Dear reader, I'm terribly sorry (once more) for the long wait between chapters. The past two chapter and this one deal with very difficult subjects and were incredibly hard to write. I hope to resume writing more regularly. Worry not, this story has a clear progression and a planned end. It will be written all the way to the end =)

JasminSilver

p.s.: I have made minor changes to previous chapters, they do not modify the course of the story.

Trigger warning:

Please note that this chapter talks about delicate subjects such as self-harm and abortion and as such could be triggering for some people.

Taking the fort back from the bandits had been a tough skirmish. The groups had been a substantial one, with good weapons and one of them had clearly served in an army somewhere because they had planned their defenses well. Though it had been good to speak with Hadvar again, it had been awkward to take orders from him; being a foot soldier again was humbling. While in Solitude, he was spared from living in the bunkhouse and had access to better food thanks to Luthien being Dragonborn and a prized ally, but he wasn't giving orders anymore. He had taken well to commanding his troops in Dawnstar, and he found himself missing being in charge.

He hoped his little elf was waiting for him at home. The damp cold was making the now healed wound on his waist, a gift from the Windhelm guards, throb, and he was looking forward to the warm room he shared with Luthien. It was his first assignment since their escape from Windhelm and he was afraid he would still need a lot of patience and carefully hidden potions to patch her up.

He had been spending half his salary in healing and stamina draughts since arriving in Solitude. It was easy enough to slip them in her food since she only ever came to the room to eat and pass out from exhaustion, but he had been careful to hide the vials well in their bedroom, thinking Luthien would get rid of them if she got her hands on them. Having her away from his covert care had him worried.

Korvanjund was an old burial ground and it must have been full of Draugrs and traps to keep the catacombs undisturbed. He was afraid Luthien would be in poor shape when he saw her again. She had been on a dangerous self-destructive path for weeks and being away from him, dungeon delving, he could only hope the men under her command would watch out for her.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he walked through Castle Dour doors. Legionnaires were avoiding his gaze, the atmosphere was tensed and conversations died when he walked by. Dropping his pack to the floor noisily, he barked "Would somebody tell me what's going on". Only silence answered him.

He ran to the temple as fast as he could. Pushing past Freir and her husband rudely he went down the narrow stone steps that led to the makeshift infirmary. There were no many beds! The Imperial, intent on keeping appearances up, made sure to hide anything less glorified than a crushing victory against the Stormcloaks. The prisoners were kept, far removed from the civilian's eyes, and so were the wounded. And if "advanced interrogation techniques" were used, it was kept secret but from a select few. The large stone room was dimly lit by a few torches and a large iron candelabra in its center. The cots were placed, staggered, in the usual Imperial orderly fashion, with two narrow aisles intersecting at the candelabra.

Through blurry, teary eyes he could see her lain on a wooden bed in a far corner. He didn't have the strength to walk up to her, so pale, so frail as she was. He found himself sobbing silently in the shadows, his back to the wall. A priestess, leaving the care of a blind legionnaire, walked up to the little elf and sat on the bed. She was casting some restorative magic on the Dunmer which seemed to wake her up. He could barely hear her despite the reverent silence.

"Did it work? Is it gone?"

"Is that why you took the poison then?", replied the priestess in a calm deep tone.

"Tell me it's gone", she sobbed.

"You are too far along for that", stated the Imperial.

The little elf wailed, and it was heart-wrenching for Ralof to hear.

"He held me down… He threatened to have Ralof killed… I tried to fight him, but in the end, I didn't. That thing inside me… it's a part of him. I want it gone. I need it gone".

He suddenly felt very cold; it was one thing to guess what had transpired between Jarl Ulfric and his beloved, but it was quite another to hear her talk about it. Was this what she had meant when she told him she was "soiled"? Was "it" what he thought it was. Was Luthien pregnant?

"I won't try to tell you I understand your actions, I do not. But I really must urge you to not try again. At this point anything that could harm baby would kill you with it".

He waited until his tears had dried, until the priestess left, before making his way toward the bed. He tried to be silent, but he had never been overly stealthy and with his full Legion heavy armor on it was a losing battle. There was no need to be silent, however; Luthien was wide awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, so he could look at her and he took her hand, so small and so cold, in his. She was refusing to look at him, her gaze fixed on the vaulted ceiling, her face neutral. He was trying to find words but failing miserably. He lowered his gaze; looking at the floor, it seemed less challenging.

"Luthien please", he begged. He brought his eyes back to her face. "You have to stop", and back to the floor. "I can't lose you again".

