Shout out to thinking-wishfully101*tumblr*.com who suggested writing a Skyrim!Brittana crossover and since I'm kinda all over the place with my fics, why not? My intention is to write this at the same time I am writing the sequel to IIAC called Smooth Operator . When I did this with Sirens, it worked really well.
One does not require intimate knowledge of Skyrim to read this fic as I will try not to inundate it with game specific terms. I will, however, do my very best to capture the feel and epic quality to the game and blend it with Brittana. Feel free to critique. Feel free to send me PMs or asks or even ask questions in your reviews, I do answer just about everything addressed to me! :D By now, everyone should know how much I like to talk about anything.
To my hardcore Skyrim/Elder Scrolls fans: I will take liberties. This is an original plotline story; therefore, it will not strictly follow the plot of the game or even be 100% accurate. The series is long and honestly, I have NOT played all the games. I do NOT know the entire history of Tamriel (there's a fuck ton!). If I get something so wrong and you feel the video game goddesses will smite me, please send me a PM and I will fix it. Other than a horrific crime against the video gaming world, please take this story for what it is - high fantasy with dragons and Brittana aka a shit ton of FUN! ;)
Finally, I got a few of these - yes! I did mean to write Dovekin as Dovekin. That was not a mistake. I promise! :D
Structure: I will post the story in groups of chapters or "quest lines" similar to how I made sections forIIAC. This will give me time to write, update, and keep cohesion through Skyrim. It also means this story will span over a longer amount of time and occasionally skip forward in time. I'm sure you'll have no trouble keeping up. ;)
Brittana. Multi-Chapter. M for sMut, language, violence, adult situations – implied you are mature readers.
Dovekin
1.1
The wind whistled.
It brushed up against her back. It wrapped her tenderly and rustled her fur cloak before it broke around the frame of her body.
For the better part of the last three days, it had been her only companion. At times, when she had lost her way, it had gently steered her back toward her destination. As chilling as the wind could be, it had been a welcome boon. But now, as she stood where the wind had guided her, she gazed into the mouth of darkness and she wished the breeze could follow.
The instructions had been clear – she was to accomplish this task alone.
Clear blue eyes gazed back over the landscape she had just crossed. In the far distance, she could see the shadow of the mountain and despite the long days of travel, she felt as if the distance between herself and the mountain hadn't decreased. An ache settled in her chest at the view. She had a feeling no matter how far she travelled, that mountain would never leave her.
A soft whine in her ear followed by a puff of hot breath pulled her eyes away. The burly chestnut brown horse padded at the ground in agitation and impatience. He took a step forward and nuzzled his nose into her hair and whined once more. Obviously, he wasn't too pleased about where they had stopped. Brittany ran her hands down his neck and cooed to assure the horse that he was fine. He wouldn't be the one entering the cavern. "I guess I can't convince you to come down there with me, huh?"
The horse must have sensed the intentions of her question and whined even harder. He backed away from the ring of stones. Brittany glanced down to keep her footing. It wasn't a hard fall, only fifteen feet down, but serious injuries could happen over something much less. It would be foolish to lose her footing so close to her destination.
Her eyes lingered below. Stone steps ran around the circumference of the opening. It was as if someone had carved the stairs into the very earth. The dark stones and the engravings on the walls and door had an ominous quality. She didn't blame her horse for balking at the edge.
"I don't blame you if you don't stick around. I don't know when or if I'll be back." Brittany pulled the harness from his face and undid the straps to his saddle. She tossed his pack to the ground. The horse lingered a few seconds, but eventually he inched away before trotting off. Brittany sighed.
She shouldered the pack. Her boots hit the stone steps and echoed through the opening. Each step brought her closer to the door. By the time she could touch the carvings on the opening to the crypt, Brittany had memorized the curves and definition of lines. The intricate markings were mesmerizing. She reached out. Her gloved fingers grazed the cold stone, but she did not push forward. It wasn't the first time in the last few days she wondered how this could all be happening to her. How could this not be a dream? Could she stop now and return home?
The cool wind from the mountain blew once more against her back. Its touch was no longer a gentle suggestion, but a willful gale. It swept through her furs and crashed against the tiniest cracks in the stone until it whistled and howled. Its message was clear – there was no turning back. There was no return. Home was gone.
