Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios and I own nothing at all except for the OC and plot. There is no profit made at all, really.

Summary: It was one thing to remain a man for Freyja's sake. It was quite another to do it penniless, ill and with a child while she was out gallivanting with Brynjolf. An Alternate Universe "Dragonrend" standalone spin-off.

AU Dragonrend standalone spin-off.

Genre: Friendship/Humour

A/N: And after a year, this story comes back. I've been busy helping a friend out and I've had no energy for the massive angst of "Dragonrend" at the moment. So the Muse circled back here. It was either this or Alduin/Freyja extreme smut that would never appear here, thanks to the ratings rule. In the interests of putting something out that will be read and not get my account into trouble, here is the latest in Daddy!Alduin shenanigans. If you like this, please review and feed my Muse. :) To everyone who reviewed the last chapter, thank you!

DRAGONREND: HEARTHFIRE

II.

To his eternal chagrin, Alduin realised that he had actually nodded off at the long table while waiting for the child to cook and serve him his meal. Lucia had not dared wake him; it was the wonderful smell of meat and carrots and potatoes simmering in a golden stew scented with garlic and onions and other ingredients whose names he could never be bothered with. After all, cooking was not something the god of destruction sullied his hands with. Unless said god faced extenuating circumstances, such as his wife running away on some unknown business with the most untrustworthy womaniser this side of Mundus. 'Thank the Nine for mortal children,' he thought, opening one lazy golden eye just in time to catch that good-for-nothing fur covered bag of bones that Freyja insisted on keeping trying to pinch a piece of venison from his bowl. The dog actually had its mouth opened over the edge of the meaty bone and was a scant inch from closing its teeth over it.

Alduin's first reaction was to snatch the bowl away and his second had been to make a grab for the mutt. Luckily for Meeko, he was no slouch either. The hound let out a terrified yowl that was only matched by Lucia's screech. Within the two seconds that it took Alduin to secure the stew safely within his reach, both the dog and the child were hiding at the other end of the room. He arched a brow at both of them, as if to say "Really?" before proceeding to sample the stew. It was surprisingly excellent. He polished off the bowl and Lucia, perceptive girl that she was, took it from him before giving him a second helping. While he ate, so did she and Meeko, albeit at the far corner of the room, with her smiling softly at the dog's stupid antics while it rolled around with happiness gnawing at the bones and meat she gave it.

Lucia, Alduin discovered now that he actually had to pay attention to her since Freyja was away and Lydia had probably gone to ground in either that pretentiously name building—he refused to even think of it as Dragonsreach or a palace—or the guards barracks, had a habit of humming to herself as she carried out her chores. From where he sat, he had a clear view of the opened back door and he watched as she scoured the pot, bowls and cutlery before rinsing them with water from a bucket. She was a quick worker as well, but much too meek. Around him, she was as silent as any terrified worshipper he had graced with his presence at Bromjunaar. In fact, he had asked Freyja at the end of the first day that Lucia arrived why she had seen fit to take in a mute child. His wife had kicked him before delivering a stinging diatribe in hushed but outraged tones blaming his "scowling black looks and frosty silent treatment" for sapping the joy out of Lucia. Well, she had foisted the child on him from out of nowhere. And after that scolding, she could hardly expect him to welcome the girl with open arms.

Perhaps if Freyja had taken in a more spirited child, he mused, thoughts drifting to the children whom he had seen on the streets of Whiterun. Until settling down with Freyja, he had never been exposed to that many children and certainly never on such a regular basis. That little blond Battle-Born whelp that Lucia sometimes played with was even more hopeless than she was; the boy had turned pale and almost passed out when Alduin had opened the door to his very polite knocking. "He just wants to ask if I can play," Lucia had inched her way past him before standing in front of Lars. "So can we go out?"

"Take all the time you need. In fact, don't come back tonight," Alduin had promptly replied before shutting the door. Of course, given his luck, Freyja had been standing right behind him, a bag of sweetrolls for the children in her hand. That had earned him a kick, and then some. And there were no sweetrolls for him that night either.

