Queen Takes Pawn

Disclaimer: Per usual, The Elder Scrolls Franchise is the intellectual and legal property of Bethseda Softworks. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any profit made.

A/N: So I'm a procrastinating asshole who could list a litany of excuses as to why I haven't updated, but excuses is all they really are. I hate it as much as the next person when stories are abandoned, so all I'm going to offer is an apology, and a deadline that the next update will happen by the end of May, by the absolute latest. Thank you so much for reading, I really do appreciate it.
Also: Credit once again to thuum dot org for use of their dovahzul lexicon, it is really a fantastic, and invaluable resource. Along with my beta reader, who kept reminding me that it's been five damn months since I updated and I really ought to get my lazy ass in gear.

Most people would assume that fame, and the wealth that came with it, were the primary and only benefits to being a Hero of Legend. Fame had been more of a headache than it had been worth, and the wealth…well, when Dovrasi had skipped out on Skyrim and her responsibilities, she hadn't had much to show for it except for the clothes on her back and what she could carry in a knapsack. There were other benefits she had appreciated more; the sort that were the kind of gifts that were so subtle that they largely went unsung.

For a merchant's daughter she had a remarkably in-tune mindset that had suited her well as a warrior, and luck was on her side more often than not. She'd had teachers and mentors when she had needed them, and certain aspects of being an adventurer had come easily to her. More than one traveling companion had been impressed with her foresight and ease of how she handled an often nomadic lifestyle.

One of the traits that had served her so well was how difficult it was to catch her off her guard.

Waking up on the cold, stone floor of a fort crumbling into ruin, or a cave that had once been home to bandits, or a barrow, or even an old relic of a long disappeared civilization had often been a necessary evil when she had been looking for both Alduin and a way to defeat him. Either from want of coin, want of time, or want of location she had to find a nights lodging in a place that was not a soft bed in a safe building that wasn't potentially teeming with the sort of things that wanted her really, most sincerely dead. She hadn't woken up in a state of disorientation or panic back then, and she didn't wake up disoriented and in a panic in Fort Frostmoth.

She called for Teldryn, and he didn't answer. She called again with the same result, and that's when the first vestiges of panic began to sit in.

His pack was still where he had placed it the night before, and appearing to be in the same state it had been when she had gone to sleep. The spell runes he had put in place as traps were also still intact along with the myriad of other little things they had both set up the night before to offset the potential threats that came with making camp in a largely unsecured area…but it wasn't the mundane threats that had her worried.

Even has she haphazardly jerked on parts of her armor, she knew she was probably being paranoid. There was nothing to suggest that Teldryn's free will had been taken over by a malevolent ghost with delusions of grandeur except for his absence. It was one thing to know she should be calm, rational, and not jumping to conclusions on little to no evidence. It was quite another to remember clawing her own way to consciousness while working on a monument she had no memory of approaching.

The beating of her heart increased to a quick, staccato rhythm as her calls for Teldryn remained unanswered. As her attempt to curb her mounting worry failed, she pulled out a dagger from her own pack before walking down the halls of the old fort, calling Teldryn's name as she went. She managed to dampen her worry enough so she never quite broke into a full run, but by the time she reached the doors that led to the outside her brisk walk had turned into a brisker jog.

Calling out Teldryn's name in the bright morning sun garnered her the success she had been looking for; a faint but unmistakable reply from where the docks had once been came floating up to her ears. The wave of relief that washed over her was nearly overwhelming; she sagged against the wooden door of the fort to give her a much needed moment to catch her breath and gather her senses. Much to her chagrin there was a powerful urge to run to him to make sure he was really truly all right. This was mercilessly and ruthlessly squashed before being shoved into a mental closet named "Things I Don't Have Time To Think About Right Now."

The walk down to where Teldryn sat looking out over the ocean was just barely enough time to wipe the remnants of her panicked searching from her expression. He was sitting on the old concrete, calmly shucking clams and looked up at her approach.

