Ten years on, and they were still always together. They were both renowned throughout all the holds for their skills as warriors; often called upon by jarls to wipe out one threat or another, especially if the Companions weren't available. Bero continued to outdo her in bedsports statistics, though Sassa was gaining ground. She was always pretty, but when she hit thirty, her beauty blossomed. She wore her long, yellow hair plaited, and would often hit Bero in the face with it when she was feeling playful.
And then one day, a great black dragon wiped out Helgen. And then another dragon attacked Whitewatch Tower, and Bero went along with Irileth and the guards to kill it. And when the thing died, Bero was more surprised than anyone to learn that the reason why the swirling light that came from the dead dragon into his body was because he was the famous legend of old, Dovahkiin, Dragonborn.
Sassa, despite the innocent flirting and ribbing that she often gave him, respected her dear friend. He was kind, warm, funny and strong. But with this new revelation, her awe of him grew by degrees. He seemed to ooze raw power that she'd never noticed before. With a pang of insecurity, she hoped that his fate didn't change things between them.
"I hope your new status doesn't give you a bigger head than you've already got, Bero. I wouldn't want to have to leave you behind when I go adventuring!" she joked half-heartedly.
"Now, what's that supposed to mean? It's you and me, Sass. Whatever happens with me, I'll always be by your side." He said, leaning over to stroke her cheek.
Bero knew her better than she knew herself, and easily picked up the note of worry in her tone. Nevertheless, Sassa was surprised by his earnest response. "Good. Now let's get drunk and have some fun!" she waved off the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach, and ignored the way her heart skipped a beat when he stroked her cheek.
0o0o0o0o
One year later, Bero and Sassa had become quite the professional dragon-slayers. Every soul that Bero absorbed seemed to intensify his aura of power. The souls of dragons caused him to be more aggressive, more passionate, and more...primal. Rose couldn't help but feel intimidated by him. She knew he would never hurt her, but this new feeling she got from him left her feeling slightly more insecure.
One evening, the two were going through Rorikstead from a particularly lucrative raid on a bandit den. Their pockets were lined with gold, and they had jewels and jewellery aplenty. Sassa had even scored a lovely, unblemished set of glass armour, though Bero said she looked silly in it. They headed to the Frostfruit Inn to celebrate.
"I don't care if I look silly – I look like a rich person in it, and that's a good thing…isn't it?" she joked.
Bero's eyes swept up and down from her toes to the top of her head. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought there was a look of hungry lust in his eyes. She immediately clamped down the thrill of desire that sparked through her, and quickly changed the subject.
"How many sheilas have you bedded this week, hmm?" she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Hmm…two," his eyes moved across the room, and landed on a pretty wood elf who was leaning on the bar, "soon to be three."
"Hah! I win! I'm already at three!" she said, standing. Her outburst caught the attention of said wood elf, and Bero waved her over.
"Care to sit and have a drink with me?" he said smoothly. He waved his hand dismissively at Sassa, indicating that he wanted her to make herself scarce.
Sassa chuckled softly, and took the wood elf's place at the bar. It wasn't long after that she saw Bero leading the girl into his room by the hand, and she smiled to herself. Such a man-whore, she thought.