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Together

Summary:

Fasendil's cooped up in the camp, and his famous wanderlust is driving him crazy.

Cue a romantic walk in the autumnal forest with everyone's favorite sympathetic Nord Legionnaire.

Notes:

De-anoning from the skyrimkinkmeme, this prompt.

Anon asked for fluff between anyone and a male Nord.

This fic is in the same universe as Body of Proof and Guardian, and takes place somewhere between the two.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It was a beautiful fall afternoon in the Rift and Fasendil's wanderlust was getting worse. The itch for adventure had driven him into the logical arms of the Legion, but of late he had been stuck in one tiny camp in the Rift, awaiting General Tullius' command to march on the capital. He was well aware that the battles in the Pale and Winterhold he was hearing of, weeks after the fact, took priority at the moment.

Of course the Dragonborn had disappeared again, just after attaining Praefect. It was ridiculous.

Finally, when Hadvar shot the hundredth worried glance at him, he couldn't take it any more.

He stopped pacing, turning to face the Nord who lingered awkwardly by the tent flap. "We are going for a walk," he announced.

"Are you sure it'll help?" his lover asked quietly.

Bless him, he knows me too well. Not even a word of protest. Fasendil stepped forward and planted a brief kiss on Hadvar's crooked nose as the shorter Nord titled his head up to keep eyes on his face. "It has to be better than pacing." He turned away to grab his bow and quiver. He was better with a sword and magic, but it never hurt to keep an extra weapon. "Come on, and don't forget we're still in Stormcloak territory."

Hadvar patted the sheath that hung by his side, but he did stop to pick up an Imperial shield from the Quartermaster's collection as they wound their way through the camp. "We're heading out south for a walk," he explained to the startled sentries as their Legate strode past them, making a beeline for the fall forest.

Fasendil stopped when he reached the treeline, letting Hadvar catch up and breathing in the scent of woods and fresh air. The breeze was invigorating. Even better was the sweet lie of freedom, the feeling that if he wanted he could disappear into the forest and never come out.

Of course, he was an Altmer in Skyrim, and besides someone had to keep tabs on the Thalmor.

He let out a heavy sigh as Hadvar came up beside him. Neither spoke as they set off, but after a few minutes their hands drifted together. Neither instigated it, but both found comfort in the other's loose grip. They walked, hand in hand, never quite complacent, always listening and watching, but the wolves were wise enough to leave them alone.

They came upon the southern mountains and turned east, finding a small stream feeding into a still pool just north of the approach to an ominous tower. Fasendil sat down on a freshly-fallen log, facing the trickling waters, and without a word Hadvar sat down next to him, but facing the other way. It was lovely, peaceful, and Fasendil felt his wanderlust satisfied for the moment.

Hadvar scooted closer, hesitated, then laid his head down on Fasendil's armored shoulder. "This is nice," he murmured, and Fasendil put his arm around him. The position was a little awkward, but just being able to feel the Nord's steady heartbeat through his leathers, and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, made up for it.

They sat like that for a long time as afternoon became early evening, and a chilly breeze picked up. Fasendil shivered, though Hadvar seemed unaffected. Nords, Fasendil thought with no small amount of affection.

"Getting cold?" Hadvar said, lifting his head.

"Yes. Though I thought you were asleep."

Hadvar chuckled. "And leave you alone? Never." He stood up, stretching, and helped Fasendil up with a proffered hand.

A haunting roar echoed through the valley, and Fasendil reached for his sword. "Dragon?" he whispered.

All the color had drained out of Hadvar's face, and he stared south, at the tower. "Y-yeah," he said finally. Fear shook his voice. Helgen, Fasendil knew. The Nord had relayed a short, terse version of the events after they became lovers, but the mortal terror that wreathed him now was overwhelming even to the Altmer's eyes.

"Then let's go." Fasendil let go of his sword — no use against a dragon — and grabbed Hadvar's hand, pulling him quickly but quietly away. "If it attacks..."

"Together," Hadvar said breathlessly.

Fasendil did not pause, but later, when they had stumbled safely back to camp without a dragon on their heels, he had plenty of time to think about how his heart swelled at that simple word.

Together.

Forever.

Notes:


help me i can't stahp writing about these two *cries*