"Worried about me, were you?" He drawled and the obvious knowing smirk in his tone startled her quite badly. Dovrasi's mind fired off several rapid-fire excuses before she finally looked at him with a carefully bland look and in an equally bland voice asked him why on Nirn he thought she had been worried.

Teldryn chuckled as he poked at the small flame he had built. "Only half your armor is put on and you're wielding that dagger like you mean to use it. I'm perfectly safe, brave hero. You can relax."

"You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself," she replied stiffly.

"Oh, I know that," was the airy rejoinder. "You're just demonstrating a perfectly natural and legitimate concern any employer would show to someone they had hired."

"That's right," she agreed. "Because it would be inappropriate for me to act otherwise."

"Act, is it?" He regarded her thoughtfully. She deliberately turned her head to look out over the ocean. There was a moment of tense silence as she waited to see if Teldryn would continue to comment on things best left unsaid, relaxing only when he instead reached for a clam, and carefully shucked it before offering her the meat on the half shell. She blinked at it, a sound of small disgust emitting from her throat as she watched him shuck another clam and swallow it raw. He grinned at her while making a show of licking his lips in obvious delight.

"Never was one of your favorite foods, was it?" Teldryn noted as she stared at the pink-white blob in her hand.

"I can eat them just fine in chowder," she said, wrinkling her nose a little. "It's the texture going down I don't like."

Circumstances being what they were, she didn't turn down the offer. They ate in companionable silence, watching the shorebirds over the water dive into the waves to pick at what fish they could find. Teldryn pitched a clam shell into the water, and Dovrasi followed suit. Hers sailed just the tiniest bit further than his, plunking into the water with a small splash. She grinned at him.

"I can throw further than you," she taunted, just to rub it in a little bit.

Teldryn raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her, but that didn't stop him from picking up another shell, hefting it once in his palm, before flinging it out into the ocean. Not to be outdone, she did the same and soon it degraded into a silly contest with the two trying to one-up the other. When they ran out of clams, and shells, she sighed.

"I slept longer than I should have," Dovrasi broke the quiet, eyeing the sun as she said it. "I'll go get our stuff and we'll head north toward the Temple."

"I'll gather our equipment," Teldryn clambered to his feet. "That way you can put on the rest of your armor and we won't lose more time."

True to his word, Teldryn had both of their bedrolls and the rest of the equipment packed and ready to go before she had the rest of her gear equipped. After a quick consultation of the map and compass they set off. They had started later than she would have preferred, but by their estimation they still had enough light to get more than a fair bit of mileage behind them before they lost the sun.

It wasn't long before she was mentally adjusting her estimate on how far they would get in a single day. Walking from Raven Rock to the Fort the day before hadn't prepared her quite as much as she had thought for traipsing about the island. There had been at least an attempt at a road from the settlement, and it gave up all pretentions of even a deer path once they began the trek into the Isinfier Plains where Miraak's temple supposedly lay. The ash laid a thick blanket over the land, making walking difficult. The sediment under foot was loose and moved with every step and she was reminded of walking along the beaches of the Gold Coast. The Gold Coast never had a fine mist of ash tainting the atmosphere however, and the never ending attack on her lungs by the fine particles in the air made breathing nearly as difficult as walking.

After what felt like her hundredth coughing fit, Teldryn had them stop. He began rummaging through his pack and she glared out toward Red Mountain.

"Why didn't I have this problem yesterday?" she choked out as her coughing fit subsided.

"The density of the ash differs from day to day," he replied absently, unrolling the small bit of linen he had just pulled from his pack. "It depends on the wind, the weather, and a number of other variables. It just happens to be worse today." He pulled a dagger from his pack to cut the linen into a smaller square and carefully folded into a triangle after he carefully looked over the size. He stood and approached Dovrasi, hesitating before removing his gloves and handing them to her.

"It's not a perfect, nor an elegant solution," he warned as she stepped around her to face her back. "But it should help some until we get past the start of the mountain range."

It had been a long time since anyone had entered her personal space without the intent of either divesting her of her purse or her life. Despite the fact that it was Teldryn, she couldn't help nor stop the automatic reflex to jerk her shoulders up to her ears. There was a small pause before he rested his palm on her shoulder.

