Quinn must teach her charge, Santana, a lesson in defense. Unfortunately, Santana's stubbornness is as strong as the shield she doesn't want to learn how to use.
Dedicated to Gnome! Who wrote an amazing prequel to Dovekin featuring Quinn and Santana and has been a constant inspiration for exploring the relationship between Santana, Quinn, and Brittany. I've had this prequel for a while now and I should definitely just post it. I know you're all waiting for a Dovekin update and I think finally just posting this will propel me to finish the chapter.
Special thanks to Whitney for helping me brainstorm titles and for coining the term pre-fic-quel. It's my new favorite word! :D And of course a big thank you to my girlfriend, Gab, for always editing and being excited for me to write even if it's not her favorite genre.
(NO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP) These ladies are friends, warriors, competitors, and companions, and as strong as their bonds are, they are shield-sisters without the romantic tension.
I'll be updating this fic whenever the mood strikes me. Each chapter will be a full section and it does have plot structure, as in, I do have a comprehensive story to tell. It's a three part novel. This is really a glimpse into what shapes Santana and Quinn before Dovekin.
Quinn. Santana. Pre-fic-quel to Dovekin. Rated T.
She Who Bears the Shield
Part 1
"Pick your shield up! Keep it high - higher!"
The sound of a practice sword crashed against the wooden frame of the shield, but it was quickly drowned out by similar noises. All around Fort Morvunskar's courtyard were Skyrim warriors fighting. They wore loose shirts and light armor. The sun shone bright on the open field behind the stone walls of the old fort. The Windhelm guard had taken to sending a small contingent of recruits and officers-in-training to the nearby Morvunskar as a place for the officers to start honing their leadership skills on the rawest soldiers and to keep the fort occupied. It had been two weeks since their rotation began. So far there had been no brigands, no sign of thieves, and no natural disasters had occurred in the mild warmth of summer to deploy any troops to provide relief. The only assignment worthy of their time had been in the practice yard.
Quinn stepped back from the nearest soldier in training. His ill placed footing almost knocked him right into her. She gave him a hard shove forward to push him back in the direction of his opponent. "Keep your feet moving, Jorrah. And keep your shield high or you're goi-"
It was too late. Jorrah's opponent took advantage of Jorrah's exposed chest for a swift strike beyond the recruit's defense. The hard blow sent the recruit to the ground with an obnoxious cry of pain. Quinn didn't hide her displeasure at Jorrah's poor show of training, but she ignored him and stepped over the writhing boy toward his sparring partner.
"Your strike was weak and wouldn't have been enough to incapacitate your opponent. In battle, you just left yourself or your fellow soldier vulnerable to another attack. If you see an opening, take it. Don't –" Jorrah continued rolling in agony. "- hold back." Quinn finished and turned to Jorrah. "Off the ground now, recruit, and get back into fighting position."
"But that hurt, Officer Fabray, could you give me a moment?" Jorrah took his time standing. "I wasn't prepared and I've never worked with a shield before. I was told we wouldn't need to worry about using one."
"That hurt?" Quinn asked. "Imagine if that had been a real sword. You would have been crippled if you were lucky." She paused and frowned. "Who told you that you wouldn't need to use a shield?"
Jorrah instantly dropped his head and stared at the tips of his boots. His mouth drew a straight line of silence.
Quinn pursed her lips and resisted the urge to play with her long blonde braid in agitation. She hadn't expected Galmar to give her a training and supervision assignment this early in her career. At barely the age of sixteen, Quinn was the youngest officer currently serving in the Windhelm guard. It was a position she knew she had earned, but it came at a price. She already heard rumors and whispers that she gained the position due to her father's influence in the guard. She wouldn't tolerate even the slightest chance of insubordination. Any hint of poor attitude or undisciplined results from her unit would validate her fellow officers' doubts in her abilities – she had earned her rank or was she favored because of her father's name?
Quinn would have her answer; her voice flattened. "Who said it?"
Jorrah shook his head sharply that he wouldn't answer the question. It was the first time Quinn had seen Jorrah show even a hint of a backbone. Had his display of resilience been for any other reason than to defy her questioning, Quinn would have been pleased, but she couldn't understand how a spineless recruit chose to refuse her order. He ducked his head down even further and remained completely still.
A few cries and shouts of excitement echoed not far away. Quinn didn't look to the source of the commotion, but Jorrah's eyes frantically slid to the left and met Quinn's gaze before they dropped once more. More shouting erupted from the nearby fight. A pit settled in Quinn's stomach. She recognized at least one of the voices.
Shit.
Quinn pulled back from Jorrah. "Twenty laps around the courtyard." At first, he almost groaned, but he recognized the look in Quinn's eyes and nodded. He started to take off. Quinn called after him. "With your shield, recruit. I want it held above your head the entire time. Maybe then you'll learn to keep it high."
This time, he did groan, but he quickly took up his shield, relieved his punishment wasn't more. Quinn turned to Jorrah's sparring partner. "What are you still doing here? He's your partner. You don't leave him by himself. Get a shield and join him."
"Yes, Officer Fabray."
Quinn didn't bother to make sure the two recruits would follow her orders. They either would or they would desert. She had learned at a very young age there was no room for disobedience. Jorrah didn't have to name the trainee who had told him not to bother with shields. There was only one warrior in Fort Morvunskar who was not only given room for disobedience, but practically demanded it.
Quinn walked toward the sound of the commotion and steeled herself. She lifted a shield from a rack and motioned for another recruit to give her his sword. By the time she reached her destination, Quinn had outfitted herself with a standard issue sword and shield. A small gathering of recruits had circled around the sparring, but upon seeing Quinn's arrival, they quickly returned to their own practice areas.
Most of the recruits expected Quinn to start barking orders. Instead, she remained still and watched the two fighters. The first was a decently skilled Bone-Breaker ranked soldier sent to help Quinn guide the recruits. But his real mission was to train the Jarl's daughter until the new tutor from Solitude arrived. The other fighter was smaller, but much more aggressive. Quinn would have instantly recognized Santana even if she had been fully armored. Santana wore her hair back in a high pony tail and fought with stance of a predator, ready to strike at any moment. They had stopped using practice swords and fought with real steel. The sound of steel on wood rang in the ears differently than the wooden practice swords. Neither had donned any sort of armor. They fought in light shirts and leather pants. Each attack was dangerously close to making contact with unprotected bodies.
But it was Santana's body that Quinn was most concerned about; Quinn knew Santana had a habit of needlessly placing herself in danger. Like right now for instance, Santana had managed to goad a member of the guard into fighting her with real steel during a practice session without any protection.
Santana stepped back and squared herself to her opponent. Santana tilted forward and every muscle in her body tensed and coiled. Quinn recognized Santana's desire to raise the stakes of their practice sparring. Santana tossed her shield to the ground and flipped her sword from one hand to the other.
"Santana-" The instructor paused and said her name with exasperation. It was a tone Quinn had grown accustomed to hearing whenever her training partner took the practice field with an instructor. "-this is a shield and sword training session. Pick up your shield so we may continue."
Santana's sword lazily rolled in the air with the same ease and pace as she rolled her eyes. "What do I need a shield for? I can handle you with both of my swords."
"That's not the point of the exercise."
"I'll give you a point-" Santana walked to the weapons rack and picked out a second sword. She made figure eights in the air before she returned to her fighting stance in front of him. Santana didn't bother to hide her self-satisfaction as she smirked at his uneasiness. "-or two points."
"Again, this is not-"
"Then prove me wrong. Show me how your shield bests my swords." Santana challenged. Quinn quickly realized this wasn't going to end well for Santana's instructor. She had seen that look in Santana's eyes before. Her stomach twisted in anticipation. A few more recruits dropped their own weapons to wander toward the sparring match between the Jarl's Daughter and a ranked Bone-Breaker. He wouldn't last and Quinn could lose control over the practice yard, but much worse, Santana would feel vindicated in her decision to not learn how to use a shield. Only a fool believed they could learn one type of fighting style and expect to survive.
