Warnings: Not a lime or lemon, though it includes much more than kissing.

A Blessing and a Curse

It was nearly midnight when he returned to Breezehome; the memory of the episode remained ever so clear to her. She was lying in bed, armor hung up, sword on its rack, and trying to sleep, when her follower, the Bosmer Faendal returned from his outing at the Bannered Mare. The door slammed open, and he staggered inside, swaying from left to right. Immediately she jumped from her bed, and ran downstairs to meet him. The Dovahkiin, called Ileana, assumed he wasn't the drinking type; he never once touched an ounce of mead on their way to the city of Whiterun. But there he was, far from sober.

"Hey, Faendal, what happened at the inn? Decided to cut the clean streak and do something… evil, for once?" She smirked. It was so unlike him, to reek of alcohol and look utterly disheveled, as though he had gotten into a fight. Farkas must've spiked his drink, she thought, I'll have to speak to him tomorrow about this.

The elf didn't respond; he only stared intently at her. And then his eyes began to drift down lower, to the thin fabric of her night garments. Ileana caught his gaze, and blushed. What was going on here?

He got up, and moved his hand to the side of her cheek, cradling it gently. If the Dovahkiin had been blushing before, she was red hot now. She was fixed on the spot, trying to see what he would do next. Stupid, stupid girlish feelings, she chided herself. For months she had been infatuated with her follower, for his loyalty, his brave heart, his kindness. Once, during a chilly night in the woods, he kept her warm by wrapping his arms around her. She had a chance to breath in his scent, that musky, nature-like aroma which she liked so much. But he loved Camilla Valerius, and she knew she stood no chance against the prettier, more womanly Imperial. Until now.

Ileana was so preoccupied by her thoughts that she didn't notice how Faendal had adjusted his hand behind her head. He tilted her head up slightly, and leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. It was only brief, and a second later he pulled away, smiling. "I've waited so long for this," his drunken voice had a lilt to it, different from his normal tone. Focusing back on reality, she found it rather attractive. She liked everything about him. Dragons and wars and quests didn't matter now, and for the first time, she wanted to act more like her gender, and have the opposite sex in the palm of her hand.

She returned his kiss, this time with ferocity. He gladly accepted, their teeth bumping. He tasted still of Black Briar Mead, but with its own unique flavor. Sweet, almost. His hands found their way around her back, holding her tight. She took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his slim waist. His tongue ghosted over her lips, eliciting a shiver from her. Her mouth opened, and his tongue found hers.

Desire was overtaking both of them, and she pulled away long enough to begin biting down on his neck, leaving bruising marks. "Not fair," the elf moaned/whined. "I'm supposed to be doing that to you." Instead of necking her, he began to undo the strings of her night gown, attempting to tug it down.

Alarmed by how fast everything was going, she whispered in his ear, "Shouldn't we be taking this upstairs?" He nodded, and he carried her up. He dropped her on her bed with a thud, and climbed on top of her. With a final pull, he removed her dress, revealing her naked body to him, pale skin, curves, and all. He whistled. "You're just as beautiful as I thought you'd be."

"Not as handsome as you are," Ileana countered, grabbing a knife from the nearby nightstand, and slashing straight through his shirt. She stood up, ran her hands over his chest, and examined his defined muscles, which were quite unexpected for an elf.

He closed the distance between them, again, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Now it's my turn." Faendal sucked on the soft flesh of her skin, gently at first, then once he found her sensitive spot, biting down hard. She shrieked, from both the pain and pleasure. He stopped. "My love, am I hurting you?"

"No, no," She lied. The sensations she was feeling were too much to bear. She wanted more of it, his kisses, and his sweet words. This passion, was it really love? Or just a dream from Vaermina? She had to find out.

Ileana lay down, and he followed, lying down next to her. She looked at her follower-turned lover. "Faendal…" She ventured.

"Yes, my darling?" He had a goofy, lopsided smile.

"Do you love me?"

"Why would you ask such a question?" He returned her question with a question of his own.

Ileana suddenly turned shy. "Because you never paid attention to me before. And I liked you for so long."

"What do you mean, never paid attention to you before? You're the most beautiful lady in all of Riverwood, perhaps all of Skyrim!"

"Riverwood… Faendal, who do you think I am?" Fear enveloped the Dovahkiin. Now this all had to have been a dream…

"Are you drunk enough to not know your own name, Camilla Valerius?"

And like that, her heart was shattered like glass.

…

Faendal awoke the next morning with a raging headache. "By the Nine, what happened last night?" He groaned. The sun was shining through an adjacent window directly in his eyes, and everything around him was spinning. The room he was in seemed highly familiar. He got up, and realized it belong to Ileana, the Dragonborn he was traveling with. "How'd I end up here…?" The elf glanced down, and saw that his shirt was slashed open, leading to much more confusion.

It took quite a bit of effort to get down the stairs without falling, but he managed to do it. An odor was wafting from the cooking pot, and he followed the scent. There was Ileana, stirring some broth. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were red and watery, as though she had been crying. She looked up, but didn't say a word.

"Ileana, how did I end up in your bed?" He asked, taking a seat right beside her.

"You came home from the Bannered Mare late last night. Surprisingly enough, you were drunk. So I helped you to my bed." She rehearsed the entire lie in her head; she couldn't bring herself to tell him what had really happened.

Despite the pain in his head, he smiled. She was always so kind to him, protecting and watching out for him. Déjà vu, he got up, and reached out to place his hand on the side of her cheek. But this time, Ileana saw it coming, and backed away, hurt in her eyes. Dammit, I'm going to start crying again, she thought.

He blinked. "Ileana, what's wrong?"

Her back was turned to him, she was walking away to get her things. "What's wrong?" He said, this time a little louder.

"It's nothing!" She snapped. Grabbing her satchel, she faced him. Now he was the one to look hurt. "I'm going to Farengar to buy some spell tomes. When I return, we're going to Ivarstead." With a huff, the door slammed behind her, leaving Faendal alone in Breezehome. He sighed. There had to be some way to cheer her up, for everything she had done for him. But in reality, there was nothing.

Outside, the Dovahkiin's tears flowed freely. It was raining, so no one could see her heartbreak. "I let silly feelings get to me. Magic can hide the marks on my neck, but not the scars in my heart. Maybe that's what being the Dragonborn is all about. Letting feelings go for the sake of Skyrim, for all of Tamriel. Even feelings of love…"

She started on the road to Dragonsreach. "Aye, being the Dovahkiin is both a blessing and a curse."

My first attempt at a Skyrim story! I haven't written for ages, but I hope it suits your fancy. There just aren't enough Faendal (or any) stories, so I wrote some myself.