"It's just me," he murmured quietly, squeezing her shoulder lightly just like he used to. And just like she used to, she exhaled and let the tension drain out of her shoulders.

Teldryn began by combing his fingers through her hair, gathering and smoothing the fly away strands before reaching around her with both hands to fit the triangle of linen around her nose. Gentle fingers skimmed over the skin of her cheeks, ironing out the wrinkles in the fabric so it would better fit the contours of her face.

Bare knuckles brushed against her nape as he swept the length of her ponytail over her shoulder. One hand secured the ends of the make shift bandana while the other reached around to grasp one of her own hands that had been balled into a fist on her lap.

"Hold onto this for me," he asked, placing her hair into her hand. His voice had softened and his helmet did little to mask the warmth in his tone. It felt like a soft blanket on a winter's night; the sparks of warmth she felt every time his skin made contact with hers should have been unnerving. The last time she had been touched so intimately she had been living in Skyrim, and it had been even longer since she had welcomed such a touch. If she were honest with herself, and she often tried to be with varying success, Teldryn's ministrations made her feel safe and cared for, even in such a small way.

Teldryn hummed as he worked, she was pleasantly surprised to note. It was a nonsensical melody of his own devising she assumed, but it was nice to listen to. He finished his tune with a small flourish as he tugged on the neatly tied knot to test it and then went quiet for a brief moment.

"What's this then?" He asked quietly, using the pad of his thumb to lightly trace over old scar tissue on the shell of her ear. The small gesture sent a not unwelcome shiver up and down her spine that jolted her out of her languid reverie and snapped her eyes open.

"Old burn scar," she managed to croak out. Surprise, brought on by her sudden, visceral reaction to Teldryn's touch seemed to have been made solid and lodged itself firmly in her throat. She swallowed thickly, jerking her head down ostensibly so she could better see how to tuck the ragged ends of her newly acquired mask into the openings of her undershirt, and not because the heat from Teldryn's fingertips had the potential to turn her brain into gelatinous mush.

"It was a dragon fight," she said, trying to distract either Teldryn or herself from her odd behavior; she wasn't sure which. "I had ducked behind a rock to avoid its flames, but didn't notice the burning debris nearby. By the time Darkeethus pointed out my hair was on fire, my ear had already started blistering. I was bald for nearly two months!"

"I suppose it came with the territory," Teldryn commented, "fighting with dragons and all." The two of them fell into step, trying to stay on what they thought was the road out of what had once upon a time been Hiirstang Forest until the ash had laid it to waste.

"Not the worst injury I ever got from a dragon," she admitted. "I spent a good month in High Hrothgar recovering enough to make it down the 7000 steps into Ivarstead. For all his faults, Alduin was a very worthy opponent."

"Alduin was the leader of the dragons, correct?" he asked. "I suppose that once he was gone, they had nowhere else to turn to."

Dovrasi looked at him askance. "Raven Rock was never attacked by a dragon?"

"We get reports of sightings from the Moesring Mountains occasionally, but I've never seen one personally."

"That's strange," she furrowed her brows together in thought. "I would have thought that a settlement of mer would have attracted its attention."

"Our biggest problems have been ash spawn and the East Empire Company."

"Dragon culture is nuanced," she mused. "They respect power, and the one with the power is the one who makes the rules. But to them, power is strength and the ability to bend others to your will by dominating those who should be ruled. There's no politics or backroom scheming the way we understand it in their culture. I'm not even positive that they could comprehend the hypocrisy and political machinations the mortal races use to seize and wield power. It's just not in their nature to say one thing and do another. I just find it odd that there's a dragon on the Island, and it's never tried to conquer Raven Rock."

"Maybe we weren't worth conquering," Teldryn replied drily.

Dovrasi shrugged, trying to verbalize into Tamrielian what she had understood instinctively as dovahkiin. "When I slayed Alduin, a lot of the dov recognized my Thu'um as the more powerful one. The stronger one, as it were. I defeated Alduin, and by their way of thinking, had become his Qahnaarin. Most recognized my victory and acknowledged me as such. Some even turned toward the Way of the Voice under the tutelage of Paarthurnax. But I was under the impression from Odahviing that it would be a small minority."

