The Boy With The Crimson Eyes

by nothelping

The only woman he'd ever wanted had left him standing at the altar without a backward glance. Six years ago she broke the heart of the man she loved. Leaving Vilkas was the hardest thing the Dragonborn ever had to do, but she had no choice. Now Vilkas was back in her life and it's the last place she wants him because she has a secret she'll protect at all costs, especially from him

5. Chapter 5 - Nightmares

The Boy With The Crimson Eyes

Chapter 5 – Nightmares

I dream you're still here

Ever slightly out of reach

I dream you're still here

But it breaks so easily

I try to protect you

I can't let you fade

I feel you slipping

I feel you slipping away

- Still Here (Acoustic Version) by Digital Daggers

The next day Wolf sat on the dark, cool, raw earth of the cave with his back pressed against the solid rock wall. One arm rested on a bent knee. Hundreds of stalactites descended from the ceiling, like large brown icicles dangling over his head. Stalagmites grew randomly out of the ground, some so big and tall they were like large brown columns while others were only a foot or two high. His onyx hair hung wet to his shoulder blades, the ends dripping cold water that soaked into his black tunic. He'd had to fight the snowy elements to even find the nearby icy creek and then almost froze to death trying to quickly clean the wound on his chest and remove the dirt, blood, and grime that covered his skin and hair.

After his freezing bath, he'd considered leaving - climbing down the mountain and returning to the Blades Fortress. But he'd been outdoors in the snowstorm for only thirty minutes and he knew he had to return to the safety and warmth of the cave. His body was still too weak, the blizzard too violent, the mountain too tall. He'd never make it to the bottom of the mountain alive.

Wolf exhaled heavily as he sat unmoving in the darkest part of the cave. The musty, wet-smelling air filled his lungs. A chilling silence surrounded him as he stared blankly at the flowstone and dripstone on the walls.

Quiet. Darkness. Emptiness. Isolation.

These were the things that surrounded him. These were the things he'd grown accustomed to over the years. These were the things that were familiar to him now. These were the things that made up his life. He found solace in them now.

Wolf's eyes flickered to the woman sleeping on the fur pallet across the cave, close to the dwindling fire. She still wore her assassin armor with the attached black cowl and mask that covered everything but her eyes. Her reedy arms were wrapped around her son, his little back pressed against her chest. The massive warhound sat protectively at their feet, his head resting on his paws, his eyes trained on Wolf, as if he was well aware of where the danger lied.

Wolf's dark grey eyes were expressionless as they flickered over the black and red leather armor that covered the mysterious woman like a second skin. While he found her figure somewhat appealing, he knew it was only because he hadn't had a woman in a while. She was too short, too skinny, her curves too slight, her body too soft. He preferred his women to be robust Nords with buxom figures, voluptuous curves in all the right places, and long legs to wrap around him - a strong, tough-skinned woman. Besides, she had a kid, which was a deal breaker for him even if he was interested, which he wasn't.

Talos, he just wanted to get the hell out of there and return to the Blades. He wanted to get back to doing what he did best - killing. He lived for his job, found purpose in it. It was all he had. He needed this storm to pass as quickly as possible. He needed to be gone from here. The less time he spent around Fianna, the better. He knew she felt the same way about him.

A swell of rage rose within him as he remembered what Fianna had told him last night. He still couldn't believe what he'd inadvertently let slip while he was feverish with the poison in his system. She knew. She didn't know much, only that there was a woman in his past, but even knowing that was too much for him. He deeply regretted sharing that piece of himself with her, a piece he never wanted to share with anyone, a piece he wanted dead and buried.

Had she done it on purpose? Had she been trying to extract information out of him? It wouldn't be the first time. Who was she? She had an air of mystery and hidden melancholy about her that he found interesting and he couldn't help but want to learn all of her secrets. She said she was hiding from what he assumed was an abusive husband, but he found that to hard to believe after seeing her fight last night. But, then again, perhaps her husband belonged to one of the many factions in Skyrim. Perhaps she feared the group retaliating against her for her desertion of her husband. He didn't know, and he honestly didn't care, so long as she didn't intend to cause him harm.

Fianna's questions and prodding into his past had brought with it the black anger that was so much a part of him now. He remembered feeling that anger last night when she'd touched him. He didn't like being touched, not anymore. He knew his anger and temper were volatile. He knew he should tell her to leave him the hell alone… to get her and her son away from him. He wanted to warn her that his anger was dangerous… that he was dangerous.

Some time later, Wolf watched the woman and her child awaken. He kept as far away from them as possible, determined to remain silent and in the shadows until the storm cleared and he could return home to the Blades fortress. But the mask-wearing woman, the boy, and even the dog repeatedly tried to approach him and talk to him, but Wolf ignored them. They eventually stopped trying, much to his satisfaction.

Wolf tried not to watch as the woman made breakfast of oats and cinnamon, her son helping her, the two talking amicably and laughing as they did so about stupid things and inside jokes. Wolf's eyes followed her closely as she left him a clay bowl on the floor a few feet away from him. Wolf only took it when her back was turned and finished it quickly, leaving the bowl empty on the ground in front of him.

For the rest of the day, Wolf remained isolated and unmoving on his fur pallet in the corner of the cave while Fianna spent the day with her son.

After breakfast, the two began performing very strange physical exercises that Wolf had never seen before. They would stretch and twist their bodies into strange positions. The exercises looked Altmer, if he had to guess, based on the gracefulness and flexibility required to perform the movements. Had she been to Summerset Isle? Wolf abruptly shook his head. What did he care where she'd been? He didn't.

