This will be a short chapter. Just to move things along and to get into people's head. Towards the end I go into Third Person because Lydia has fallen asleep and cannot narrate at that moment. You get to see a little slice of the mysterious Dragonborn and his side of things.
Anyways, I'd like to give a shout out to Elfdavis like always. She gave me a kick in the pants to keep things up. And word has it she is going to be writing a Skyrim Fic… ABOUT TIME ELF!
Class ended so I hope to get chapters up quicker. Hope you enjoy this chapter. And please. Review. Seriously. Just give me thoughts. Everyone on Fanfiction wants reviews! They wouldn't put things up if they didn't. So help a friend out! Tell me what you think! And if you have nothing to say, Hell, just say Hi damn it! Anything to tell me that I am appreciated!
It had been a month since Duvaithor had been rescued. The Companions had returned, but not before wishing me luck.
"Stay sharp, Lydia… And if he ever gives you a hard time, well… you know where to find me," Farkas whispered in my ear. I smiled softly and nodded.
"Thank you, Farkas."
"Hey, don't mention it. I'll look forward to that time," he murmured softly and kissed my temple lightly. Farkas then left with his twin and shield sister. I blushed slightly. How was I hot in Skyrim? Duvaithor's eyes bore into my back as I watched the companions depart.
I've barely spoken to Duvaithor. I merely followed him around, having his back, praying he wouldn't stab mine. He was off, different, and not because he was Dragonborn. Something else. Was it his smirk that unsettled me? No… no it wasn't.
I observed the back of his head. As if he had felt my eyes, he turned to look at me. I offered a nod, inspecting his features. His eyes. His white, haunted eyes were it. No, but that had to be part of it. There was a story to those eyes, and I would find out.
"Are you hungry Lydia? We haven't eaten in about a day…" Duvaithor said stopping and turning to me.
I shrugged, "If you'd like." Duvaithor nodded and looked around.
"You make camp, I'll go hunting…"
"Oh no, I can hunt, I've got my bow right here," I said holding it up. Duvaithor gave me a dark look.
"Did I not just say I would?" he barked harshly. He took a deep breath to calm down. I swallowed and bowed my head.
"R…Right… okay, I'll make a… fire…" I wandered to the trees and frowned deeply. Duvaithor stood there watching me. His lips were in a thin line as he closed his eyes. I shifted so I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He stood there for a long time, watching me as if he wanted to apologize. Yet if he did, he never did anything about it. He sighed heavily and turned to go hunt. I let out a puff of old air, grumbling to myself. Why was he so complicated? One minute we're bonding, the next we want to shank the other in the eye!
I sighed, picking up semi dry sticks and leaves and returned to our designated camp spot. Slowly and begrudgingly, I piled the debris of the woods and proceeded to try and light a fire. I muttered curses to each and every divine as the pile refused to light. "Damn it all to Oblivion!"
A hand rested softly on my shoulder, causing me to gasp and whip around, slapping whatever had touched me. Duvaithor exclaimed quietly and stumbled back slightly, holding his reddened cheek. My eyes grew wide. Oh shit oh shit. This was it. Could I ask if I could at least dig myself a nice deep grave? Perhaps he would be gracious enough to let me write a will. Wait… I didn't own anything. Okay scratch that, the grave will do just fine.
"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" I lied. Damn did that feel like a little slice of heaven… Slapping his stupid, smug, elven face. Duvaithor stared at me in perhaps shock or amusement. Both?
"Not to worry…" his gaze fell to the pitiful pile that was still unlit. "Hmm…"
"What? I told you I should have gone hunting! I suck at this!" Duvaithor's lips curled partially in a half smirk.
"A fine job, perhaps I could… mmm… assist?" he offered. I crossed my arms, looking up at him from my seat on a fallen tree.
"Well I'm not stopping you," I challenged. There was no way he'd get it lit. It was near impossible! No, he would make a fool out of himself and I would laugh! How paramount I would feel! Superior to his flawless little self! Lydia shall conquer Tamriel!
With the flick of his wrist, the fire was lit.
My jaw dropped to the floor. "Dear girl, close your mouth, you'll attract moths." My mouth snapped shut. I grumbled and looked away. Stupid. He was stupid. Stupid Elf. A show off! So he had magic! I was good at things! Like… like… erm… Finding wood! Yeah! Oh gods Lydia… you are the fool.