Teldryn was silent as he thought about what he had just been told. "I don't remember much of Nord history," he admitted, "but I was always under the impression that the dragons had all been killed off quite some time ago."

"During the Dragon War, yes. After Alduin had been banished."

"So after Alduin was defeated, the rest were killed."

"He wasn't really defeated back then, but for the most part, yes. Or driven into hiding."

"Well that make sense why they would try a different approach this time then."

Dovrasi blinked, and tried to follow his line of thought. She couldn't manage it. "Eh?"

"Repeating the same course of action is an exercise in futility," Teldryn drawled. "For whatever reason, they have a second chance. Why waste it trying to do what failed before?"

Feeling strangely akimbo Dovrasi checked her impulse to pinch herself. "That sounds like something Master Arngeir would say," she muttered.

"He's the leader of the Graybeards, right?"

"No, that's Paarthurnax," she corrected. "Master Arngeir is the only one who has advanced far enough in his training to speak normally without using his Thu'um. He provided much of my guidance while I was learning what it meant to be Dragonborn."

"It sounds as if you respect him very much."

Teldryn's words stopped Dovrasi momentarily in her tracks. The realization that she did still admire Master Arngeir even after their ugly parting caused her no small measure of wonderment.

"I do," she affirmed, marveling how unexpectedly pleased she was to discover that.

"It also sounds like you're surprised at that," Teldryn laughed at her.

"I met with Master Arngeir on my way to Solthstiem," she explained. "We didn't part amicably."

"So you're proud of yourself for handling yourself and your emotions in a mature manner like any responsible adult. Congratulations." Dry sarcasm permeated Teldryn's response; she made use of her newly discovered maturity to take the opportunity to not stick her tongue out at him.

"It's better than running away into Cyrodiil for eight years," she said loftily instead.

He ceded her point with a small chuckle and a tilt of his head. "So what did I say remind to you of your Master Arngeir?"

"Hmm? Oh." She thought back through their conversation, to examine Teldryn's comment more closely. "Master Arngeir once implied…at least I think he was implying that the dov never should have been killed off. That maybe if man had learned to work with them, more would have sided against Alduin's tyranny. I don't know if he was right, and I'm certainly no expert in the motivations of the Divines, but I'm not ruling out the idea that maybe Alduin was used to resurrect the dov like I was used to stop him."

They were approaching Bodir's Grove at this point, and Teldryn held out a hand to halt their progress.

"Reavers like to use this area," he cautioned. "It might be wise to skirt around to avoid attention."

Dovrasi agreed with a curt nod of her head, and strained her ears to listen for any idle chatter. Captain Gjalund had complained bitterly about the Reavers and their attempts to loot his ship during her voyage from Windhelm, and she had neither the time nor the patience to test her skills against a group of marauders and thieves.

Teldryn had been wise to be cautious. As they approached the clearing, the crackle of a fire, as well as the murmurings of a conversation could be heard. Dovrasi and Teldryn both dropped into a crouch behind an outcropping of rock and engaged in silent conversation using hand signals. They agreed on an estimation of 3 to 5 Reavers and Dovrasi pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought. She eyed Teldryn, and mimed a punch with one hand. Teldryn lifted his open hand to tilt it back and forth.

She peered around the outcropping of rock, trying to mentally map a route that would allow them to sneak past since they had probably only half a chance of being able to fight a bigger group successfully. There were a few paths, but all of them would involve trekking into open areas in full view; she would have preferred either a distraction or the cover of night to make such a bold move.

An idea occurred to her then, and she yanked down her mask to pantomime a Shout to Teldryn. After a moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement. She crept closer to the camp, at one point crawling around on her belly to hide behind the dunes of ash. Three breaths in, three breaths out, and then she Shouted.