After their bizarre exercises, Fianna spent a few hours teaching Drake his letters, mathematics, and other subjects. Wolf couldn't help but be impressed as he listened to her instruct her son. The kid was clearly a prodigy.

Wolf found it strange that the woman taught her son not only the Nordic language, but also every other language of Tamriel – the languages of the different races. She taught him each race's histories, their heroes, their stories, their culture, their religion, their beliefs. It was unusual, but intriguing. Wolf had always had a hunger for knowledge, and he couldn't deny that he approved of her methods to inform her son on all of the races instead of just one.

After that, the woman bundled the boy up in layers on top of layers of clothes before throwing four bear pelts over him. She then secured her own winter cloak around her shoulders and the two left the cave into the snowstorm raging outside. When they returned a short while later, the woman was carrying a vine of snowberries and the boy had wet hair. They were both shivering, their teeth chattering so loud Wolf could hear it from across the cave. They must have taken a bath in the icy creek like he did, Wolf assumed.

Fianna made lunch of leftover soup and left a bowl on the floor a few feet away from him again. Fianna and Drake huddled together before the fire, the boy sitting on his mother's lap as she fed spoonfuls of soup to him and told him the story of Oreyn Bearclaw, a legendary Bosmer hero who slew the Glenhwyfaunva of Elven Root, protecting his clan in the process. While she was turned away from him, Wolf picked up the bowl and ate every last bit of it.

After that, they went back to their studies. Honestly, Wolf was a little surprised at the extent of her knowledge. She was educated; he'd give her that. The intrigue, as inexplicable as it was profound, kept him silent and thoughtful as he contemplated the woman reading to her son.

Once the child's lessons were done, Drake took to drawing. He ran across the cave, nearly tripping over his little legs to get parchment and charcoal. The boy then threw himself onto the fur pallet he shared with his mother. He was lying on his stomach, his small feet swinging happily in the air as he hummed softly while he began to draw. Every now and then the kid would look over at Wolf, stare at him for a second, before returning to his drawing.

While the boy sketched, Fianna began collecting all of the scattered plates and bowls around the cave, including Wolf's, and washed them in one of the pales of water. When she was done with her task, Fianna began making a popular Skyrim dessert: snowberries and cream. She plucked the snowberries from the vine she'd procured and arranged them on a plate in a smiley face before dabbing a few spoonfuls of the cream in the middle. She picked up the plate, her eyes crinkled in the corners as if she were smiling beneath her mask.

"Happy Birthday, little sparrow!" Fianna exclaimed brightly as she turned to face her son.

"Snowberries and cream!" the boy yelled in his excitement and joy, the charcoal and parchment in his hands momentarily forgotten.

"Your favorite," Fianna replied as she set the plate down in front of the boy on the fur pallet. She then sat beside him and pulled him into her lap, wiping the charcoal off of his hands with a rag.

The boy picked up the plate, staring at the treat in awe and wonderment. "For me?"

With tenderness she brushed away the raven locks that had fallen into his green eyes. "All for you."

"Wow…" Drake murmured before smiling broadly up at her. "Thanks mommy! I love it! I love it! I love it!" He gave her a wet, noisy kiss on her masked lips. "I love you, mommy!"

Her eyes crinkled more in the corners beneath her cowl. "I love you too, little sparrow."

Nearly bursting with excitement, the boy picked up a snowberry and dipped it into the cream before popping it into his mouth and eating it slowly, savoring it, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Feeling like an intruder in their tender moment, Wolf awkwardly looked away from them. He removed the bandages on his chest and cleaned the wound before reapplying the medicinal herbs and replacing the soiled bandages with clean ones. When he was done, he settled back on his fur pallet, one arm behind his head as he stared up at the iciclelike lime deposits that hung from the ceiling. He must've drifted off to sleep because when he woke there was hardly any light coming from the fire.

With a sigh, Wolf rolled onto his side and froze when he came face to face with a small clay bowl set right beside his fur pallet. Curious, Wolf lifted his head and sat up on his elbow. He blinked a few times as he stared at the bowl that was filled with snowberries and cream. Wolf stared at the dessert, stunned. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a treat. He couldn't remember the last time someone offered him something like this.

Dark grey orbs shifted from the dessert to the woman who had undoubtedly put it there. She was sleeping with her son on her fur pallet across the cave, her slender arms holding the child so closely, so protectively to her chest.

His eyes lingered on her cloth-covered face longer than he liked.

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The day after that, Fianna tried her best to ignore Wolf. She thought it would be easy since the man hadn't said one word to her since that first night and had kept to one corner of the cave that was so dark the Nord was practically shrouded in shadow. But it was hard not to notice his presence when it was invading everything around her. Anywhere she stood, anywhere she moved, she could feel him. He was everywhere.

"Mommy! Look what I did! Look mommy! Mommy, look!" Drake exclaimed happily beside her on the fur pallet, pulling her from her thoughts.

With a smile hidden behind her mask, she lifted Drake into her lap and hugged him in front of her, resting her cloth-covered chin on top of his head.

"Look mommy," Drake said as he proudly held the picture of a sunflower he drew up in front of him.

"It's very pretty," Fianna whispered in admiration as she studied her son's picture of her favorite flower.

"Pretty, mommy," Drake smiled up at her. "Just like you."

"Charmer," she chuckled, ruffling his messy hair. "Just like your father."

"I made it for you, mommy," the little boy beamed with a radiant smile.

"I love it, little sparrow," Fianna cooed as she nuzzled his hair gratefully. Over Drake's short mop of tousled jet-black hair, Fianna noticed with embarrassment how fixatedly Wolf was as he watched her with her son.

