4E 202, Windhelm
"Ysgramor had no taste," Miraak scoffed.
Bernadette and Zura, caught unaware by his comment, turned to him, their eyebrows high up.
Miraak pulled his thin cloak closer to himself. It didn't help with the cold. "This place looks absolutely horrible. And it's damnably cold."
"I thought Nords didn't mind cold?" Bernadette remarked.
Miraak shot her an annoyed glare. "It still looks like a pile of rubbish."
"Only the palace is original, you know."
"I meant the palace. I'm not going to comment the rest."
XXX
"Excuse me?!"
Miraak sneered. Watching Bernadette boil with rage brought him great pleasure.
Zura hurried to calm the Breton down. "Berni, please, the stable master couldn't know. Don't be angry at him."
Bernadette breathed out. "Alright." She took a pouch from her belt and gave it to the Altmer. "Here's the fee for our horses. If you could bring them, please?"
When the man left, Bernadette started pacing. "That...gah! Bloody stupid fucking mage! I'm going to kill him! I bought that horse from OUR money! And he just...just took it, stole it and went for a stroll to the fucking Imperial City! What next, he copied my research? Stole that too? Is he rolling in admirers now? Freshly made into an adept, hungry to steal more research? Gods! If I ever get my hands on him...Mara have mercy on his wretched soul!"
Miraak looked at Zura, question in his eyes.
"She hates mages," Zura whispered to him. "She was treated badly by them. Marcurio, the mage you might recall, was with us. He promised not to steal her research. It was good. I thought, for a time, that we all were friends. I was wrong. He left us to pursue his own goals, possibly stealing Berni's work."
Miraak hummed.
Then the stable master came back and Miraak froze.
He forgot what horses were. That these were the...the...the horrible creatures. He took a step back, then another. Zura looked up at him, baffled.
"What's wrong?"
He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going? Stop," Bernadette noticed his retreat. Her hand was stuffed in the pouch carrying the binding stone. The rune on Miraak's chest flared up. He stifled a groan and froze.
"Here are your animals, thane Bearclaw," the Altmer led the horses, unsaddled, to Bernadette and then gave their reins to her. "Your equipment is in the stable."
Miraak didn't move an inch and watched intently as the women saddled their horses. When Bernadette approached him with Zephyr in tow, he tried to back away, only to bite his lip as the rune flared again.
"Since we don't have three horses anymore, you'll ride with me," she said, throwing the reins over Zephyr's head.
He shook his head, his eyes wide open. "No. I'm not riding that thing."
"What?" Bernadette narrowed her eyes at him.
"I'm not riding it!" he growled at her.
"And how will you travel, then? By foot? A snail moves faster than you, cripple. You are riding."
"I'll fly on one of the chests," he hurried to reply. "I don't see any cart around here, so you still need my skills to carry your plunder. I'll have better control if I don't have to worry about slipping. Or you throwing me off for fun."
Bernadette gave it a thought. "Alright. You can ride on a chest, if you wish."
XXX
It was a rather strange sight. Two horses, trotting next to each other, their riders chatting. Behind them followed a cluster of various luggage, flying through the cold air of Skyrim, and a man was sitting atop of the pile with his arms folded on his chest, clearly brooding.
XXX
As soon as they left snowy surroundings of Windhelm and made their way to the volcanic springs of Eastmarch, Miraak's mood changed. He rode his chest with an astonished look in his eye, lips slightly parted, turning head left and right so nothing would escape his curiosity.
Zura, after noticing his awakened interest, led her horse closer to him.
"So, what do you think?" she winked at him.
"I think that the hooved monster is too close," he grumbled, but then smiled, almost shyly. "I don't mind your company, though." He looked around again, taking in the colourful water, hot air and slowly awakening plants. "It's...it's amazing. Wondrous. I've never seen anything like it."
Zura chuckled. "Wait till you see the Rift. I think you're going to love it!"
Bernadette, riding ahead, but listening in nonetheless, patted Zephyr's neck. She bit her lip. She almost slowed him to join their chatter. Almost.
