Warning: Feels and NSFW stuff contained below.

Chapter 36 – At the End of the Day

Stenvar. Stenvar. It had to be him. I recalled what he had said to me in the outlaw's cave; it seemed so out of place at the time, but now, I wondered. If you were my woman I'd have torn apart the whole of Tamriel looking for you. Before I got to know the man, I was somewhat put off by the remark. Now, it all came together. Stenvar liked something about me even before he and I got drunk and gave each other multiple orgasms. There must have been something I liked about the man, too, or else I would have never reciprocated his advances.

I forced myself not to dwell on the possibility that Dibella caused him to like something about me in order for him to agree to help me, or caused me to like something about Stenvar. Even if the goddess did influence Stenvar's or my feelings initially, there was no reason for her to keep doing so. Or so I hoped.

Stenvar had sent me expensive gifts and returned the money Wuunferth gave me to hire him. It had to be him sending me all these gifts and letters.

"Go," Marcurio said, a sparkle of vicarious hope in his eyes.

I still had it with me, the love letter, tucked into my mage's robe. Was Stenvar trembling without me?

I jumped up from the bench and left the dining hall, ran down to the practice hall to grab my fur cloak where I'd left it, sped through the courtyard, and began my descent down the bridge toward the town. Halfway down I had to stop running; the bitter cold tugged at my chest and nearly gave me an asthma attack. I saw the smoke billowing out of the chimney of the inn and imagined Stenvar sipping – no, chugging – pints of mead as if it were water.

The closer I got to the inn, the harder my heart pounded. I realized it wasn't just the bitter cold that held my chest in an ever-tightening grip. The thudding in my ears increased in intensity until I thought I was having another anxiety attack. The sign to the Frozen Hearth Inn flapped back and forth as the strong winds buffeted against the placard. It was the perfect visual representation of my heart.

It had to be him. It wouldn't be anyone else.

I stepped up to the inn door and immediately heard mixed voices, both male and female, singing a rather vivacious tune. Drinking songs exist here too, then, I realized. With a trembling hand I pushed on the inn door and, as always, was welcomed by a burst of heat given off by the large central hearth. The song that a group of people was singing was difficult to understand, either due to my untrained ear, the mix of voices, or their possible inebriation.

"Ath naer zeik deja nei zeik brenn'

Med mjoth smire mina beinen"

And then he spotted me. Stenvar stopped singing while the others continued.

"Leg' belsken yf min' fot ath klovt

Ath tha zeik vit zeik skul varthvat'!"

He wasn't wearing his steel armor but rather hide trousers and a flimsy, open-chested linen shirt with ties in the front that nicely showcased his extravagant tattoo. I nervously watched him as his lips spread in a grin and his chest puffed several times with a chuckle. He was holding a mug – full of mead, no doubt – but that didn't stop me from darting passed the other patrons and jump-hugging the man. Even over the din of the continued singing I heard the mead slosh in his mug. Stenvar's hearty, guttural laugh caressed the side of my neck as I held him tight. His free hand pressed against the small of my back as he returned the embrace.

"Hey, sweetheart," he spoke into my ear. The words were like music to my soul. "I see you got my hood," I felt his hand smooth over the white fur hood that I had Birna attach to my fur cloak.

"Who is this?" a woman's voice called from behind me. I turned to see a tall, slender but strong-looking dark-elf woman wearing a linen underarmor vest and short leather skirt. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and an eyebrow cocked questioningly. The dark-elf woman, strikingly beautiful for someone who still looked like an alien to me, looked as if she was owed some kind of explanation.

My breath momentarily caught in my throat.

"Jenassa, this is Deb." Stenvar slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Deb, this is Jenassa, one of my oldest friends."

My breath recommenced. "Hello," I said, still nervous.

"My, my…," the elf-woman neglected to hide a surprised expression as we clasped forearms, the standard greeting in Skyrim between casual acquaintances and particularly friends-of-friends, I'd learned. "You never said she was so deliciously young…." When her fingers began to dance down the length of my arm I slowly pulled away from her.