Her heart skipped a beat as she met his concentrated stare. She didn't know whether to say something in embarrassment or look away, so she just copied his next move, waiting for him to look away first.

He didn't.

He stared at her.

He always stared her.

Always from a distance.

But he stared nonetheless - riveted, fixated, unwavering.

It was unsettling. It made her skin crawl and the hairs on the back on her neck rise.

Wolf was a hard man, even harder to read. He held himself remote – distant and untouchable with no emotion. He never smiled. He never laughed. He didn't talk. His face appeared as if he kept a constant veil of armor between his expressions and the rest of the world. He was an enigma. She wasn't even sure that Wolf was his real name. She hardly knew anything about him, and there was an aura she couldn't penetrate.

But Sweet Mara she couldn't take much more of his staring.

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The next two days went by much the same way, with Wolf refusing to leave the solitude of the shadows of the cave while Fianna and Drake continued life as usual.

It was on the fifth day that Wolf found himself intrigued yet again by the mysterious woman he was sharing the cave with as he watched her play with her son.

"Spin me again, mommy! Spin me again!" Drake screeched from atop Fianna's shoulders.

She laughed. "Only if you can name five Nordic Heroes."

"Okay!" he cried, before listing off, "Ysgramor, Gormlaith… ugh… Jurgen Windcaller… umm… ugh… Olaf One-Eye, and… Kodlak Whitemane!"

"Very good, little sparrow!"

"Now spin me, mommy! Spin me! Spin me!"

Fianna laughed out loud as she tucked her arms under his little legs and held on tight as she spun herself around in a tight circle. Drake shrieked happily as he held his little arms out like wings, the wind blowing his mop of midnight hair back from his smiling face. "Look mommy, look! Look! I'm flying! I'm flying! Look mommy!"

Fianna finished spinning and with a shrug of her shoulders tossed his little body over her head and caught him in her arms, one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders. She chuckled as she pulled him to her chest, pressing cloth-covered kisses to his face and neck, causing his little legs to kick wildly as he squealed in delight and burst into chortles of laughter when she rubbed her masked-cheek against his.

Wolf watched how loving, tender, playful and sweet she was with her son. She was so happy and positive with Drake it was infectious. Every time she spoke with Drake, the love in her voice and eyes was evident. Her tone would soften, her green eyes would brighten, and the child would hold her complete and undivided attention. Having no real memory of his parents, Wolf couldn't help but feel… something as he watched her. There was a… stirring in his gut that he could not name.

Wolf absently rubbed his thick, bushy beard. It was getting long. He hadn't shaved in… what? Six years? Almost seven? Strange, he'd never noticed until now.

Dark slate orbs stared fixatedly on Fianna as she tossed Drake into the air and the child squealed with glee and bust into giggles while she laughed along with him. The soft-honey sound of her laugh made Wolf, strangely, want to join in. It had been so long since he'd felt something so blithe as laughter. The Dragonborn's betrayal had destroyed the laughter in him. Yet, in the space of a few days, this mysterious woman and small boy made him feel more lighthearted than at any time in the last six years.

Wolf continued to rub his beard, his eyes never leaving the woman as she held her son in her arms and nuzzled his neck.

Maybe it was time for a shave.

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The next day, Fianna's nerves were so taut, so unsettled, she felt she'd go mad if she had to withstand one more day in such close quarters with the Wolf of the Blades. She felt like he was invading every inch of the cave, his presence pressing in on her from every direction. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed some air, some space. She needed to get away from him, even if she had to venture out into a blizzard on top of a mountain in Skyrim.

That afternoon, after Fianna and Drake had performed their physical exercises, Fianna gathered her bow, arrows, and a dagger and went out into the snowstorm to hunt for food and calm her nerves.

As soon as Fianna left the cave, Wolf stood and approached Drake carrying two wooden swords – one large one and one small one – that he'd made the night before when sleep had evaded him.

"Ooo, a sword!" Drake cried cheerfully as Wolf handed the smaller wooden sword to the boy who stared at it as if it were the most priceless item in the world. "Is this for me?"

Wolf grunted in confirmation. "I can no longer remain idle and watch while that woman makes you perform those frilly little stretching exercises. You are a man and a Nord. You will participate in them no longer."

"But I like my exercises!"

"You need to learn to fight, boy. Have you ever handled a sword?"

"Uh, no." Drake's eyes brightened. "Are you going to teach me, Wolf?! Are you?! Are you?!" the boy cried with eagerness, jumping up and down with excitement.

"Aye. I'm going to teach you how to take care of you and your own," Wolf replied firmly with authority. "Like every worthy Nord should."

The child's expression fell. "But… but fighting hurts people." His green eyes looked everywhere but at Wolf. "Mommy said to never hurt anyone."

"It's fine as long as you succeed in keeping you and yours safe."

Drake nervously rubbed his arm with the wooden sword in his little hand. "I don't know…"

"Never be afraid to try."

His dark eyebrows bunched together. "I'm not afraid!"

"Then let's get started." Wolf extended his sword arm. "Alright, lift your sword like this and hold it at an angle," he instructed.

"Like this?" The boy asked as he struggled with the wooden object.

"No," Wolf stated as he reached out to fix Drake's grip. "Like this."

"Okay!" Drake cheered happily, repositioning his grip.

Wolf walked to the center of the cave. Drake followed. "You will need to learn how to handle swords, for they are the best kind of weapon, in my opinion," Wolf stated. "Axes cause a fair amount of damage, but they require strength you do not have right now. Mallets and clubs are too barbaric. A mace would be too difficult for you to maneuver. Bows and arrows are handy, but have little use in close combat."

"My mommy has a bow!"

