Minor spoliers for the Dark Brotherhood, Companions and Thieves Guild quests. I own nothing.
"Silence, my brother."
The Black Door closed with a heavy thud, separating Faendal from the woman he faithfully followed. He reached for a door handle but was unable to find one. He tentatively pushed on the door. When it didn't open, the elf pushed harder, bracing his shoulder against the door, but it remained sealed. He banged once more on the cool, ebony door before slumping down in the lush grass. The area was quite beautiful if you omitted the stain left by the Black Door.
Faendal took a deep breath and relaxed. The woman would be fine, she had made it out of more dangerous situations before. She would walk out in one piece, the Bosmer was sure of it.
The elf melted into his surroundings, breathing in the calm quiet of nature. He picked a nearby flower and stroked its petals. They were soft, like a young babe's face.
Reclining in the grass, Faendal's mind wandered to his future. He would like children of his own one day. For years he dreamed of Camilla Valerius, but not as often as of late. He still wanted a family, but now Camilla was no longer the only female on his mind. His thoughts often drifted to the Shield-Maiden he traveled with.
Faendal brought the small flower up to his face and smiled. It was a small Nightshade bloom, beautiful but deadly. The innocent flower carried the bleak connotation of death brought by The Dark Brotherhood.
The Dark Brotherhood.
The Dark Brotherhood.
Shooting up, Faendal's veins burned as adrenaline rushed through him. The elf banged on the door and pounded on the unforgiving door. He pulled back to find a handhold, but his search proved fruitless. The Bosmer pounded on the door once again before releasing a yell. He raised his hand to strike the opaque barrier when he remembered the door opened when his companion spoke a few soft words to it.
The elf closed his eyes and begged the words to come forward.
"Silence, my brother." The evil words escaped his tongue before he could stop them. He clasped his hand over his mouth and begged the door to open. He was answered only with silence.
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The moon hung high over Jorrvaskr on the dark night. The Dragonborn and Faendal had piddled around the town all day, and now that the sun had set, the woman had a renewed spark of purpose in her eyes. He soon found himself ascending the stairs to Jorrvaskr on the cloudless evening.
The elf waited patiently out of earshot while the woman chatted with a Nord man. He began walking and the Companion followed, with Faendal trotting obediently behind the pair. He watched as the heavily armored Nord pushed on a stone wall. The rock gave, revealing a small room. The elf took in the room, stone walls with a stone bowl in the middle, like some sort of ritual alcove. Faendal caught a glimpse of a...beast before the door slammed in his face, leaving him alone.
He stared at the door, his eyes wide. His leader was in a small room with a beast. His heart began to race, she was in trouble. He knew what he saw, and the plucky Dragonborn had just waltzed into the belly of the beast, literally. He pushed on the stone wall, but the cold wall remained stationary.
Faendal shook his head at his thoughts, a beast like that was only of legend, haunting the nightmares of children. A beast couldn't possibly be in there, the woman was smart, she wouldn't stumble into danger like that.
The elf calmed and listened to the door. His eyes fell on the stars and he smiled. His traveling companion liked the stars, claiming they carried knowledge. The pair had often lay awake recounting stories in the wilderness, eyes on the stars. His eyes softened at his thoughts of the woman. He couldn't pinpoint the day when his thoughts turned from Camilla to her, but now he wouldn't think of traveling without the Dragonborn.
The drunken shouts and laughter from the Bannered Mare interrupted the elf's thoughts. He brought his attention back to the sealed room behind him. It was quiet, assuring Faendal of the woman's safety. He wanted to keep her safe, but he also knew she was capable of keeping herself safe.
The sound of soft words yanked Faendal's attention back to the sealed room. Pressing his ear against the door, the elf was still unable to make out the words of their conversation. The words ceased and an eerie quiet washed over him. His body tensed as he listened, and then he heard it; the tearing of skin and cloth.
The elf's stomach knotted as he attempted to move the stone barrier. With a rising panic he searched the door for any way to move it. Finding nothing, the Bosmer stepped back in an attempt to find another way it.