As the wind at her back gathered speed and force, Brittany imagined it was the strength of the wind which cracked the great doors to the crypt open. The stone groaned. The wind gained speed. Britt pressed the full force of her body weight forward until the door finally gave. The wind rushed forward. The light, which had been so bright a moment before, vanished. Brittany stilled at the threshold of the crypt. Her bright eyes tried to penetrate the dark, but it proved impossible. She lifted her left hand. A gentle glow emanated from the center of her palm. She focused on the glowing dot until it started to expand – the light stretched from her palm and ran through her finger tips until it could no longer be contained her hand. The light rose in brilliant white tendrils. They swirled around themselves over and over and over again. The light folded and folded until the folded edges softened and rounded. Finally, it formed a suspended ball of glowing energy. The warmth from the light and the release of magicka flowing through her body felt like a welcomed friend. Brittany smiled. The conjured light bounced in her palm and emitted a soft glow large enough that Brittany could now see beyond the entrance.
Unsurprisingly, it was a cave.
Brittany sighed and dropped the saddle pack next to the entrance in case she did make it back. She crouched down and rooted through its contents. The ball of light hung in the air above her head. It cast light over her frame and outlined the steel gauntlets over her wrists and the cracked leather gloves she had spent a lifetime working in. The light ran down her legs and caught hints of steel around her calves and thighs. The armor breastplate protected her upper body. Chips and dents cradled the light and showed the years of protection. The armament had been well used. She unclipped the heavy fur cloak and placed it over the pack and harness. Despite the chill in the air, it would only hinder her arm movements.
She did a quick check of her inventory: knives, pouch, herbs, a few pieces of dried venison, Eider cheese, and one small healing potion. She readjusted the straps to her belt and breastplate. Once she was certain they were secure, Brittany reached back and unloosed the tie that secured her battle axe. The oiled leather creaked as she gripped the handle. The weight felt good. The bindings eased. It was ready for easy access.
The light from the ball dimmed.
Brittany reached up once more and held it in the palm of her hand. She could have increased its light, but she didn't know if the crypt held any occupants – living or not. She kept it dim so as to only shine around her general proximity. Perhaps she could retain the element of surprise and leave without engaging any foes.
Divines knew she needed a stroke of luck. It felt like years since the they had been on her side. She muttered a silent request to the nine hoping to be answered by at least one of them.
All she needed was one.
The dark halls of stone and earth twisted. At times, Brittany feared she would lose her way, but she trusted the old pathways to guide her. She was grateful for not wearing steel boots as the hallways already echoed and magnified every noise. She was careful to take her time – to make each step cautious and calculated. There were stories of the ancient traps and perils in the depths of these crypts. One false step could mean a guillotine in the head or an arrow in the leg.
Brittany turned the corner and kept the ball of light in her hand low to stop it from casting shadows, but another light down the new corridor caught her eye. The blonde Nord crushed the ball of light in her hand to extinguish it. She crouched low and waited for her eyes to adjust to the distant light. A warm breeze and the familiar smell of burning wood filled the air.
She was not alone.
No higher power saw fit to answer her prayer. Confrontation waited down the hall.
She crouched low and clung to the shadows against the wall. From here, she could see no movement or sign of life. She didn't want to take chances, especially with bandits and looters who were obviously desperate enough to brave the ancient tombs of their ancestors. As she drew closer, Brittany could see there were no bandits near the fire. In fact, their rolls, blankets, and a lone chest were unguarded. On the spit, the hind of what Brittany could only imagine was a Skeever rat, had been long forgotten. Its flesh was charred and smoked over the untended fire. She released the hold on the handle of her axe and allowed the weapon to settle on her back once more.
What happened here?
She wasn't a tracker, but she imagined the scuff marks of boots in the dirt were frantic. The heels dragged and the scattered remaining objects appeared as if they had been tossed or thrown hurriedly. Whoever camped here had left in a hurry. Brittany kicked at one of the rolls and quickly counted.
Five.
There had been at least five of them.
Not including whatever made them abandon camp.
A noise echoed through the opening beyond the site. Brittany gripped the handle of her axe, but this time she eased the blade from its bindings and drew the weapon in front of her body. The opening was the only place to move forward in the crypt. Therefore, whatever made that noise dwelled directly in her path.
Brittany conjured the small ball of light once more, but tucked it in the lip of her boot so it would create almost no light except where she stepped. She didn't want to give anyone an easy target for an arrow or a thrown knife. It also allowed her the use of both hands on her axe. Quietly, she crouched low and entered the doorway where she had heard the noise. Her stomach clenched in anticipation.
