Stories of Skyrim

Ancano

Sooo. Ancano always fascinated me on my playthroughs, and I still wish he had some sort of redemption. His arc in-game seems pretty unsatisfying.  

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There was nothing for it. Nothing left to deny, nothing left to say, nothing to defend. Her stomach wound up in knots, her fingers wrung so tightly she was sure they'd be bruised. Her feet had paced a track in the stone floors, though that might just be her imagination.

Every shuffle, every movement, every tiny little sound from outside the closed doors made her jump. It could be him, it could be nothing. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird, desperate for freedom. The anxiety and dread curling in her stomach could easily be mistaken for nausea; if he made her wait any longer, she might truly be sick. Brown eyes shot to the door as something collided softly with the outside. A moment or two of silence, then she was back to pacing the inside of her room. It wasn't big enough. Three strides and she'd completed a length, six and she'd done a circuit. She wanted to get out and pace around the Aspect, but it was too open, too exposed, too close to him.

A knock made her start so violently she tripped over her own feet. Just barely catching herself on the side of the bed, she hurriedly fixed her robes and tried to flatten the unruly flyaway hairs, however unsuccessfully. A proclivity to shock magic meant she was constantly battling with frizz.

"Open the door, Emalyn."

All at once she wanted to dive under her covers and pretend she wasn't there. Regret clawed up her throat in a strangle hold and the terrible, twisting feeling of wrong refused to let her breathe a full breath.

"Emalyn," he said again, louder, firmer, with another knock that said he wasn't remotely playing around. She might have been given a miraculous amount of leeway when it came to him, but the dark tone he spoke with said he was not amused.

Oh Gods.

She was dead. She was so dead.

Plastering on a smile she didn't feel, Emalyn cracked open the door. The faint hum of a ward spell lit up her left hand, hidden behind her back. Ancano shouldered his way through the door without so much as a hello, forcing her to step back and put some distance between them.

"Um. Hi?" she said, waving her fingers at him.

His face, utterly unreadable, gave her chills right down to her daedra-damned soul. Slowly, Ancano reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter. The familiar parchment stood out against the black leather of his robes and Emalyn suddenly wanted to set it on fire. She wondered how far she'd get before he hunted her down.

"Would you care to explain this," he said, the disgust in his voice curdling her stomach. She wanted to cry but refused to give him the satisfaction. He was trying to get a reaction. Emalyn was prouder than to give him one. With a lazy flick of his wrist, Ancano flung the letter onto her bed. "What is the meaning of this atrocity?"

"I... um..."

"Well?!" he demanded, his yellow eyes narrowed in rage. In two strides he was across the room and she was backed up against the bookcases, scrambling for an excuse. "I know I have allowed you certain liberties in the past, Breton, but don't for a moment think you are above reproach," Ancano's voice had lowered to a hiss, a furious whisper that she shouldn't find attractive.

He was rage and danger and Emalyn realised that there was something terribly wrong with her self-preservation instincts. The last thing on her mind was running away. "Ancano," she choked out, whirling thoughts desperately trying to arrange themselves into something coherent. Uncharacteristically, he waited while she sifted through it; though he didn't move away and still loomed over her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. "I... I'm sorry," Emalyn settled on saying, regretting it when his eyes flashed with unexpected hurt.

"So, it is false?" he said, bitterly. Her eyes moved to the letter then back to his face, watching his expression turn blank as he stepped away from her. "How dare you present me with such foul trickery!"

"It's not a trick," she said, swallowing hard as his eyes pinned her to the bookcases. "I didn't know how else to say... I couldn't stand the thought of facing you and seeing rejection. I thought this would be easier for both of us. If you didn't... if you don't return the feelings then you could just ignore the letter and we could pretend it was never written and I would go, like I wrote, I would remove myself from Winterhold and nobody would need to know." She was babbling, she was aware, the words spilling out of her as the tears began to burn in her eyes. The letter had been written after hours of agonising over the words, careful to include everything so could take the coward's route and not have to face him.

"Emalyn," Ancano whispered. He moved painfully slowly back towards her, his hands ghosting up the length of her body until they framed her face- not touching but hovering over her skin. "You were sincere?"

"Of course!" she said, her tone sharp. "Every word."

The words sank in far too slowly for her liking, but she loved the way his face softened when she glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his. Ancano touched her, finally, his hands stroking the hair back from her face, leaning in until his nose brushed against hers. Emalyn had never been more aware of how much bigger he was, his body towering over her.

"This doesn't feel like rejection," she whispered, unable to stop the words passing her lips. As he needed the assurance, so did she.

Ancano let out a sharp breath, tilting her head up so she couldn't avoid his stare. "Rejecting you would make me a fool of the highest order. Let Auri-El strike me down before such words ever pass my lips."

She froze in place when he kissed her, unusually tender, soft. Like he was testing her still, trying to catch her in a lie and confirm his fears. The kiss was over before she regained her senses, a feeling of loss tugging in her heart.

"You were right about one thing, however." Ancano pulled away, his voice a strained, low rumble. "Nobody can ever know. If we were discovered..."

Emalyn nodded frantically, craning up on tiptoes to chase his mouth. The heat and intensity of craving in her gut surprised her; however long she had pined after his affection, it boiled down to nothing in the face of the rising desire. "Don't worry, Advisor," she said, her hands sweeping up the length of his chest to hook behind his head. "I don't intend to share."

Ancano's face broke into a smile and she swore he laughed, the sound swallowed up by a kiss.