A.N: Hello everyone! New story time again, and this one was inspired with the help of brandon66, and I'm so excited to be able to have the first chapter published tonight! Please read, review, and enjoy this new journey with Markus :)
"Slow down Markus!" A gruff young voice rang out.
The aforementioned youth came to a halt and turned to look over his shoulder at his friend, hunched over and gasping for breath. Markus turned on his heel and came to his friend's side, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder. The silver haired youth straightened to his full height, which was barely inches above his friend's head.
"For someone with Legionnaire's for parents, I thought you'd be a little bit more calm and collected. Not this raging ball of energy." The older boy commented, slinging his arm over the younger boy's shoulder.
"Which is exactly why I am a ball of energy. Come on, Arnbjorn. How would you react after having been stuck in your house all week studying swordsmanship with your mom?" Markus asked, head tilted in mock questioning.
"Good point, Markus. Good point." Arnbjorn replied, running his fingers through his hair.
The two boys took off again, dodging through the forest trees, jumping across the small stream, coating themselves in the smell of the wilderness. The sun eventually fell behind the horizon, and the two boys made the long walk back to Bruma.
Northern Cyrodiil was beautiful to Markus. Snow coated the landscape, covering the trees in perpetual frost, while the rivers remained relatively untouched. Even the lake outside of the city remained thawed, despite the slight chill in the air. Bruma itself was an old, architectural wonder, filled to the brim with old Nordic traditions. Markus and Arnbjorn were both born here at the Great Chapel of Talos, under the care and guidance of the main healer, Aurora Sky-Fire, who was by now in her late 60's. Markus was the son of two retired Legionnaire's, who took it upon themselves to train him.
His mother, Lielle, retired as soon as she found out that she was pregnant. But before that, she had commanded a large faction of Legion soldiers through the Great War. Of the four tours of duty that her faction served, she only ever lost five soldiers to the Aldmeri mages, which had been unheard of when you factored in the loss of life in the war as a whole.
His father, Raddin, served with the Legion throughout the entire Great War. He always used to tell Markus that while the Aldmeri forces were strong, the Nords were stronger. He'd lost his left eye in an ambush outside of Falinesti in Valenwood while leading a caravan of troops down the border towards Woodhearth. There are still scars that cover his abdomen and left arm; burns that never quite healed properly, and memories that will always be buried in his mind.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Arnbjorn!" Markus called, waving to the older boy with a smile. Arnbjorn returned his wave and entered his house.
Markus continued to walk through the city streets. His home was as close to Castle Bruma as one could get, and it was just one of the things that Markus had gotten used to as he grew up; spending the majority of your time around royalty. Personally, he detested spending all of his free time with nobles and dignitaries, but it was expected of him to participate, seeing as who his parents were. As his house came into view, he spotted his mother outside, speaking with the head of the City Guard. As she spotted him, she quickly said goodbye to the Captain and stood to meet him.
"Hello Mother." Markus greeted, his voice standard military monotone, as his parents were accustomed to speaking.
"Markus, we're going to skip our evening practice today. The Guards are putting the city on lockdown until further notice." Lielle informed him, gently placing her hand in the center of his shoulder blades.
"Why mother?" He asked, curiosity piqued as his looked up to meet her gaze.
"Talk of Werewolves. Eira and Raxas are already inside. Now come along, the night is upon us." Lielle informed him as she closed the door behind them.
Markus knew better than to further question his mother, and so followed her willingly as they walked into the cellar. Though large, the space was claustrophobic with their excess food, arms and armor, and the extra cots that were placed against the far wall. Markus made his way over to the unclaimed cot in the corner, and plopped down onto it, arms stretched above his head as he fell back into the furs, twisting onto his side; all energy from that day now drained from his body. Lielle gazed at him, eyes softening as she took in her the demeanor of her eldest son. The poor boy had done nothing but train for days, and his one day of freedom, he's forced to be confined in the cellar of their home. Lielle walked over and sat on the edge of the cot, placing her hand gently on his back. Markus turned his head so that he could looked at her from the corner of his eye.
"Markus... I know that we've been hard on you, Eira and Raxas, but we only do so for your benefit. The swordsmanship, the studying, the hours spent studying with the mages, all of it is to prepare the three of you for the world outside of Bruma." Lielle explains as Markus sits back up on the cot, shrinking into her side.
"I know mother." He whispers, "But... I need free time. I need to be able to go out and explore around the city, to be with the other boys and just goof around. I miss being able to do that." Markus mumbles, looking down at his feet as he speaks.
