Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Re: Innocent DB/Hadvar - "Useless" 3b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Their relationship had been entirely too cheeky and rushed, since the outset. First time aside, after Riverwood, their encounters had been fleeting and frantic in whenever they discovered they'd been garrisoned together. Secret liaisons in abandoned forts and tents covered in snow. Desperate for their small piece of normality and warmth and comfort, in a world where long life and love were luxuries afforded only to anyone wealthy or apathetic enough to ignore the war.
And during the war, interspersed with Abigail's Dragonborn duties, which had spanned just over seven of their years, the rare meetings had grown into something more. Abigail had grown to care for Hadvar. More than she could have thought possible. His ability to laugh with her in the midst of so much terror filled her with warm hope.
The night carried on and they had little time to talk about the unknown hanging between them. Everybody wanted to drink a toast to Legate Abi, to the Dragonborn, who'd saved their hides at least twice. The resident bard, Arivanya, sat close all night; Abigail could see the words of a ballad forming and reforming in her mind and tried not to grimace at the thought.
A bell sounded eventually and the surly Elda announced it was closing time. “We're closing in five minutes, so you can all clear off!” she growled over the din.
“To the Gnisis!” someone bellowed immediately, which was followed by more laughter and cheering. Chairs scraped as the entire room full of revellers moved towards the exits. Abigail leaped up, grabbing Hadvar's arm so the two of them weren't swept apart in the exodus, and they were hustled toward the door with the crowd.
"The Gnisis? Haven't been there since..." Hadvar trailed off as they were jostled through the front double-doors of Candlehearth. 
Abigail stole a look behind her as they were turned about; Elda had quite the mess to clean up. Serve her right for being so rotten to everyone.
"Must be four years now, I guess, how about you?" Hadvar continued, the fresh, cool air hitting them like a wall. Abigail gasped. The revellers were dispersing, the majority heading toward the grey district, though some were clearly worse for wear and calling it a night. 
Abigail leaped from the exposed stairs to the side of the tavern, to where she hoped there'd be no wind, then shuffled on the spot, trying to warm up. 
"I will never get used to this blasted cold!" she rubbed her hands together. 
Hadvar laughed a little, not unkindly, tutting about Imperials and their lack of resilience, as he joined her and took her hands, pressing them between his. 
Her eyes followed his movement, as she ignored his jibe at her heritage. She looked down at them, wondering at how much larger his wrists and fingers were than hers. 
Abigail shivered still, but a near scalding warmth enveloped her hands. She blinked at him dumbly, marvelling at his resistance to the frosty temperatures. He blinked back, chuckling. 
"How do you do that?" she asked quietly. 
His eyes never left hers as he raised her hands, still cupped in his, toward his lips. "Do what?" he asked serenely, blowing warm air into a gap between his hands. 
Another wave of warmth washed over her hands, and this one flowed through her body. She stifled another gasp, this one not brought on entirely by the weather. 
"You know what," she quietened, smirking up at him, but unable to keep the shakiness from her voice. For a moment she baulked, wanting to try to keep the air somewhat light between them. This was the first night they had had in seven years that didn't have to be rushed or hidden; she was actually nervous, realising how she felt for the man standing in front of her, warming her hands in the shadows. 
Then she felt his soft lips graze her knuckles. Her focus snapped back to the here and now. To Hadvar. 
"I don't know," he was still so quiet, and placed another kiss, this time on her fingertips. "Will you remind me?" he asked. 
The tone behind the question melted her and the cold of night was no longer of any concern. With a pang, she wondered - or realised - that he was unsure as well.