There was a long pause. Luthien still looked pointedly at the ceiling.

"You're careless in battle, you don't eat unless I coax you, you run yourself ragged with training", he said defeated. "I don't know how to help anymore".

"Please say something", he begged again.

"I heard the priestess just now", he whispered.

Her gazed wavered and she momentarily looked at him, terrified, then back at the ceiling with her neutral face before their eyes met. Silent tears were treacherously escaping from her eyes.

"Love, it doesn't have to be his". He urged on. While her face remained neutral, he could see he had her undivided attention, so he chose his next words with great care. After a short pause, he added, matter-of-factly, "It can be mine".

There was no response to his proposition, and he was nervous, anxious even; he started talking quickly, half expecting Luthien to explode in anger.

"We can decide the baby is mine. Ours. Not his. As for him", he said with hatred, "He becomes nameless, forgotten forever*. We never mention him again".

She looked at him, disbelief on her face. Was Ralof really that forgiving? How could he still care for her after such a betrayal? Did he hear that she had chosen not to fight in the end?

"I'm serious Luthien", he assured her, tightening his grip on her hand. Ever so carefully he placed his other hand, trembling, on her belly. "It's mine, please. Don't hurt yourself anymore". At this point, they were both crying more or less silently, and when Ralof brought his hands up to her shoulder so he could hug her, she leaped at him. She was dizzy and weak, but she needed the closeness, the comfort of her lover. Somehow, his acceptance of the pregnancy meant a great deal. She still didn't want the child, but at least she knew she had not lost Ralof. He knew of her shame, yet was still standing next to her. She could barely believe it!

"What if I can't look at it when it's born? Will you forgive me?"

"Whichever way, there will be nothing to forgive. I'm here for you Luthien, to whatever ends".

After a long pause where they simply enjoyed being close to each other, Luthien pulled back and asked him bluntly, "You can't know for sure. What if it looks like him".

Ralof replied adamantly. "I don't need to know. I choose to believe". He could see his little elf was still unsure. "I love you. All of you. And I will love our child". Bringing her close to his chest once more he spoke in his calm, deep voice, "While you were away in Blackreach, when the world taught you were dead, I tried to convince myself you would come back. That they were all mistaken for believing otherwise. I built the house in Dawnstar for you, for us. Sturdy, thick walls and a large hearth so you would be warm. It seemed like an impossible future at the time, but I would dream of us living there. Of starting a family with you. Of little elflings with white hair running around". He could feel her lithe frame trembling against his as she sobbed quietly, his voice breaking with emotion. "So, you see, I don't care if the child doesn't look like me. He or she will look like you and that's enough for me. However, if you ask me to, I will take the baby to Honour Hall myself".

He held her against him until her breathing changed and he knew she was asleep. With the greatest care in the world, he placed her back on the cot and covered her up with the blanket. He needed to have a word with the priestess.

Once he was assured she would be all right, at least physically, and that she needed at the minimum one more day in the temple, he left for Castle Dour.

The priestess, named Silana, he had learned, was surprised to see him come back so late at night, cleaned and out of his armor. She tried to argue Luthien needed to rest, but he would not be deterred, so she allowed him in. He made his way as quietly as possible toward the bed his little elf was resting in. Slowly caressing her hair to rouse her but not alarm her he asked, "Do you want me here tonight? I brought my bedroll".

Her sleepy smile and the way she moved aside let him know the bedroll would not be necessary. He dropped it next to the bed and carefully slid in next to her. It was too narrow to be comfortable, but she was back to sleep in minutes, her head on his strong chest and his arms wrapped around her protectively. He meant every word he had said earlier. He did not care that the child may not be his, but he knew it was incredibly hard for Luthien. He could only imagine what she was going through and he vowed to Talos he would see Ulfric dead for his unspeakable acts.

It had been weeks since she had allowed him to touch her, hold her. He fought sleep as long as he could, savoring the softness of her hair, her smell, her heat against him. She looked so peaceful, asleep in his arms. He placed his large hand on her belly once more and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for exactly, he didn't know much about pregnancy after all, but he wanted to feel connected to the baby somehow. He was curious to know when she had noticed she was pregnant. He remembered it took well over a month for Gergur to know, yet the fateful night with Ulfric was not that far away.

* Please note that he is not suggesting they overlook how Luthien is feeling/what she has been through. He's referring to what I understand might be an old Nord custom/curse for terribly evil people as can be seen in the "Forbidden Legend" quest ("Be bound here, Jyrik, murderer and betrayer. […] May your name and deeds be forgotten forever").