A/N: I started writing this story since there were hardly any stories out there featuring one of my favourite Skyrim characters - Erandur. I will use in-game quotes from time to time, to a limited extent. I'd love to see your reviews, of course. I hope you like it!
I welcome you with open arms
As a receit for feelings
Floating sand through desert lands
Like a million stitches in my skin
No use to hide, no use to run
I sacrifice my body
I fear the snake's teeth, like a stranger's torch
Enjoy what's - raging - left of me
Diary of Dreams, Wild
Runa has been feeling restless for the better part of the day and gladly took the first watch when she and Erandur set camp for the night on their way to Whiterun. She felt nervous and anxious; although she tried to rationalize it convincing herself she was preoccupied with the threat of Alduin's return and how it cast shadow on her near future, she could not shake the feeling that this time it was not the reason.
She sat cross-legged next to the fire, her fists clenched, her mind uneasy. She tossed another branch into the flames – they rose higher, momentarily content like a dog fed a piece of meat from his master's hand, and cast more light on the camp. Runa's gaze drifted to her companion, asleep on the other side of their makeshift hearth. In his sleep, the cold, collected calm of Erandur's face seemed to gain a more serene touch to it. At least when dreaming, he was not plagued by guilt and self-loathing, she mused. He looked peaceful and content in his sleep.
Her own thoughts were in stark contrast with her companion's calm, her mind in an unrest, giving way to thoughts and feelings she was earnestly trying to ignore. She closed her eyes for a while, trying to discern when this started and her thoughts drifted to the memories of the day they met.
It took her only a couple of hours of wandering through Dawnstar to understand that something was amiss in the snowy, northern town, perched on the shore of the Sea of Ghosts. Every single inhabitant seemed tired and once she started asking around, she quickly discovered everyone was plagued by nightmares, which was troubling, unnatural. Having suffered from night terrors often herself, Runa headed towards the local inn without hesitation as soon as she's learned about the priest of Mara who the people of Dawnstar trusted to help stop the stem of hopelessness invading their home.
When she entered the inn, she immediately noticed a figure sitting next to the fireplace, clad in Mara's priest garb. She slowly went in his direction and sat next to him on the bench. For a while he didn't try to break the silence and kept staring into the flames. Runa watched him in the flickering light; all she could see from beneath the shadow of the hood of priest robes was his mouth, drawn in a thin line over dark stubble covering his chin. She lowered her gaze and stared at his hands; long, elegant fingers clasped together on his lap were dark gray. A dunmer, she realized.
"I asked Lady Mara to send someone to aid this town. I wonder if this is you." When he eventually spoke, it almost startled her. He had a deep voice, but it sounded hoarse and tired.
She looked up and saw he turned his head her direction, his face now more visible to her. She cleared her throat before answering, taken aback by the intensity of his blood red eyes.
"I was just passing by." She said, a ghost of smile on her lips despite the situation. She never was one to believe in divine interventions.
"What is happening to this town?" She added quickly.
"The entire town is being plagued by horrible nightmares." he stated, "They're in serious danger but I'm afraid there's little I can do about it."
"Do you know what's causing them?"
He was silent for a while and she started to grow a little impatient.
"These dreams are manifestations created by the Daedric Lord Vaermina." He answered finally. "She has an awful hunger for our memories. In return, she leaves behind nightmares, not unlike a cough marks a serious illness. I must end her terrible influence over these people before the damage becomes permanent."
"Why haven't you done it yet, then?" Asked Runa and kicked herself mentally as soon the words left her mouth. That sounded sarcastic, and she did not intend it.
"I cannot do it on my own. I need to return to the source of the problem, to Nightcaller Temple. Perhaps you'd be willing to assist me in that regard?" He asked, sounding both resigned and hopeful. A curious mixture, she thought, not failing to notice his choice of words.
"Return to the source of the problem? What do you mean by that?" Runa asked in return, her interest piqued, and saw his eyes widen. It was only for a tiniest fracture of second, but she saw it clearly. He did not mean to use that word and regretted it.
"I… I'd prefer not to go into details for now. I've already said too much. If anyone overhears what we're saying, it could start a panic. I would simply ask that you trust me and help me end Dawnstar's nightmares."
Runa looked at him intently, but did not press the matter for now. The people of Dawnstar were in dire need of help, that one fact was clear. Moreover, she had always considered herself a good judge of character and something in him inspired trust. His eyes were intense, sad, the sharp features of his face frozen in a worried expression she recognized all too well, the face of a person forced to face a burden that was too heavy to be shared with a stranger. It was an expression she witnessed before on Kodlak's face and on her own when she stared into a mirror. She felt no deceit in the dunmer priest, although he was clearly not wishing to discuss something that apparently made him uneasy. She decided to trust her instincts and got up.