The shield in Quinn's hand felt heavier than usual. It was an old shield. Quinn imagined it had been used to train dozens of Skyrim men and women for a long time. The blue paint of the Windhelm Bear was faded and cracked over the wood, but it was still sturdy.
The shield could turn a blade or stop an arrow.
Santana lunged at her instructor with both blades. Despite the Bone-Breaker's rank and training, Santana simply overwhelmed him. He barely blocked her first sword with his shield. Unlike Quinn's recruits, Santana didn't hold back. Her other sword swept beneath his counter, but he managed to block the blade with his shield once more. A collective gasp swept over the field.
The shield could save a life.
Quinn frowned at the Bone-Breaker's technique. He was slow – too slow to match Santana's speed and relentless offensive. Besides a lack of speed, Quinn could see he only reacted. The shield was more than protection; it was strategy and patience.
Santana charged at him once more. His footwork faltered. His sword arm dropped too low. Santana splintered the man's shield. The flat part of her second blade caught the hilt of his sword. He yelped in pain and clutched at his knuckles. It was clear the fight was over.
Santana stated with a satisfied smirk. "You don't make a very convincing argument for the shield. We are done here."
The crowd murmured in both amusement and approval at Santana's skilled display. Quinn didn't bother to reprimand the two recruits laughing next to her. They were not the source of the disruption.
Santana rolled her eyes and bent over her instructor on the ground. His shield was too far for him to reach and she had a feeling that at least two of his fingers were broken. She leaned in close so her voice wouldn't carry. "Make sure you give my father and his commander a detailed report of how you trained me. You can also inform him that I will not stay in a barracks under supervision that can't even best me in a training circle."
Santana glanced to the man's broken hand. "Make sure you see the healer before you leave."
The man didn't nod or lift his eyes while Santana spoke. She knew it was his pride that kept him from responding to the Jarl's daughter. Santana almost felt sorry for him, but she had grown impatient with her time at Fort Morvunskar. Unlike Quinn, she had not been given an assignment, a commission, or even a consideration. Instead, she had been shoved onto a horse and told to ride with the Windhelm recruits and that her new tutor and potential housecarl would arrive shortly. That had been three weeks ago.
She was impatient. There was word from the west of a tournament, a rumor there were men and women trying to resurrect the Fighter's Guild in Whiterun, and a great hunt was forming in Winterhold to search for Ysgarmor's tomb. Besides all of the exciting quests and opportunities happening throughout Skyrim, it was in the middle of the warm months and there were taverns to visit, ales to drink, women to see, and songs to hear.
Learning how to block a slow attack from a Bone-Breaker who would have trouble fighting some of these recruits was almost as worthless as the shield itself. Santana kicked the fallen shield as she walked away. Only weak and poorly trained soldiers needed to block. Santana knew it was the fighter who attacked first who would win.
"Pick up that shield." A voice echoed behind her.
Santana froze. The hair on the back of her neck rose. She could feel Quinn's eyes. Santana didn't turn around; instead she twisted the sword in her left hand. The leather grip rubbed against her sweaty palm.
Quinn repeated herself. "I said – pick that shield up, Santana. You will learn how to use one."
Santana ignored the heat in her face at Quinn's words. She whipped around and faced her training partner. Quinn stood where the Bone-Breaker had previously squared off against the Jarl's Daughter. Quinn's long blonde braid draped over her left shoulder down her chest. Like Santana, Quinn didn't wear chainmail or leather for protection. The only item she carried was an old Windhelm shield strapped to her left arm.
Santana couldn't believe Quinn wanted to do this – right here, right now – in front of the entire barracks. Normally when Quinn had a problem with her, she would talk to Santana later at night when they were alone. Most times, it was Quinn who came to her defense on the practice field first. Of all the people Santana had expected to challenge her after defeating one of the ranked officers stationed at Morvunskar, Quinn had been the last. Santana swallowed down her surprise and stomached the taste of betrayal. She lifted her chin in defiance and took a step forward. She ignored the shield on the ground.
Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper so only Quinn could hear her. "Are we really going to do this?"
"Are you going to learn the shield?"
Santana's eyes narrowed, but she spun her twin blades in front of her and shook her head in response. "I think I just proved that I don't need it. My swords can handle anything. The best defense is a better offense."
Quinn nodded at Santana's response as if she had expected it. She turned to the nearest recruit. "Give me your shield."
The Unblooded practically tripped over himself to pass the shield to Quinn. She held her right arm out to him. "Strap it on." His fingers fumbled over the leather, but he secured his shield over Quinn's forearm and stepped back. Quinn looked down. She bore a shield on each arm. It wasn't the most effective use of either shield, but it would prove a point.
Santana ran her tongue over her lips as she watched Quinn fix her shields. Her eyes grew darker as she realized what Quinn meant to do. It was foolish. Quinn would have no weapon and certainly wouldn't be able to defeat Santana.
"You don't want to do this." Santana whispered in the same low voice to make sure her words only reached Quinn's ears. Santana knew how much this commission meant to Quinn and that if Quinn lost in a training exercise in front of the barracks, she would lose complete respect from Fort Morvunskar's commander and her fellow officers. More than that, Santana couldn't afford to throw the fight, it wasn't in her nature, and she knew Quinn would never accept anything less than her best effort. Between the two of them, they had enough pride for the entire force of the Skyrim's warriors. Neither of them would hold back and one of them would have to fall. Santana's breathing hitched as she offered them both a way out. "You don't have to do this, Quinn."
Whether Quinn recognized Santana's words were for their mutual benefit or not, Quinn shook her head. She didn't care about pride or her commission or keeping face in front of her soldiers. This was about Santana. Quinn had been watching Santana slowly spiral further and further away from Windhelm, from their tutors, from training, from everything that would keep her safe. Before they had left for Morvunskar, Jarl Ulfric had summoned Quinn to discuss the possibility of the new tutor from the city of Solitude to become Santana's housecarl and that Quinn was to keep an eye on his daughter until the tutor's arrival.
Santana needed to be able to keep herself safe first.
"I do." Quinn stated.
"Quinn…" Santana twirled the blades in her hands. Her heart pounded just a little harder. She could feel it – the rush, the adrenaline, the will of Talos, or whatever it was called – Santana felt the energy building between them. It was inevitable now. She took a step to the right. "I won't hold back."
"Good." Quinn mirrored her steps. "You'll need everything you've got if you expect to walk away from this."
"Fine." Santana practically growled.
"Fine." Again, Quinn repeated Santana's steps. She lifted both of her arms to display the two Bears on the shield faces. "You get your swords and I get my shields. If you best me, you can walk away and forget about learning how to use a shield."
"Consider my lesson finished, Officer Fabray." Santana lunged forward, but unlike the Bone-Breaker before, Quinn was patient. She didn't rush to meet Santana's attack, but instead Quinn waited for Santana to make her charge. The Jarl's Daughter had been trained by the best and despite their young ages, they had been swinging weapons for a lifetime. Santana's sword rattled the frame of the shield with a loud crack. The practice field held their collective breath. Every recruit and officer had stopped their own sparring to watch the two women fight. Those who had spent time in the Palace of Kings, the Jarl's Keep, in Windhelm, would have seen Quinn and Santana practicing together with tutors or other soldiers, but they had been partners. This felt completely different.
Quinn barely reacted.
Santana struck again. Quinn casually raised her shield to meet Santana's attack. The short swords rebounded from the reinforced wood again and again and again. Agitated with the ease of Quinn's blocks, Santana bared her teeth and attempted a low swing with her dominant left hand. Quinn didn't smile, but her hazel eyes sharpened as if she had been waiting for Santana to attempt such a move. The officer dropped her right shoulder in an aggressive counterattack that prevented Santana from completing her full swing. The sudden shift in Quinn's tactics threw Santana off. She wasn't prepared for Quinn's left shield to take her square in the face.
Santana staggered back, but quickly recovered. Her eyes flashed more from the blow to her pride than what would be a swollen lip.
"You will learn the shield."
"Why? It has no use to me."
"I won't always be there to save you."
"I don't need your protection – or any protection."