Stenvar gave a nervous laugh. His response was cut off by a young redhead man who walked up to Jenassa's side. "Who's delicious?" he asked. He looked like a skittish squirrel.

"Oh, get off it, Erik," Jenassa rolled her eyes at him then turned back to me. "This is Erik, my… trainee."

"Companion," Erik corrected her with a sharp glance, eliciting a sigh from the elf woman.

The young man had the brightest red hair and clearest bluest eyes I'd ever seen. "Hello, Erik," I said as we clasped forearms. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five. I looked back to Jenassa and wondered how old she was. I wasn't young at all, recently turned thirty, but Jenassa could have been one hundred years old for all I knew. She didn't look a day over forty, however.

"I guess ya got my note," Stenvar said before sipping the remaining mead from his mug.

"Yes, just a moment ago." I then realized the inn patrons were drinking heavily in the mid-morning. "A bit early for mead, isn't it?" I said with a grin, hoping my comment wouldn't be interpreted as criticism, though in truth it was.

"We are celebrating," Jenassa answered for Stenvar.

I turned back to Stenvar. "Celebrating what?"

Stenvar grinned and removed his arm from me. He hummed in thought and rubbed the back of his neck. Is he blushing? "I, ehh…, we just got back from Dawnstar last night. Got somethin' Jarl Korir wanted from this old ruin near there. And I did a few other favors for 'im, and for some of the people in town. It wasn't anything special, really. I—"

"Jarl Korir made him Puzan," Jenassa interjected.

"What?" I asked.

"Ehh, Puzan, it's…," Stenvar searched for an explanation, "a rank, of sorts. He gave me one of the empty houses in town."

"He gave you a house!?" I asked, for some reason both shocked and thrilled.

"Do not get too excited," Jenassa laughed, "it is barely more than a kiv. The rest of us have to sleep in the inn."

"If ya want the house so badly Jenassa, you can have it," Stenvar humored.

"Gods, no. I do not want to live up here. Besides, you already gave me the sword Korir gave you. Just make me a spare key so that I can use the house when I am here and you are not." Jenassa winked a red-brown eye at me and turned toward the bar, Erik trailing behind her.

Stenvar breathed a sigh through his nose and turned back to me. Several wordless seconds later, he asked, "Wanna see it?"

The house was small, and boasted only one room and two small windows. There was barely anything in the place – a double bed with linen sheets and an animal fur cover, a cooking pot, a small pantry, and a dining table with two chairs. Stenvar's steel armor sat in a pile in an empty corner.

Stenvar took off his cloak and tossed it onto the empty dining table. "I'll light a fire," he said, starting for the hearth where I saw a fire-starting kit.

"No, let me," I said, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling myself in front of him. I held out my right hand just above the three large, unused logs that sat on a simple andiron. I felt my palm heat as it sent energy to the wood, causing it to ignite first with a spark, and then finally a gentle flame. While I could have easily sent a ball of fire into the hearth, I thought it best not to, just in case the flame was too large and set the house aflame. The transfer of heat energy was safer for lighting hearths and candles. That is what Faralda did the day she gave me my first "lesson". The transfer of energy in this way was very similar to telekinesis, but was specific to heat. One could also freeze water with the same magic. And, apparently, as I recently learned, healing magic was in the same "family" of magic as energy transfer. Healing magic was more complicated than just closing wounds and removing contamination; healing magic actually stimulated the body to heal itself, just like energy transfer stimulated wood and wicks, or anything flammable, to ignite.

"Impressive," Stenvar said as the hearth fire grew to a pleasant size.

I turned to him, wondering what to say. It had been about six months since I'd seen Stenvar, and I was nervous. Even if he hadn't sent me all those gifts, I would have been just as nervous. My arms hung awkwardly at my sides for a moment before I finally shifted out of my cloak. Stenvar held out a hand to take it from me, and then hung it over the back of a chair. Turning back to me, he looked me up and down.

"Is that the robe I sent ya?" he asked with a grin.

