Dragonborn Ascendant (26)

A/N: Now with the second chapter I promised for today, a nice little interlude from a different perspective.

-x-X-x-

Magnus had changed, it was easy for her to see.

As lovers, she might share a bed with him, she might be fond of him and deeply worry about his well-being, but it was also the intimacy they shared and the time they spent together that allowed her to see it.

Magnus changed.

Lydia was hopelessly in love with the fool to ever realise it. The brunette might have been able to hide it from him, but as a woman herself, Aela was intuitive and easily able to recognise the signs. How the housecarl’s eyes wandered, trying to steal furtive glances of her Thane; her often flushed cheeks as she talked to him, the little sweet smiles and the way she bit her lips, it was all clear as day to the huntress whose attentiveness was short to none.

“Talk to me,” she demanded, hand tracing circles on the Breton’s chest. “Magnus,” she called. His lack of response made her poke him another time, knowing the man was only feigning being asleep. “Magnus, please,” she tried another time, cold fingers tracing up until they found his chin, where they turned his head to face hers. “Talk to me, love.”

There was a beat, and in the dead silence of the night a sigh escaped her lover’s lips.

“What’s the problem, Aela?” Magnus muttered with a deep, low voice rumbling in his chest, the brunet shifting, his powerful hands grabbing her waist and hips.

“You are, idiot,” she sighed, fully aware of how her words might be misinterpreted.

But Magnus wasn’t like that, he had been around her long enough to learn her words were often harsh and biting but never evil, and sometimes not what she had truly wanted to say. Which is why he kept in silence, allowing for her to continue, her voice softer than before. “I know there’s something troubling you, Magnus, but you don’t have to hide it from me.” She said, kissing his chin.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice,” he admitted with a sigh, leaning down to kiss her lips.

It was moments like this that made her heart flutter. Soft touches, light kisses and gentle whispers… little things that brought a fond smile to her lips while she slowly caressed his hair.

“You can’t hide things from me.” She said.

“I guess not.” He grunted.

There was a beat.

“So,” started the redhead, “will you tell me what’s gotten you so quiet or not?”

He opened his mouth, but hesitated for a moment, shifting as he turned his eyes from hers.

“It’s nothing.” The Breton declared and the Nord caught his face another time.

“Magnus…” She insisted, her voice demanding.

“It’s nothing, Aela,” he kissed her. “I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” she mutters, biting her lower lip. “I know when you lie to me.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

“Then-”

“Trust me, Aela,” asked the brunet. She met his eyes, searching for something. “Please.”

Her expression twitched.

“Promise me,” she demanded, mounting on him so there was no chance for the battlemage to turn his gaze away from her. “Promise me you will deal with it, Magnus.”

His eyes met her, unflinchingly staring at her green orbs. “I promise.” He declared, voice firm and unwavering as gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “I’ll take care of this, and… if I don’t, I know who can help me…”

Who can… her mind wandered, and then her eyes widened. “Magnus…” she called her lover, her tone clipped as a frown started to tug on her face. “If you knew the Greybeards could help you, then-”

“Not the Greybeards,” the Breton interrupted her, which threw the redhead in a loop. If it wasn’t the Greybeards, the foremost experts in all of Tamriel on the dragon shouts, then who?

Almost as if reading her mind, or perhaps just seeing her confused expression, he clarified. “Someone related to them, but not the Greybeards.”

“You know that doesn’t make anything clearer to me, right?” She mumbled, making him chuckle in response.

“I don’t even expect you to know who I’m talking about,” revealed the brunet. “In fact, only the Greybeards and I know.” Said Magnus.

Aela scowled. She didn’t like not knowing things, even if staying in ignorance might be a better thing. But she’d let go of it. No matter how persuasive she was - thanks to Betrid and the some of the sisters in the Temple of Dibella - there were things Magnus was surprisingly tight lipped about, and certainly she wasn’t the one who was going to press him to open up more than he wanted to, no matter how much she wanted to.

A frustrated noise escaped her lips as she huffed, looking crossed at the man below her just for the moment it took him to bring her down so their lips could meet.

“It’ll be fine, love,” he chuckled, and she quivered a little bit, a bit of heat rising to her cheeks at the name she was called. “I promise everything will end up fine.” Declared the Breton.

And she believed him.