There was that other little girl who helped her mother at the stall but he had no idea what she was like and to be honest, he did not care at all. His eyes narrowed when he recalled Braith, the Redguard child. She had come barrelling down the street after the Battle-Born boy who had dodged behind him at the last minute. The girl had attempted to follow suit but she had been less nimble and would have run smack into him if he had not reached out and plucked her up by the scruff of her neck. Even while dangling in mid-air, she had attempted to kick him while yelling about how she would fight with dogs, girls, boys, elders and even him. While everyone around them gawked, Alduin simply held her up and away at arm's length until she screeched at him to drop her. Which he did very promptly, but without lowering her down first. Then Braith had picked herself off the ground and run away while yelling about how he was being a bully and Alduin had contented himself with the thought of feeding her to Odahviing.

Perhaps Lucia was not that poor a choice after all. He just disliked her obvious over-eagerness to please. It was galling to someone like him. Where was her sense of pride?

"Her uncle and aunt kicked her off the farm that belonged to her the moment her mother died. Lucia's had a terrible childhood, if you can even call that a childhood," Freyja murmured, wringing a towel and placing it on the girl's fever-warm brow. "I know it's been sudden, but it's only been three days. Give yourself, and her, some time. She will fit in."

It had been a month and a half since then and he was no fonder of the girl now than he had been then. Well, that was not entirely true, now that he knew she could cook. And she was still humming, a quicker, livelier tune as she dried the utensils meticulously. Disinherited and forced out of her home and she still had not lost her joy, not permanently. Alduin knew a thing or two about being forced out of one's home. He had lost the greatest city every built on Tamriel and had been cheated of this world by despicable Nords wielding an Elder Scroll. Lucia's situation compared to his was akin to likening a grain of sand to the vast deserts of Hammerfell. Still... maybe her desire to please her new keepers—"parents", Freyja had lectured—wasn't such a mystery after all.

"I...err..." Luca's hemming and hawing drew his attention.

"Speak up." Alduin winced as much at the sound of his voice as he did the flickers of pain that shot up his throat.

"I made something for your sore throat. For when you have to take Arcadia's remedy, which is about now actually. Lydia told me you need to take your medicine twice a day..."

Ugh, he hated swallowing the little sachets of unnaturally blue powder that Lydia had obtained from the local alchemist and apothecary. But he hated this sickness more and so there was little choice but to do as he was reminded. Taking his grunt as assent, Lucia hurriedly poured him a drink from a jug and fished out a tiny white bag from a bowl she had placed a plate over.

"What's this?" Alduin asked suspiciously. And what was that floating in the cup...?

"Blue mountain flower petals. Mamma had some lying around and I know that these help when you get sick. I boiled them in water and mixed some honey and sugar inside as well. So you have something sweet to wash down the bitter."

He could hardly let his disgust show, not with the child watching him. Stoically, Alduin loosened the knot on the bag, held his breath and poured the powder down his throat. Immediately bitterness began seeping into his tongue and before he choked, he grabbed the cup and swallowed a mouthful of the drink to wash it all down. To his surprise, Lucia's flower and honeyed water did help. She had put in a lot of honey. She must have observed his penchant for desserts and stealing Freyja's portion.

"Not bad," he muttered, only because he was sure Lucia would just stand there and probably grow old waiting for his verdict.

Her smile nearly blinded him. "Oh good. I can go to Arcadia and get some more flowers tomorrow." Then she paled. Clearly she had remembered the missing strongbox, and that reminded him of his pre-dinner resolution. "Oh but...I can get some septims from Lydia—"

"You. Sit," Alduin instructed, motioning to a space at the end of the bench. Lucia quailed but did as she was ordered. Without further preamble, he got to the point. "Where," he demanded imperiously, "is the strongbox?" And before the wretched cough rising from the bottom of his throat could get out, he doused it with more honeyed water. Ah, saved.