Zul Mey Gut came out of her in a whisper, but it did the trick. Way across the camp, she heard her own disembodied voice mocking the bandits on their cheese scented halitosis. Teldryn hurried to catch up to her and they took cover in the grove of still standing trees. They could both hear the "Where are you"s and the various, unimaginative threats that were the trademark of most bandit groups, but the sound of voices grew smaller and more distant. Both Dovrasi and Teldryn let out identical, quiet sighs of relief. Not wanting to borrow trouble, they crept as quietly as they could further into the grove of trees.

Before they could really begin congratulating themselves on their successful ruse and avoiding a senseless and needless fight, an unmistakable roar, partnered with powerful, leathery wings could be heard approaching. The irritated murmurings of the Reavers became screams as the dragon swooped above them, a river of fire heralding its arrival. It hovered in mid-air before landing in the clearing, seemingly impervious the arrows and spells being thrown at its thick, scaly hide.

"Dovahkiin!" It intoned, somber and serious as any priest, "Zu'u drey ni larot hi nikriin! Sahto ahnok ful hi aal gor hin thu'um wah di meyar!"

Beside her, Teldryn had already summoned his fire atronach. "What is that beast saying?" He hissed.

"It's a challenge," she grunted, pulling her bow from her back with fingers she wouldn't admit were trembling. "Or he's insulting my mother. My grasp of dovahzul has always been tenuous at best."

Teldryn's hand grasped at her bicep as she headed toward the clearing to where the dragon had landed and was currently wrecking carnage on the remnants of the tribe of Reavers. She looked back at him with a grim smile before carefully looking at her bow to notch an arrow. Despite his misgivings, Teldryn followed her reckless charge, casting Oakflesh on himself as they ran.

Unrelenting Force announced her own arrival on the scene, catching the dragon on its forelegs and knocked it off balance, interrupting its fire breath. The Reaver the dragon had been focusing on was still alive, but only barely. The best anyone could have done for them was to help ease their passing into Aetherius, but they didn't have the time to render even that small service.

Dovrasi flanked to the enemy's left, and tried to hit the soft joints that weren't protected by the scales that covered most of its skin. She was constantly on the move, distracting the beast with both her arrows and her yelling. Teldryn took to its right, casting Ice Spike as his summon flung fireballs.

The Reavers are gone at this point; either dead or ran away and neither Dovrasi nor Teldryn would have blamed them if they could have spared them any thought at all. Teldryn in particular is not one to face down certain death with a war cry and a battle axe, but it's clear the dragon had sought out Dovrasi deliberately and he's not going to let her face this alone. He's no Nord, yearning for glory in death, but he's not unfamiliar with honor.

The dragon takes flight as soon as it's able. There is evidence of their battle from its dripping wounds but that was little solace as it roars its rage into Solsthiem's sky. Dovrasi rushed across the clearing to check on Teldryn.

"Are you okay?" she shouted when she thought she was close enough so that he could hear her.

"I was looking for a challenge," he responded drily. The withering glare she shot him in return is every bit deserved. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"So far," she scanned the skies, using one hand to shadow her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. They can hear the dragon above them, renting the air with its Voice, but it moves quickly and it's hard to keep it in sight. They're both on guard, trying to anticipate its next move.

"This is more of a challenge than I expected," Teldryn twitches out of reflex as the shadow of the dragon passes over head and its screech chills him to the bone. "Damn thing breathes fire, I should have known better to summon the atronach—"

He doesn't even have time to swear before their enemy has found them. Dovrasi's reaction was just a hair sooner than Teldryn's, bodily shoving him into the ground to avoid the sharp talons that swept down to snatch one or both of them up. Just as Teldryn is convinced that she's sacrificed herself to save his own miserable skin, she Shouts and that grasping death-claw closes around her suddenly ethereal body, leaving the dragon without its prey.

