, I see. But we should get back to business. I am not accustomed to those I arrest living to tell the tale. Though Percival here has been a fascinating study in self-preservation and selfishness. And you?" Stychus pulled her head back a bit more to look down at her. Aine could have happily run herself through for just a chance to start tearing out those cold grey eyes, "You, little Bird, have turned out just as intriguing. A true legend. Tell me, what do you think you might be worth?"
Aine uttered a name she had heard in the tavern one night that brought about a fatal knife fight and spat on the ground because she couldn't spit on him.
"You're a slimy waste of space and a base bully. You hide behind the power of the Empire and use that as an excuse for your sadism. When the Nords drive you and yours out - and trust me, they will - I'll be applauding and cheering every step, even in the afterlife. Because your days are numbered, captain, just like every other self-important thug I've ever met. So you better start cherishing what you have left."
Something in this speech hit a nerve in Stychus and he slanted the knife, clutched her hair, and bent toward her. His eyes flickered with a heat almost matching her own and his words came in a sharp hiss.
"You really think you can threaten me and not have consequences, Bird? You think I can't hurt you, make you wish - to that afterlife and back - that you'd never been born? Do you think I can't make you suffer?"
"What else is there? You have nothing, not a damn thing, and you know it," She had some freedom of movement and realized he had loosed his hold a bit, "You succeeded in shattering my world already, what more can you do?"
Stychus moved in a blur, his hand fisting in her hair at the nape of her neck and angling the knife toward her exposed throat. Aine was so done with this, more ready to kill or be killed than she ever was before, and that exhaustion welcomed the darkness death would bring with wide-open arms.
Seamus and Ralof, however, had other ideas. They both shouted, struggling with their guards. Aine's eyes blinked open at their uproar and she felt the sharp pang of frustrated disappointment and anger. And Stychus was too damn quick for his own good. He looked down at Aine and his eyes lit as the fury banked. He dropped his knife hand and released her hair so abruptly she swayed. She entertained a brief idea of diving for her dropped dagger, but the captain already crossed to Ralof and Seamus and her anger dissolved into a sudden flush of fear.
"And I believe here is my answer," Stychus sounded chipper again and he stood between the two, his eyes on Aine, "What do you think, Bird? Nord or Breton? Which would you like to see gone? No," He held up one hand, the knife catching the firelight, "Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. You have to understand what I am truly doing here. You need to understand that sadism is second nature to me; I welcome it. So you see why I am allowing you to decide which of your lovers to live, yes?" He cocked his head at her and her temper heated again, "So choose."
Aine's temper was the slow burn and she considered carefully here. The guards with Ralof, Seamus, and Isalf had taken maybe a half-step back, but were still very present. Her brain fired rapidly and she suddenly remembered her other 'weapons'. She almost glanced at Percival, but that would blow her concentration. Instead, she arched her brows at the captain. She had decided on him, he was the villain here and Percival could wait. If she didn't make it through this, well… so be it.
"No, I don't think I will. I don't think I'll have to."
Stychus never looked away from her.
"That's not how this works."
"You're right."