Duvaithor sat down, poking at the warm fire with a long slender stick. His face glowed from its embers as the sun leisurely made its descent. The lonesome moon wandered into the darkening sky. She offered her somber light to her children. The children of the moon. I gently closed my eyes. Farkas. He was her child. He had a sickening romance with her pale light. Her face made his heart sing. It sung so much that he would howl to her, praying she'd end his lonely misery. Yet he was not so lucky. He mourned for her with each saddening cry. But why? Why did he cry? What was so sad? Would he answer all of my questions?... would I ever see him again?
My eyes opened to meet Duvaithor's harsh gaze. I swallowed a lump that had quickly formed in my throat. Duvaithor said nothing, but his eyes said it all. He knows. What does he know? Does he know something about me? No, that's impossible. I don't know anything about him, and he doesn't know anything about me. Then again, what did I have to bring to this figurative table? My life consisted of a blur of nothingness, locked away in the palace. I never knew my parents. Perhaps I could make up some sob story, make him feel sorry for me. Then again, this man most likely didn't have an empathetic bone in his body.
What about him? There had to be something, and it had to be interesting. Something shady, most likely. I mean by the divines! LOOK AT HIM! He was… Off. Something, something, always something with him. I wanted to know who, what, when, where, why and then some! But no doubt, Duvaithor was a private man, er, Elf. Was Duvaithor his real name? How did he become Dragonborn? Did he even know? Was he scared? Why am I so damned curious?
He was my Thane. That's all. I am supposed to give my life for a man I know nothing about. Not to mention what an ass he was! How can you shove that much confidence into one being? Couldn't he see what an imprudent dumbass he was? If only, if only.
I grumbled silently. Duvaithor still stared at me quizzically. I wanted to scream at him if he lost something over here, but he would only twist my words and throw them right in my face and down my throat. This elf was a fire rune, just waiting for me to misstep.
"You are strange," Duvaithor stated simply. I gaped at him.
"ME?" I laughed coldly. "Look at you?"
Duvaithor blinked. "Well that was rude. I never said your appearance was strange. I take offense to your racism."
My eyes bulged. That man… oh he needed a good stabbing. As he continued poking the fire, I felt my eye twitch. How dare he… I was NOT racist! Erm… or… oh gods… I'm racist!? That was the way I was raised. Nords were better than any race. This was our homeland. Not greyskin's. I suddenly gasped and clamped a hand over my mouth, even though I hadn't spoken. Duvaithor eyed me, as if I was giving a dramatic shitty act that was way too late. He huffed, but continued feeding the small fire.
No, that wasn't my thoughts. I was simply echoing my uncle's words. His voice was in my head. Yes, that was it. It had to be. I wasn't capable of hating someone for having certain blood flowing through their veins. Could I?
Duvaithor glanced to me again. "You are quiet," he said after about an hour. "You must be tired. We have been walking for a long while without rest. Why don't you sleep? I'll take the first watch."
I shook my head. "No… That's alright, I'm not tired, besides, I'm supposed to watch over you," in reality, I was exhausted, but there was no way in Hell I would allow him to watch over my sleeping body in the middle of the wilderness. Sweet Gods, no.
Duvaithor watched me closely, releasing a coy laugh. "You do not trust me, Lydia?" I glared at him.
"I am not tired, my Thane," I assured him.
"Well I have an answer to both our problems. I am exhausted, and I can feel the lies rolling off your tongue and taste it on your breath. You are weary. We both shall sleep." He stood and went to his pack. He unhooked his sleeping roll and looked to me. "I hope you don't mind sharing…" he quirked an eyebrow, which I could have sworn he wiggled them in a mischievous manner. My jaw set.
"If I am to sleep I will rest in the grass, I will not share a bed with a-" I had to stop myself. I gulped at his white eyes piercing mine.
"With a…? With a what, exactly, Lydia? I know you want to say it… so go on… tell me," he taunted.
"Fine… a… man I barely know," I lied. He knew I wanted to say greyskin. His lips twitched.
"Oh but deary, you must get to know the man you are supposed to protect, no? So, you will share my bed roll. I am not demanding sex, by the gods, I am not cruel," he thought for a moment. "Unless of course that is what you wish, then I wouldn't object…" I shot daggers with my eyes at him. "No? Very well…" He began removing his boots, gauntlets and breast plate. I grumbled, doing the same. I looked around, looking for a tunic.
"Erm…" I bit my lip, holding my arms to my chest and looked to him. He rolled his eyes.
"You women and not wearing undershirts," he took his tunic off and handed it to me. My brows furrowed. What woman wore a tunic AND armor? That was stupid. The armor had a protective shirt build in already. Did his not? I shook my head and took the green tunic and turned my back to him, putting it on. Oddly, it didn't even smell like sweat. It… smelled sweet and fresh. I looked to him curiously. He glanced up. "What?"