"I saw it. Now," Wolf said as he turned to face him and took a few steps away from him. He stopped and held his wooden sword in one hand. "Let me show you the basics. First, defense moves. If I bring my sword overhead like this," he slowly moved the blade up and toward Drake's forehead, "what do you do?"

Drake thought for a second before pulling his little sword up slowly with both hands, and held it horizontal above his head and met Wolf's sword. His little arms shook with the weight of the sword in his hands.

"Very good. And don't worry about the weight, your muscles will get stronger." He pulled his sword back. "Now if I do this?" he slowly moved his blade over to Drake's left side.

Drake responded quickly and blocked his slow move.

"And this?" Wolf moved his sword to his right side.

Drake followed him with his sword. He blocked again.

"Very good." Wolf pulled his sword back. He showed him how to block blows coming from below as well. They practiced each move a few more times.

"Good. Now to put them to a little practice. I'll go faster each time. This is to see how much you can take with just those simple moves." Wolf moved his sword at a steady pace and went to Drake's left.

The boy blocked it, still with both hands on the handle.

Wolf then attacked below, then left again, and then from above. Drake blocked them all, but still was a little slow. Wolf did more offensive moves, this time a little faster. Drake blocked again. He did more, even faster than before. Drake was too slow after the first couple of swings, and Wolf was able to tap his left shoulder.

"Oww," Drake whined, rubbing his shoulder with his hand.

"Always keep your guard up," Wolf commanded. "If given the chance, people will strike first." He lifted his sword. "Let us try it again."

They did. Drake was still too slow, and he was tapped on the right shoulder. Wolf began again. Drake tried, but the sword seemed to grow heavier in his hands. The little boy's black eyebrows bunched together in concentration as he tried again. This time he blocked all of Wolf's moves. The boy smiled then, big and bright, up at the Nord warrior.

"Very good."

"Wolf… if I work really, really hard do you think… do you think I'll ever get as good as you?"

"Aye. If that's what you want." The Nord warrior pointed his wooden sword at the boy. "But always be willing to work hard for the things you want. You will appreciate them that much more."

Drake was staring up at Wolf as if he'd grown two heads. "Why don't you talk this much all the time?"

Wolf shrugged carelessly. "Talos gave me two ears and only one mouth for a reason."

"Tell me a story!" the boy pleaded. "Please!"

Wolf scratched his bearded cheek while he thought. "I was briefly in the employ of an orc warrior once. I had to quit because he refused to bathe. Disgusting."

"Eww!" The boy burst into a fit of giggles. "Tell me something else! Tell me about the creatures you've fought!"

"Let's see…" Wolf mused as he rubbed his beard. "Becoming a hagraven requires a sacrifice to their foul deity. If you ever encounter one, show them no mercy before you become one of the victims."

"Really?!"

"And Spriggan are loathsome creatures. They summon some of the most benign beings of the forest and bend them to their will."

"Wow! How do they do that?"

"Well…" Wolf then educated the boy about Spriggans as they practiced the boy's defensive moves.

After some time, Wolf showed Drake the basic offensive moves that he had been using, and the boy practiced being on the offensive.

After a few hours of training, Wolf got into a fighting stance, which was mirrored by the child standing across from him. "Attack."

Drake yelled a Battle Cry, shaking his small wooden sword threateningly before he ran at Wolf. Just before the boy got to him, Wolf sidestepped to his left. Drake did a sharp turn with his sword and brought the point into Wolf's ribs.

"Impressive. Your instincts are very good." A hint of a smile played on Wolf's lips. "Clearly, you will be a great warrior someday."

"Like you!" the boy asked with stars of admiration in his eyes.

Wolf opened his mouth to answer when Fianna came storming into the cave. Her green eyes were mere slits beneath her cowl and white mist continued to form in front of her masked face despite being out of the storm. She threw the fresh meat onto the carving board and tossed her bow and arrows onto the ground as she marched toward Wolf.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" she demanded.

Wolf gave her a bored look. "Teaching the boy how to fight."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she glared at him with her eyes. "And who gave you permission to do that?"

Wolf's jaw clenched and he turned to Drake who was staring up at them with wide and confused eyes, the fear in them apparent. "Why don't you go practice at the back of the cave?"

"Oh-h… ugh… o-okay," Drake replied warily before he ran to the back of the cave, swinging his little wooden sword.

Wolf turned back to Fianna, his eyes sharp as knives. "It's clear your son doesn't have a man's influence, which he needs to be strong and independent."

Her eyes blazed. "Who the hell do you think you ar-?"

"He is a Nord," Wolf replied shortly, cutting her off. "There is a natural instinct that he has genetically deep down, an instinct that-"

"He's only a child!"

Wolf folded his broad arms. "I was killing at his age."

She pointed a firm finger at him. "I don't know what kind of life you've lived, but I don't want that life for my son," she ground out. "He's a smart boy. He'll be a scholar some day."

Wolf shrugged his broad shoulders. "He's pretty good with a sword in his hand and he likes it."

She cast him a disparaging look. "He will be a scholar, not some heartless killer with a piece of metal in his hand and straw in his head!"

His jaw was firm. "You got something against warriors?"

Her fists tightened at her sides. "I didn't say that."

He snorted with derision. "You didn't have to." He stepped closer to her, the harshness of his features and the long black beard on his jaw contributing to his air of fierceness. "Let me ask you this, who would you rather have with you when demons are at your door: a scholar with his book or a warrior with his sword?"

Her chin lifted, refusing to let him intimidate her. "I would rather have a man with the brains of a scholar and a sword in one hand."

His chin tucked. "Aye. That's what a warrior is."

"No," she shook her head. "Warriors die."