It was clear she wouldn't be able to overwhelm Quinn like she had done to her father's Bone-Breaker, but that didn't mean she would concede. She quickened her steps and arced her next attack over her head and instantly pivoted her feet to move her around Quinn's body. Their feet moved quicker than Santana's attacks as Quinn anticipated all of Santana's steps a second before she tried to execute them. This was no longer a back and forth spar, but a sweeping display of weapon mastery. Quinn and Santana spun in circles into and around each other, but despite Santana's flurry of attacks, she never came close to landing a strike on Quinn. The officer's shields always found her blades.
For a second time, Quinn's shield crashed into Santana's face. This time, Santana spit a good amount of blood to the ground before she charged back at her friend.
She leapt across the grass, crossed both swords over her head, and tried to drive down Quinn's high defense. She knew Quinn would block the attack, but it brought them close together. Santana leaned into Quinn's shields. Their faces were inches apart and Quinn could feel Santana's heavy breathing and see the frustration brewing just beneath Santana's expression.
"Santana…" Quinn risked Santana's anger.
Santana pressed harder into Quinn's shields. The left one buckled under the force and an audible crack echoed between them, but Quinn didn't budge. She maintained her position despite the muscle strain without throwing Santana's back.
"Stop this now."
"You can't defend forever." Santana stated as fact. "No one can defend forever."
Santana bore down hard. Quinn's right shield strained. The crack in the center grew more pronounced. A few more attacks from Santana's swords and it would be useless.
"The shield isn't just about defending yourself." Quinn threw Santana back. They separated a few feet. "Here." Quinn unstrapped the cracked shield and tossed it to a nearby recruit. "I'll make it fair for you."
Santana didn't bother to tell Quinn to get another shield. She charged at Quinn with both swords. Quinn patiently waited until Santana was almost on her. Her shield took the closest sword, while she step-sided Santana's attack. Her free hand grasped Santana's wrist. Santana didn't expect the offensive move from Quinn and was unable to prevent the officer from disarming her of her right hand sword. To finish the move, Quinn twisted behind Santana's exposed backside and drove the back of her shield between Santana's shoulder blades.
Santana grunted at the force and stumbled forward unable to maintain her balance. Quinn quietly and calmly spun Santana's sword in her hand once before she discarded it to the ground and lifted her shield once more. She readjusted her long blonde braid back over her shoulder and tightened the straps on her remaining shield. The great Bear of Windhelm held more than a few new chops in the wood and splinters where Santana's sword had bit into its surface, but it remained intact.
Santana stood back up and faced Quinn. She was panting and Quinn could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but she knew Santana would never quit and especially not now. Quinn remained almost motionless as Santana growled and shot forward for another attack. At the last second, Quinn dropped low underneath Santana's attack and drove the flat of her shield up into the hilt of Santana's sword. The shield cracked Santana's knuckles and kicked the sword into the air. Quinn caught it before it fell to the ground and it one smooth motion, pointed the tip to Santana's exposed throat.
Neither woman moved. Santana's eyes were like a cornered predator – fierce and uninhibited.
"Yield, Santana."
Santana shook her head stubbornly and held Quinn's stare.
Quinn recognized Santana would never yield now that her pride had been injured. The practice field remained uneasily quiet as the two sparring opponents drew closer. Before Santana did something rash, the officer tossed the sword away to the ground. As Quinn threw the weapon, Santana balled her hand into a fist and moved to punch Quinn. For the first time, Santana caught Quinn by surprise. She made contact with Quinn's face and tackled her to the hard ground.
Within moments, they were rolling on the ground exchanging blows. Santana topped Quinn and sent another punch to the officer's face before Quinn batted her back with a knock from her shield. Santana grunted and tried to hit Quinn again, but a large body lifted her in the air.
"Enough!" A male voice boomed above them. Commander Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced of the Eastmarch, second only to Galmar Stone-Fist, stood above the quarrelling women with a scowl that would have struck fear in a sabre cat. He tossed Santana a few paces back before he grabbed the front of Quinn's shirt and yanked her from the ground. He straightened Quinn up and turned on Santana with a snarl. "I told the Jarl having you worked in with the recruits would make for bad blood."
Quinn's eyes quickly shot over to Santana as she recognized Yrsarald's ire mounting. Yrsarald must have just arrived at the Fort by the command of Ulfric, as he was one of the highest ranking officers in the Eastmarch. Only the Jarl's command would have sent him to Fort Morvunskar in the middle of the summer months. Which meant Santana's father wanted a full report on his daughter's progress without making the journey himself. Quinn saw Santana come to the same conclusion and would not be pleased to know she was being babysat from afar.
Santana opened her mouth, but before Santana could snap back and make the situation worse, Quinn quickly interjected. "It was a mistake on my part, Commander." Quinn straightened her posture and ignored the pain in her jaw from Santana's left hook. "It was my lapse in training protocol that started this. She was just reacting as the situation unfolded. I take full responsibility."
Santana growled and stepped forward unwilling to let Quinn take the blame for her behavior. "No-"
"Silence!" He held up his hand and looked over Santana's beaten and bruised body. Parts of her face were cut and swollen from Quinn's shield, her shirt had been torn in places, and there was blood staining her pants where she had been sliced from the rim of Quinn's shield. "It looks like Officer Fabray has already given you punishment enough. You will report to the infirmary and then to your quarters. You are dismissed for the rest of the day."
Santana released a soft sigh that Yrsarald had decided it was Santana who deserved the chastisement. Instead of protesting, she nodded her head in agreement.
"As for you, Officer Fabray-" The commander continued. Santana stopped nodding and quickly glanced to Quinn. It was supposed to be Santana's punishment for acting out, not Quinn's. Santana took a step forward, but Quinn's eyes backed her off. Santana fought against her desire to stop Yrsarald from completing his thoughts and knowing that if she intervened on Quinn's behalf, that Quinn would never forgive her. Santana's stomach turned as Quinn gripped her shield a fraction harder."- you will accompany me for a tour of the grounds and the soldiers stationed here while I decide how to deal with your error in judgment and your inability to effectively train. Such behavior is unfitting of an officer. Perhaps you are too young for your station."
Quinn didn't reveal the way his words hurt more than any hit Santana inflicted on her. Instead she tilted her chin up and responded with a clear voice. "Yes, commander."
"Now for the rest of you louts, you will return to training immediately or suffer the same fate or worse."
The training field scattered. Santana, however, lingered, but Quinn never looked back or acknowledged Santana's unease. Quinn reverently placed her shield back on the weapons rack and obediently led Commander Yrsarald through the courtyard. Santana didn't know if she was angrier at herself for letting Quinn beat her or for allowing Quinn to take whatever punishment should have been hers. She kicked at the broken shield Quinn had discarded during their fight and winced in pain.
"By Talos."
Santana could hear voices a few bunks away from hers.
"Think she's coming to the hall for dinner?"
Unfortunately, they were hard to ignore especially when she knew they were talking about her.
"You were there. I wouldn't show my face in the hall for at least a week after that beating."
Santana stopped turning the knife in her hand and sat up in the top bed of the barracks bunk, the one she shared with Quinn. It was in the corner of the room and a little distance away from the majority of the sleeping quarters. The stationed commanding officer at Morvunskar had said he had given them space to accommodate for Quinn's position, but he lacked the room for a junior officer. He assured Quinn and Santana that he would separate them from the raw recruits as soon as an officer's room became available. Santana doubted he would ever spend the time or energy.
"Yeah, but have you seen Officer Fabray since the Commander arrived?"
The point of her knife dipped slightly at the mention of Quinn. Santana ignored the shooting pain in her left side to turn on the bed. She could only see the back of two heads walking away.
"No one's seen her since she left with the commander at midday."
"What do you think? Demotion?"
"They wouldn't strip her of her rank. Do you know who her father was? No, that would never happen, but Yrsarald has been known to make examples and Fabray's tough enough to take a lashing and then ask for a second."
"Tough is an understatement. She's made of old stone and grit. All I know is that I'll be spending a little more time with the shield tomorrow."
"Yeah." The other one agreed. "She was untouchable. I can't believe she's as young as my own daughter."
"Youth and skill combined - I think she could have given the commander trouble if they had sparred."