The Divines had most certainly not answered her request. Avoidable or not, she was about to come in contact with a someone or a something.
Another noise echoed. Closer, Brittany could hear the sound of boots scuffing upon stone. A crash sounded further down the hallway.
The loud sharp crack of steel meeting steel rang through the darkness and ran through Brittany's body. The hair on her forearms stood straight and her heart patted faster and faster in her chest. Her two gloved hands twisted around the leather handle of her axe. The air temperature dropped. For the first time, Brittany regretted leaving her cloak. The crypt subtly changed in nature. With the little light from the tongue of her boot, Brittany could see the long rectangular cut-outs in the walls. Skeletal corpses, long past the point of decomposition, lined the walls three at a time in columns. Brittany stopped and peered into the closest cut-out. This ancestor had been dead for perhaps centuries. The bones were brittle and clung together from ancient memory rather than from the strength of sinews and muscles. A sword rested beside the prostrate body. Faded decorations hung round its neck. The sword's edge had chipped and fragmented from years of rust and sedentary life, much like its owner.
Careful not to disturb the ancestors, Brittany pulled back from the wall.
There was something wet beneath her feet. A pool of blood followed by a trail of blood. She was close now.
Another crash echoed through the hall and she remembered she wasn't alone.
Clang. Clang. Scuff. Bang. Clang.
The sounds were growing louder and closer. Brittany pressed her body against the wall where there were no tombs and peered around the corner. A lit torch in the hallway illuminated the scene. Brittany could only see the backs of three men. Weapons collided and shields lifted to turn away blows. A short sword sliced through the air and sent one of the men falling backward stunned. He held his face. Blood bubbled over his fingers as he tried to keep the skin of his cheek from flapping down where a sword had sheared off part of his face.
He yelled, in what Brittany imagined, was terrible pain. He stayed on the ground and frantically rummaged through his cloak and worn armor. Brittany watched with patient fascination as he tipped the remaining contents of a small bottle into his mouth. The bleeding from his face ebbed and slowed. He still had a nasty gash, but the wound appeared to cauterize instantly. If he survived the next few minutes, he would have a scar for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't bleed to death or lose his cheek.
A sharp whistling shot by her head as a thrown knife plunged into the cave wall only a few feet from her vantage point. Brittany paid the weapon no attention. Her bright blue eyes glanced up to find its source. Between the two remaining combatants, Brittany could now see who had sliced open the man's face.
A woman.
Dark hair flew between her opponents as a short sword and a knife cut through the space around her. After she had cut open their friend's face, these two men were wary of attacking her directly. Their purposeful distance revealed their trepidation. Their swords wavered.
Not just a woman.
Brittany felt a chill run through her body as their eyes met. Even in the heat of battle, in the dark of the crypt, and defending against an onslaught of attacks, she had spotted Brittany watching. Her eyes quickly ran through Brittany and found every weakness in her armor. She had measured the length of her axe handle and the breadth of her arm span. She had counted the amount of strides it would take to meet in the corridor and the speed an arrow from a bow would fly to kill either of them from the distance. In an instant, the woman had visually disarmed her. The axe in Brittany's hands felt heavy.
The man on the left rushed forward. He swung his weapon wildly in the air. The other, sensing the woman's attention on his friend, made a lunge for her only a moment later. Outnumbered, Brittany rose instinctively to rush to her side. The odds were against her. But the first man only made one frantic swipe before the tip of her short sword penetrated the center of his chest. The point of the blade tented the back of his leather jerkin. She had run him straight through.
He sputtered blood in one pathetic attempt to cling to life before his body dropped to the ground. The sword remained tight in his body, but its owner seemed unconcerned. She spun two daggers in her hands. A wicked smile invited her attackers to join their friend in death.
The second man didn't have time to consider her offer.
He bore no sigils on his chest before. Now, two bright red lines striped his chest. He staggered backward and glanced to the man who had hastily healed his face with the remnants of the potion. They were deciding if it was worth it. Standing against the wall, Brittany's eyes ran over the pool of blood and then back to the woman. They had no chance.
They must have sensed it too.
They inched back and kept their swords angled at her body.
They were moving in Brittany's direction.
Brittany knew she would have to make a decision to either run herself, risk an open conflict with two opposing factions, or –
Dark eyes met hers in the dark. They were asking the same questions.
- cut off the men's escape to aid this mysterious woman.