He gave her a pointed look. "Everyone dies."

Green eyes rolled. "I mean warriors die quickly."

Wolf shrugged carelessly. "Only the bad ones die quickly."

"I want better for him!" she exploded.

Wolf's hard expression softened in the face of her impassioned cry. "Regardless of what you want for him, you must accept the fact that he is a Nord. From the age of five, Nordic boys spend most of their time training for war. My people value strength, skill, and bravery. The Nordic courage, discipline, and Battle Cry are what strikes fear into our enemies." He eyed her for a few seconds, then tilted his head slightly. "If his father were here, he would have taught the boy this already." There was a touch of censure in his voice.

Fianna averted her gaze, her lips pursed. She was well aware of the Nordic importance of strength. It was found in every piece of their culture, valued above all else. She'd even seen one Nordic man lose his life in what had started as a friendly test of strength. The victor was cheered for his victory, despite ending his friend's life. It was on that day that Fianna learned the importance of strength to the Nords. It was considered the highest virtue. Without strength, a man was a failure who brought shame on his family. It had occurred to her then that a Nord would rather die than lose a test of strength.

But she had not raised her son in the Nordic way. She wanted Drake to value wisdom and diplomacy above strength. She wanted him to use his mind before his brawn. She liked to think Vilkas would have felt the same despite being a Nord himself.

Fianna looked back at Wolf to find that unfathomable stare on her again. She wished he would stop doing that. It made her feel very awkward.

Her body tensed as Wolf stepped closer to her, keeping his eyes locked with hers, and she had to crane her neck back to keep the eye contact. "Was I wrong to teach the boy how to defend himself? How to protect those precious to him?" Wolf asked, his damaged voice low and scraping.

Fianna licked her suddenly dry lips beneath her mask. "I… I suppose not," she conceded.

"You are agreeing with me? I did not think you capable." She couldn't tell if he was kidding because there was no smile, no gleam in his eyes.

Her lips curved beneath her mask. "I'm capable of a great deal, Blade."

Wolf's lips curled up in the slightest of smiles, as if her response pleased him. "Of that I have no doubt."

The slight smile transformed his face. For a moment he not only looked human, but handsome. For the first time since she met him there was a warmth in his eyes. It was just a little spark, but it was there nonetheless, buried beneath all the ice and surliness.

Fianna swallowed the thickness that suddenly swelled in her throat as she stared mesmerized at the first smile she'd ever seen on him.

The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable, and Wolf seemed as discomfited by it as she was. His slight smile abruptly faded and he broke his stare. The Nord quickly put space between them, moving away from her, as if he couldn't stand to be in her presence for another second.

Fianna's body deflated somewhat now that his attention was elsewhere, though her pulse still thumped wildly. She didn't understand him. His personality kept switching from intensely probing to callously indifferent. Even now it seemed he couldn't decide if he wanted to ignore her or look at her, since his eyes wavered from the ground to her several times.

She hated it. She had no idea what was going through his head. His emotions were always hidden behind that unwavering, stoic expression.

"Mo-mmy!" Drake suddenly sang, breaking through the awkward silence that had built between them.

"Wha-at?" Fianna asked, looking from Wolf to Drake, pretending to be completely unaffected by this man.

"Watch me-e!" the boy cried gleefully.

"I'm watching," she replied with a smile.

"You're not watching, mommy!"

"I'm watching," Fianna laughed as she moved passed Wolf, making sure no part of her touched him in her passing, thankful to finally get away from the intensity in Wolf's eyes.

Fianna watched Drake as he showed her every single move that he'd learned. Hours later, when she was finally able to pry the little wooden sword out of Drake's fingers, Drake began to cry. She'd never seen him so attached to something before and it rattled her. She quickly promised him that he would get the sword back as soon as he ate his dinner and she even gave him a new book to read. Drake sniffled and wiped his wet eyes and running nose with his sleeves before taking the book and curling up on their fur pallet.

While Fianna began preparing for dinner, Wolf was returning from outside the cave carrying armfuls of logs for the fire. Meeko's tail thumped noisily on the ground beside her as she salted the meat. She absently tossed him a scrap of meat as she studied Wolf discreetly out of the corner of her eye as she continued to prepare dinner.

She disliked how she was cognizant of Wolf's every move, but Mara help her, she couldn't stop herself from looking his way. There was just something about him that commanded a woman to look at him. And really, what woman wouldn't? His dark looks were undeniably attractive, he was made of nothing but muscle, all male perfection. He had this animal magnetism that pulled her in, would pull on any woman with a pulse. But she knew he had a block of ice for a heart and that he was dangerous. Very dangerous. The absolute last thing she needed in her life, or Drake's.

Wolf knelt down and added more wood to the fire. Black-grey orbs suddenly lifted to pin her in place. Heat welled up inside her as his gaze slowly drifted down the length of her. Fianna cringed at the way her heart sped up, her palms began to sweat, and knots tethered in her stomach. She hated it, because she knew what it meant. It meant her body was attracted to him.

She just couldn't let her mind catch up.

After dinner, Fianna hunkered down beside Drake on their shared fur pallet. She gazed lovingly at his features relaxed in sleep, soft with innocence. Drake's soft, regular breathing whispered in the semidarkness. Intense feelings of protectiveness and tenderness swept over her, while fierce love twisted powerfully, painfully in her chest.

She brushed back his midnight hair from his face, her eyes glowing with fondness. She bent and kissed his forehead, nuzzled his soft cheek. Fianna's fingers played gently with Drake's short black hair as she began to sing a soft, lilting little lullaby - a lullaby of Skyrim she first started singing to him the night he came into this world while she almost bled to death in an isolated cabin in Summerset Isle.