My own grin was so wide, it hurt. "Yeah. I wanted to write a letter to thank you, but," I took a couple steps toward him, "I didn't know where you were."

He shrugged. "No worries. I was all over the place. It was only a few weeks ago that I got the letter you gave to Elda sayin' ya went to the College."

I smiled, but turned away. I wanted to bring up the subject of the other gifts, of the letter that was tucked in my robe, but doubt still nagged at my brain. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. I pretended to look around the house a bit more, as if there was anything I'd missed. I heard him step closer to me.

"What did that song mean?" I blurted. "Something about mead and bones. I didn't understand the rest."

I felt a hand trail down my arm. It ended its journey by intertwining its fingers with mine. I turned back to Stenvar in time to be face to face with the man. A corner of his mouth turned up in a half-grin.

"N' when I die," he spoke in a deep, languid tone, his other hand coming to rest on my cheek, "don't burn me." His calloused thumb brushed against my blushing flesh. "With mead, cover my bones." I realized he was voicing the lyrics of the drinking song. "Place mugs at my foot n' head." His serious grey eyes gazed into mine. "And then, I know I'll've been saved." I had to remember to breathe when he wrapped our commingled arms around my back, pressing me closer against him. "My nose is red like wine," he smiled as he continued, "I'm as sad as the clouded sky. And, yet," his hand on my cheek drifted to hold my neck, "I guess, before I stop, we oughta drink another drop."

And then he kissed me. His lips were more chapped now, and I wondered if I could heal them.

Later, I told myself, later….

Stenvar held me to him with a tight grip, as if I would have ever wanted to leave. His intertwined fingers left mine and instead spread over my fleshy backside, trying in earnest to feel my curves through my robe.

My need for sexual contact had been a constant and escalating bother ever since I'd arrived in Winterhold, and Stenvar's touch ensured that I might explode if I didn't have him, and soon. I moved my hands to cup his scruffy face as our tongues met once again after such a long absence. His hands now both kneaded and squeezed my rear-end, and I couldn't take the teasing anymore.

The bed was to his left. Still entwined, I pivoted and slowly walked him backwards. Stenvar landed with a grunt, breaking our kiss with an amused chuckle. Taking advantage of the freedom to move, I tugged at the hide thong that held up my leggings. Once loose they slid down my hips, and I stood to kick them along with my boots off of me with record-breaking speed. Stenvar had already tugged at his belt, and the front of his trousers fell open. Sparing no more time on the removal of clothing, I climbed back on top of Stenvar's lap, shifted my ladybriefs to the side while Stenvar shifted his loincloth down, and I lowered myself onto him.

The sensation of being filled was immediate, and nearly overwhelming. My moans were pathetic little whines of desperation as I rode the man. With one hand he gripped my hip and pushed my body up and down. With the other he tugged at the opening of my robe, seeking flesh. Successful, he bared a shoulder, and sucked and nipped at my skin. I cried out unintelligible sounds. My fingers clenched at his back, dragging nails against the thin fabric of his shirt. His mouth then found the space between my bound breasts before tracing the edge of the crisscrossed fabric with his tongue. Both of his hands were now gripping my hips, aiding me in moving faster. Somehow amidst the jostling, Stenvar managed to take between his teeth a turgid nipple through the linen binding.

I found my release. Still thrusting down onto him, my climax lingered as he began thrusting up, fast. I moaned Stenvar's name. His teeth still bit down, painfully then gently onto the nipple he had found. I began to scream from the devastating pleasure. When he removed his mouth from my breast I expected him to kiss me, but instead he flipped us around and pinned me onto the mattress beneath him. My legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers dug into my hips as he hammered into me. Though nearly breathless, I moaned and screamed and squealed as I continued to orgasm. Stenvar soon gave shallow grunts, signaling his own impending climax. I pressed one hand against his chest and clenched at the inked muscular flesh, and with my other hand pressed his palm against my hip. His thrusting shifted to slow and deep, and as he released inside me I cried out his name, again and again.

As Stenvar descended his peak and ceased his thrusting, he pressed his forehead against mine. His hands had traveled to both my waist and neck, and he clung to my robe. With a grunt, he fell to my side, spent.