"Now that would have been a fight! Could you imagine?"
"I heard they have her on the fast track to taking the mantle from one of the older commanders."
"They probably did. Who knows what track they'll have Fabray on now."
The sound of the door closing echoed through the room. Santana rolled her eyes and leaned back. She tossed the knife in the air and caught it with her other hand before she repeated the motion. Santana had heard rumors of Yrsarald's command – he was known to be ruthless. Quinn had been untouchable in the field, but Santana knew that if commanded, Quinn would willingly put down all of her defenses to receive whatever punishment was given to her. Her father should have never sent Yrsarald to the fort to check on Santana. This would have never happened.
"Fuck." Santana muttered before she threw the knife back in the air. It spun three times before she caught it and repeated the motion. Three spins before she would easily snatch it above her chest. Again and again she threw the knife in the air until her muscles strained and her eyes threatened to close. She ignored the ache in her bones and the bruises from Quinn's shields and the slow crawl of exhaustion creeping through her consciousness. Santana tossed the weapon back in the air. Her fingers fumbled for a second, but she maintained control and caught the handle. Santana struggled to keep her eyes open and tossed the knife once more. This time she couldn't stave off sleep and she forgot to keep her eyes on the blade.
This time it spun four times.
But it never touched Santana's chest.
Quinn caught the flat of the blade between her middle and index finger. She sheathed Santana's knife into her own belt and gazed down on the Jarl's daughter with a reserved expression. It was hard to be both Santana's friend and her training partner especially when Santana had a wanderlust born of legends and she wished to be nowhere near her father's guard.
Quinn had known it would be trouble. Six months ago, the Jarl sent them to accompany an emissary to Markarth. They were ambushed along the way and had to fight their way to safety. The bandits were quickly sent scattering by the might of the small Windhelm guard, but it had only been the beginning. They spent time searching ruins, taking shelter in taverns, and all in disguise. It was the kind of adventure that training at the Palace of Kings could not provide for Santana. Quinn watched as Santana could joke with other travelers without the expectations of Ulfric's name. In small ways, she transformed into a different person, a more relaxed Santana. She knew the experience would only strengthen Santana's desire for freedom and inspire confidence in her ability to thrive in such freedom.
However, it had not been the same experience for Quinn.
Quinn remembered knocking down one of the bandits during the skirmish. He had poor form, a lack of training, and desperation in his eyes. He was hungry. His eyes were frightened. Quinn remembered holding her sword to his throat, like she had done to Santana earlier today. She remembered her father's words – strike to kill and move on. Her father said her first time killing a man would be unforgettable; that it would change her.
She remembered dishonoring the memory of her father.
She remembered telling the bandit to run.
Perhaps Yrsarald was right and she was too young to be an officer. She could fight with any man or woman in the Eastmarch, but when she had been pressed to follow through with her training, she had failed. Quinn sighed, but the gesture couldn't match the deep-seated shame and doubt stirring in her stomach.
Santana's nose crinkled against Quinn's exhale and opened her eyes.
"Quinn?"
"You fell asleep playing with your knives again."
"You should have let it hit me." Santana tried to rise and pretend she wasn't in pain. "Or did you get your fill of hurting me today?"
"Not yet."
Santana's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't decide if Quinn was serious or not.
Quinn continued. "Come on. Get your riding gear on. Don't wear colors."
"What?" Santana sat up completely, but Quinn walked to her trunk at the bottom of their bunk. She pulled out a plain shield and checked the edge of one of her many swords before she sheathed it. "Why do we have to leave? I can't believe my father would let Yrsarald dismiss you without sending a guard to take me back to the Palace of Kings."
"Yrsarald did dismiss us." Quinn stated and met Santana's eyes.
Santana's face flushed hot at the thought of Quinn enduring a commander's dismissal during her first assignment; such a failure of command would be career damning. "Quinn…I didn't-"
"Santana-" Quinn cut off Santana's apology before she could continue. "He dismissed us for the night. Now get your gear on. I want to leave before we completely lose the light."
"Leave? Where are we going?"
Quinn never answered.
A few minutes later, they rode on horseback past sentries at the Southern gate. Santana didn't ask where they were going, but she followed Quinn's horse. It wasn't until they hit the uneven dirt path leading east of the fort that Santana felt every bone and muscle in her body ache. Santana said nothing; she didn't want to give Quinn the satisfaction of knowing just how painful their lesson had been earlier. They rode in silence down roads Santana had never travelled.
An hour later, Santana could see lights in the distance. They weren't far from either Fort Morvunskar or Windhelm which meant there was only one place within distance of the city and the fort.
"What are we doing at Kynesgrove?"
"Come on." Quinn kicked her horse.
Kynesgrove was a small hamlet – barely a town – that housed nearby miners and catered to a very small farm. Santana glanced up at the sign posted above the largest building. It was a knot with intersecting stitching and painted on worn wood, underneath the symbol, it read: Braidwood Inn. They tied their horses to the post in front of the inn.
Quinn didn't bother to say anything, but she walked into the old inn as if she had been there before. Santana didn't understand; only a few hours ago, she had been certain that her return to Windhelm would be immediate and permanent.
"What are we doing here?" Santana took a seat next to Quinn at one of the tables close to the fire.
A few of the rougher looking patrons glanced their way, but upon seeing the swords on their belts, they decided not to approach the two new women. The innkeeper's sharp eyes instantly spotted the women's arrival, but he didn't approach them right away. He cared more for the color of their coin than the size of their weapons. A pig roasted over the great fire, ale and wine floated between hands before being guzzled down. In the corner of Braidwood, there was a woman a little older than their age singing as she strummed her lute. Santana's gaze lingered on her soft lips as she enunciated every word and the way her fingers moved with such confidence over the instrument.
When the singer looked up and met Santana's eyes, Santana ducked her head so the woman wouldn't notice she had been leering. Quinn was too busy sizing up the different men and women in the inn to notice the exchange between Santana and the other woman. Santana waited a moment, grateful Quinn had not witnessed her embarrassment. She looked back up, but the dark eyed singer had been waiting. Instead of turning away, she flashed Santana a secretive smile as if she invited Santana's eyes to linger longer.
"Santana." Quinn repeated. "Santana-"
Santana quickly snapped back and ignored the heat in her cheeks. "Yeah, what?"
"I said I don't think we're going to have any trouble here."
"Yeah well you still haven't explained why we're here." Santana turned around so she could avoid being drawn in by the woman's dark stare. Santana held back the rest of her quick response when she remembered what had occurred between them earlier. Chagrined, but still smarting from Quinn's beating, Santana softened her voice and looked down at the table between them so she wouldn't have to meet Quinn's eyes. She didn't want to hear that Quinn had been demoted because of her. Her voice reflected her barely hidden apology. "Why are we here, Quinn?"
Quinn knew why Santana's tone changed. They were both too proud to acknowledge they had been wrong to fight like children on the practice yard and Quinn still stood by her statement. Santana needed to learn more than her dual swords.
"I thought I owed you a drink."
"You owe me a lot more than a drink – more like another round and I owe Yrsarald a piece of my mind. I told him to punish me."
Quinn didn't know if it would be less painful to explain that the punishment would always fall on the officer and that it wouldn't have mattered what Santana said or to appreciate that Santana would have taken the blame. It wasn't often the stubborn daughter of the stubborn jarl would ever admit to being wrong. Perhaps that's why Quinn didn't bother to hide a subtle smile. "He wouldn't have punished you, Santana."
"Well Yrsarald still shouldn't have shown up. You know he came because of my father."
Quinn sighed at the same old anger from Santana.
"It wasn't the only reason he came, Santana."
Santana practically snarled in opposition. "Oh?"
"He has duties as a commander and it's perfectly reasonable that he would make an inspection."
"To a fort that hasn't been inspected in years? He came because of my father."
"And if he did?" Quinn quietly asked in annoyance. "What does it matter, Santana? It's nothing you can worry about now." Her voice picked up intensity with each word. "It was still your decision to be here and your attitude that keeps you away from the Stormcloaks and it will be you that must make the next decision with or without your father's blessing."
