Brand and Tina were sleeping soundly when Cyréne woke. The floor was cold and Janus was gone. The satchel under her head was serving more to make her neck stiff than cushion it. She was still tired, but the chill in the room drove her from her place in the corner and she crept closer to the fire pit. After building the fire up a bit, she held her hands over it and rubbed at her arms. She looked around for the cloak she'd been wearing. It was draped over Brand where he slept leaned back in a chair. She rolled her eyes and thought about grabbing it off of him and kicking his chair over. Where did that come from? Instead, she sat down on the floor and tried not to shiver.

A tiny repetitive snapping sound pulled Brand from his much-needed sleep. He looked around for a moment trying to pinpoint its source. Then he looked down. Cyréne was huddled on the floor, not far from his chair and her teeth were chattering. She felt him staring at her and turned her head toward him.

"Sorry," she whispered. She got up and moved away from the fire back into her corner and willed herself to sleep.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall back into sleep. After a few minutes he opened them again and chanced a look in her direction. She was shivering. If she's too stupid to come near the fire, then she can freeze for all I care. A few minutes later he was crossing the room.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her bottom lip to keep her teeth from clicking together. He looked toward Shaye. She was snug in her bell roll and snoring lightly. He considered carrying Cyréne across the room and dropping her by the fire, but the threat of sparks jolting through him gave him pause.

He squatted down and bent over her instead. "Cyréne, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to sleep, Brand. What are you doing?"

"Watching you shiver. It's keeping me awake."

Cyréne bit back a rude remark and hugged her arms around herself. "I'm sorry. I guess I can go downstairs."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

She gave him a tired look. "Whatever you want to be wrong with me. I'm going downstairs." She looped her satchel over her arm and sat there for a moment, too tired to move.

He stood and reached down to pull her to her feet. When she touched his hand she practically purred and immediately reached for his other hand. He looked at her in renewed interest and his eyebrow quirked up.

"You're warm," she said in explanation.

"It's the wolf blood." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, briskly.

Her eyes closed halfway and she inched forward toward the warmth he was radiating before stopping herself and glancing toward Shaye. She sighed and moved back before turning to head downstairs.

"What was that?"

"Um . . . nothing"

"Uh-huh. I could have sworn you were about to do something smart like getting closer to me so that you don't freeze to death."

Shaye had been listening with her back turned, and her eyes narrowed.

"No," Cyréne countered, "I was about to do something without thinking, like getting too close to someone else's man."

Brand looked at her like she was stupid.

"One, I'm not someone else's man. Two, It wouldn't matter if I was because this is literally to keep you warm, and three, she's not interested in anything but my c—" he cut himself off, cleared his throat and then continued. "She's not interested in me that way."

Cyréne hesitated for a moment, but shook her head. "Thanks anyway, but I like Tina a lot. She didn't have to help me and I don't want to do anything . . . questionable."

Guilt had been chipping away at Shaye since their carriage ride. She wasn't used to it, and now it was hammering her. Trusting people was bad – they always burned you in the end. She would have jumped Brand in Cyréne's position, but here was Saint Cyréne freezing to death, so that someone she met hours ago wouldn't get hurt. What is her deal? She couldn't help but feel a little zing of . . . something . . . at Cyréne's loyalty, though.

She turned in her bedroll and let out a loud sigh. "Will you two shut up already? I'm trying to sleep." She looked at Brand and pointed at Cyréne. "It's your fault she's cold. Fix it and stop being an ass." She rolled back over with a huff and stifled a grin at the looks on their faces.

"Th . . . thank you, Tina," Cyréne chattered out.

"Don't mention it. Grope him for me, would ya?"

Brand opened his arms to her and she gratefully slipped into his warm embrace, huddling against him.

Cyrene felt like she'd died and gone to Sovngarde when the heat from his body pressed into hers. He lifted her from the floor slightly and carried her back over to the fire. He scooped her legs up and sat down on the floor with her cross ways in his lap, grabbing her cloak from where he left it on the chair on the way. She protested slightly when he removed her boots, but gave a little groan of pleasure when he started to briskly rub her feet. Her toes were like ice. He frowned, and held both of her slender feet between his hands for a moment. She buried her face in his neck, making him flinch slightly – the tip of her nose was freezing cold too. Once her feet were sufficiently warm he wrapped her cloak around them and started on her legs. His eyebrows rose slightly when he noticed that they were completely smooth – that must be a magic trick. His mind wondered what else was completely smooth, but he squelched that thought quickly.