We napped, then, for some time. My growling stomach woke me, and Stenvar's was rumbling as well. He was awake. With a laugh, he said, "I'll find somethin' for us to eat."

While munching on some dried fruits and strips of jerky, I finally mustered the courage to talk to Stenvar about everything that had happened to me since he left.

Well, almost everything.

"I have... things to tell you."

"Oh?"

I told Stenvar about the undead woman, the necromancer I meagerly helped to find; about Ulfric's attention and Yrsarald's friendship; my assisting Wuunferth; and finally about Meridia, the gods, Hermaeus Mora, and what had actually happened with the portal. I left out the part where Meridia told me to keep Stenvar close by me.

"You once said you know things about the gods," I continued. "Does this sound... possible? Is Savos correct? Am I... the creation of a god?"

The stunned expression that had swept over Stenvar's face as I highlighted the past six months of my life spoke volumes. His lips parted as words that he wanted to speak failed to form. "I... I don't know, Deb. That seems...," he gave a nervous laugh. "Va..." I wasn't quite sure yet, but I was starting to think that the word "va" meant something like "wow". He smoothed his hand down his face and covered his mouth. His eyes were wide with disbelief, or possibly horror. He dropped his hand to grasp mine. "You truly were brought here for a reason..."

"I know, it is... unbelievable. And now this... thing..." I lifted my hand from his and with both made "crazy hands" to aid in expressing my utter frustration at coming to terms with who and what I was. "This demon wants me for what I know, Savos thinks. Meridia wants me to be her 'champion', but... I don't know if I can. But I am getting very good with magic. Savos the Arch-Mage trains me. Some students are jealous..." I shrugged. "But I have had no more Daedra dreams in a long time, so I think they are letting me be alone for now." I pulled the leather thong that had been keeping my hair tied back and combed my mussed locks with my fingers.

A few moments of silence passed before he spoke. "Your hair is long again." His voice was quiet. "And you lost weight."

My hair was quickly tied back in a neater, low-lying ponytail. "Magic takes energy. Before I came here I got fat from pies."

Stenvar laughed.

Working my way down a long strip of dried beef, I lay back down next to Stenvar and stared at the ceiling. "Six months is too long to not have sex," I said with a laugh.

"Six months?" Stenvar asked.

"Mm, since the tent." My head rested on his shoulder.

"No one at the College, then?"

"Hmm? No." I neglected to mention my innocent crush on the married Elodie, and Brelyna's crush on me.

"Six months…. I don't think I could go that long."

I laughed. But then I realized the implications of what he had said. I turned on my side to face him. "You… had sex? Before now? After…."

Stenvar's blank expression was unnerving. "Well, yeah. At the spring ritual."

I blinked, slowly, once. "The spring ritual?"

"At Dibella's temple in Markarth. First day of First Seed." I watched as Stenvar's jaw muscles clenched. "It's… well, expected of her followers, but not required. I go sometimes, despite not bein' able to make children."

I lowered my gaze to the man's flowering tattoo. Dibella's flower, on Dibella's follower. Stenvar's palm pressing against my cheek urged me to look at his face again. I shifted uneasily, tugging at my robe to straighten it out, cover myself. I then heard a rustling sound, as did Stenvar, and his gaze dropped to my waist.

"What's this?" he asked, picking up a folded piece of paper.

The love letter, I realized. My heart decided it no longer needed to beat and I thought my eyes might pop out of my skull. Strangling anxiety gripped my body and I froze as Stenvar opened the folded paper. The lover letter I'd assumed he'd written. He may well have, but I was still not totally convinced.

He didn't seem unhappy. He didn't act like he couldn't sleep. He wasn't trembling.

I willed myself not to faint.

He finished reading quickly, and his eyes darted up to meet mine. "Did you write this?" he asked, a strange expression taking form on his face.

My heart met my stomach.

I opened my mouth to speak, but it took a moment to utter the simple word. "N-no." I stared at the man who stared back at me. I couldn't read his expression at all. "I thought…." My mouth hung open like a dying fish. "I thought you did."