XXX
A roar echoed through the sky.
Bernadette looked up. A large winged silhouette kept circling above the volcanic tundra.
"I hope your luggage ride didn't tire you," Bernadette commented, throwing a look over her shoulder back at Miraak. "I kinda want to see the famous rebel in action."
Miraak scoffed. The pile of luggage landed softly on the ground.
The dragon noticed them. It roared and took a sharp turn, flying right at them.
Miraak carefully climbed down the chest, then moved a bit further away from the pile of loot.
The dragon whizzed above them. Zura's horse reared and began to dance as she tried to get it back under control. Zephyr snorted and tossed his head, scared, but waiting for commands.
The dragon made an elegant turn, swooping at them.
Miraak tilted his head.
It was a glistening frost dragon, spikes jutting out of its back like spears. It mocked them, its deep voice rumbling through the air. Then, as it swept above them, it took a deep breath. "FO-"
Zura's horse bit the bridle and bolted.
Miraak's arms shot up, spreading wide. A broad arc of shimmering ward appeared with a flash. The frost breath hit it and splattered around, shards of ice bouncing off. Zephyr began to dance. Bernadette pulled his reins, she really wanted to see this up close.
Miraak turned around. He took a wide stance, putting most of his weight on his good leg. Little sparkles of lightning were dancing along his arms.
With a swift motion he threw several lightning whips, spread wide, after the dragon. Most of them missed, dissipating with a sizzle. Three did not. The dragon screeched as the crackling energy wound around its body and wings.
Miraak bared his teeth and pulled the whips back. As he did, the whips grew more intense, shooting smaller bolts in random direction. The dragon shrieked in pain and arched its back as the electric impulse ran through its body.
With another powerful pull at the whips the dragon crashed.
Miraak, his breathing a bit faster than usual, shook his hands to get rid of any remaining sparks. Then he slowly limped to the dragon, still screaming in pain and thrashing around in its crackling shackles. He crouched by the dragon's head, so it could see him, and growled something, his expression turning into a horrifying grimace of hatred.
Dragon's eyes widened in quiet dismay.
Bernadette shuddered.
Then, with a jerk of his hand, Miraak summoned a bolt of lightning from the sky. It hit the dragon. Upon impact, the tormented body arched even more. The dragon let out a desperate screech. It went limp as Miraak stood up, slowly disintegrating into a stream of golden specks.
While it danced around him and fluttered through his hair, slowly joining with him, he turned to look at Bernadette. A shiver ran down her spine. She felt as if the blind eye burnt a hole into her head.
She realized blood rushed to her cheeks and her breathing quickened.
With a proud toss of her head, she huffed and calmed herself.
XXX
"Come on, its nest must be around here somewhere. I bet it's that mountain," Bernadette incited Zephyr.
"Why do we have to go there?" Zura complained, still ruffled from the wild ride her horse graced her with.
"There's bound to be treasure in its lair. Perhaps a word wall."
Zura grumbled.
XXX
There indeed was a word wall.
After plundering a heavy chest and rummaging through bones lying scattered around the lair, Bernadette went to look at the wall. She went through all her pockets to find last few blank sheets of paper and the sad remnants of her ink supply.
Miraak limped closer and looked at the wall contemplatively.
As Bernadette finished the tedious copying of the text, he folded his arms on his chest. "All praise Bard Lunerio, whose golden music became frost here in the night."
Her head snapped up. "What did you just say?"
"I read what is written here," he raised an eyebrow.
"You can read it? Speak it?!"
"Of course."
"Of course?!" she flailed her arms in the air. "Of course! Only the greatest idiots in the land can't do that, obviously!"
"Obviously," his lips twitched in a slight smile.
She stood right in front of him, their noses almost touching. They were similarly tall, with Miraak being several centimeters taller. She stabbed her index finger against his chest. "And you just couldn't say that earlier? So I could keep my paper, and ink, and didn't have to do all that stupid copying?!"
"No," he smirked.
Her cheeks flushed. She quickly masked it with a furious scowl. "Ha, ha, mister, you got me. Next time, be so kind and read it BEFORE I do all the needless work!"
