Of Crossed Daggers
Trygga wkoke slowly. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the wild around her before sitting up, opening her eyes. In front of her, she saw a large frostbite spider. She smiled. Namira made good on her promises. She stood, stretching, then looked around for any sign of the other Priestess of Namira. She didn't see her anywhere around the hills she was in. She would just have to hope that the other priestess would find her way to her. She needed to be off, so that a sharp-eyed brigand didn't spot her.
She set off, the morning sun not even cresting the hills around her, but lighting the path around enough for her eyes to be able to see. She stepped carefully, she was not on a true path, and she did not want to trip and fall. She hoped that, along her way, she would find a nice, isolated cave that would serve her flocks' needs, though she didn't hold much hope for finding one in the same hold that her last was in. Rebuilding the coven would be a trial, since, in order to find those interested, one had to show that you, yourself, were interested in the practice. That could lead to some messy encounters.
She stopped when she heard a distant call from behind. She turned. It was Eola, her handmaiden. Her face broke out into a small smile, and she began walking to her friend.
"Trygga. It is good to see you." Eola embraced her tightly.
She tensed at the physical contact, her hands coming up almost defensivly to the womans sides, the rest of Eola's words falling on deaf ears. She managed to stammer out a greeting, but that was all.
Eola let her go. "Trygga... Does physical contact unsettle you?" She looked puzzled, and her stance was hesitant.
Trygga nodded, but did not actually speak for a moment. When she did, her voice was hesitant. "Something like that was... Unexpected. I do not know- I cannot react properly. It is not something I am used to." She quirked her mouth in frustration, then shook her head, as if to clear it of some annoying fly. "It surprised me. " She stepped forward and embraced Eola herself, less uncomfortably this time.
When the hug broke, Eola nodded. "I understand. This was the first great stress we have had since you became Her Handmaiden. It shook me. I didn't think what my actions would cause, I was just so relieved to see you."
Trygga nodded. "It is fine. Let us just move onward. Staying for too long in the open is dangerous." She took the priestesses wrist and guided her onwards. "Keep an eye out for locations the would be suitable for our Lady."
They'd travelled for a few hours when they came upon a road. Both she and Eola looked to one another, the unspoken agreement to not travel on it conveyed easily. Their lady would not wish for a place so close to where it could be discovered. They continued on, crossing the road and continuing on their journey to the other side.
"Trygga, I know you wish to find our Lady a new temple, and I commend you for your dedication, but even you cannot continue on nothing to eat. We should find something. It would do our lady no good for her handmaiden to collapse." Eola had stopped, and was gazing at her intensely. "Come on, Trygga. We should hunt for something."
Trygga sighed. She was hungry, but she did not wish to admit it. Her belly grumbled. She looked down, looking at her stomach like it was an alien entity. She wanted this search finished- Needed it finished. The Temple of Namira was her home. She didn't have a home anymore. Not ince she returned from Cyrodill. She nodded, though she did not really wish for it to impede their progress. Namira confused her, but she was devoted to the Prince. "Very well." She finally replied, her shoulders slumped and her tone resigned. "What do you wish to eat?"
Eola shrugged. "I do not particularly care. We could look for a few rabbits or somethnig, but I do not think either of us are good enough hunters to be able to catch one."
Trygga nodded. "You're saying we should find someone to eat? It bothers me, somewhat, but... If we can find a priest of Arkay, or a Vigilant, then I have no honest problem with it." She shrugged. She didn't wish to cause unnecessary death, but she didn't mind removing more of her Prince's enemies.
"I'll keep an eye out, then." Eola beckoned her along, moving further along the way they'd been going.
Trygga followed. There were times that the lines between the two blurred, and she deferred to Eola's lead. Trygga was young, only 19 years of age. Her companion, on the other hand, was in her thirties. There were times she deferred to Eola, and there were times Eola deferred to her. She didn't think Eola deferred to her because of any personal strength, but because of her position in Namira's coven. As she followed Eola, she occasionally bent down to pick flowers from the ground. Some, she would take for pure enjoyment reasons- She had always loved picking flowers, as a little girl- but some she would take for their alchemical properties, such as thistles.
She had been lost in her thoughts when Eola placed a hand on her chest to stop her. She came to reality quickly, glancing where Eola was looking. There looked to be two Vigilants, camped in a small ravine. She and Eola stood at the top of the ravine, where it opened up to the rest of the world. Splattered around the floor were trees, rocks, and shrubbery in haphazard fashion.
"They won't know what we are unless we tell them, so that should give us an advantage." Eola waved a hand at them. "They don't seem particularly on guard. Makes you wonder, hmm?"