Lielle's eyes soften as she looks down at her son, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. She looks up and locks eyes with Raddin, who smiles and nods at her before returning his attention to Eira, who was practicing a rather intricate healing spell on the wound that he had inflicted on his calve for her to practice on. Raxas continues to hack into the practice dummy that stands stationary in the far corner from the cots. As Lielle is about to speak again, a low, guttural howl echos through the cellar. Raddin jumps to kill the flame that glows from the torch, sword drawn in case one of the beasts breaks into their home in search of food or flesh. The children huddle together; ten-year-old Raxas holds his wooden sword close to his body, fifteen-year-old Eira has a spell ringing in her head, ready to let loose a storm of lightning bolts should one of the werewolves attempt to enter, and seventeen-year-old Markus pulls a silver dagger from his boot, knowing full well that silver is a werewolf's weakness. Raddin and Lielle stand facing the entrance to the cellar with weapons drawn before them.
The sounds of claws tapping above them alerts the family of an intrusion, and Raddin quickly checks that the cellar lock is firmly in place before he breathes a soft sigh, but the growling above their heads tells them that their visitor will be here for quite some time.
"Quickly! One of them is in Commander Raddin's home!" A man cries out, as they hear the door being shoved open and the sounds of ferocious roars and war cries. Markus hears one of the poor men scream out in pain before a loud thud echos in the cellar. Raxas almost cries out at the sound, but he holds his sword closer to him instead. Markus wraps his arm securely around Raxas' shoulder, slightly easing the young boy's nerves before he stands in front of him. Lielle stands closer to the children, and Markus stands at her side, both of them staring at the cellar doors just over Raddin's shoulder. In moments, fervent scratching could be heard against the wooden frame of the cellar doors, and everyone was immediately on their toes as the scratching turned into ramming while the beast tried to break the doors down.
"There it is! Archers!" A voice rang out, followed by several sets of footsteps.
Markus listened intently as the sound of bows loosing their arrows rang out, followed by the thunk of tips meeting flesh, and then the slam of a heavy body upon the floor, signaling the inevitable death of the werewolf.
"Check the body. Make sure it's dead." The same voice called again, followed by a single set of footfalls.
"Sir, it's reverting back to it's human form. It's certainly dead." A younger voice replied.
"Commander Raddin, sir, it's safe for the time being, but please keep your family in the cellar until the moon passes." The older voice called out, tapping the cellar doors.
"It was my intention all along, Captain Rigel." Raddin replied, giving the door two taps before walking away from it. Markus let out the breath that he was unaware he was holding, and Lielle put her hand on his shoulder.
"Seventeen seasons, and you were already prepared to give your life in exchange for your family. You'll make a great husband and father some day, Markus." She remarked, a smile gracing her lips.
Markus couldn't help the smile that followed hers, and he relished in the affection that his mother had given him. With a ruffle of his hair, Lielle made her way over to Raxas to soothe the poor boy's nerves. All of the swordsmanship in Tamriel wasn't going to change the fact that he was merely ten and already looking death in the eyes. The adrenaline was leaving his body, and Markus was soon lying down in his cot, looking out at his family. Raxas had gone back to sword training, taking direction from their mother, and Eira was once again practicing her healing spells. Markus sighed in content, closing his eyes as the moons pass slowly across the night sky.
When he wakes, the cellar is empty aside from himself, and with urgency, Markus bolts up the stairs. Before he even touches the landing, Lielle catches him in her arms, pulling him close to her chest. He squirms for a moment, then settles, looking into her eyes.
"I know that you are in your seventeenth season, but I do not want you to see death yet, my son." She whispers, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
Markus immediately stops moving, and slowly wraps his arms around Lielle's waist, holding tightly to his mother. She reciprocates his grasp, and the two of them stand in silence until the front door closes. Only then does she allow Markus to turn fully around. Raddin is standing in the entryway, arms crossed tightly across his body, eyes glaring daggers at the door. Finally, a sigh escapes his lips, and he turns to face his family, eyes locking onto each member.
"Well... The werewolf that they executed was a very close friend of ours. Markus, the werewolf was Arnbjorn's father, Tharsten." Raddin explained as he walked over and took Markus' shoulders in his hands. The younger Nord felt his heart clench painfully in his chest as he looked into his father's eyes.
"They're going to kick him and his mother out of the city, aren't they." Markus mumbled, more of a demand rather than a question.
"Yes. You'll want to say your goodbyes before they set off. They will never be allowed to return to Bruma." Raddin replies, his head dipping just slightly to catch Markus' eyes.