"As you wish."
His tone made Bernadette redden even more. She scoffed and stomped away to poke through a pile of bones she had already picked clean.
Zura, standing a bit further from them and holding the horses, decided to allow one sly smile for herself.
XXX
Bernadette, sitting alone in the darkness, shot a glance over her shoulder. Zura was just trying to convince Miraak to soak in the pool they camped by.
Bernadette sighed, turned her gaze back into the darkness and ran her thumb along the prayer beads Zura had given her. She was praying to Mara every evening since that day. She sighed again. She was not material for Mara, was she?
She looked back over her shoulder. Zura was already sitting in the pool, grinning at Miraak. After another encouragement, he reluctantly undressed. Bernadette didn't look away, she rather enjoyed watching him do it.
She bit her lip. He was still thin, but nonetheless...
He laid down, only his head sticking out of the water. Zura, grinning still, splashed him. Then she laughed and began to spin some story, gesturing dramatically as she spoke.
Bernadette smiled. Zura was a saint. She had to be, or a blessing sent from the Divines.
She looked back at the beads and at Godric's amulet of Talos she was holding in her other hand. Guilt flooded her.
When she was traipsing through Solstheim on her own, she did a lot of contemplating. She also vented her rage and sorrow at her enemies, which helped. And she realized one thing that made her hate herself. She didn't actually mind that Godric was gone. She didn't really know him, and after the shock of his death subsided, she, to her horror, became aware that she felt...nothing. He was gone. And what? People were leaving her all the time.
But what kind of person felt nothing, what kind of person was untouched by death of someone they knew?
She frowned and put the amulet away.
She looked up. The stars were hidden behind a veil of clouds. She put the beads around her neck and hid them under her shirt. Then she sank into herself, burying her head into her hands.
XXX
A shriek woke her. Bernadette shot up, fully awake, her golden sword in hand. She jumped to her feet, looking around nervously.
She saw nothing.
She lowered the sword.
Now she realized she heard hushed whispers and quick, shaky breathing. She turned around. Miraak was sitting up, his eyes wide and his breathing haggard. Little sparkles of lightning danced around him, sizzling quietly. Zura was sitting beside him. She spoke softly in khajiiti and her hands rested gently on his shoulders.
Bernadette sheathed the sword and scoffed.
XXX
With each day on the road they saw more and more signs of destruction. A burnt village. Empty fields. Cattle roaming the land on their own. Bodies scattered along a less frequented road. Destroyed forest, frozen solid, with spikes of ice glistening in the strengthening sunlight of spring. A damaged fort, as of last autumn occupied by guards, now taken by bandits. They carefully avoided it.
Bernadette pressed her lips together. It was her fault.
Behind her, Miraak's expression kept hardening with each scene they witnessed. He didn't even spare a look at the nature around them.
XXX
Finally. Riften.
The walls were damaged by frost blasts, but otherwise it looked the city was in good shape.
That thought perished after they came closer.
Refugees were pouring into Riften. Upon closer inspection, the walls had close to collapsing. Spikes of frost still clung to buildings, cooling the air around them.
Luckily it was a frost dragon what attacked Riften. The city wouldn't survive an inferno.
As they neared the gates and the flock of refugees waiting to be let in, people started to recognize Bernadette. They began to clear the way, bowing with esteem in their broken expressions. Some called her name.
"Thane Bearclaw! It's her!"
"She's back!"
"Thane Bearclaw came to save us!"
At the gates, but before they could get to the guards, a woman in dirty clothes approached them. She was injured, but cared not for her own wounds. She grabbed Bernadette's stirrup.
"My thane, help, please! My baby, she's ill, she won't…" the woman sobbed and revealed a bundle she was holding.
Bernadette saddened, her expression dropping. "I…"
"I can help," Miraak said softly from behind her. "I'm a healer."
Both women looked to him. He was standing next to Bernadette's pile of plunder, lying on the ground. He looked at Bernadette. "Please."
