There comes a time in one's life where reflection of one's self is bound to happen. Choices that had been thought good turn out not so good. For example, rescuing a Thalmor agent from certain death when one was a Talos worshipper and could be considered a Stormcloak sympathiser (though she wasn't).
Aya rubbed a weary hand down her face and muttered under her breath. They were but a couple miles from her rickety cabin in the woods. The Altmer that she was dragging with her may as well be unconscious as she was practically carrying him so much he leaned on her. She'd bandaged most of his wounds though he was still bleeding heavily.
She'd come across a bloody scene as she'd gone hunting. A particularly large dragon had interrupted and attacked what looked to be a battle between Stormcloaks and the Aldmeri Dominion. There had been no other survivors that she'd noticed. The Thalmor she was carrying had been flung from the fray by the dragon's mouth and had practically landed at her feet.
She'd had remained hidden while the drake had killed the others and then flown off. Her heart had been in her throat the entire time. She'd been galvanized into action as soon as the area had been cleared. The Thalmor had barely been alive when she'd gotten to him, blood was pouring quite generously from his wounds.
Aya had quickly tossed a healing spell to staunch the bleeding (the very basics and it had just barely done the job cause, you know, she wasn't a mage). She'd exhausted her mana reserves and her hands had shook as she'd patched as much of the injuries as she could. She knew she'd passed out with the big bastard (Altmers were unnaturally tall even next to Nords) and he hadn't stirred at all the entire time.
Which bring us back to the situation at hand. A Nord Hunter dragging a Thalmor agent across the skyrim wilderness in Falkreath Hold. Her cabin was solitary and surrounded by dense forest and they would reach it soon. Hopefully before the sun set so that she wouldn't have to contend with the fauna wanting to eat the bleeding Thalmor.
She grunted as she hefted the elf straighter (he was damn heavy for a mage) and trudged forward. They were almost there… Fuck. This bastard better be appreciative of what she was doing. She grunted and almost fell to the side with the mer. Thankfully she'd kept to her feet and by the time she reached her cabin, it was all she could do to drop the mer in her bed with her on top of him (her head on his stomach while her knees were on the floor).
Talos would no doubt punish her this stupidity, she was sure of it, but she'd been raised to save lives, her grandmother had been a priestess of Kynareth after all. She just needed to rest a little before she tackled the rest of his wounds. She had a couple of bone needles in a drawer beside the bed and a small pile of horse hairs. She'd sew him up but nice once her body stopped shaking.
Fuck she was burnt and sore. Hungry too, but that could wait until she was able to move. She closed her eyes, her head on his belly, and fell into a deep sleep.
She came too with a start. Not understanding why her pillow had been warm (it had scared her) and she'd wakened startled, her head raising off the mer quickly. Her blue eyes had focused on his gold and black robes and she'd been galvanized into action.
The Thalmor agent she'd rescued! He needed help!
She'd jumped to her feet and had scrambled for her needle and thread. Her hands had barely shaken as she fumbled with the fastening of his robes. She'd grimaced as she uncovered his broken and bleeding body, pulling the robes open completely exposing bloodied golden skin and blood covered underclothes. She grabbed an iron dagger and cut open the under clothes. There were big puncture wounds all across his torso going in a line (teeth marks). The skin was shredded and bone protruded in some areas. Oh fuck…
She didn't think, instead she used more of her crappy Restoration magic (she was improving it quite steadily with this big bastards wounds). She was trying to mend bones and started screaming in exhaustion as she was drained again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!
She fought the sleep and took a deep, steadying breath (along with a couple magicka potions). She had to relax and concentrate.
A second attempt at healing broken bones was made and she pushed herself to very limits of her mana. Sweat broke out across the whole of her body and she almost fainted when she heard the very distinct sound of bones snapping/breaking ( there it was !).
A half-gasp, half-scream burst from her lips and she kneeled there beside the bed panting as though she'd run the whole of Whiterun Hold carrying an bull elk (antlers and all) on her shoulders. Her body started shaking again and she reached for the last of her magical potions. One more good burst of Healing and he'd be good as new on the inside. She'd just have to worry about sewing him back together. Piece of sweetroll, right?
Right…
She drank about half the potion before her patient sat up (oh this is going to suck), screaming (a battle cry at that… since when did Altmer war cry?) and punched her in the face (oh that hurt…). She dropped to the ground like a sack of flour. Ironically, he fainted not long after knocking her out from the pain, his magicka completely drained from the battle.