Lucia's sentiments were probably the exact opposite of his for she began to cry. Huge fat tears rolled down from brown eyes the colour of wet autumn leaves. Two reddish spots appeared on her fair cheeks. She swallowed her sobs but it made the tears come faster.

Alduin rolled his eyes and thought about how there were few sights more irritating than a weeping child. Nine forbid if she turned all snotty and started dribbling like the Battle-Born offspring. He would sooner kick her off the bench than allow her to come near to him in such a condition. Thankfully though, Lucia showed no inclination to descend to such depths, although Meeko crawling out from whatever corner it had planted itself at and placing its head in her lap drew more tears. Alduin sent the dog a wrathful glare but to the beast's credit, it stayed put, although its brown eyes became as mournful as Lucia's.

"Are you finished?" he asked pleasantly. The girl proved to have some measure of intelligence by realising he was actually ordering her to cease crying. Wiping her eyes on her sleeves, she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs while weaving the fingers of her other hand into Meeko's fur. "Where is it?" he asked again.

This time, she actually managed to provide him with some useful, albeit surprising information. Lucia had found Freyja's books on lockpicking and thieves. And Lucia loved reading and thought her Mamma led a most exciting life. Apparently Lucia had been practicing on the strongbox at home, never mind that it had a master level lock. Lars Battle-Born had wanted to watch Lucia at work and since he would never come into Breezehome—"He thinks you're scarier than an Ancient Dragon," Lucia explained, to which Alduin thought wistfully about how delightful it would be if little Lars only knew the truth—Lucia had thought it a good idea to take the strongbox out for a quick demonstration.

"And then Braith came out of nowhere and took it. She punched Lars when he tried to grab it and pushed me. I fell."

And hurt herself too. She was rubbing her right elbow but clearly unaware of the movement. "Where was Lydia? Or that thing?" He pointed at Meeko who shrank further into Lucia's side.

"Hrongar sent for Lydia and Meeko was upstairs guarding you."

Oh yes, an unfortunate side effect of falling ill was the desire to sleep for inordinate amounts of time. This mortal coil and all its weaknesses still took some getting used to. And the thought of Meeko guarding him was just downright amusing, if not laughable. "Does Braith still have it?"

Lucia nodded miserably. "She makes sure to come by everyday to taunt me. Lars is terrified of her now."

"Your friend would pass out at the sight of his own shadow." Alduin coughed harshly before sipping more of the drink. "Where are the lockpicking tools?"

"I put them back in Mamma's chest upstairs."

"Go and get them. And bring down my sword while you are it. Do not cut yourself or I'll lie and say that it was all your fault." Freyja had a strict no weapons policy where Lucia was concerned but Alduin felt that since Lucia had been using Nettlebane for most of the evening, there was no harm in letting her carry down the Nightingale blade.

Lucia stared at him for a moment, confused and bursting with questions but in the end, she scurried upstairs and did as she was bidden. When she came back, Alduin told her to get one of her new cloaks. "The dark coloured one," he specified while strapping the sword to his side. It was cold at night and the last thing he needed was for both of them to fall ill.

"Alright, I'm ready. Where are we going?"

Alduin downed the rest of the drink and placed the cup lightly on the table. "To get back what you lost. You're going to pick the lock of Braith's home and steal back the strongbox."

Lucia's jaw dropped. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?" Alduin looked down the length of his nose at her.

For a moment, he thought she would cry yet again. Then she surprised him once more by breaking into a small smile. "No," she said quietly. "I'm not sure if I'm good enough to get in though."

"It's an apprentice level lock," he said dismissively, striding towards the door.

"How do you know that?" she asked, chasing after him.

'Because your adopted mother is an inveterate thief second only to he who should not be named and she has a list of who has what kinds of locks in Whiterun and every other city in Skyrim.' Naturally, he kept those thoughts to himself. "I'm guessing," he lied smoothly. "And we'll find out soon enough."