The New Faces of Skyrim

Chapter Two - Dunane

He'd been in hard times when his eyes first laid on Aira. She arrived when he had spent the last of his meager coin on a warm room in Ivarstead's inn, a half loaf of bread, and a tankard of cheap mead. He stayed by the fire until midnight, lost deep in thought and stress. He could sell his armor for food -- it was fine Breton make -- and find work on a farm. Maybe he could join the Imperial legion stationed here and put his skills with sword and magic to use.

Dunane's thoughts had been disturbed by a door banging open. Curious, he turned to gaze at the sudden arrival. The door knocked against the nearby wall and swung back to the woman standing on the barrier. She stopped it with a hand, chest rising with rapid, quick flutters. Dark hair stuck up in wet, windswept patterns, the sound of the culprit thundering behind her. Stepping forward, she let the door swing close and made her way for the innkeeper, running hands over her hair to smooth it down after a self-conscious glance around the room.

"Aira," the innkeeper greeted, already sliding a bowl of steaming stew across the counter.

Aira, Dunane echoed silently to himself, memorizing the name to this young woman's face without an idea why he did so. He didn't know it then, but the words 'why did I do that?' became his description for this woman as the years wore on.

He had struck up conversation with her that night. Initially, she puffed up like an angry hen. Around midnight, when all the other patrons had retreated to their rooms or houses and Dunane had pulled every joke he had ever heard, she had relaxed into a giggling mess. In the morning, her puffed-up demeanor returned when she approached him, posing a cautious question. "Want to go on an adventure?"

And so the years passed. Aira had enough coin for food, but the two resorted to hunting and gathering most of the time as they traversed Skyrim. After dungeon diving and, to his shock, illicit activities on Aira's part, the two had a tent, cots, and a pack horse for their adventures.

Seven years passed. Eight years of draugr fights, enchanted amulets, and screaming matches with skeevers.

Seven years of laughing, crying, and curling up with each other for warmth during a snowstorm.

On the eighth year, Aira and Dunane had enough gold to purchase a house in Riften. Aira's illegal skills granted her a position in the Thieves Guild. One year passed and she earned her position as Nightingale and guildmaster. She loved it, and Dunane loved it with her.

---

Dunane turned over in bed to watch her. The moonlight fell through a nearby window, lighting her features. Aira was a mutt, a beautiful mixture of a Redguard's angular features and a Nord's proud nose -- a nose he loved to kiss. He did that now, leaning forward and lingering for just a moment to take in her scent. Pine needles and snowdrops.

Aira stirred, letting out a soft groan. "It can't be moonset yet." Her eyes fluttered open, squinted slightly in the aching memory of sleep.

"Sorry, love. You need to be getting up soon," Dunane murmured. "Although I would love for you to stay just a bit longer," he mused. She nuzzled closer in reply.

"I'm fine with it. But," and this made Dunane groan as well, "I have a guild to run."

"Fine, fine. But we go to bed early, tonight, alright? I like sleep and I know you do, too."

Aira laughed softly, stirring his chest with warm breath. "Got it. Early bedtime," she repeated, committing it to memory. Letting out another groan and a curse, she rolled away and stood up, stretching. Dunane watched her for a moment before his eyes grew heavy, closing out of their own will. He jerked at the soft ssshhhk of a sword being slid into its sheath, and watched a spot of shadow travel away from the wardrobe and out the bedroom door.