"Then, shall we get moving, Eola?" Trygga began walking down the ravine, towards the Vigilants' camp. "Hail. You're Vigilants of Stendarr, by your garb, correct?"
One of the Vigilants' stood, then turned toward her. She was a Breton woman, and her voice was rich and deep. "Yes, we are. Have you come for Stendarr's blessing?"
Trygga sighed. She had to remind herself again that they would tear down her family as soon as they knew what she was. "I am Trygga. No, I do not wish for Stendarr's blessing, and I doubt that he would grant me it." She raised her hand, to display the ring upon it. "I am a disciple of Namira. I doubt you would give it to me, either."
At her words, the Vigilants' hands went to their maces and a shield spell was ready in their off-hands. The other had gotten up, and he had readied his own mace. "You... You pervert the world with your worship! The Daedra do not belong on Nirn, nor do their servants!" The woman charged her, swinging her mace as she went.
Trygga deftly cast a spell to bend light around her, causing her to blink out of vision, then cast another spell from her stealth that charmed the woman's companion. Eola was still staying back and watching, most likely confident in her leaders' ability to handle herself.
The larger man charged hiss smaller companion, shouting incoherently and swinging his mace ineffectually. The Breton woman's face turned grim, and she countered the mans swings with her own mace. Trygga moved silently behind the Vigilant, wrapping an arm swiftly around her neck, her illusion spell dissipating as she did so. The belligerent man stopped at her command, and she placed a dagger against the Vigilant's throat.
"You know, I really did not wish to kill you. I knew you would attack me. I wish, so much, that you and your kind would just leave me and my family alone, but- Alas, you do not. I give you a choice. You, or your companion? My own companion and I are starved."
The Breton woman had stiffened when she had grabbed her, but she did not resist. The blade against her neck showed surely what would happen if she did. "The Daedra care nothing for mortals. You are a fool for serving them. They are abominations, and they should not be allowed to rule over us!"
Trygga laughed in contempt. "Namira may not care as much for me as any other mortal that serves her, but she cares more for me than your Stendarr cares for you. Anyways, you have not answered my question. You, or your companion? I do not normally wish to end life, but, for now, I must."
The Vigilant tensed. "You are honestly asking me to choose between me and my companion?"
Trygga nodded, though the woman could not see her. "I am."
The Vigilant slumped in defeat. "Take me, then, though I know you will kill him as well. We are both doomed anyway."
Trygga released the woman, though not before liberating her of her mace. "Give me some of your bread, and some of your meat. I will not kill you if I have to."
The Vigilant was shocked. "You- What? You're not going to kill us?"
Trygga nodded. "I am not. I do not kill wantonly, just because it suits my purpose. It would not serve Namira, nor would it serve me. You bring honor to yourself by putting the life of your companion before your own, and, for that, I spared you."
"You cannot just be letting me go. It must be a trick! The Daedra are full of such things." The Vigilant narrowed her eyes at Trygga.
"Nay, it is no trick. Now, give me some of your bread and meat, and me and my companion will be off." Trygga shook her head in annoyance, then clasped her hands behind her and straightened herself. "Just do as I ask. I will not harm you."
The Vigilant continued to eye her as she searched through her bags, then finally stepped forward with the food. She placed it on the ground halfway between her own companion and Trygga, then backed away so that she could keep her eye on both.
Trygga stepped forward, picking up the food, then walked backward away from the vigilant. "Your companion will only be under my spell a few more minutes. Make sure he doesn't wander off." She dropped the mace, then turned around, calling behind her one last remark. "Even the worshippers of Daedra can appreciate what family means to one another."
"So, you let them live, hmm? I didn't honestly think you would." They were up in the more mountainous regions, and Eola was speaking to her from a rock outcrop she was resting upon.
"Yes, I did. You know that I am loath to take life, except for my family." Trygga herself was seated on a tree branch, somewhat below Eola, but close enough for them to converse easily, since Eola wished to be on her pedestal.
"I do know. But, it's not as if them dying would have matted. And, you still would have been taking care of your family. I mean, I would have appreciated being able to have a nice feast, myself." Eola had begun twirling a strand of hair around on her finger, occasionally pulling it out, then returning to twirling.
Trygga took a bite out of the piece of bread that she was eating, chewing and swallowing before she replied. "You've had a feast, yesterday. We don't need more. Besides, human flesh starts to taste foul after a few days straight of eating it."
Eola scoffed. "I've never had that problem. Then again, I enjoy it more than you do. You're more of a cermony type of woman." Eola chuckled to herself, probably at some amusing thought. "You know, you are the strangest damn Nord I have ever seen, right?"
"Comes from growing up in Cyrodill." Trygga shrugged nonchalantly. "Not my choice to grow up there."