"It wasn't much of a decision as an order and what are you talking about? You keeping saying me." Santana paused. "I thought we were in this together."
Quinn's hard resolve finally broke and she lowered her eyes for a moment. "That's part of the reason I brought you here."
"What do you mean, Quinn?" Santana cocked her head in confusion and uncertainty.
"Yrsarald is going to recommend that I continue with my assignment here and then head back to Windhelm before the winter. Commander Galmar will have use for me then."
Santana's face betrayed her before her words; bewilderment replaced anger. Quinn would leave to train under Galmar and Santana would be…
"So you're leaving me and what am I supposed to do?"
"According to Yrsarald, your father has sent word to Solitude before we came to the fort that you are in need of a new housecarl and mentor. Apparently, he had an inkling your current one wouldn't be a permanent assignment."
Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't need a housecarl or another nursemaid. I have more than enough training and ability to move freely through Skyrim without his supervision. I don't need anyone."
She chose to be more upset over her father's assignment of yet another housecarl than to even think about Quinn moving on. It would be the first time they were separated since childhood. Santana had not missed how welcomed Quinn was within the Stormcloak ranks, even with Santana's father – Quinn was the perfect Stormcloak. It wasn't resentment which twisted her stomach, but the knowledge that Quinn would move on to the destiny she was fated to have while Santana didn't even know what she wanted for tomorrow.
For a brief moment, Quinn considered what it would mean to give up her position, her rank, and her promotion. She didn't know if it was shame from her father's legacy or shame that she was unable to imagine her life without the Stormcloaks that made her want to change the subject. Either way, Quinn knew she wouldn't give up her position – even for Santana. "Let's forget about it, okay? I brought you here for a few drinks, not to worry about the future."
Santana gave her companion a barely visible nod.
A third voice cut into their conversation. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"
"Two ales." Relieved to have a break in their serious conversation, Quinn put up two fingers and barely glanced at the woman.
Santana, however, made the mistake of meeting the eyes of the singing beauty from before. She was a little older than they were, perhaps in her early twenties, and while she had dark eyes, her hair was blonde like the Nords. Clearly, she was not only the entertainment at the tavern, but also working the barmaid. "Um-could you add another ale to that order?"
"I ordered for both of us." Quinn stated.
"I said you owed me at least a round." Santana quickly shot back. The singer's eyes lit with amusement as the two girls bickered for a half second before Santana remembered she was there. "Could you add another ale to that please?"
Quinn waved her hand in defeat. It was better to let Santana have one small victory for the day than to bring up the subject of their sparring once more. "Bring whatever she says."
The barmaid-singer graciously smiled to Quinn, but batted her eyes in Santana's direction. She leaned over. "Just tell me if you need anything else. My name is Dinrah."
Santana nodded quickly and stopped herself from stammering any sort of response especially now that Quinn was paying attention. Quinn licked her lips in utter amusement and was about to respond for Santana when Dinrah turned her gaze on Quinn as well. Perhaps her voice lowered just a fraction or maybe Quinn had been distracted before, but the look in Dinrah's eyes stopped her desire to tease Santana. In fact, she felt her own cheeks flush from the dark look in the older woman's eyes.
"I'm here to service both of you." Dinrah walked away to get their ale.
Santana kicked Quinn underneath the table. The blonde warrior startled out of whatever trance the barmaid had placed on them.
"You were a total mess in front of her."
"Me?" Quinn rolled her shoulders back and opened her mouth a few time to accelerate the rush of blood still running through her cheeks. "You almost tripped over your boots when we walked in."
"I thought you didn't see that." Santana flushed again, but then countered. "Anyway you couldn't even speak just now, not that I blame you…" Santana trailed off and glanced over Quinn's shoulder to see if she could spot Dinrah. "Sharing a bunk with you wouldn't be so awful if she was in my bed roll."
"Ha!" Quinn snorted. "Talos wouldn't deem to give you such a blessing. You barely know how to hold a shield much less a woman."
Santana snapped her attention fully back to Quinn. "I could handle a woman much better than you."
"I don't think we share the same taste in bed companions. Besides, Santana, you haven't even handled one woman, but I'm sure all that bluster will help you when she realizes how inexperienced you are."
"I'll have you know that I'm not inexperienced. You don't know everything about me."
"When?" Quinn threw back at Santana immediately.
Santana feigned ignorance. "When what?"
"When did you have this experience that I don't know about?"
"When you weren't around…" Santana shrugged and tried to brush off the question.
"Liar. I'm always around."
"By Talos' beard, I'm not lying!"
"Now you're a liar and a blasphemer."
"Am not. Talos' beard is his most sworn upon feature." Santana smirked and laughed as she continued. "Well…that and his other weapon…"
Quinn made a face. "A liar, a blasphemer, and crass. How could I ever doubt your appeal to women?"
Santana bit back the retort she had for Quinn when she noticed Dinrah returning with a tray of ale. "She's coming back!"
"So?" Quinn teased and leaned back in her seat. "Should I tell her about which part of Talos you swear on when it's not his beard?"
"No." Santana hissed and once again kicked underneath the table.
Quinn winced and returned the kick with the heel of her boot to Santana's left knee. Santana groaned in pain and betrayal. The officer didn't outwardly smirk, but the amusement in her eyes revealed that she knew Santana had hit the ground particularly hard on her way down during their spar.
"Your ales." Whether Dinrah had noticed Quinn and Santana fighting underneath the table, she didn't comment or draw attention to it. However, she did make sure to make full eye contact with each girl as she set the ale in front of them. Santana's eyes dropped and while Quinn made an effort to meet Dinrah's gaze, she was barely able to give the singer an audible thank you. "Please let me know if I can get you anything else, ladies, ale or otherwise…"
"W-we will." Santana managed to get out.
Dinrah leaned over and smiled. "You don't mind me asking what business you have in the area? I would have remembered seeing women like yourselves."
Santana shook her head, but no words came out. She tried to ignore the color in her cheeks. No one called them women, they were addressed as recruits or trainees or still even as girls.
Quinn realized that she would have to answer the question. "Just travelling through. We have some family in Riften."
"Family?" Dinrah quirked an eyebrow. "You don't look to be sisters and you are certainly well armed for only a trip down south." She didn't hide her stare as she eyed the girls from head to toe. Both Quinn and Santana had forgotten they each bore signs of recent fighting. Quinn's jaw was bruised and Santana's eyes were dark with circles and her bottom lip was split from Quinn's shield. "-but perhaps you have already known some trouble on your journey."
Dinrah inched closer to Santana and with all the subtly of an ice giant, she ran her finger along Santana's forearm as she waited for an answer.
Santana's eyes instantly dropped to the nail running up her arm as she struggled to find the words to explain their relationship. "Friends."
"What my companion means, is that we are friends, lifelong friends making a journey to visit kin. As for your other observation, I can only tell you we are as armed as our fathers intended and as skilled as our mothers made us." Quinn completed a line of blessing she had once heard a grandmother in the market give to her granddaughter as a way to deflect Dinrah's question of how well equipped they were.
"It must be a welcome boon to travel with such a close companion." Dinrah nodded in Quinn's direction. "And you must forgive me for intruding; I had mistaken you for soldiers from the nearby fort."
Quinn lifted her chin the smallest amount at the mention of the Stormcloaks. Pride laced her tongue and her eyes revealed more than her intentions. "You do us a great compliment to think such."
"Again-" The singing barmaid addressed both girls. "-I am at your service for anything you desire." She punctuated the word desire before she walked away.
Quinn didn't give Santana a second to recover before she kicked her again. "I bet you won't say three more words to her."
"I will and when I'm done, it'll be more than just three words between us."
"I bet you the cost of those ales I just paid for."
"Prepare to pay twice, Fabray." Santana raised her ale and tapped the edge of Quinn's. It would be the last time they would be able to get away from either of their duties. This would be the last time they would truly be friends in the real sense of the word. Quinn would make her father and all of Skyrim proud as the commander her father, Russel, would have been and the relationship between Quinn and Santana would be that of a commander to a jarl. Santana tried to mask any emotion from her voice as she held Quinn's gaze. "A toast to your upcoming promotion, officer. "
"And to your inevitable adventure away from here."