Britt twisted the leather grip of her axe and stepped out of the shadows. For the first time since she started observing the woman, her dark eyes flickered uncertain. She hadn't expected Brittany to step out. Brittany could see her counting. She would have three opponents once again. Unfortunately for her, Brittany was an unknown variable and considerably better armed than the men. Brittany could see her weighing the odds once more.
The two men must have noticed the way the woman's eyes shifted and sensed a fourth presence at their backs. They stopped their retreat and divided their attention between the two women.
"Another one?"
The man with the scarred face said nothing.
"Where are they coming from?!"
Brittany still hadn't decided what she was doing, but the other woman assessed her different. She was not with the men. This changed everything.
Before any of them could make another move, an icy chill swept through the crypt. A shudder violently tore through Brittany. Only once before had her Nord blood not been resilient to the bitter cold of her homeland. The unnatural ice touched steel and armor. White spider webs of frost clung to the metal and spread up. The same expression of disbelief mirrored on the others' faces. The supernatural cold could only be produced by one kind of creature which stalked the depths of Skyrim's underground.
Bright blue orbs hovered in the air around them. They hung suspended in the darkness. Brittany only wished they would have been disembodied. Too late to run. Too late to mount a proper attack, Brittany did the only thing she possibly could. She lifted her axe and made a blind swing behind her. She shouted. "Draugr!"
Her axe bit into an old rusty blade. Two icy blue orbs glared with malice a few inches from her face. Ice frosted the edge of her axe. Even with her gloves, Brittany felt the abnormal cold transfer from the Draugr's sword down her own weapon. Her fingers stiffened and tried to resist the chill. The Draugr opened its mouth. Rotted teeth. Broken bones. Molded, crusted, and threadbare clothes. The very corpse she had examined on her way down the hallway had risen. Brittany deftly step sided and parried the Draugr's lunge and lifted her two-handed axe. The battle axe easily cleaved the Draugr's arm from its body. She completed her counter attack and separated the Draugr's head clean from his shoulders. Blood rushed through her veins. Adrenaline pumped through her body. Her breathing steadied even as her heart rate elevated. The unnatural cold of the Draugr no longer had any effect on her.
A battle cry at her back echoed the buzz and excitement coursing through every fiber of her body.
It had been the woman. She was shouting ancient calls to arms.
Brittany turned to locate her. The woman had effectively backed herself into a wall where she would be able to defend against the Dragur. The two men were fighting their way to join her.
Skeletal hands broke through rocks and closed tombs. Two more Draugr emerged from their tombs on the wall baring various weapons. Their decayed bodies bore unusual strength. If they didn't clear the corridor in the next few minutes, they would be overrun. The wall broke in front of her. Brittany heaved the axe up and chopped the waving hand off before the Draugr had fully emerged from its burial place. She rushed forward to close the distance between herself and the other three humans. Her strides lengthened.
"The Draugr are too much, Brennah, we can't stay here!" One of the men yelled. They were close to the woman and fighting a pack of Draugr haphazardly.
"I'm not leaving without it."
"Forget it! Or we're going to die with this crazy bitch."
The dark haired woman had just finished decimating another Dragur in front of her. Their bodies piled at her feet. She took two steps forward and grabbed the back of the man's head. She bunched his hair and yanked him hard. Taken by surprise, he had no chance to regain his balance.
"You were going to die anyway."
His eyes widened. He reached up, frantic to escape from the woman's grasp. He looked to his friend with the scarred face one. "Brennah! Help!"
But it was far too late.
His companion, the so-called Brennah, barely blinked as he watched the dark-haired woman cut his friend's throat with one ruthless drag of her blade. The body dropped lifeless to the ground. Her eyes lifted and she stated with certainty. "You're next."
Perhaps it was the wicked mark she had carved into his cheek or the way his eyes were cold like the Draugr, but his smile felt sinister. He shook his head in defiance. "Not by your hand, girl."
The path cleared for a moment. He took off down the corridor without hesitation. Brittany pressed her back into the wall to let him pass. She had no quarrel with either of them and unlike the woman, Brittany wasn't going to take advantage of their compromising position and cut a man down when they were under attack from a greater danger.
More Draugr were exiting their resting places and lumbering forward. They sealed the way the scarred man had taken. It would be impossible to chase after him without cutting through the rest of their ranks. The short brunette reached behind her back and withdrew her bow. She notched an arrow without delay and aimed down the corridor in Brittany's direction. Without a shield to protect herself, she lifted the broadside of her axe and angled it in front of her face and upper body.
The arrow flew harmless past her and whistled through the crowd of Draugr.