Aya awoke about five minutes later a nasty headache (and sporting a brand new broken nose to boot). Her patient was still partially clothed, though not bleeding much any more. His black hood still covering most of his head while the whole front of his robes were wide open.
She growled under her breath and reached for ropes. She was quick to tie his arms up and to her headboard. If he were to wake again, there wouldn't be a repeat (she had to waste precious mana fixing her broken nose). Satisfied, with his helplessness for now, she went for her needle and thread only to pause. Her magicka had fully replenished, if she were to pour the whole of it into his body again would she not mend the entirety of the wounds remaining?
She hesitated but a moment and proceeded to do just that. It drained her completely but his golden skin practically glowed with health by the time she was done. There was not a single cut on his gorgeous physique, and with his arms bound up, it put his muscles on display quite nicely. She wasn't embarrassed to grab an eye full before snuggling into his side out of sheer exhaustion and going to sleep. She felt no shame in wrapping her arms about his midriff to share body heat with him. Her cabin was not windproof at all with its missing south wall (and the big bastard owed her after this. Big time).
The next time Aya opened her eyes, she knew immediately where she was and who she was snuggled into. His breathing was steady and slow, and she noticed he tensed immediately as she stirred into wakefulness. She didn't bat an eyelash as she peeled herself away from him.
"I will tell you nothing," he spoke before she even finished stretching, his voice was calm, cool and collected. She arched an eyebrow and turned to glance down at him.
His head was turned so that his shadowed amber eyes were looking directly at her from the darkness of his hood with an intensity that surprised Aya (oh boy...). She smiled faintly down at him and patted his exposed, smooth and toned chest soothingly. He tensed in the bonds and stilled immediately.
"It's a good thing I don't care what you know," she smiled at the now confused look in his piercing yellow eyes.
"Why have you captured me? What have you done to my men?" his line of questioning was controlled, despite the drawn lines across his angular face. She reached down into his hood and gently placed her hand against his forehead. He tensed again and made to move away from her touch when he froze and cried out in pain.
Aya was quick to turn on her magic, to heal the wounds in his head. She'd concentrated so much on his body, she hadn't taken into consideration that his head could have been wounded in the fight as well.
As wave after wave of soothing Restoration entered his body the Thalmor finally stopped struggling and relaxed. She stopped casting just before she emptied herself and took a deep breath. "I didn't capture you," she patted his bare chest again (she had to admit she liked touching him), "just keeping you still so you don't hurt me again."
The amber eyes narrowed on her but he said nothing more on the subject. She tried to stifle a yawn as exhaustion seeped into her body yet again. Gods be damned her weak mana reserves and her bloody bleeding heart. It wasn't long before she snuggled back into his (tense, very tense ) side and fell back into a deep sleep, her arms wrapping around him again, clutching him tightly. She had to admit, she very much enjoyed his muscled frame in her bed even if he was an elf (and a Thalmor).
She slept another couple hours before her eyes snapped open and she sat up in bed. Night had set long ago and her cabin was thrust into deep darkness (and cold). She felt his warm body freeze up beside her and was quick to notice gooseflesh exploding across his abdomen (her hand was touching him there).
"Oh fuck, I left you half-naked!" she gasped apologetically. She moved quickly as she found flint and lit a small lantern she kept on the small night table beside the bed.
The Thalmor said nothing as she immediately wrapped the robes around his body (just one side on top of the other) and reached for the ropes binding him. She paused when she noticed his hands making tight fists. "You're not going to attack me if I set you free are you?" she peered down at him.
"I will not." she noticed his fingers going lax. She swallowed and pulled on the rope fastening his arms to her headboard.
As she loosened him, she avoided looking down at him. She owed him an explanation in case he really didn't remember what had happened.
"You were fighting with Stormcloaks I think," she explained casually, pulling the rope through a loop, "Dragon made quick work of your friends and enemies alike, you just happen to land at my feet," she grunted and dropped the rope to the ground once he was freed, "I am Aya Snowshoe, a Hunter."
He remained silent, his arms still above his head, he also made no attempt to introduce himself. It was a moment more before he lowered them and very deliberately sat up. His studded gloved hands came up to his Thalmor robes and he fixed them deftly as he glanced about her one roomed shack.
"Can you cast?" she questioned, wondering if he was still completely drained.
"Yes," he answered swiftly, his amber eyes narrowing suspiciously on her.
She nodded and then waved towards a rack of meats hanging on the northwall. "Help yourself," she smiled at him, ignoring the almost haughty look he cast her way.
"Where exactly are we?" he asked after a minute of silence.
