Work Text:
Still far from their destination, they had stopped by a small piece of water at some point between Tel Mithryn and Kolbjorn Barrow. At the sight of a small group of Netch, The Last Dragonborn had insisted on approaching them - a decision she had already made, despite any possible objection his most recent companion could have. She had practically thrown her pack and the rest of her things at him, in an impatient attempt to sate her own curiosity - not even bothering to wait for him.
Everything seemed to be going just fine, at least for Eseld. She was happily distracted with three adult Netch that floated around her, making curious sounds, bringing themselves closer to her to take a better look at the strange visitant.
Miraak on the other hand, was patiently waiting for her to be done so they could resume their journey. But then, out of nowhere, a younger and smaller Netch appeared by his side. Not comfortable with the proximity of the creature, he took a step away from it and waved if off with a brief gesture of his hand. The calf, on the other hand, didn’t seem to take the gesture kindly and started to let out some irritated sounds, tensing its much shorter tentacles to warn the stranger. The Priest frowned, casting an unappreciative glance at the creature, unconsciously bringing his right hand to the hilt of his sword.
This last move was enough to startle the small Netch, which only a few seconds later, when Miraak had turned his attention away from it, charged against him, slamming its hard shell against the man’s side, making him lose his dignified and proud stance, and forcing him to adopt a less graceful one.
Just in time to witness the peculiar incident, The Last looked back from her spot nearby the water. She could help her mouth to become agape out of genuine surprise.
Then it came the second tackle, followed by something close to a hiss.
This time, the First Dragonborn could not hold his tongue.
“What does this wretched thing want now?!” Miraak grumbled, rubbing the back of his arm and turning his head menacingly towards the stubborn creature. It had hit him strong enough to make him lose his balance and nearly sent his face against the ashy land. “You assured me they were docile and harmless.” He added, shooting another accusing glare in the direction of The Last Dragonborn.
“I would dare to say it doesn’t like you.” She commented in obvious amusement, not even bothering to hide the beam that brightened her already pale features.
“How observant of you.” His tone was as collected as ever but there was no friendliness in it.
“Interesting…” Eseld murmured, loud enough for him to hear it.
“I doubt it, but go on.” He replied, repeatedly brushing his palm against his robes to wipe off the ash from them.
“That mask doesn’t seem fool them. Maybe they can somehow feel the influence behind it.” Her head tilted to the side and her smile grew more subtle, but remained where it was.
The First Dragonborn seemed to be far from tickled by her remark, and kept staring daggers at her from behind his mask. He was having trouble deciding what bothered him the most, the idiotic creature that insisted on tackling him, or the childish woman that was enjoying the show far too much.
“You are giving it too much credit, Dovahkiin.” It was almost endearing that she thought so highly of this creature, and in any other circumstances it would have been. But not now. “You should find a way to get rid of this thing before I decide to do it myself.” It wasn’t amongst his plans to end every single trying being found on their journey through Solstheim, honestly, but this particular Netch was becoming a true annoyance.
The young Dragonborn shook her head at him and approached the irritated calf until she stood between the Netch and Miraak. “Just stop being rude to her. If you spoke to me like that I would have not been nice to you either.” She said, gently petting its shell and turning her attention to the annoyed female in front of her. “If I were you I would have hit him harder. He didn’t even get the message.” She spoke in a much soothing and sweet voice, the one she reserved only for animals.
“Are you done already? And by you I mean both of you.” The man behind them didn’t take long before he made himself noticed again and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Sure. But to help her forget about your awful manners you should probably do the same thing I just did. Be a gentleman and apologize to her.” Eseld turned to look back at him. Her expression surprisingly neutral, lacking the mocking grin he had expected to find there.
“You can’t possibly be serious.” The former priest responded incredulously.
“Of course I am. I guarantee you she won’t attack again if you prove you have no bad intentions.” Her state was simple and yet he seemed to be having trouble accepting it. ”You just need to bring your hand over here and pet her.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to do that.” He repeated.
Eseld let out a frustrated sigh. “Come on, it’s not that hard. Look.” Before he could react, she reached for his arm and firmly grabbed his wrist, pulling it so his hand stayed only a few inches away from the head of the Netch.
Miraak’s body went rigid, trying to prevent his arm from getting any closer. And only for a short moment they remained completely still. He was about to shoot her another warning glare, to force her to release him, but the moment he looked down at her, he noticed something. She was staring back at him.
Deep dark eyes locked with hers. They shone bright, as if they had a light of their own, while his only appeared empty as the void. He also noticed her slitted pupils, even now that they looked rounder and bigger due the lack of light. But that wasn’t something new. Even before they started travelling together, back when only saw each other as enemies, the peculiar shape and color of her eyes hadn’t escaped him. They reminded him so much of a dragon’s, that it was impossible to ignore.
So similar and yet so different.
He was certain she could not see his look behind the mask, but that didn’t seem to stop her from trying. It almost made him question if he had forgotten to put it back on. It was as if she was able to look right through it. Maybe she was finally able to hold his gaze. In the little time they had been together, he had noticed that impulse that urged her to look away whenever he fixed his eyes on her for too long. Perhaps she had found a way to control it, or perhaps she was simply too distracted or determined to care. Either way, it seemed to have a soothing effect on him, almost hypnotic. And he was immensely grateful for the fact that she remained completely oblivious to this.
Miraak couldn’t remember the last time he had ever experienced anything similar, let alone when he had last felt the touch of another human being. That could have been the reason why it was so easy to give in, to get lost in that simple and ordinary gesture. But there was truly nothing ordinary about the woman who held is hand.
His white haired companion perceived the change on the Priest’s demeanor, his body seemed to become less tense, not fully relaxed either, but it was a start. Although, the reasons were unknown to her. She had barely payed real attention to her own actions, being entirely focused on him and trying to handle the situation with care.
Eseld allowed him to keep observing her movements, and continued to guide his arm until his gloved hand rested on the shell of the now much calmed calf. Afterwards, the palm of her hand smoothly travelled from his wrist to the back of his hand, until her fingers lied upon his, and gently pressed them, caressing the shell under them.
It was a strange to feel the unfamiliar warmth of his hand beneath hers. She found out that, even if it wasn’t natural for them to be like this, it felt surprisingly good. She told herself it was only because of the satisfaction of teaching him something for a change, or the fact that some sort of animal was involved. But there was something more than that, something she would dare to think about in fear of discovering what it really was and ruining the moment. However, it was already too late for that.
Accepting their gesture, the Netch let out an almost musical hum, allowing its own tentacles go numb for a bit. Then, with a gentle push of its head the small creature turned its back on them and floated towards the group of adults that called for the calf to return.
The atmosphere they had created dissipated as they watched the creatures get lost in the greyness of the forest. Their hands were no longer pressed together, but once they were alone again, they were left to face another delicate situation.
Pressing her lips into a thin line, The Last Dragonborn closed her hands into fists, slightly brushing her thumb against her index finger. Once again, she did not dare to look up at him and silently prayed to whatever gods that could have been listening to stop the burning feeling on her face. It wasn’t a coincidence that it was the same hand that had been holding his only a few moments ago was the one that felt oddly empty now.
The First was by no means indifferent to this and opted for an alternate solution. “We should keep moving, there’s still a long way before we arrive to Raven Rock, isn’t it?” Those were the words he spoke in a well masked uncomfortable, and nearly embarrassed, tone.
Eseld only nodded, moving to gather her things from the top of a stump.
They both walked in silence, separated but still holding on to the phantom warmth of each other’s hands.