A muffled "hmpf" cried in the dark. She had threaded the arrow's flight through the Draugr and must have hit the fleeing man before he turned the corner.
Brittany dodged another broken sword swung in her direction.
There was no time to marvel at the woman's shot in the dark. Brittany widened her stance. The weight of the axe carried her swing through the Draugr's rusted chestplate and propelled her into the next opponent. Without missing a beat, she pivoted on her right leg and pulled the weapon loose. The blade splinted the Draugr's bow and rendered the weapon useless. The blonde dropped low and avoided the deadly stab of the woman's blade.
Instead of piercing Brittany's gut, it drove through a third Draugr.
Surprised, Brittany glanced up. Those dark eyes were unreadable. Had she meant to kill the Draugr or Brittany?
There was no time to ponder. Brittany knocked her axe up in the air in time to deflect the woman's second short sword. Brittany bounced back on her feet lightly and pointed the axe out. The woman did the same with her swords. Britt dared to break eye contact for a second.
Draugr littered the floor around them both. They had survived the ambush.
The danger should have passed.
But Brittany's skin still tingled and her body thrummed.
The danger was far from over.
The woman moved with lighting speed. Two bright blades flew through the cold air at the same time. Brittany barely had a chance to block the first. It glanced off the edge of her axe. She commanded a second of time to avoid the second and more deadly of the attacks from the woman's left arm. It swung deceptively low – it would be a dirty blow. Nimbly, Brittany danced back and readjusted her stance to compensate for the double blades.
Their eyes once again locked.
The flurry started once more.
Brittany had almost no time to compensate for the woman's speed to counterattack. The speed of her attacks rendered the axe useless as a weapon and served as an adequate shield at best. Her body twisted and turned away. Her feet made quick powerful steps to avoid the onslaught of swings and swipes. The sturdy axe prevented the woman's blades from penetrating Brittany more than a few times.
Brittany consciously decided to stop trying to fight her. She relaxed and allowed the motion of their sparring to take her on a ride.
Her feet lithely danced around the corpses on the floor. Every step effortless glided over the hard ground. Her body dipped and turned away from each attack with ease. A quick push turned into a side-step. She stopped watching the weapons flying at her – her attention remained completely on those dark eyes. Brittany didn't need to counter. It would have been impossible. Besides, there was something so satisfying when dancing with a skilled opponent.
The woman must have sensed Brittany's change in tactics. She glanced up. Her head cocked to the side as she waited, Brittany didn't swing or take advantage of her distracted opponent.
Brittany's unexpected behavior was enough to break her concentration. An errant limb from a dead Draugr tripped the shorter woman. She stumbled backward off balance.
Understanding this would be her only opening, Brittany lunged forward. The woman recovered quickly. She rolled away. The butt of Brittany's axe handle barely missed the woman's chin.
Their stances shifted as they once more squared off.
This time, it was the other woman who paused to reassess her sparring partner. Her tongue ran along her bottom lip. Brittany didn't know why she focused on the woman's mouth. The heat shooting through her body could have been from the fighting, but it didn't explain why she wanted the woman to lick her lips once more.
They were both panting and exhausted.
The mysterious woman's eyes sparkled with something Brittany would have considered respect, at the very least intrigue.
"You let him go." It was only the second time she had spoken and Brittany wasn't surprised to hear she still retained the low throaty quality in her voice. It felt edged with brutal honesty. The last time she spoke, she had ended the other man's life. She was dangerous. As if to further emphasize the point, the short sword in the woman's right hand bounced with every word; the point aimed straight at Brittany's throat.
Very dangerous.
"Was I supposed to stop him?" Instinctively, Brittany took a step to her right. The other woman mirrored the movement.
"It would have saved me some trouble." The short sword swayed closer to the edge of Brittany's axe.
"Trouble?" Hyper aware of the bodies at their feet, Brittany took her time with each step. "It didn't seem like trouble when you killed his companion in cold blood."
The woman threw her head back and laughed. "Cold blood? Had he found you unaware, he would have done much worse than just kill you. At least he had his weapon drawn. He could have defended himself."
Britt gritted her teeth, but couldn't fault the woman's logic. They had been in the thick of battle. "Sounds like you know him."
"I know his type." Testing, the sword drew closer to Brittany's axe. They were practically touching.
Any other time, Brittany wouldn't have allowed her opponent to get this close – not when her strikes were so quick. But something felt different.