Nothing would be the same.
It was an unusually dark night as the stars were obscured by clouds. Despite the overcast, the air was light and bounced with summer's promise of good harvest and rest. Santana readjusted the small firebox she attached to her horse's saddle to shed a little more light on their pathway. It was dangerous to travel at night, but these were Jarl Ulfric's lands and in the heart of the Pale. It would take a bold bandit to make an attack only miles from Fort Morvunskar. Normally, they would have spent the night at the tavern and travelled early in the morning, but Quinn would have duties in the morning to perform as an officer and neither woman wanted to risk further attention from Commander Yrsarald.
A playful silence had settled between the two companions as they rode back to the fort.
Somehow it didn't seem fair that Santana had borne the brunt of their fight earlier in the day and now wore the lighter purse after their respite at the tavern. She tried not to scowl or pretend that she even cared that Quinn had won their wager.
However, Quinn deliberately clinked the coins in her hand together just loud enough for Santana to hear. Santana glared, but she bit the inside of her cheeks to refrain from saying a word. She had made it halfway back to the fort without giving into Quinn's desire to tease her and she wasn't about to lose the last shred of pride she possessed.
"You know, Santana…" Quinn teased. "…my favorite part was when she asked you for a song request and you couldn't think of one song. You couldn't even remember Ragnar the Red and that's your favorite."
"I requested it…" Santana grumbled.
"No. You said Rmraaread or whatever you mumbled." Quinn tossed one of the coins in the air and caught it with her other hand. "This was the easiest coin I've made in a while. It's a good thing you have that nice purse from you father; perhaps we should make more wagers."
Santana glowered in her saddle and squeezed the reins to her horse tighter. Of course Quinn knew that Santana had lost most of the coin her father had given her while gambling late at night with the recruits. She would have to be careful how she spent the last of her coin. Santana would never seek to acquire more coin that she didn't earn and earning money at the Fort was near impossible without winning it back the same way she had lost it. Santana picked up the pace with her horse.
Quinn casually did the same. She pocketed the coins in her purse and leveled with her companion. It would do no good to continue teasing Santana. Quinn knew her companion's limits and she knew there were still unspoken words and thoughts between them.
Her voice was laced with concerns and the desire to assuage the overwhelming uncertainty they were both feeling. "I'm sure your tutor will be delayed another few days. It is a long journey to make across the length of Skyrim. He is sure to be delayed at some point."
Santana nodded as if she refused to be comforted.
Quinn continued. "And he will probably want to remain close to Windhelm, if not go to Windhelm for winter if he is from Solitude, he won't know the area. We could spend the winter together in the city and it would benefit us both to continue training together."
Again, Santana refused to respond.
Quinn sighed as she realized neither of them had enough ale to really break down their defenses to speak candidly about their impending separation. "Santana, we have to move on sometime. It lasted longer than it should have. Most sparring companions our age are split apart by the age of twelve."
Santana shook her head in aggressive agreement, but she already felt the loneliness and separation. The only reason she had felt comfortable at the fort was because of Quinn's presence. She knew what the other officers whispered and what Yrsarald's eyes revealed when he looked at her– she was an outsider. They questioned her existence from the dark of her hair to the depth of her eyes. What if she wasn't blood kin of Ulfric? What if she was a mutt seated and in line for his crown?
For Quinn's honor, Santana fought off the gnawing doubts in her chest. She waved her hand to stop Quinn from saying anymore. It would have shamed them both to say the reason for his discomfort. "It's whatever, Quinn. I will survive and most likely run off this next tutor and the one after that and the one after that until my father has no choice but to release me."
Quinn openly smiled at Santana's plans for her instructors and then snorted. "Hopefully this new tutor has more skill than the Bone-Breaker you sent home today."
Santana openly laughed. "By Talos, he was pathetic!"
"How did he even work himself into being your tutor? He must have thought he landed a dream assignment to train the Jarl's young daughter. He'll be regretting it for a very long time."
Santana laughed. "I could have beaten him with my eyes closed."
"For once, I don't think you're wrong."
Finally they both stopped laughing and looked forward over the dark road before them. Unnatural light in the distance caught their eyes and halted their conversation. Santana reached between their horses and dimmed the fire box on her saddle to make sure it wasn't a trick of light. Instead, the light in the distance only seemed to brighten.
"Do you see that?" Santana pointed.
Quinn's mouth drew a tight line before she spurred her horse forward down the road. "That's the fort! It's on fire!"
"Shit!" Santana swore and tossed the fire box from her saddle so that it wouldn't be a danger and dug her heels into the flanks of her own horse to follow after. "Ya! Ya! Ride!"
Their horses were well bred and strong and luckily sure of foot as their riders spurred them hard toward the fort. As they got closer, the flames were more distinguishable and cast strange shadows over the landscape. The sounds of shouts echoed and carried to their ears. Santana pulled abreast of Quinn. They would have to help douse the flames and rescues those that were in the infirmary if they were too weak or injured to escape.
They crested the last hill to the fort and while their eyes widened, they never slowed down. The fort was engulfed in flames and there were shadows on the ramparts, the sound of steel clashing on steel rang through the air and stuck in Santana's stomach. They had dealt with bandits, but never an attack. Who would be fool enough to attack an entire fort?
She glanced to her right and met Quinn's stare. Without saying a word, they both loosed their weapons. The fire would have to wait. They rode toward the back entrance of the fort as it was obvious the entrance had been compromised.
"Leave the horses." Quinn jumped from her saddle and ran to a hidden crack in the wall. It wasn't a well-known entrance, but one she had been shown as an officer. Santana quickly followed and unsheathed her two short swords.
Quinn had yet to unsheathe her sword and only unstrapped the shield from her back. The reinforced wood pressed against her chest as she squeezed through the crevice and unlocked the hidden entrance. Santana's shoulder rubbed against hers as she squeezed next to Quinn. The feel of Santana's cloth shirt against her own shirt settled deep in Quinn's stomach as she realized they were unprotected.
"We don't know who is attacking or how many there are." Quinn whispered as she waited for the locking mechanism on the door to work. "We need to be smart. The sleeping quarters are nearby. If we can head there first, we can arm ourselves properly."
Santana nodded and adjusted the grip on her swords. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest and she could feel her muscles reacting to the rush of adrenaline pumping into her body. Her breathing felt uneven and her brow was already dripping sweat, a combination of the fire and the inevitable fight. Santana struggled to keep emotion from her voice. "Then what?"
Santana hated that she couldn't tell if Quinn shared the same range of emotions and she didn't know if Quinn could hear those emotions in Santana's voice.
"We make our way to Commander Yrsarald. There is no reason to attack the fort unless someone is trying to send a message by killing one of the Jarl's commanders. His presence in a recruit fort made him vulnerable. It's the perfect time to attack and the only motive that makes sense." The door finally released. Quinn hesitated and for a brief moment, Santana sensed they shared the same misgivings. But whatever words she wanted to share with Santana, they were consumed by the sound of nearby battle.
Quinn nodded and pushed off the crevice.
The entrance led to an old pantry that had been forgotten and sparingly used. Quinn cautiously cracked the door to gauge the situation in the hallways. She could feel Santana's nervous energy pressing against her back, but she ignored her own anxiety as she looked through the hallway. The sounds of fighting were close, but she saw neither fellow soldier nor their attackers.
"Let's go." Quinn pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. Without hesitation, she tightened the straps of her shield and drew her blade.
Santana exited the pantry and immediately started walking toward the sleeping quarters. Her dark hair was bound in a ponytail and the only protection on her body was the gold circlet which rarely left her head. They moved quickly down the hallway. Santana took point with her two swords nervously dancing in tight circles in the air. More shouts and the sounds of nearby fighting grew louder, but they reached the sleeping quarters without seeing a Stormcloak or an invader.
"Move quickly." Quinn urged Santana. She settled into the middle of the room and glanced to both the doors on either side of the room. "Get geared first and I will keep guard."