"I'm really glad that worked," she panted, her breath coming out in short gasps; it's part fear, part euphoria, and a lot of parts relief. Teldryn scrambles to his feet, and once he is, they part again. During this battle, their best weapon is confusion and distraction and they can't do it effectively standing together. The moment that Dovrasi's body snapped back into a corporeal, tangible body she Shouted up at the dragon, interrupting the beginning of its Yol. It's engulfed in black and purple, and the dragon falls to Nirn in an ungainly mess of wings, tail and legs that leave a crater in its wake. It's disorientation at being forcibly removed from the air buys Dovrasi the time she needs to inhale-focus-exhale-release the arrow she had aimed at a large golden eye. The shot is true, but she is tired and her draw is short. The arrow finds the eye, but it only blinds the creature and does not kill like she had hoped.

The dragon roars in agony, filled with pain and wrath, lunging toward Dovrasi as it snaps its jaws at the dovahkiin. It's focused only her and nothing else; sensing this, Teldryn rushes in from its other side, his sword drawn and with a graceful, acrobatic move he's able to do what the arrow could not. He once saw a spellsword use the trick he's about to do on a pirate, and he's hoping for the same effect on an enemy that seems about 100 times bigger and a thousand times meaner. The tip of his sword is shoved into the soft flesh of the dragon's jaw, and using the ground, he forces the sword into the flesh up to its hilt. He lets go as the dragon registers the pain, but his other hand is open, shooting off tiny sparks of lightening and it's this power he directs at his metal sword currently buried in the dragon's gaping maw.

The lightening continues to shoot from Teldryn's fingertips as he backs away. There's an angry, powerful keen from the shuddering and shivering dragon; its eyes are rolled up into its skull, and its joints are locked as the power of Teldryn's spell forces its way into that old, immortal brain. Every bit of magicka he has at his disposal is poured into this spell, because he's not sure that this is going to work but he's going to give it his best shot or die trying.

The sparks first flicker, then die as he runs out of his reserves of magicka. There are minute, residual tremors throughout that massive body, and he is tense, trying to beat back his fatigue to be ready in case the dragon shakes off this attack like it has done every other. It's not until the head drops, and a large pink tongue lolls out of a cavernous mouth to hit the ground that both of them realize that they've won.

Dovrasi isn't startled, not the way Teldryn is, when the flesh begins to crackle and burn from the giant body. She's maybe fifteen, twenty feet away from him and she is standing still with a sober, near reverent expression. She wore a similar expression when they had cremated the Commander.

To his amazement, there's the sound of wind, and the dragon's soul (He doesn't know how he knows this, but he does, nearly as well as he knows his own name) speeds toward Dovrasi. She closes her eyes, and her lips part as she accepts this boon. He knows that look, he remembers that look, and he is tempted to look away from the obvious intimacy of the moment but can't make his eyes turn away. Her bow drops from slack fingers into the ash with a dull thud as the dragon soul enters her body.

When Dovrasi's red eyes pop open, they are at first unfocused. She's in a blissful after-state, breathing deeply, and as her head lowers to meet Teldryn's stare, the sudden sharpness in her eyes is impossible to ignore. A slow, predatory smile stretches across her face; she catches her full bottom lip in white teeth. Teldryn remains still for he's caught in her gaze as completely as a rabbit would be in a snare.

There's an extra emphasis in her hips that wasn't there before as she saunters her way to him. She places her hand on his chest as her other arm snakes around his neck, pulling her body taut against his. He can't feel her curves through the layers of their armor, but he remembers them, and his imagination is doing a fantastic job of filling in the blanks.

"What are you doing?" he croaked as deft archer fingers lift his helmet off of his head, revealing his face.

"That was an amazing trick," she purred, looking at the helmet in her fingers before deliberately dropping it into the ash with the same dull thud as her bow. "I find myself in admiration of such cleverness." Her fingers trace the cartilage of his ear, down his heck, and hook into the fabric of his undershirt.

"Of course," she continues, and he finds himself wondering where she learned to pitch her voice so low because bless the Reclamations, he likes it, "I find myself in admiration of no small number of your other talents as well." He doesn't know where this seductive veneer is coming from; she used to blush when he would so much as wink at her across a crowded room. When she yanks him forward to press her lips against his, he shelves that thought because he doesn't really much care.

Through some clever trickery using her foot twined around his ankle, and a well-placed knee against his inner thigh, she manages to off balance and shove him into the ground. She straddles him and her lips are moving back against his almost before he registers that the kiss had been broken.