The stone door flew open and beast rushed out the moment the elf stepped away. Faendal and the beast locked eyes for a moment before the beast turned and ran. The shocked follower fell to his knees. It couldn't possibly be true, werewolves, beasts were only of legend. The elf watched the retreating figure of the beast for a while before turning towards the open room. He ran to the entrance, but his leader was absent. Standing in the small rock chamber were two Nords, the man who led the Dragonborn to the room and a red-haired woman.
The woman caught Faendal's eye and spoke, "Yes, that was your friend. You may not recognize her in her current form." She paused, "Go home, elf. I will follow her and make sure she is okay."
Faendal did not miss the contempt in the woman's voice when she addressed him as elf, but nodded weakly in agreement anyway. He was too tired to argue, and his mind was already whirring from all the information.
"Tell her I'll head back home if she needs me."
On the way back to Riverwood, Faendal's mind raced, trying to make sense of what just happened. The woman he followed knew she was going to become a beast? He wondered if it hurt, he wondered if she was okay, he wondered why she hadn't told him what was to happen. The elf's eyes fell back on the stars and he wondered what happened to goodbye.
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Dispatching the bandits hadn't been an easy task. The pair was out of breath as they ascended the ramp of the ruin.
The somber look in the Dragonborn's eyes scared Faendal as she slowly handed him everything she wasn't wearing or wasn't a favorite weapon. He watched her black cape flare up as she turned towards the Dwarven doors. He took a step forward and her eyes hardened and stared into his.
The command was clear, he would stay.
The woman nervously pulled on her Void black bracer and opened the door. Faendal's heart sunk into his chest when the door closed in front of him with a heavy thud.
The elf's thoughts surged with all the possible danger. How dare she go alone, Dwarven ruins were dangerous. She knew full well the peril that could befall her. They were a team, and watched each others backs, taking care of the sick Falmer. Why would she tell him to stay, it didn't make any sense.
Sitting down, Faendal sent a quick prayer to whatever deity was listening. Whether Talos was a god or not, he cared not, only that something kept her safe.
Sifting through the things the woman entrusted to him, Faendal lifted her worn leather cuirass and cursed it. The Thieves Guild had caused so much trouble for the Dragonborn.
He thought back to the worry that settled on his heart when Mercer took her into a Nordic ruin, shutting him out. Her face was so pale when the Dunmer exited the door holding her. An arrow was nocked, ready to fly into the throat of the elf when she spoke, asking him to calm. The soft-spoken Dark Elf's armor matched that on the unconscious thief's body. The only difference being the growing blood stain tainting the front of his companion's.
Faendal stepped closer and hovered protectively over his companion while the Dunmer lifted a potion to the Dragonborn's lips. Her fingers quickly undid the woman's armor and revealed the wound on her stomach. It was already beginning to close and both elf's shoulders relaxed.
As quickly as the relief came, it was gone. Faendal turned to the Dark Elf, "What did you do to her?"
The quiet elf was taken aback by the accusation and shot back, "I did not do this. The arrow was meant for Mercer Frey, I never intended for her to get hurt. The poison was merely paralytic, the wound was caused by Mercer. The poison slowed her blood and prevented her death. I saved her."
Mercer Frey. The name left a bitter taste in the Bosmer's mouth. His leader was always upset after talking to the man with a permanent scowl etched on his face. There was something about the shrewd man that Faendal didn't trust.
"Where's Mercer?"
"Mercer has fled."
The woman stirred and Faendal rushed to her side. Mercer was a coward.
The Wood Elf shuddered at the memory and put the cuirass back in his pouch. He strained his ears to hear, but it was pointless due to the thick Dwarven doors. Faendal sighed and slouched against the cold metal. The elf sat in worry for his companion. He would begrudgingly admit to harboring some feelings for the woman. Seeing her hurt, or upset tore him to pieces. Faendal wanted to protect this woman and hated the places he couldn't accompany her, for who knew what would happen.
He took a deep breath, smelling the sharp scent of the Dwarven metal and sighed. Leaning against the golden doors, Faendal listened for her, for anything. The only reply was silence.
I hope you enjoyed! I always feel bad for leaving my poor Faendal behind...