"Land of wolves and land of dragons.

Land that calls me ever homewards.

We will go home across the sea.

We will go home. We will go home.

Hear my song, hear my longing.

Take me home across the sea.

We will go home, little one.

We will go home someday."

With infinite care Fianna wrapped her arms around Drake's little shoulders and pulled his sleeping body to her, holding him to her chest, never wanting this moment to end, never wanting to be without him. This slip of a child was the center of her entire world, her heart, her everything. She'd pay any price, go to any lengths, to protect her son.

Fianna pressed her cloth-covered lips tenderly to the boy's raven-black hair before closing her eyes for sleep, unaware of the piercing grey eyes that watched her closely from the darkest part of the cave.

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Silver mist eyes.

That was all she could see.

Nothing else existed.

Nothing else mattered.

They stared at her, into her, with all the love in the world.

They invited her in. They held her. They soothed her.

They promised her things she'd only ever dreamed of.

Trust. Those white-silver eyes held so much trust. Trust in her. Trust in them.

Vilkas was standing in front of her.

Vilkas was smiling at her, with that smile that was meant only for her.

Vilkas was standing at the altar at the Temple of Mara.

Vilkas was expecting her. Vilkas was happy to see her. Vilkas was waiting for her to walk down the aisle and promise forever.

She breathed deep. The air she took into her lungs was neither cold nor hot, but it burned nonetheless.

She reached back and drew out an arrow from her quiver, the sateen material hugging her body inflexible and constricting as she drew her arrow.

She set the arrow and pulled back the bowstring. The white wedding dress she wore was restricting. It hindered her movements. It was stifling. She couldn't breathe in it.

Her elbows pulled up and her chest expanded as she aimed, the dress pulling tight across her chest, the material suffocating.

She aimed.

Aimed for his heart.

Vilkas' hand lifted, extended toward her, his silver mist eyes surrounded by black war paint pleading, begging.

She exhaled slowly.

She released.

The arrow flew through the air.

The arrow pierced his heart.

Blood ran.

Blood ran like a river down his front until there was none left to bleed.

Silver mist eyes stared at her accusing, hating, loathing until the life left them.

She looked down and saw the same arrow she'd shot into Vilkas sticking out of her own chest, the arrowhead piercing her own heart, her blood soaking into her wedding dress until every inch of the white sateen had turned crimson.

Fianna jolted upright in her fur pallet with a gasp, startled awake from the fitful slumber, the bear pelts clinging tenaciously to her sweat-damp body. Her lips were cold and dry, her breathing restricted due to the cloth mask covering her face that felt glued to her face by sweat. Her head was still swimming in fragments of the dream – the nightmare.

Her alarmed eyes shifted sideways to find Drake fast asleep and curled up on his side facing away from her, his little arms wrapped around Meeko's neck. Fianna freed herself from the fur pelts covering her before falling back against the fur pallet, her back making contact with the ground with a heavy thud. She stared up at the dank ceiling and let out a few slow and shaky breaths.

She dreamed of him again. It was the same dream she had over and over again. The same anguish. It was never the same, never in the same place, but his death always was. And it was always caused by her hand. For six years, now almost seven, she'd been running. But she couldn't escape her guilt. She was used to the dream by now, but it never failed to distress her, at least momentarily.

It was a haunting dream of a man whose face she had trouble remembering. She knew his hair was very black and that he was tall and very strong, strong enough to lift her easily off her feet and hold her before him to kiss her. But she couldn't remember his mannerisms or the tone of his voice or the things he liked and disliked, like clothes and food. Vilkas' memory was fading. She could feel it slipping away.

The nightmare faded, but it left a lingering ache in her chest. Fianna closed her eyes tightly and brought a tremulous hand up to her forehead to wipe the sweat from her brow beneath her cowl. Her hand fell limply to her side onto the fur pallet and she lay there for a moment, trembling, conscious of an incredible feeling of sadness and loneliness.

Moving beneath the bear pelts, Fianna curled up on her side, her arms going around her knees as she hugged them tightly to her chest. She'd tried for so damn long to get over him and she never truly had. Her body and heart would never stop craving what they couldn't have, what she'd willingly given up. She missed him. So much. Her body shuddered with an ache that could not be met. Her loneliness tonight felt deeper than usual.

"Dream?"

Fianna's eyelids fluttered open to stare at the wall as Wolf's guttural, rasping voice raked across her sensitive auditory nerves.

"Nightmare," she answered quietly, her voice breaking softly.

Fianna sat up slowly, her eyes searching the darkness of the cave until they collided with a pair of granite eyes that stood out in the dimness of the cave. Wolf was completely shrouded in shadow, but those eyes glittered like some nocturnal animal in the darkness that surrounded him. A shiver crept slowly down her spine like a piece of ice trailing down her back. She watched those penetrating grey orbs follow the shiver that worked down her body.

"Cold?" His voice was a low, deep rumble of sound, like far away thunder.

"Freezing." Her voice sounded breathy to her ears. She quickly cleared it.

She heard movement, a shuffling of clothes and feet, and then saw Wolf move toward the dying fire, stepping into the fading light the flames cast. The raven-haired Nord knelt down on the balls of his feet and tossed a few more logs on the fire. With his elbows resting on his bent knees, his hands dangling between his legs, his chin turned slightly toward her, his eyes locking onto hers. Her pulse stuttered as his eyes trailed over every inch of her face.

"Your eyes have a grim look," he stated.

She shrugged and lifted her chin. "Nightmares tend to have that effect."

Wolf nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. "I know the feeling."

"Do you?" she asked gently.