He was pleased with himself when she smiled into his chest and made soft contented sounds. It felt good to make her feel better. He remembered his harsh words to her and gave himself a mental kick. This is how it feels to help someone. No wonder she does it. When the chill was gone from her legs he slipped her boots back onto her feet and stretched out on the floor. She moved to lie beside him but he pushed her legs down and held her on top of him.

"Stretch out on me" he said. "You'll stay warmer that way than if you curl up."

"Mmkay," was all she managed before closing her eyes.

Brand pulled the cloak over them and wrapped his arms around her. Her hair spilled over his shoulder and he smiled in contentment. After weeks of torture and cruelty at the hands of an especially fanatic offshoot of the Vigilants he thought he'd never let another person touch him again. He just wanted to be alone, to lick his wounds and recover. When he heard her call to him on the road and then saw her and Tina - if that was her real name, which he doubted - put down their weapons, all his brain could think was safety. Of course, they'd picked them right back up again when he leapt into the carriage, but he couldn't really blame them for that. And then she'd shocked the shit out of him when he snuck up behind them, but again, understandable.

When they dragged him into the prison cell, he just about gave up hope of ever being free. He didn't want her to touch him, but he didn't want to be hurt anymore either. Her gentle touch took him by surprise and he was sure he was dreaming. Tina's advances made him anxious – not because of her, but because of everything he'd been through. Under different circumstances he'd have welcomed her. It was just one more thing that had been taken from him.

Several hours later Shaye woke with a yawn, and sat up to stretch. She blinked and looked around. Brand was stretched out on his back on the floor near the fire using Cyréne's satchel as a pillow. Cyréne was lying on her stomach on top of him with her head resting on his chest and her arms curled underneath her. She was wrapped in her cloak and Brand's arms were wrapped around her. They were both sound asleep. Shaye realized that she would have been furious if she woke up to find them like that without overhearing their conversation. It unnerved her slightly that Cyréne anticipated her emotions.

She wiggled her toes in her bed roll. She'd been a good person once, maybe not good like Cyréne, but she tried not to hurt people. Now, she murdered people for a living. Sometimes she did it just because she could and they deserved it. She smiled and stretched her arms over her head. When she left Cyrodiil she'd been looking for the road to redemption, but she realized quickly she wouldn't find it. Now, she was on the road to revenge, and it was a much better place to be. Helping this wolf had been an interesting diversion, but she was ready for him to go back to wherever he came from so that Cyréne would relax again and she could do her job.

Shaye got up silently and grabbed her weapons. She made a hasty exit, intent on having some peace and quiet before she had to deal with anyone. With any luck she'd spy someone in need of an arrow through their neck. She smiled that chilling smile and started up the ladder to the trapdoor.

Cyréne stirred from sleep before Brand did. She hated to get up in the mornings, especially the frigid, Skyrim mornings. She shifted slightly and tried to figure out what she was lying on. It was warm, but it was also hard and oddly shaped. It was broad where her head was resting and it narrowed below her hips and then her legs seemed to be resting in some sort of long indention. It was also moving up and down slightly. Her brain couldn't made sense of it. She stretched a little and then moved against it trying to get more comfortable. Brand came half awake with an aroused growl and tried to remember where he was. He recognized the smell and feel of a woman on top of him and decided he must be dreaming. He ran his hands over her anyway and growled again in approval. Her slow movements were doing things to him and he grasped her hips and moved her against him harder. When his hands came around to cup her behind, he decided it was a very good dream indeed and gave it a firm squeeze. That elicited a gasp from his dream woman and she went rigid in his arms. He frowned in his sleep and moved her against him again.

"Brand" she said softly

He groaned in response and went back to kneading her rear.

"Brand!" This time is name came out more as a hiss than anything else.

"Whaaaat?" he whined.

His dream woman giggled. "Stop squeezing my ass." She didn't sound angry, so he didn't stop.

"No," he said sleepily. "I like it." He gave it a hard squeeze and muttered, "it's perfect."

She giggled again. "Not that it doesn't feel good, but—"

"Does feel good . . ."

"Brand, love, don't make me shock you again."

He froze and opened his eyes. Cyréne was grinning down at him. "Good morning."

He stared at her for a moment, surprised she wasn't offended and furious. He finally managed a chuckle and a smile of his own. "A very good morning."

"Brand, love."

"Yes?"

"Hands."

He gave her a confused look before realizing he still had a firm grasp on her rear. He let go immediately and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

She smiled and laid her head on his chest for a moment. "It was a pleasant way to wake up, no apology needed."

He rubbed her back affectionately. "I could've done with a few more minutes of it."

He felt her smile against his chest before she moved to get up. She reached down to give him a hand and he smirked at her.

"Give me a few minutes."

She closed her eyes and fought back a grin. "No problem."