"My home in Falkreath Hold," she answered, "I can take you to Falkreath in the morning."
"Point me in the direction and I can find my way," he spoke passively. She shrugged and pointed in the general direction of the town. "That way," she sighed heavily, "You don't have to leave, I will take you in the morning."
"I was on an important assignment when the Stormcloaks intercepted us," his eyes narrowed at her as if mildly irritated he was explaining himself to her, and yet, he continued, "I'm afraid I can not dally any further."
"Where were you going?" she rubbed her eyes as he slowly got to her feet. His head almost grazing the ceiling of her cabin (oh but he was tall…).
"College of Winterhold," he muttered, his gaze turning to the darkness outside.
"Oh I know where that is," she grinned and then arched an eyebrow as she eyed him up and down, "You're going to freeze up there if you go wearing just that." She blushed suddenly as she realized she was the reason his robes were no longer as warm as they should be.
His hawk-eyes narrowed on her and he in turn blushed slightly (he turned a gorgeous shade of orange) just below his eyes. He cleared his throat and both of his hands went behind his back. "I think waiting until morning with the sun," he nodded and came around to the side of the bed he had originally been sleeping on and sat down.
"I've been snuggling you to keep warm," she murmured, turning her head to look his way. He avoided her look, laid down on his side, face towards her.
"Have you no blankets?" he questioned, wrapping his arms about his core.
"Not here," she muttered grudgingly and slightly embarrassed, "I left my camp behind dragging you home, we can grab it in the morning on our way to Winterhold."
This time he did peer at her. "'We'?" he repeated, his voice deliberate.
"Yes, 'we'. You barely survived with a battalion of your men," she pointed out the obvious, "Now let me show you what a hunter can do. I will take you to Winterhold without incident," she grinned at him, her overconfidence oozing from her too smug smile.
The amber orbs narrowed from within the confines of his hood but he wisely kept his own counsel. He shivered once when a cool wind made itself known. She (being a Nord, the cold barely bothered her) turned her head to just notice his repressed shiver. She rolled her eyes and lowered herself to lay beside him.
"Open your arms," she nudged him, "I will keep you warm until we can grab my camp."
He snorted but obliged and parted his arms as though inviting her closer. She was quick to snuggle into his chest and sighed contently as his arms wrapped about her smaller body. She really enjoyed this. It had been so long since anyone had held her, she could almost forget he was a Thalmor. Almost , but not quite .
She closed her eyes and was quick to fall asleep. It was no so easily done for the Altmer. He found himself in a very awkward position for he too enjoyed the feel of the woman against his slender frame, and was glad for the cold that made it obligatory for them to snuggle less he freeze to death.
Ancano was loathe to admit, even to himself, that he'd much rather stay where they were (they couldn't though). The Nord woman had saved his life (he'd used his own, much more powerful, Restoration magic and had revisited in his mind the scene of the battle). They had barely done the dragon any damage despite the fact that both the Stormcloaks and the Aldmeri Dominion had temporarily joined forces.
They had all died (he would have too had the woman not been right there). She'd used considerable mana on him to bring him back from the brink. Could he actually go out on a limb and trust her? She made a mewling sound against his chest (Auriel have mercy) and her fingers clutched his robes but for a second (It was a second too long as he felt his shaft stir). He was about to shift when her right leg hitched up his left leg and he felt the searing heat from her core as she settled her leg just over his hip.
He closed his eyes and forced his hands to remain where they were (at her shoulders). When was the last time he had been this close to someone else? Years? Decades? It couldn't be centuries, could it? A deep, sleepy sigh escaped her lips and he tensed uncontrollably. This would most definitely rank high on his list of uncomfortable nights. He'd be glad when they would locate her camping gear and he wouldn't have to sleep so close to her. She was burning him through his robes and there was nothing he could do about it, except sleep.
The Thalmor were not permitted physical relations with other races (although other Altmers were allowed). Mainly because the Aldmeri Dominion ensured that the best lineages, the strongest and most magically inclined remained untainted. As a Thalmor agent, his choice of bed partners was not his own to make. He was still awaiting on news about whether he could make a proposal yet or not (he hadn't gone so far as to ask for whom he could propose to, merely permission to do so).
The Dominion would frown on his even thinking lewd thoughts about a commoner, a Nord of all people, and they would know… the Dominion always knew everything about their agents.
He took a deep breath and relaxed his entire body. It took awhile but he finally fell into a fretful sleep, haunted by both dragon fire and clear blue Nordic eyes.