"Gather what you need and let's go see to this plague ended, then." She said calmly.
He looked at her, surprised, as if he expected her to leave, not agree to help him, but nodded quickly.
"Mara be praised." He said quietly, relief evident in his voice.
On their way to Nightcaller Temple she asked him more about Vaermina and the temple itself, carefully memorizing every detail she could wrench out of him. They reached their destination in less than an hour. The broken, dark silhouette of the temple stood out in the snowy landscape like a bruise on pale skin. Even not being versed in the arts of magic, Runa could sense power emanating from the half ruined fortress. The priest warned her that long ago the temple had been raided by an orc war party seeking revenge for the same plague that was now taking its toll on the people of Dawnstar and that Vaermina's priests released the Miasma, a gas that had effectively put everyone inside the building to sleep. He was concerned that entering the temple might disturb Miasma's hold and even wake its victims.
"Oh joy…" Muttered Runa, before she entered the fortress. "More pleasant surprises."
Inside, the priest went quickly towards the wall on the far end of the entry hall. Runa followed suit, watching as flames engulfed his palms when he opened a passage for them. She raised her eyebrow. No priest she met before was so well trained in destruction magic, but then again from what she knew, manipulating fire came naturally to the dark elves. Natural trait or not, he was no ordinary priest, which only confirmed what she has already been suspecting – that there was a lot he preferred not to tell her and now he seemed to know a little too much about the temple itself for it to be a coincidence.
Despite her earlier gut feeling to trust him, she doubted her judgment for a second, hoping the situation wouldn't end badly for her; then he showed her the source of the nightmare plague. As soon as she's seen the Skull of Corruption, she decided to put her doubts aside. This had to be stopped – the artifact was emanating power with such intensity that she involuntarily took a step back and felt the wave of nausea. The priest shot her a quick, sympathetic look, but seemed to be handling the Skull's ominous aura better than her.
"We need to reach the inner sanctum to stop it." He said, before trailing down the stairs of the tower.
Runa followed him, deep in thought, but they quickly encountered a barrier. When he stated that there must be a way around it and that he could find the answer in the nearby library, she finally decided she's had enough of secrets and grabbed his arm before he moved any further. He flinched slightly at her touch, but stopped.
"I believe now would be the time to tell me how come you know so much of this place." She said.
He sighed, face filled with resignation.
"I suppose there's no point in concealing the truth any longer. My knowledge of this temple comes from personal experience. I was a priest of Vaermina."
Runa's eyes widened at his admission. She was expecting something of the sort, but it still hit her pretty hard.
"And you were planning on telling me when?" She asked, trying to sound calm.
His eyes stared back at her, his gaze now unflinching, hard.
"And what would you have me say?" He spat. "Sorry for following the misguided teachings of a mad Divine? Sorry for stealing memories from children? Do you realize when the orcs attacked, I was only concerned with myself? I fled... and left my brothers and sisters behind to die."
Having said that, he grabbed her hand to remove it from his arm. Before he let her go, he squeezed her palm harder, almost as if he was seeking reassurance.
"I've spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara. And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs." He added and then turned around to lead her to the library.
Having fought their way to the library through awakening orc invaders and Vaermina's priests, they learned quite quickly about the Dreamstride, the way for Runa to enter dreams and travel in the physical world at the same time. Runa was wondering what in Arkay's name possessed her to trust the priest to such extent and let him send her on this mad dream quest from which she might have not awakened. Was that misguided heroism, aimed at compensating for her own sense of insecurity? Was it that strange feeling that he would indeed not let any harm befall her when she would be dreaming? Whatever it was, she took the plunge.
Fortunately it turned out her trust was well placed. The Dreamstride allowed her to travel within dark dreams of the past and bypass the barrier preventing them from entering the inner sanctum. She still remembered Erandur's face when they fought their way in only to be greeted by two old friends he left behind years before. His face looked stricken with shock, pain, regret and shame at the same time.
"Veren… Thorek… You're alive!" His voice sounded hopeful, although both of them knew this encounter had to end badly.
"We're alive… No thanks to you, Casimir." Replied one of the men.
Erandur bit his lip and lowered his gaze to the stone floor.
"I no longer use that name. I'm Erandur, Priest of Mara."
Both men looked disgusted with his words.
"You're a traitor. You left us to die and then ran before the Miasma took you."
Erandur's voice was a bit shaky when he responded.