Her lips are warm against his and when she nips his bottom lip her teeth, he gasps. She presses her advantage, deepening her kiss when he opens his mouth. She kisses like she fights, ferociously and passionate, and she kisses him everywhere, Teldryn thinks blearily to himself. At this point she is using her tongue to trace the line of his jaw to the lobe of his ear, and when she lightly bites, he can't stop the shuddering moan of pleasure from escaping.

He can feel her hand slide down his body, and rest just above his groin. His own hand shoots out to grasp at her wrist; whether to help or hinder he's not sure. He's trying to process what's happening; he's no unwilling victim here, but this is so unexpected that it's hard come to terms with.

"Dovi," he breathes out. The old endearment is enough to give her pause and she looks down at him with sparkling red eyes. He brings her hand up to his mouth and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "What are you doing here?"

"I want you," she returns simply. "So I'm taking you."

"Right here?"

"Why not?" Her answering grin is coy and mischievous, and she grinds her hips against his to emphasize her point. He moans in response and that seems to gratify her. "You want me. Have you since saw me. Why put it off?"

In his own mind, he can see it clearly; her lean, taut body naked above his, glistening with sweat as she rides him out in the open where anyone with eyes could see. The idea is not without merit and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to block out the vision.

"What about Miraak?" he manages to grit out. "You didn't want to appear involved."

That name works better than a cold bucket of water. She is off of him and on her feet, eyes wide, slightly aghast, and there's a deepening of color on her cheekbones as whatever humor came over her leaves. They are back to normal, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't disappointed.

"That shouldn't have happened," she mutters through clenched teeth, her fingers pinching her nose. She holds herself stiff and tense, and though she doesn't have her back toward him, she's very clearly not facing him either. "I should have been stronger, I was on you like I was no better than a rutting beast...! "

Teldryn blinks at her as she starts pacing, hissing diatribe toward herself and her lack of self-control. He picks up his helmet, dusting the ash off and out of it and tries to wrap his mind around what happened.

"I didn't exactly say no," he reminds her. That stops her pacing long enough for her to look at him. Her eyes look haunted.

"I didn't give you a chance to," she points out, hugging her arms.

Teldryn shrugs. "I wouldn't have said no even if you had given me that chance," he counters casually. "You said it yourself; I've wanted you since you walked into the Netch. Just because you were…what was that about, anyway?"

"Dragon soul," she mutters, and looks down. "Part and parcel of the whole Dragonborn thing; I'm the only being on Nirn who can kill a dragon permanently, because I can take their soul. But I can only do that because I have the soul of a dragon. That influences some of my behaviors…so if I see something I want, I take it. It's a little closer to the surface after I absorb a soul, is all."

Teldryn snorts. "So your habit of filching from your Da's stock when you were younger was because you're part dragon?"

He had been trying to make a joke and lighten the somber mood, but it backfires as she sighs heavily. "Yeah, probably," she admits. "Except now that I'm older, I'm not content with just a sweetroll anymore. And I shouldn't. We shouldn't. Not now."

Teldryn fits his helmet under his arm, and scopes out the camp that that had been so recently occupied by the Reavers.

"So you've said," he nods his head in her direction. "I get it. I understand it, and I'll respect the boundaries you've established. You're my boss, and I'm naught but a follower." There's a deceptive casualty in his approach as he nears her, and one gloved hand raises her chin to force her to look him in the eye. "But you can't kiss me like that, and expect me to drop it. We're adults this time, and it's beyond clear now what attraction we have is mutual. We will be revisiting this discussion at a later point."

He's tempted to drop a quick kiss on her forehead, but he refrains. Her smile is small, wobbly, uncertain, but it's a smile. Dovrasi lets out a small shaky breath as she reaches out to catch his hand in hers. There's no commenting on his promise, but she does squeeze his hand before letting go.

By then it is dark, and they're both thankful for necessary busy work required to set up camp. The rising arches of Miraak's temple are within sight to their north, and in the morning they'll make their way there.