Stenvar's brow furrowed and he looked again to the letter. He shook his head. "No, Deb, I didn't. I would've signed my name..." He refolded the letter and handed it back to me. With a trembling hand, I accepted it, and promptly shoved it back into the pocket of my robe. He continued to stare at me with his poker face. I began to feel uncomfortable.

"So…," my voice was barely more than a whisper, "it wasn't you that sent the other notes? The big package or sketches? Flowers?"

Stenvar shook his head. "I sent you this robe n' hood, and a book, plus that gold ya gave me. And that other hood." His eyes were studying me. "Someone's... sendin' you gifts? Anonymously?"

My jaw stiffened and I was certain that I was fighting a frown. "Yes. Almost since the day I got here." I looked away from Stenvar.

"Sounds like someone's in love with ya," he said, plainly and without any hint of jealousy. "It's not surprising." I looked at him – he was smiling, but something about the smile seemed strange. "I hope ya find out who it is, or that they tell ya soon."

Don't cry. Don't you dare cry. "I will, somehow. It can only be a small amount of people." I looked away again. I couldn't bear to look at the man who was not sending me the notes, the gifts, the love letters. The man I had just had amazing sex with. The man who practiced sex as an art. Often. During rituals. In the name of a goddess.

Stenvar gripped my chin with his thumb and finger, turned my head, and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Whoever it is," he said with a smile, "I hope he deserves you."

In that moment, I began to see Stenvar in a different light. I wondered if all these months away from him, under all the stresses I had encountered, if I hadn't worked up a false image of him in my mind to anchor my sanity.

Stenvar was a friend. A wonderful friend. A wonderful friend with benefits.

But Stenvar was not in love with me. Perhaps, I realized, I wasn't in love with him, either, and I had just craved intimacy, the type of intimacy I had known with him.

And, yet, the way he looked at me when he said he hoped my secret admirer deserved me made me wonder. Before now, I had harbored doubts that Stenvar was that admirer, and I was right. But the way he held me earlier, the way he kissed me... the way he was looking at me at that very moment planted a different seed of doubt in my mind. But his strange expression was fleeting, and was soon replaced with an honest smile.

"So, tell me more about this 'Child of Akatosh' thing," he said, offering me his side to snuggle up to.

After a casual discussion about gods and Daedra, and despite Stenvar's requests for me to stay, we said our goodbyes, but not before sharing a final, intimate embrace. I even healed his chapped lips. I thanked him profusely for the robe and hood and everything else. He said he, Jenassa and Erik were headed to the south in the morning, but promised to let me know when he was in Winterhold again. He even said he would make me a copy of the house key and have it sent to me at the college. I promised to let him know when I graduated, although I made it clear that my program wasn't traditional and I wasn't being trained like a student, and therefore I didn't know if I had anything to graduate from. He wished me luck, though, with everything.

As I trudged out into the snow toward the bridge to the college, I looked back to see Stenvar watching me leave, his expression once again unreadable. I smiled at my friend, and then continued on my way.

The icy winds froze the tears to my face.

AN: Please don't hate me. Or Stenvar. Or Deb. Or her secret admirer.

The songs I kept listening to while thinking about this chapter included:

David Ramirez "Drunk" (guh...)

David Ramirez "I Think I Like You"

Sanders Bohlke "Til My Days Are Through"

Susie Suh "All I Want"

Joe Purdy "If I Had You"

Rosie Thomas "Farewell" (*dies a horrible, horrible death from suffocating feels overload*)

The Stenvar/Deb (nsfw) reunion feels were inspired by "You and I" by Lady Gaga.

The drinking song was adapted from "Little Brown Jug".

Here's the rest of the drinking song in Norren, if you're curious.

Min' naf er rath likke vin'

Zeik eg bira likke him

Ath tho zeik get' us zeik stotha

Ver skuula drek' anar faalla

I'm going to go hide now so you fine people don't come at me with torches and pitchforks and tomatoes and cabbages.