"No. I... I was scared. I wasn't ready to sleep…"
"Enough of your lies! I can't allow you to destroy the Skull, Priest of Mara." One of the men said firmly, his voice laced with hatred.
"Then you leave me no choice." The priest stated simply.
The fight that followed was short. Both men had just awakened from their long slumber induced by the Miasma and without their full power regained, they were no match for her blades and the priest's destruction magic. It was over before it really began. The priest lowered himself on his knees and flicked his fingers over the dead men's faces, closing their eyes and laying them to sleep from which they would never awaken.
"I... knew Veren and Thorek." He said, raising from his knees, his voice small and broken, his gaze still fixed on the bodies of his former brothers. "They were my friends. Is this punishment for my past? Is it Mara's will to torment me so"?
Despite the fact that the priest deliberately kept her in the dark on his secret, Runa felt sorry for him. Her feet moved on their own accord when she came to stand close behind his back and placed her hand on his shoulder in a mute gesture of support. To her surprise, he put his hand on hers for a brief moment, before he finally raised his gaze to look upon the Skull.
"Please stand back. I need to call upon Lady Mara to break the Skull's hold over Dawnstar."
Runa did as he asked, watching him chant his prayers to the goddess, red glow emanating from his outstretched hands. She braced herself against the wall when she suddenly heard the cold, feminine voice in her head, pleading her to kill the priest, trying to seduce her with promises of power of the Skull in return. Apparently Vaermina expertly wove the threads of nightmares and horror from within her realm, but she was no expert when it came to the feelings of a tired, reluctant dragonborn. Runa has seen her share of the killing for the day. She let the priest complete the ritual and Dawnstar's plague finally ended.
"Forgive me if I don't appear relieved... this temple has taken its toll on me. I'd constructed a meager shrine to Mara in the antechamber where we entered. My intention was to spend the rest of my years here, burying the past and praying for forgiveness." The priest said when he led her back towards the entrance.
When they reached the entry hall, he stopped and closed his eyes for a while and Runa thought he might have been pondering on what words to choose next.
"But instead…" He said eventually, "I wish to offer my services to you. If you ever wish to journey with me, I'll be here."
Runa stared at him, a bit shocked. He wanted to follow her? Would she want that?
He looked back at her, hesitant, searching her face for an answer. She smiled. She has been given a second chance at Helgen, so who was she to deny him his?
"I'd like that." She said and was rewarded with seeing him smile for the first time. "Just tell me, would you like me to call you…"
"Erandur is fine." He finished for her.
Runa blinked, noticing the fire has almost died out. She tossed more firewood in and looked at sleeping form of her travelling companion again. She has come to trust him and rely on him greatly since that day they met at Dawnstar. At first she was glad she accepted his offer to follow because she felt he deserved a second chance. Then she saw how well their fighting styles complimented each other, her dashing forward with two blades and him casting carefully measured destruction spells from a distance, always there to guard her back. Even when he was switching from magic to melee, he quickly learned how to do it effectively without hindering her and standing in her way, for which she was grateful. In battle they were now acting as pieces of one well-oiled machine and reached a level of understanding she never experienced with any other person who travelled with her before.
It took her some time to realize that this understanding ran deeper than fighting and that she has come to enjoy having him around. Come to think of it, she also realized how quickly they started sharing comfortable silence, without any hint of talks forced by awkwardness. Erandur never seemed to speak out of turn and was rather silent, but after days spent at jarls' courts, she welcomed this change, happy not to be forced to speak; when he spoke, it seemed his words always conveyed a deeper meaning and he never used them hastily or without purpose.
Runa also liked talking to him and was surprised that she warmed up and opened to him relatively quickly. She still felt reluctant to accept her being a dragonborn as a blessing and had her fears that she did not like to share with anyone; she did not like it since everybody seemed to see the dragonborn before the woman and conveniently placed her on a pedestal. The dragonborn was supposed to be a heroine, a herald of hope, and neither heroines nor heralds had right to be worried. Erandur, on the other hand, did not mind her voicing what worried her, more than that, she felt he really listened. His silent acceptance was another thing that made her enjoy having him at her side; it was comforting and Gods knew her burden made her yearn for any shred of comfort she could get.
At this time of night, she would try finding comfort in her sleep. She got up, went to the other side of the fire and knelt next to Erandur. He looked so peaceful she felt reluctant to wake him, but she was tired and would need to regain her strength by morning. She held her hand out and touched his arm lightly. His hand grabbed her wrist in one swift movement; his red eyes snapped open and looked right into her, piercing as ever.
"It is only me." She said soothingly and watched him relax slowly.
"I'm sorry." He rasped, letting go of her hand. "I'll take over the watch. Get some sleep."