His eyes finally released hers and she exhaled a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. She swept a hand over her cowl that was covering her hair and stood. Those eyes followed her - smoky grey and long-lashed - as she moved across the cave and sat beside him on the fur pallet he'd moved in front of the fire.

Fianna wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on them before turning her head toward the Nord, and asking, "Do you have nightmares, Wolf?"

"Everyone has nightmares."

"But what is it that the infamous Wolf of the Blades has nightmares of?"

His expression became guarded, the shadows in his eyes deepening, becoming dark and forbidding.

"It's her, isn't it? Your wife?" Fianna murmured with grave severity. "She's the one you dream of."

Wolf went still as stone, instantly putting up an invisible wall of armor with his rigid posture and closed off body language. "She wasn't my wife."

"Who was she?" Fianna found herself asking, attempting to alleviate the awkward silence.

"My betrothed," he answered evenly, his expression impenetrable.

Fianna met his eyes and caught the bleakness in their depths, a flicker of something almost like torment. "You… you were engaged?"

"Yes." She caught the faint note of bitterness in his tone, but his expression remained enigmatic. "Regretfully."

Fianna shifted uneasily on the ground. She didn't know why she was bringing up this woman. Maybe it was because it was the only time she ever saw him portray any kind of emotion.

"Did she… die?" she found herself asking in a quiet voice.

Wolf's hands turned to fists at his sides, but that was the extent of his visible reaction. "I like to think so."

For a long moment he was silent, a silence that invited no entry. Fianna wanted to ask him more, but certain questions seemed off limits to him. She could already feel him closing off from her, saw the dark shutters appearing in his eyes and knew whatever he was thinking and feeling wouldn't be shared. Despite her curiosity, she knew she had no right to intrude on his thoughts, his emotions, or his life.

Wolf looked away from her to stare off into the distance, eyes glazed as if seeing something that wasn't there. A second later, Wolf looked dazed as he seemed to mentally shake himself before he gazed into the fire.

Fianna stared at his side profile, at his long hair that was like a curtain of darkness around him, at his face that was hard and inscrutable. It was a mask, she realized, like a shield of armor against the world.

"Sorrow and heartache is like carrying a boulder," she said softly. "The longer you carry it the heavier it gets."

"It's hard letting go," he replied quietly without looking away from the fire, his voice edged with sullenness.

She stared at his side profile. "But once you do, you'll finally find serenity."

"Serenity…" he murmured quietly, almost to himself. His eyes left the fire to clash with hers, reflecting a silent anguish. "Is that what you've found?"

"I've finally found peace but it feels… wrong," she murmured softly. "Something's… missing."

Wolf moved closer to her in the firelight, his eyes like wisps of smoke chasing a blown out flame. "What's missing?" he asked, his scraping, guttural voice the softest and huskiest she'd ever heard it.

Her heart hammered as his closeness engulfed her. She was aware of nothing else in the cave but his well-muscled, masculine body leaning into hers. Close. So close. Too close. His brooding sensuality was as potent as a bonfire. Her blood seemed to surge and pound with heat and fire. Her entire body was restless and unfamiliar. She didn't want to know this side of him. It was much easier to label him as a monster with a heart of ice.

Fianna tore her gaze away from his and stared into the fire, her heart galloping in her chest. She cleared her throat and straightened her legs out in front of her, resting her weight on her hands behind her. In the lengthening silence Fianna could hear the hiss of the coals in the fire and the persistent groan of the wind at the mouth of the cave.

Wolf shifted beside her, getting comfortable, and the hand on the fur pallet between them moved slightly. Her pounding heart leapt into her throat and became lodged there as the very tip his finger touched the outside of her knee.

Fianna's eyes flew sideways up to his face, but he wasn't looking at her. Wolf was staring straight ahead into the fire, as if lost in the flames - his face, his eyes, his expression unfathomable.

Maybe I imagined it, she mused. Her eyes dropped to the finger touching the outside of her right armored knee. It burned there, as if a candle was directly beside her leg. No, I didn't imagine it.

Two of the tips of his fingers were touching her knee now.

Three.

Her sharp inhale was a ragged thing and every muscle in her body was clenched as she contemplated the meaning of it. He had purposefully avoided touching her ever since she met him. This touch was deliberate. He wanted to touch her.

Fianna quickly looked up at him to find him staring down at her. Keenly. Unwavering. The entirety of his attention was focused on her, his eyes deep and penetrating. She found it difficult to breath as he watched her, intently, like a bird of prey. His predatory assessment unnerved her, though she refused to show it.

She stared back at his implacable features and the air around them suddenly became thick and heavy with unseen tension, almost as if millions of tiny electrical currents had suddenly ignited all around them.

Unsettled, she looked back down to the very masculine fingers touching her. She stared down at them, but they didn't move as she thought they would. She bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to give into the temptation to look at him again. But gods, that hard face was like a lodestone and, against her will, her eyes returned to it.

Green eyes lifted to meet the concentrated stare of dark grey that was still on her, searing into her, the intensity there more devastating than it had been moments before. Her heart battered her ribs, rattling her composure. Sweet Mara, his eyes felt like they were fingers, running over every inch of her.

Wolf's muscles tensed as he swallowed, his strong throat working, the firelight slashing across his sharply chiseled features as he stared unblinking at her and she did her best to ignore the way his breathing had changed - becoming faster, deeper.

Something inscrutable passed in his eyes before his fingertips moved slightly, the lightest of caresses on the outside of her knee.

Fianna exhaled a shuttering breath. Her heart felt as if it would leap right out of her chest. She remained motionless as his fingertips began to stroke her leg, the dark glint in his eyes mesmerizing her into paralysis.

