Fate's Games
(A/N: Third up today. I had trouble with this one because I absolutely hated this guy when I saw him. I still kin of do. During the Butcher quest, though, I had no clue what to do. I wandered around the main area of Windhelm and noticed that every single night these two were there, without fail, and he was just watching her. Hence the birth of this idea because, let's be honest, even men like him feel love, though all other emotions may be misguided.)
Brute
He watched her warming herself by the fire. Every night he watched her. He'd once paraded around the Grey Quarter drunkenly insulting the elves, whom he so despised. Not anymore, though. Now he stood and watched her there, curious. He had a mug in his hand, but never more than one, and usually he never got halfway through that. She wasn't all that pretty, but there was a moth-like beauty about her, delicate, pale, and subdued. She'd begun to take notice of him, often glancing up. At first it was wary. She was afraid of him. Why shouldn't she be? He certainly wasn't the gentlest person around, and the way he treated the elves… He cringed slightly at the thought, but why feel guilt? Elves were nothing.
He wondered what she thought when she looked up at him so guardedly. He supposed at first she'd been waiting for him to suddenly pounce on her and rob her of the last treasure she had left, then leave her battered and broken in some alley. He didn't move, though, just watched as if he was part of the statue he stood in front of all the time. Her glances became more curious than guarded or frightened. Then her gazes became ponderous.
She approached him once, just now in fact, and asked, "Spare a coin?"
Her voice was entirely unappealing. It sounded as if it belonged to an old woman, but Silda didn't look old, and he knew she was younger than him, probably. She was world weary and tired, though. Her life had been nothing but hardship. He supposed that could age one before their time. A pity, really. Such a waste. He grunted in disapproval and flicked one into her hands. "Walk away wench," he ordered.
"Bless your heart," she replied. He noticed she never said kind heart. She was right not to. He was far from kind. In fact, he was belligerent, ignorant, boorish, brutal, and any amount of other such things; but he tolerated her presence, and in fact welcomed it. The rare times she didn't show up he felt… he didn't know. Alone, empty? He wasn't really sure and he wasn't sure he wanted to figure it out. He would stay ignorant, thank you very much.
ES
The news was everywhere; the butcher was prowling the streets killing off young women for some reason or other. He couldn't really care less. Then again, he refused to think about the possibilities of what this butcher had done to them before killing them. If he had done anything else, that is. He couldn't care less. So why was he appearing in front of the statue so much earlier? Why was he beginning to follow Silda around when it began to get late and dark? She wasn't pretty, she wasn't as young as the other women who had died, so no butcher would take her, right? No, the butcher wouldn't get her. He knew this because he would die before he let the man harm her. This butcher would die if he tried anything.
"You're following one who is in no danger, Rolff," she suddenly said, and he froze. She paused and looked back at him. He blinked then grunted and continued following her, coming up next to her.
"I'll follow who I want," he replied.
"Funny. You never struck me as a vigilant," she remarked. He harrumphed.
There was silence. After a moment he brought out a loaf of bread and handed it to her. She was surprised but took it and began to eat. After a moment he said, "You shouldn't be out here."
"Where can I go?" she asked.
"I have a room in the inn. I'm never in there at night anyway," he replied. "It's fair game for you."
She was trying to tell if it was a proposition. He'd offered her his bed, but at the same time she knew he was telling the truth when he said he never slept in it at night. She finally decided it wasn't and nodded. "Thank you. If only you acted this way around the elves now." He scoffed. She harrumphed and walked away. She paused by the stairs in the cemetery, though, and looked back. After a moment she pursed her lips and returned to him, gently pecking his lips. He started. "Be careful," she warned. With that she was gone, and he was left gaping like a fool in the graveyard.
ES
He'd never been more terrified than when he heard a scream from the graveyard the next night. He didn't believed he'd run so fast in his life. He reached the railing and looked down, afraid of what he'd see. The one night he'd been unable to find her and there was a scream. He saw her, though, and he nearly fell to his knees with a gasp of relief. She was still alive, but she was shaking and terrified, gazing at the body of that Suzanna girl. He raced down the steps to her and pulled her away from it.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Th-the butcher… I heard her scream and ran to find her, but it was too late. The butcher ran by me, tried to stab me, but I pulled away and he didn't stop," she replied.
"Easy, easy," he said, feeling she was ready to faint. She suddenly seemed to recover and stood up straighter as the guards came running.
ES
"You were afraid for me," she remarked to him from the fire as he watched her like a hawk.
"When someone hears a scream they run towards it. I'm not a psychopath," he replied.
"I've never had anyone fear for me," she murmured. "It's strange."
He harrumphed and sipped from the mug. "Get used to it," he replied.
"You're not going anywhere, are you?" she asked, smirking into the fire.
"Unlikely," he answered.
"Good," she said. "It would be lonely here. I still wish you would grow up, though."
"Grow up?" he asked, offended. He was a full grown man!
"Elves," she simply said, and he started, catching on. He scowled and thought about blowing up at her, but to his surprise he didn't feel the need.
"Sue me," he replied.
"At least you didn't outright refuse," she said. He shot her an annoyed look. Did she have to twist everything? Since when was she an optimist? He supposed, though, it was new to her. She'd never had much to be optimistic about. Windhelm was a depressing place. Heck, Skyrim was a depressing place these days.
"Come inside," he offered. "I'll get you something to eat."
"You don't have to," she answered, looking up at him.
"About time I did a good deed," he answered, going up to her. She cocked her head curiously then stood on tiptoes and pecked his lips.
"You should try it more often. You'd be more likeable," she answered. He frowned. Couldn't she go one conversation without insulting him? She giggled and walked by. Like a puppy he followed, and kicked himself for it the whole way.
(A/N: Quest Referenced: Blood on Ice.)