The woman looked at Bernadette too. The Breton bit her lip. Then she smiled reassuringly and nodded. "He will help. You can trust him."
As the woman reluctantly neared Miraak, Bernadette turned to Zura. "Stay here. Look after the treasure. I'll go and fetch Mjoll, then we'll help these people get inside. And share out the loot safely."
Zura nodded. "You can leave Zephyr with me. I'll get him to the stables when this matter is resolved."
Bernadette smiled and dismounted. She shot one last look at Miraak. He was gently touching the baby, his hands glowing with warm golden light. It was different from Vermethys' light, even from a distance it felt more like a caress, a warm, safe haven. Golden specks and sparkles danced around him, reminiscent of sunlit dust. As he healed the baby, the golden warmth extended to the woman as well, who breathed out and closed her eyes in relief.
Another refugee was already hurrying to him.
Bernadette sighed. She turned around and quickly made her way to the gate. Luckily one of the guards posted there was Bjorn.
XXX
"My jarl," Bernadette bowed.
"So you've finally appeared," the jarl looked at her sternly. "Might I know what have you been up to?"
"I went to Solstheim to retrieve a Dragonborn, my jarl. He's an experienced dragon slayer."
"I thought you already had one?"
"That one...died."
The jarl and her steward exchanged a confused look.
"So...now that you have this dragonslayer, can you actually do something about those murderous beasts?"
"I believe so, my jarl."
"Good. Then get to it."
"As you command. Might I have few suggestions before I leave? For defending Riften."
"I'm listening."
"First, the walls. They need to be repaired. Refugees could help build, and could be paid in food, as I imagine they don't have much of it. Second, ballistae on the towers and battlements would be tremendously useful. I heard that Balimund makes steel that can pierce through dragon scales? Have him make the arrows for ballistae. I can teach some craftsmen how to build the weapons in the meantime. And last, I can share a formula for a harmless frost bomb, which could prove useful in case a fire breathing dragon decides to attack. To douse fires. Again, the refugees can help gather ingredients."
"That sounds….very effective," jarl Laila smiled. "Why can't Maven ever come up with something so smart? Good job, thane. Take Mjoll and get to it."
XXX
The evening slowly rolled into a night. Bernadette, rather tired after running around all day, instructing and organising people, especially craftsmen, decided that it was enough for one day. Mjoll and Aerin kept working, as well as Zura, redistributing most of the treasure Bernadette hauled back from Solstheim. She decided to keep gems and artifacts for herself, but there was enough coin in the plunder to help a lot of people in need.
Where was Miraak?
She saw him several times throughout the day, mingling with people, healing whoever needed it. If she remembered right, the last time she saw him, he was with priests of Mara.
Bernadette huffed and made her way to the temple.
Quite a number of people sat inside. Most of them occupied the seats, praying silently to Mara. The only priest in vicinity was Maramal. Bernadette came to him.
"Mara's blessing to you, thane," he smiled warmly. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for Miraak. The half blind healer that came with me. Do you know where he is?"
"The last time I saw him he was with Dinya Balu, making the rounds through the canal quarter, where most of the refugees are placed."
"Thank you."
XXX
When she found them, Miraak and Dinya were just leaving a smelly, but rather safe canal refuge. Both looked exhausted, ready to collapse into a bed.
"Hey!" she called out to them and waved her hand. She hurried to catch up with the healers.
"Thane Bearclaw," Dinya Balu smiled tiredly, gentle wrinkles gracing her face. "Good to see you back, and as warm hearted as ever. These poor souls need it desperately."
Bernadette nodded. "You two look like you need to rest, desperately. I came to take Miraak from you, Dinya, as I am sure he didn't eat," she looked at him pointedly. "And he needs to sleep. If we are to resolve this dragon mess, we need him to stay alive. Come, come," she motioned for Miraak to follow. "You should take some care for yourself, too, Dinya."
Dinya smiled and left with a short goodbye. Bernadette grabbed Miraak and started to drag him towards the Bee and Barb. She had to stop after few steps, because he was stumbling from exhaustion and limped heavily.