"You… don't sweat?" I found myself asking. A sly smile danced on his lips, only for a moment though.
"Are you complaining?" he challenged. I grumbled, shaking my head. He bowed his head and laid the bed roll out. I watched as he smoothed it out and pulled back the top. It rested beside the fire. Once he had it situated, he looked back to me. Then began crawling in. I frowned; he would be closest to the woods.
"No, let me go first…" I said, stepping forward. Duvaithor eyed me, but shrugged and got out, allowing me to crawl in first. He watched me, sitting on his heels as I got comfortable in the small, tight cocoon. Duvaithor slipped in after me. My jaw was tight as he was pressed against me. I wanted to yell at him to move over. My eyes widened when I felt his arms wrap around my middle. I was facing the woods. I chewed on my lip as I felt his breath on my neck. Well, this was awkward. I slowly turned my head, looking up at him. He looked down at me.
"Sorry," he whispered, referring to his arms. Where else could he put them? I grumbled and tried to let my head rest on the ground. But I was on my side, and that was nearly impossible without breaking my neck. I sighed loudly. Duvaithor clucked his tongue. He and I both knew I would have to lie on his freaking bare chest. Oh I hated this damned elf. Him and his twisted ways. He wanted in my pants and I knew it. No. Just no. "Lydia… I think you need to-"
"Shut up," I grumbled, wiggling in the tight sleeping roll and faced him. He rolled back, lying on his back as I laid my head on his bare chest. His arms were still around me. Okay this was more awkward, but I wasn't snapping my neck off. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I played nice, he wouldn't want to kill me.
His chest rose and fell peacefully. His heart thumped dully as I slowly drifted off to sleep. My mind thought of Farkas and if he was lying in the grass beside a fire somewhere, staring up at the stars and the moon, thinking of me. Would he be dreaming of me? No… he didn't dream, but if he could would it be of me? Would he kiss me and hold me in this dream? Would he be here instead of this elf who was my master? Would things have gone differently if my uncle had allowed me to go see Farkas that one night that he had asked me to join him on a job? Would he have kissed and held me then? A tear left my eye and fell onto Duvaithor's chest at the thought of it. I slept not in the arms of my thane, but my crush. My would have been, could have been, should have been Farkas.
Duvaithor's hand slowly rubbed Lydia's back as she slept. He looked down at her sleeping face. So peaceful. He knew she didn't trust him. He understood that. He groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing slumber would claim him. He just had to be Dragonborn, didn't he? That was the gods' sick humor, wasn't it? Shove everything he held dear out the window and throw this in his face. He couldn't catch a break. Now he got to ruin this young woman's life.
He opened his eyes to stare at the stars. "I…I'm sorry," he whispered to each one of them. He sighed as he gazed at the brightest star, the moon. "Oh, love. Can't you forgive me?" he whimpered.
A rustle was heard in the trees. Duvaithor's attention snapped to the woods. His arms around Lydia tightened slightly as his eyes searched the trees. A growl broke out as a wolf slowly stalked forward, snarling at the sight of them in the bedroll. Lydia shifted, rubbing her face into his chest slightly. Duvaithor's jaw tightened as his lips pressed to her ear.
"Shh… no no, sleep sweet Lydia, do not wake," his voice soothed her back to a deep sleep. His eyes glared at the wolf as two more slowly approached, advancing closer and closer. The first grey wolf snapped its jaws as it was nearly three feet away.
The wolf suddenly yelped and sprinted back into the woods with its brothers at a flash of red. Duvaithor smirked slightly, closing his eyes for a long moment, rubbing Lydia's back absentmindedly. His eyes slowly opened again, revealing cruel demonic red eyes. When the smirk on his lips began to slip away, so did the bright red coloring in his eyes, slowly morphing back to the chilling white orbs they were before. He looked down to the woman sleeping on his chest.
"Not to worry deary… It's not like you will ever find out my true nature. You'll be dead far before that is revealed…" He whispered as his lips gently pressed to her temple as his eyes closed. Sleep finally drifted into his mind, and consumed him.
Muhaha! I have to say Duvaithor is my favorite Elf in the entire world (except you ElfDavis… of course….) (I say that so I don't get slapped…) Anyways, there you have it. What do you all think? What do you think his back story is? Every character needs one! What are your crazy ideas for it? I know I already have it in mind, but hey, I'd love to see people guess. And what about FarkasXLydia? Eh? Do we have FANS or do we have ASSASSINS hunting me down for such a disgusting idea? Do share! Well, until next time! Tatty bye!