Santana ripped open the trunk at the bottom of their bunk and pulled out the chainmail shirt. She pulled it over her head and adjusted the ties to her bracers and thin metal shin guards. She dropped the dulled practice blades and removed the short swords made for her by the Windhelm smith before she left the city. She noticed Quinn's shield next to her trunk.
"Quinn!" Santana tossed Quinn's personal shield across the room.
Quinn easily caught her shield and placed the unmarked practice shield on the closest bed. Instantly, the young warrior relaxed. The bright blue that colored the Bear of Windhelm stood out against the dim light of the barracks. Quinn pulled back her long blonde braid and tucked it into the back of her shirt. Her eyes expressed gratitude even as she pushed Santana to hurry. "Finish quickly. We have to assist the Commander."
Santana strapped the last of her armor in place and unsheathed her dual blades.
The far door to the sleeping quarters burst open from a violent kick. Both girls froze. A man dressed in a mix of armors from different styles and sets stood with a large flail dangling from a heavy chain in his hands. He panted hard and his eyes were wild with adrenaline from fighting. He instantly spotted the two girls. A wicked smile smeared in freshly painted blood spread across his face with menacing intent.
The swords in Santana's hands felt heavy and her chest shook with uneven breaths. The blood on his armor was so fresh, she wondered if the spirit of his or her owner was still bound to the body. Swords and shields clashed in the hallway. Santana could see there was a great battle taking place outside of the sleeping quarters, but the large invader ignored everything else. He turned and bolted the door to prevent the girls from escaping or from anyone helping them.
Quinn sized him up. He was eager to lunge for them and thirsted for more battle, but he restrained himself. She adjusted her shield and cautiously drew her blade. He wasn't like the hungry men they had encountered during their trip to Markarth. His eyes were hungry for more than food. He outmatched them in strength, body weight, and experience. Alone, the blood on his face was a sign of survival during the attack. He was no stranger to violence.
The moment the door slammed shut, Santana jumped into action.
"Patience, Santana!" Quinn yelled, but it was too late. Santana charged over cots and around trunks. Her swords spun in wicked tight circles and gained momentum.
"Get your gear, Quinn!" Santana broke over the last obstacle separating her from her opponent. "I can handle this."
Quinn ignored Santana's command and leapt to join Santana. Santana yelled and propelled herself from a stool into the air. Her swords aimed straight for the man's throat. He easily step-sided her attack and her momentum sent her sliding across the room.
"Over here!" Quinn shouted to give Santana a second to recover. He smirked and seemingly ignored Quinn as he stepped toward Santana. "Come on!"
At the last second, he raised the flail in his hand whipped it in Quinn's direction, but she was ready. She bounced back to avoid his flail. He smirked as if he was pleased to see neither teenager would be an easy kill. The flail spun faster and shot out towards the blonde haired girl. Santana quickly reentered the fight with a shout and tried to strike back at his attacks. Soon, it was a full blown duel between the two girls and the man.
He met every attack with a block or counter of his own. Santana had never seen someone use a flail with such skill. He spun it in the air with vicious speed and accuracy. Whenever either Santana or Quinn thought they had gained an advantage, he would grip the head of flail and use the chain as a way to block their closer attacks.
The fighters gave no quarter.
Santana continued swiping furiously at the man while Quinn patiently waited for an opening that never came. The clash of steel and shield erupted through the room. Their boots dragged and jumped from stone to stone or over beds and trunks. The flail wreaked havoc wherever it fell. It shattered wood and dented the floor. The way he swung it with no regard for his stamina and with no signs of slowing, it was as if he were on some sort of enhancing brew. Quinn and Santana had a hard time not running into each other, much less keeping up with his pace. The smell of sweat, blood, and determination filled the space around them. This was nothing like any fight they had ever experienced. One mistake would mean death.
At the far end of the room, the other door started to rattle.
Quinn glanced back and noticed it wouldn't hold much longer. "Santana! Get the door! I'll hold him off!"
"But-"
Quinn gave her a hard shove and blocked a particularly hard swing from the man's flail, but it put her off balance. "Go!"
Santana grunted in disagreement, but she broke away from the fight. She sprinted through the sleeping quarters toward the other entrance. As much as she wanted to look back to make sure Quinn was holding her own, Santana kept her head down and worked quickly to create a barricade.
Quinn, however, had been so focused on gaining his attention, she barely raised her sword and shield to block his next attack. He must have noticed the way Quinn's concentration divided on Santana and his flail. He feigned making a move to follow Santana, Quinn reacted immediately to put herself in a position to ward him away from her companion. He smiled with pleasure as the move tricked the young officer to committing a false step. He took advantage of her vulnerable position and with deft quickness he lunged at the off-balance and unsuspecting teen. The force of his attack propelled Quinn back into a bunk bed behind her. She cracked her head against the hard wood and dropped to the ground. Her body went straight into shock and she struggled to keep consciousness.
"Quinn!" Santana managed to blockade the other door and turn in time to see her friend fall. He took a menacing step in Quinn's direction. Santana broke from the door and shouted to gain his attention. "You Talos cursed fucker!" Without waiting, she charged forward once more and swung her swords toward him.
His movements were almost lazy as he shifted his attention from Quinn to Santana. He spun the flail three times before he tossed it toward Santana. She was moving too fast to break her direction or avoid the blistering attack. She crossed her swords and braced for impact. The flail crashed into the flat of her blades. Its weight caught against the steel and her right sword snapped, but it wasn't enough to stop the heavy head of metal. Santana ducked in time to avoid it crushing her face and then rolled forward to avoid the follow through of the chain. The flail snapped back with wicked speed over her head. Santana's eyes quickly flicked to Quinn, but she was down and not moving.
She didn't wait for him to send the weapon back; Santana charged straight in. Chain, flail head, and sword met over and over again. Santana could hardly keep from getting hit while he seemed to barely move; every one of his steps brought him closer to Quinn's still body. Santana tried to outmaneuver him, but she was completely outmatched. Every one of his attacks drew closer and each time she met his attack with a block of her sword, she could feel her muscles straining just a little harder to lift her blade the next time. He anticipated all of her strikes with ones of his own. All Santana could manage was to defend.
Santana struggled to match the man's pace. Her footing was getting loose and her frustration mounted. She couldn't understand how he gave her no room to counter and how he beat her back at every turn. She had easily bested the Bone-Breaker and every opponent she had ever faced, but she couldn't seem to stop defending. Finally, she found the smallest opening and thrust her entire body forward, as she had done to the Bone-Breaker in the practice yard. Except the invader was more experienced, he circled the chain of his flail around Santana's sword and snapped it closed. Her sword stopped and for a second, she was able to fight him from control. She yanked back and tried to wrest her sword from the chain, but he violently twisted the metal and flung her sword away.
Defenseless and exposed, Santana's heart jumped to her throat. She had no way out. Her eyes widened and a cold shiver of anticipation ran through her body.
She was dead.
But the attacker didn't turn his flail on her. His face contorted into sweet victory as if he savored every moment of Santana's defeat, but he wanted more. He licked his lips and swung his flail in languid circles around his head and locked eyes with the young fighter. Santana took a half step back.
His accent was thick, but was unmistakably Nord. "I'm saving you for last, Stormcloak girl."
The way he said Stormcloak; it was a surname, not a title. Another cold shiver ran down her body. Commander Yrsarald wasn't the target; she was. No matter how hard she had tried to separate herself from her father and make a name distant from his throne, it felt like a cruel irony that she would be killed for the name they shared. She steeled herself for the final blow.
But it never came. The man gave her the ultimate sign of disrespect and turned his back to the defeated Santana. The chills in her body turned to boiling heat as she understood he meant to kill Quinn first.
"No!" Santana lurched forward to join Quinn on the ground. She didn't care if he killed her, but she wouldn't let him kill Quinn without another fight.
The man let Santana join Quinn without attacking. He watched Santana try and pull Quinn away from him. His eyes laughed more than his stern mouth and his words were laced with callous sadism. "I've always wanted to kill two birds with one stone."
He leaned back and started to spin the flail in a high circle above his head. Santana's heart jumped to her throat knowing that she still had time to dodge his attack, but he would kill Quinn. Her eyes darted frantically for something – anything – that could save them – save Quinn. She didn't know what she was doing, what she was touching, what she was reaching for, but her fingers found something solid.