Heat spread through her belly as his fingers trailed up the side of her outer thigh, over her hip, to curl around her waist. She heard a shallow panting and realized it was the sound of her own breathing.

His grip tightened on her waist and he pulled her closer, dragging her to him across the fur pallet, his arm molding her to his length. His gaze delved into hers, searching and reading.

Fianna could hardly breathe behind the mask covering her lips. He radiated a vital intensity that made her, the Dragonborn of all people, feel fragile and acutely feminine. She knew she should pull away, yet an unnamable something held her transfixed, her heart a fluttering mess.

Breathe. Just breathe.

His hand slowly trailed all the way up her side until he was cupping the back of her neck. Her heart beat painfully within her chest like molten rock as he inhaled a shaky breath while staring at her mask, right where her mouth was.

His fingers were warm and strong and firm as they tightened on the nape of her neck and then he was pulling her toward him, dragging her inexorably, relentlessly closer to him, his smoky gaze never leaving her face as he drew her to him.

Fianna laid her palm on his chest. The bunched muscle beneath her hand felt rock-hard, like stone, but the rapid beating of his heart told her he was very much alive in there, despite what she'd initially thought. Drawn by an urge more powerful than reason, Fianna tilted her chin up, an unconscious invitation that caused his eyes to darken to thunderclouds.

A burst of heat and anticipation started in her stomach and coiled outward as his lips descended, closer, until their mouths where almost touching. Wolf hesitated for just a moment, a ragged breath filtering unsteadily out against her mouth, before he brought her across the last scant inches separating them.

Wolf's bottom lip just barely brushed her masked upper lip and a fever broke out along her skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Electricity crackled around them as he tightened his fingers behind her neck and pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. Her body trembled as his hot breath and warm lips seeped through the cloth on her face and bathed her lips and skin in heat.

Wolf's lips abruptly left hers, but instead of disengaging and moving away, his lips hovered above hers. Their noses brushed against each other as he exhaled sharp bursts of air over her masked lips and she inhaled, taking his breath deep into her lungs.

For just a moment she wondered what she was doing, but seemed incapable of stopping herself. She wanted that kiss again. Craved it. Needed it. And she took it.

Fianna lifted her chin and softly caught his bottom lip between her cloth-covered lips. Goosebumps erupted all over her arms and neck, and a warmth like no other before began to gather at the pit of her stomach before slowly spreading out to her limbs in a trail of fire. She lingered there for a moment before she pulled away ever so slightly, brushed her mouth against his and captured his upper lip. Beneath her hand, his heart thundered so hard it seemed to be in rhythm with her own.

His grip tightened on her nape as he slanted his lips over hers, his other arm gathering her even closer against him. He inhaled, stealing her breath. She breathed into him, giving him more. He brought her cloth-covered bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently.

A tiny whimper of pleasure glided unbidden from her throat before she could hold it in. But the coil of desire that shot right to her very center was undeniable, uncontainable. The immediate, almost visceral reaction to him had left her breathless.

Only one other man had ever had such an impact on her.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as that thought settled in her mind. Suddenly, panic and a nameless fear spread over her with a frightening chill that turned her bones brittle. The ground suddenly seemed to be shifting out from under her. Terrified jade orbs squeezed shut as she flattened her other palm on his broad chest and gave a light push.

Wolf's lips immediately broke from hers, but hovered on top of hers, only the black cloth mask separating them. After a few unsteady heartbeats, he pulled back slightly to look at her and her hands trailed off his chest. Fianna studied his bearded face, watched his eyes blink open, almost as if he were stunned.

A tight band encircled her chest at that look and she had to avert her gaze, unable to look at it. "I can't."

His hand snaked between them. His thumb and forefinger held her cloth-covered chin, turning her face back to his. His face was set like stone, giving away nothing, but his eyes were a dark slate gray, as turbulent as a storm-swept sky. He said nothing, but she could see the question there.

"I can't," she repeated more for herself than for him, for self-preservation, the green of her eyes dulled and darkened with shadows of her own.

On his leg, Wolf's free hand curled into a fist. Though his expression remained virtually unreadable, his eyes went from a sheer grey intensity to icy cold so fast she shivered. He didn't move, but all at once he was far too close, looming over her. The fingers on her chin tightened, pinching into her skin, as he stared at her as if she were a threat of some kind.

Wolf rose abruptly and moved swiftly out the mouth of the cave and into the storm that was dying down outside, much like he did the last time she touched him.

Fianna's shoulders sank and her head fell into her hands. That had been a mistake. A horrible mistake. She wanted to melt into the ground. Why did she do that? Why did she allow that? She couldn't think of the reason now. She sat on the floor berating herself for her foolishness. She was embarrassed by what she'd done, by what she'd allowed him to do.

Fianna called herself every name she could think of. How could this have happened? She was just supposed to heal him and get rid of him. She'd been lonely and had responded spontaneously to a man she was attracted to. But he was a Blade! And not just any Blade, but the Commander of the Blades! If he saw her face he would recognize her immediately and then it would all be over. If she got too close to him, it could ruin everything! Talos, how could something like this have happened?

One thing was for sure - she and Drake were leaving first thing in the morning, storm or no storm.

And they couldn't get away fast enough.

Author's Note: The physical exercises that Fianna and Drake perform each morning are a form of yoga or pilates. Also, if you didn't notice, some of the things Wolf says to Drake while they are practicing with their swords are said in the game by Teldryn Sero. I just liked them so much I wanted to include them. Oh, and this chapter has a soundtrack: Still Here (Acoustic Version) by Digital Daggers. You can hear the whole song for free on YouTube.