Eola hopped offof her stone pedestal, agilely landing on her feet the fifteen odd feet below the rock. "If you're done with your bread, shall we find a decent place to camp?"
Trygga shrugged, up in her tree. "Why not here? The outcropping is perfect for it. We're safe from any predators with a fire. Honestly, it won't be an issue."
"Sure. I don't care where we are, so long as it's safe and not too uncomfortable. I don't suppose you packed a blanket in your bag?" Eola moved to under the rock outcrop, leaning agiast the back of it.
"No, I don't, but..." Trygga opened her bag, pulling a robe out of it and tossing it at her handmaiden. "Take that. It should help you keep warm." She set her bag down to use as a pillow, then laid down and closed her eyes. She wasn't truly very tired, but she would sleep soon.
"Thank you, Trygga. Do tell if our Lady gives you any special insights." Eola rustled about some, Trygga wasn't sure what she was doing, then she settled down.
As the sleep washed over her, her spirit pulled its tethers away from her body, and her deity called her.
"My pet, you are here." Namira sat upon her throne, at the end of the same stone slab. A small man, however, sat at the base of the dais this time. Around the two scurried the creatures of Namira's patronage, though some seemed to avoid the man.
"Yes, my lady. We have a guest?" She stepped forward, going half the distance from where she started to the throne.
The Daedric Prince nodded. "This is Tanthar. He is one of my servants. I'll be having him join you. He is in Riften. There is where you shall head, and there shall you create a new home for my coven."
The man turned his head up to Trygga. He had a scar from the crown of his forehead down to his cheek. It passed through his eye, leaving his eyelid unusable, though the mangled eye was unclouded. He smiled, the scar twisting wildly with the smile. "Namira has told me about you. I would be honored to serve you."
Trygga raised a brow. Namira had told the man about her? It could mean unsettling news, though she would trust her prince.
The man was dismissed with a wave of his hand, fading from the plane. "I tell all of the servants who I grant audience to about you, though, few are granted it."
Trygga quirked her mouth in puzzlement, then calmed her features. "Why is that, my lady? Why tell them about me?"
"Trygga, you may think of yourself as unimportant, but, I admire you. You are completely loyal to me and my followers. You are not even someone who would normally serve me! Instead, you serve me because I ask you to. It is refreshing. This is also why I have elevated you to be my handmaiden- You do not understand the significance of that, even, do you?" Namira chuckled. "That would be interesting, though..."
"Yes, I serve because you ask. I've had no family for ages. I just wanted one, and you were it. And, no, I do not know, exactly, it. I have an idea, but it is very hazy." Trygga replied, shifting ncertainly.
Namira stood from her throne, stepping down and away from the darkness that surrounded it. As she came into the ambient light, her face was revealed. It was that of a beautiful woman, in her prime- But decay clung to it. She looked as if she had been a corpse for weeks, with pallid skin and rot showing on her cheeks, lips, and forehead. Otherwise, she was a beautiful woman. As she stepped closer, Trygga could smell the odor of decay on her, a dark, musty smell. "My handmaiden. You take audience in my realm with me, every night. You will be the one to summon me to Nirn. You are my chosen handmaiden, my servant. All who serve me will defer to you. Not because of the power I have given you, but the servitude that you have given me."
Trygga had suppressed her urge to gasp at seeing her deity, but she did gasp at the realization that the Prince had told her than. "My- My lady! I don't deserve that. I... Why? I..." Trygga trailed off, head down, shoulders slumped.
"Trygga. You are confused. Do not be. I chose you for a reason. I know it will not inflate your ego, and I know that you will guide my coven well. I would have you vreate connections between all of my cults, across Tamriel." Namira stepped forth and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was cold, but the cold was pleasent. "Have confidence in yourself, Trygga. You will lead my worshippers to safety."
Trygga nodded, still slumped. "I still don't feel as if you should gift this upon me. Eola would have been better for it. The Dark elf you sent me. The man you just had here. Any of them, I feel, would suit yo far better."
Namira's grip on her shoulder tensed. "Stop that incessant nonsense. I'll not have it. Now, Trygga. I trust in you. When you get to Riften, speak with the man you saw here. He will find you a safe place. There, you may summon me."
Trygga nodded, bringing her gaze up to her Prince. Namira was beautiful, even with the rot, and she took a brief second admiring her deity. Then, just as she began, she stopped, nodding. She did not wish to irk Namira by staring. "I will, my lady."
"Go, then, my pet. Serve me well, as you always do." Namira's hand moved to her cheek, gently caressing her cheekbone. Trygga blushed faintly, turning into her patron's hand reflexively, her eyes closing slightly in enjoyment of the affection. Just as soon as the touch came, it was gone, and her spirit faded into unconsciousness, settling back into her body.