Without another word, Markus makes his way out of the front door, running full speed to Arnbjorn's house, coming up upon several armed guards ready to escort the two remaining members of the small family out of the city. Markus stood in wait, heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Arnbjorn to come out of his home. Once he did, knapsack slung over his shoulder, Markus walked up to match him step for step, following his best friend out of the city. The gates slammed shut behind them, and Arnbjorn turned to Markus with a heartbroken gaze. He wrapped his arms around Markus.
"I guess this is goodbye, my friend." He mumbles as he pulls away from Markus.
"No. This is more of a 'see you later'." Markus replies, gently punching Arnbjorn on the shoulder.
Arnbjorn chuckles for a moment, and then his face becomes as serious as Raddin's. He takes Markus by the arm and walks further down the path as his mother, Aeta, follows a length behind the two boys. Once Arnbjorn is comfortable with the short distance, he begins to speak.
"My father wasn't the only one out last night." He whispers, matching Markus stride for stride.
"Who else was out there?" Markus questions, turning his head to look at Arnbjorn. He notices a scar on the side of his face that hadn't been their previously.
"I was..." Arnbjorn whispers, "I was with my father up until he entered your house. I made it out of the city to hunt, but he became trapped when the guards came rushing out of the barracks." He explains, kicking a stone with his boot as he walks.
"Then you're a werewolf as well." Markus mumbles as he breaks his gaze to focus on the path before them. They are heading towards the Jerall Mountains.
"Yes. I have been blessed by Hircine himself through my father. I can shift with the moons, and at will. And I can pass the gift on to others as well, if they are willing to take it." Arnbjorn explains as he continues down the path. Markus stops walking, and Arnbjorn turns his head to look at his friend.
"You're saying that you can make others werewolves as well?" He asks, eyes trained on his friend.
"If you'd like the gift, I can give it to you." Arnbjorn replies, eyes locked on Markus.
Markus stands in the middle of the path, eyes drifting between Arnbjorn and the peaks of the mountains, mind racing with questions and decisions that he has to make. He could receive the wolf gift from Arnbjorn, but then he'd lose his entire family in the process, and be chased out into the wilds of Cyrodil. He could decline the offer, and possibly lose his best friend forever, all because he doesn't want to become a werewolf. His head spins, and he falls to his knees at the sudden dizziness. Arnbjorn is at his side in mere moments, gently fanning Markus' flushed face. After a few more moments on silence, Markus reaches out for Arnbjorn, who gently pulls him to his feet, and he gazes up at his friend.
"Arnbjorn... I don't want to lose our friendship... But I can't accept." Markus whispers as he gazes at Arnbjorn's face.
"I understand, and I don't want us to drift apart either. I promise that I will send a letter once mother and I have settled." Arnbjorn replies, with just a hint of dejection in his voice, but he smiles nonetheless. This a decision that Markus has made for himself, and he can accept that.
"Markus, dear, why don't you head back to Bruma. I can only imagine that your parents are preparing to come find you, especially after what happened." Aeta calls as she comes up to the two boys.
"Yea... I should head back. Please send me a letter once you've settled." Markus pleads, looking between Arnbjorn and Aeta.
"We will, dear. Now, hurry back before you're missed." Aeta asserted before she placed a soft peck to his cheek. "Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to Arnbjorn. It means so much to me, and I know it meant a lot to Tharsten as well. Keep your strength up, eat healthy, and perhaps we'll see each other again in the future." She continued before she turned towards the mountains once more.
Arnbjorn nodded his head, eyes locked with Markus, who returned the silent gesture. They didn't need words to convey how they were feeling at that moment. Both boys had grown up together for years, and were practically raised together. Each boy could feel his heart shattering at their loss. With a final glance, Arnbjorn turned to catch up to his mother, gazing over his shoulder once more to wave a final goodbye to his brother and friend. Markus waved until he could no longer see them on the path, and slowly lowered his hand to his side, fist clenched until his nails dug painfully into his palm. Moments later, his mother came galloping up behind him on Stormstrider, but Markus refused to pull his gaze from the horizon. He heard his mother dismount and walk up to his side.
"Come, Markus, it's getting late and you're going to catch a cold if you stay here." Lielle chided before she gently wrapped her arm over his shoulders.
"He's my best friend... And now he's gone..." Markus whispered, finally folding into his mother's side.
"There, there... Hush now, Markus. In due time, you will leave for your own life, and perhaps the two of you will find each other again. Friends always do." Lielle whispered, gently running her fingers through her son's hair before leading him to Stormstrider.
The two of them rode back in silence, and Markus turned to look behind him every few minutes to gaze down the path as the sun slowly drifted below the horizon. As soon as they reached the stables, the sound of howling reached their ears, and Markus knew that, one day, he'd be able to find Arnbjorn and Aeta again.