She lifted it in the air.
His flail crashed into the front of Quinn's Windhelm shield. Santana grunted at the impact and struggled to keep her arm up. He withdrew the flail and swung again. She lifted the shield higher this time as she had heard Quinn yelling at recruits to do in the practice field. Again, the shield held the attack; the bright blue Bear bore the brunt of his brutal attack. The man's eyes were no longer drunk in victory, but impatient and agitated at Santana's last show of defiance.
Santana stood with the shield in front of her and Quinn. It felt heavy and bulky, but it was the only option she had left. He started to attack once more in earnest – he had grown tired of their fight, but he couldn't break the shield or the girl holding it. Santana tried to push back, but was stopped by the flail. Her only option was to stand above Quinn's body and pray to the Divines for deliverance.
It wouldn't be long. Her arm sagged and her shoulders strained against each attack. She knew he could hear the sound the cracking wood. He was wearing her down.
"Your death would have been quick, but now I will make sure you both suffer before I deliver your head to your father."
Santana didn't have the energy to respond or take advantage of his threats to lunge forward. Her attempts to attack him had produced little but defeat. Santana pushed back her dark hair and widened her stance as she had seen Quinn do earlier that day.
He tilted his head as if he had not been expecting Santana to pause during their fight. The flail head started spinning again, but Santana didn't take the bait. She waited and slowly shifted her weight from one boot to the other as she struck a balance between herself, the shield, and the hard stone floor. He gritted his teeth and growled trying to get Santana to commit to attacking him, but she resisted his taunt and flexed her fingers around the leather straps behind the Windhelm shield.
When he realized that Santana was content to wait him out, the man let out a howl and whipped the flail straight at her.
Santana's first instinct was to instantly avoid the flail head, but she stayed motionless for a second longer. She cleared her mind and at the last second, she dropped her right foot back, like Quinn had done that morning, and allowed the flail head to fly past her face. With the chain exposed right in front of her, Santana quickly snapped the bottom edge of the shield down. It caught the chain and ripped the flail from their attacker's hand. Santana didn't give him a chance to react. She rushed forward with Quinn's shield held high in front of her. He punched at the Bear of Windhelm, but his fist did nothing to stop the full force of the shield against his face. Santana batted him again and again until they both fell in a heap to the ground. The sound of bones cracking filled the air, but Santana didn't stop. She huffed and exhaled with every blow she made with the shield until the door to the sleeping quarters burst open.
Santana leaped from the attacker's body and raised Quinn's shield in anticipation of more attackers. Red ran down the cracks in the wood frame and her heart pounded so hard Santana was sure the adrenaline pumping through her body make her pass out, but she wouldn't let one person approach Quinn without giving them a fight.
But there were no more attackers.
Relief flooded from the first soldier to enter the room. "Santana, Daughter of Ulfric!" He turned back to shout out in the hallway. "We found the Jarl's daughter! She is alive and –" His eyes scanned the room and found Quinn on the ground still breathing. " – Call the healer!"
Santana's shoulders sagged and her head swayed back from exhaustion as the sight of her father's soldier meant an end to fighting. She took a step forward and pointed back to their attacker without saying a word.
The Stormcloak at the doorway rushed forward to the man's body. He bent over him. "She didn't kill him."
Santana didn't know why the soldier's statement sent a chill through her body. She hadn't even thought of the possibility of killing another man – she had just wanted to survive – she had just wanted to protect Quinn.
"Good." Commander Yrsarald stepped into the room. His armor was covered with blood and his eyes were still hard. He looked as though he had been through the battlefield once and could still fight another army. Conversely, Santana could barely steady herself as she crouched down next to Quinn and she had only fought one man, not an army. Yrsarald observed the two girls and continued barking orders. "Chain him and put him into a holding cell with guards posted. I want to interrogate him after we clear the rest of the fort of his comrades."
His hard eyes quickly assessed the room and the outcome of the fight before finally meeting Santana's weary gaze. "See to it that Officer Fabray is treated immediately." Yrsarald hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say more to Santana. His eyes bore into the shield strapped to her arm and the blood running down the Bear of Windhelm, but it wasn't pride in his eyes, it was something more pensive, more apprehensive. "It would have done you both better to have not returned to the fort while we were under attack."
Santana met his stare with the last of her strength. "Officer Fabray never hesitated."
"Hmmph." He grunted and swept out of the room. His boots made soft noises as he left bloodied footprints back out into the corridor.
It was late that night after they had cleared the fort, stripped the corpses, dug graves, and prayed to Talos that Santana quietly spoke her companion's name.
"Quinn?"
The officer had been resting on the bottom mattress of their bunk with a bandage around her head. The Commander had visited with her earlier that day and a few officers and soldiers had come by. She wasn't injured so much as tired from the fight. The bump on the back of her head had been hard, especially without a helmet, but Quinn had already felt better by midday. It would be a quick recovery.
Neither of them had been able to sleep. Quinn's thoughts had been on the Commander's words from earlier that day. She could hear every word still ringing in her head.
Yrsarald sat next to her bed, but his presence was only mildly comforting. His voice was deep, but it didn't travel through the sleeping quarters. His words were for Quinn's ears only. "It was foolish to bring Santana back to the fort."
"We saw it burning. I just reacted. I thought you were in trouble. The fort was filled with recruits – it made you vulnerable. I know how valuable you are to the Jarl."
"How valuable I am?" Yrsarald barked with laughter and leaned closer. "I am but the Jarl's sword and swords can always be replaced, but Santana? That is his daughter. The man who attacked you wouldn't reveal his true contract, but he knew the Jarl's kin fetches a much greater price than one of his many commanders. I am replaceable; his daughter is not."
"But-" Quinn stopped herself from protesting as she recalled the delight in the man's eyes as he recognized Santana in the sleeping quarters. Recognition filled her with dread. "I brought the Jarl's daughter straight into danger." She shook her head violently. "I have failed in my duties twice in one day. Commander, please allow me to resign before stripping me of my rank for the sake of my mother."
Yrsarald chuckled to himself. Quinn's eyes revealed she didn't find his response appropriate for her sincere request. He nodded his head in respect. "Anyone who compares you to your father only insults your honor, Quinn." He stood from the stool next to her bed. "You are young and you have made a few mistakes – ones I am sure you will never repeat. I reject your request for resignation."
"Bu-"
"You will instead resume your duties first thing in the morning, Officer Fabray. Most of these recruits have been tested in a trial by fire today. They, like yourself and Santana, are survivors. They will be hardened and more committed than ever because of it. I think you will find them to be better recruits than they were a day earlier."
Quinn still had a hard time swallowing Yrsarald's reveal that she had endangered Santana by returning to the fort. Where did her line of honor draw? Between the Jarl's family or her military duty to the Jarl?
Still, she didn't mention her conversation with the Commander to Santana. Quietly, to not wake anyone who might be rest nearby. "Yes, Santana?"
Santana swallowed; they would have died if Quinn hadn't beaten the shit out of her with the shield. She couldn't forget the cold chills that ran down her body as she realized they would both die. She never wanted to feel that helpless ever again. Even if she disliked the shield, she couldn't shake knowing that without it, they would have died. "Do you think you could show me a few things with the shield tomorrow?"
Quinn didn't know whether to smile or recognize the subtle shift their lives had taken. It was easier to focus on the training, focus on weapons, focus on shields and swords and footing and parrying. It was easier; it was what she knew. It was what she was good at and somehow it might have saved both Santana's and her life. Santana had been the one to pick up her shield, but for some reason, Quinn felt as if her arm had strained from carrying its weight. "Yeah. I think I could do that."
"Remember duty never ends when we choose for it to end, for some, duty is the only means by which they are tethered to ground and the sky. Duty is both the anchor and the noose by which they are bound." He paused as if deciding to say aloud the very words he knew were true, but which would condemn the young woman to the only life Yrsarald knew she would fully live. "And by my honor on Talos, know that your duty, Quinn, Daughter of Fabray, is just beginning."
END
PART I