"Would you strike me down so quickly?" Brittany countered. The grind of their weapons sounded in the air. The small vibration rippled down her arm and through her body.
The question lingered in the air. Energy rippled through their bodies and transferred from the edges of their connected weapons.
"Perhaps." She licked her bottom lip once more as she considered the question. "But…I don't know your type." She paused. Her mouth quirked to the side with an afterthought. "I doubt I could strike you down any more quickly than what I just tried."
"Then would you like to?"
"Would I like to what?" The question confused her - it was a strange request from a sparring partner. In disbelief, she sought clarification. "Strike you down?"
It was Brittany's turn to find amusement in the encounter. "No." She lifted her axe back. The pressure from the woman's sword instantly released. The tension between them lessened, but their eyes remained locked. For some reason, Brittany enjoyed the way the fierce warrior couldn't hide her confusion. Or the way she struggled to pull her own sword back. It waivered in uncertainty. "Would you like to know my type?"
She hadn't been expecting that.
It shouldn't have been a hard question. At least, it wasn't for Brittany. The embers that burned in the woman's eyes churned the question from every angle. Clearly, she had never entertained such a request before. A stubborn and skeptical streak wove through the fiber of her nature. But- it wasn't all blind obstinacy. Her eyes and body language were intelligent and calculated. Layers beyond the finely crafted armor created the sinewy exterior of a very complicated woman. That feeling; it was a feeling Brittany experienced not too long ago. It was the very same feeling that created the circumstances leading her to this dark corridor. It tingled throughout her body. Brittany waited with the appearance of patience for the woman's answer. When in reality, she desperately desired to hear her reciprocate the feeling.
Perhaps this feeling wasn't exclusive.
Her mouth opened, but this time when she spoke, her voice cracked as if she had lost an internal argument with herself. "Yes."
The single word rushed through the crypt. It felt like playing with fire.
"Brittany." In a moment of blind trust, she sheathed her axe in the straps behind her back. "Brittany, Daughter of Pierce."
Wary and distrustful to a fault, she was slow to sheath her weapons. "Santana." She held her hand out. "Just Santana."
A bright smile, irrepressible in the dark cave, spread across Brittany's face as she took the woman's hand. "Santana." The name sounded foreign, but her accent was true Nord. It rolled around on her tongue. "Just-" Brittany teased the way the woman had made a point to omit her surname. "-Santana."
"Look, I don't mind not killing each other." Santana had taken the point. It had been two hours since she had last sheathed her swords. Brittany had stopped worrying about her attacking from the moment they exchanged hands. So it didn't bother her in the least. "But, honestly, I don't see why you're here to begin with."
This was stupid. This was how someone got killed. How could she trust an absolute stranger to guard her back? She could hear a thousand voices telling her how foolish she was for trusting in this partnership. It was pure folly. If this woman stabbed her from behind, Santana would only have herself to blame. Yet…her shoulder blades didn't pinch in discomfort or worry.
"I have my reasons." Brittany casually dismembered a corpse lining the wall as they walked past. The hacked limbs clattered to the floor and the sword it had been wielding dropped useless. Better to be safe than have another Draugr ambush. "Like I'm sure you have yours."
"They stole something from my family." Santana stated. She slashed particularly hard at a thick covering of webs which stretched the length of the hallway. They had been tracking droplets of blood through the corridors for some time. The arrow Santana had loosed during the skirmish had hit its mark. It was a flesh wound. Not enough to stop him, but enough to follow. Santana bent down and touched a semi-dried drop of blood. She stood up and took another swipe at the webs around them. "Have they stolen something from you too?"
"No. I was sent to collect an artifact deep in the crypt. I'm here because I am-" She had been called many things during her lifetime: a daughter, a woman, a lover, a fighter, a Nord, but this new title seemed too unreal to fathom. It still made her uncomfortable. Brittany muttered the word. "Dovekin."
"Dovekin?" Santana chopped at some more webbing. What in all of Tamriel was a Dovekin? It sounded like some strange cult like the Grey Fox from legend. Would-be adventurers loved taking on the names of animals for their monikers. So this Brittany wanted to be known as a flying-rat? Whatever. Santana would have chosen a more fearsome animal for her own avatar. But in an odd way, it sort of fit Brittany. She might be strange, but at least she could fight, unlike most animal-named wanderers.
Santana felt tempted to turn back to get another look at her. In fact, Brittany was nothing like the bandits she had chased down or the fighters she had come in contact with over the years. She certainly didn't wear the resistance blue of the Stormcloaks or even the domineering red of the Imperials. Without a standard on her cloak or a color to denote a faction, Brittany could have been a Companion, but they had been relatively quiet since the tensions between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials had escalated. The Companions were keeping their heads down and their necks free from the rope or the chopping blocks. It was safer to stay unaligned and in the shadows than to risk any sort of activity.
Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin.
Santana repeated the name in her head once more, but she couldn't place her to a region or a clan. Pierce was a surname unfamiliar to her. But like Santana, they shared the same Nord dialect, if not the same accent. Curious to hear the woman talk again, Santana continued. "Do you know what kind of artifact?"
"No. I was told I would know it when I found it."
"Those are some bullshit instructions, like something from an old man in a mountain with too much time on his hands." Santana sliced through another round of webs. She was too busy batting off webs to notice the way Brittany's head cocked to the side and her cheeks flushed at Santana's sarcastic response. Santana continued. "Who's the client?"
"It's not for a client." Brittany stated softly.
Santana's arm paused in mid motion. Not a client? That ruled out the slight possibility that Brittany was a thief or even a freelance sword for hire. She glanced back.
For all the power and deadly skill Brittany Pierce, Dovekin, had displayed during their scuffle, she walked behind Santana with trustful ease. A ball of conjured light danced in the palm of her hand. Each footstep she took was done with poise and grace. Her bright blue eyes danced around the walls. Carelessly, she dropped the blade of her axe on the bodies of potential Draugr as they passed. Deadly, lithe, and utterly trusting, Brittany never stopped to check the integrity of Santana or where she was leading them. It could have been a trap, death, or a plane of Oblivion, and Santana had a feeling Brittany would have trusted her to the very end.
She was a study of contradictions; an utterly confounding mystery.
Another thick set of webs blocked their path forward and since Santana had been paying more attention to the way Brittany concentrated on the ball of light, the warrior ran straight into the sticky strings.
"By Talos's arm!" Santana whacked at the webs and yanked back to avoid getting tangled further. It was proving more difficult than before. "Where is the bloody spider nest?"
The light behind her expanded.
The webbings still clung to her arms and wrapped tight around her limbs.
The light grew wider and spread. It caught the beads of condensation in the damp underground.
Santana struggled to free her sword arm.
"Santana." Brittany whispered calmly. She threw the ball of light in the air. There was something about the way she said her name. Santana hadn't quite pinned it down yet, but she did lift her head. Brittany stood a few feet away. "I think we might be in trouble here." Both hands gripped her axe and her bright blue eyes were focused on something beyond Santana.
No, they were focused behind Santana.
Santana turned.
Dozens of legs were spiraling through the mess of webs toward them.
"Brittany –" Santana's heart started to race. Adrenaline released. Her hands flexed. A wave of heat flooded her system. "—this is the first and last time I'm going to ask this, but – " Santana could literally feel the vibrations from the hundreds of legs crawling down the strands of webbing toward her. They were moving across the webs so quickly, Santana's body shook up and down from the tiny tremors. Bad. This was bad. Santana attempted to wrest herself from the trap once more, but struggling had only tightened the bond from the webs to her armor and skin. By herself, she would be an easy meal for the Frostbite spiders. " – could you help m—"
Before she could finish the request, Brittany had already sliced through the thick sinews of the webs holding Santana.
The blonde flashed her a smile. "My pleasure." Santana flushed at the cocky ease in which Brittany had chopped her free from the spider's trap. "But just so you know – I think I heard noises down the hall. I think we may have some more Draugr company joining us shortly. I'll take the Draugr if you can handle the spiders."
Santana didn't have time to protest or suggest another plan of attack; Brittany turned and charged headfirst into a group of Draugr behind them. Like she had done during their fight, she bounced through attacks and flanked the first Draugr with three long strides. Her axe should have encumbered her fluid movements, but she used the weight of the weapon as a counter to her otherwise loose and unstructured fighting technique. From the way she held her axe, to how her body moved, to the seemingly random shifts in her footing, Brittany was the very definition of unorthodox.
Santana didn't understand how this woman had almost bested her.
Clicking.
Clicking.
Clicking.
Clicking.
She dropped low and avoided the first spider to launch itself from the webs. The second one met with the pointy ends of her swords. Its shrill cries did little to deter the rest of them. There were more than Santana imagined, which meant there was a mother somewhere near. Frostbite spiders rarely attacked in force if they weren't protecting eggs.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
A ball of venom shot at her from afar. She barely dodged the poisonous discharge. Disgusting. "By Talos's beard, I hate spiders."
Thrust. Parry. Dodge. Thrust. Footing. Block. Thrust. Swipe. Guard. Footing. Step. Angle. Check Flank. Blonde hair. Three Draugr surrounded her. Defend. Brittany. Footing. She broke loose. More spiders. Check Flank Again.
Thrust- a disembodied Draugr head flew through the air above her – Mandibles. Click. Snap. Long legs covered by deer skin leggings and protected by light armor over shins and thighs kicked into the chest of a nearby Draugr. The corpse flipped back and landed on an advancing Frostbite spider. Both collapsed in a heap on the ground immobile. Santana broke discipline – parried; side-stepped – and glanced once more to Brittany. The blonde Nord flashed Santana a smile similar to the one she had given to her after cutting her loose before she took off once again. Before Santana could react, Brittany bound away.
An unnatural screech rocked the webs and echoed through the corridor.
"Big one coming." Santana called back.
"I'm a little busy." Brittany grunted. A Draugr had effectively pinned her against a wall while another one stood with an axe raised ready to bash the blonde's unprotected head.
A dark shadow eclipsed the corridor. Santana's heart raced as she knew the monstrously sized spider was approaching. What in Talos's name was she doing? Again, she broke discipline. Never willingly relinquish a weapon.
With deadly accuracy, a short sword flew through the air and plunged into the Draugr's neck. Brittany's eyes widened. The axe harmlessly fell beside her head. She kicked out and broke loose from the other Draugr. The light reflecting from her conjured ball dimmed as a great shadow spread across them. Santana's short sword stuck fast in the Draugr. Brittany contemplated retrieving the weapon, but it didn't last long. More Draugr were advancing and she could feel the shadow of a particularly large Frostbite spider bearing down the cave.
She wanted to assist Santana, but they ran the risk of being taken from behind. Brittany braced her axe and prepared for the second wave. She had promised to take care of the Draugr.
A brilliant flash of heat erupted. It felt like a great fire had just been fanned to life behind her back. Brittany fell forward and covered her eyes. The Draugr dropped back and hesitated. Shrill inhuman noises of pain bounced off the walls.
Santana's war cry broke over the horrid cries of Frostbite spiders and whaling Draugr. The sound of metal resounded through the crypt and accompanied the sporadic flares of heat and light. Brittany desperately wanted to know what was happening and if Santana needed help, but the Draugr had recovered from being momentarily stunned. She would have to trust Santana to handle the spider.
Moments later, the Draugr found eternal peace at the end of Brittany's axe. Santana plunged her remaining short sword into the felled spider's head once – twice - and twisted the blade. It crunched. The hovering ball of light grew brighter once more and filled the space between them. Their eyes met. They were both panting and charged from the adrenaline pumping through their bodies. Frostbite venom stuck to Santana's armor and pooled on the floor. Brittany had a soft covering of bone dust coating her own armor, but they both appeared unscathed.
Webs appeared burnt and there were scorch marks on the wall, but Brittany didn't ask. She was too busy smiling. Her bright blue eyes landed on the short sword Santana had thrown to save her head. The weapon stuck for a second before Britt tugged it loose.
With the same smile, Brittany offered the weapon hilt first to Santana.
Santana reached out and wrapped her hand around the pommel. Brittany's eyes widened as she felt residual heat emanating from Santana's fingers. What had happened when she was fighting the Draugr? She was almost tempted to break eye contact to look at the charred legs of the Frostbite spider. But – temptation held no candle to the depths of Santana's eyes. Brittany wasn't willing to relinquish their hold just yet. Curious, Brittany purposely extended her hand and covered Santana's hand over the pommel.
Warm.
She was so warm.
Brittany exhaled a white puff of air. Neither of them quite released the hold of the sword. Finally, Britt's hand fell back and she smiled once again. "You might have dropped this." Santana didn't pull the sword back right away. Brittany flashed her a smile even bigger than the last one. "I'm lucky you did."
The sword felt different as she sheathed it. Santana tried not to think about it. It had been foolish and showy to throw her sword like that, but – a small smile graced her own lips.
The same thought ran through her head once more.
What in Talos's name was she doing?
Hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm going to finish posting part 1 (it should be a few chapters) and then switch to Smooth Operator.
Like I said, my inbox is always open and everyone should know where to find me on tumblr or on twitter kell_nico