She sighed. "Come on, you idiot. Lean on me."
XXX
Bernadette was the first to wake up. She peeked inside Zura's room, only to find both Miraak and Zura fast asleep in their beds.
She left Honeyside. She made stops, checking upon several craftsmen and her guard captain. Then she stopped in a tailor's shop, from where she brought quite a bundle of clothing. The last stop she made by Balimund, who was just heating up his forge.
"Thane."
"Good morning, Balimund."
"What can I help you with?" he smiled and wiped his hands.
"Do you have enough fire salts to work the forge?"
"For now."
"I'll look for some when I set out, then. Do you have leather armour? Not for me. For a lean man about my height? Not too heavy, but offering at least some protection."
"Let me look." He went inside his home, then returned with three cuirasses. "I have this one, just simple leather. Then there is this ornate one, the noble who commissioned never came for it, it's made of hardened leather of the best quality. It comes with these pauldrons. And last, but not least, I have this studded brigandine, similar to your own. It's lined with fur, made for venturing into colder areas of Skyrim."
"I'll take the brigandine. And some boots and gloves with it, please. If you have any lined with fur, that would be terrific."
Yea, Brigandines were great. She was actually looking forward to the moment she could pull her spare out and put it back on. This carved nordic armour didn't fit her. At all.
XXX
After she set her bundle to the table in her study, she fixed breakfast. For all of them. Radishes and pumpkin with saltrice, and a kettle of herbal tea. It was probable that none of them would get to eat a proper meal during the rest of the day, so why not have a hearty breakfast.
As she ate, she looked through a pile of letters that Mjoll had kept safe for her. There was quite the number of them. She never thought that her absence would be noticed this much.
There were several letters from the Imperial Library. Those were opened, but since no one arrested her, no Stormcloak officer managed to realize what was actually written in the letters. She grinned. The letters were formulated quite innocently, but when one read in between the lines, knowing what phrases and formulations to look for, one got quite different message.
The Master Scribe was concerned for her safety. Oh, right, she forgot to tell him about Solstheim and since she didn't send any report for most of autumn and whole winter…
She quickly eyed the other letters. Mostly from people she knew, but not that well. Then there were two letters from Farkas, bless his heart. The first one was just the regular sort he wrote, the other was rather worried. There were even few lines from Vilkas added under Farkas' sloppy handwriting.
She didn't tell the twins, either. She was a rather lousy friend, wasn't she? She sighed.
The last two were from Flavia and Octavian. She smiled. Of course they didn't put their real names on correspondence going to Stormcloak territory, but she knew. And both were terribly worried for her life.
She went to fetch some papers and ink.
XXX
"From what I've heard, a large portion of the countryside is devastated," Zura commented. She put another spoonful in her mouth. "I did some listening and talking. Both the dragons and the civil war are ravaging the land mercilessly, burning farms and villages. The dragons often steal cattle, too. Sometimes even people, if rumours can be trusted."
Miraak, up to now sitting quietly and eating in the corner, grumbled.
Bernadette looked at him. "Why are they doing that? I thought they were some sort of...aedric..maybe? Otherworldly. Otherworldly creatures. With all that rising from the dead, never actually being dead, breathing magic, eating worlds and all the other bullshit."
"They don't need sustenance," he said, his voice darkening, "but they enjoy the taste of blood. They love to sow fear, to dominate, to show their power."
"Dark Moons," Zura breathed out. "They sound as bad as Daedra."
Miraak growled something in an ancient language neither of the women understood.
"Well…" Bernadette sealed the last of the letters she had been composing, "three more days of fortifying Riften, then we're off to do something about this mess."
"What will that be?" Miraak looked at her.
"I...I'm not really sure," she reluctantly admitted. "I have no idea how to stop a dragon reign. Nor do you. Since you failed so spectacularly," she looked at him, challenge in her eyes. He scoffed, but remained silent.
"I remember the Greybeards wanting the Horn of...what was it? Some horn, I have it in my notes. After I'm finished with today's work, I'll have a look, we'll start there. Oh, since we're talking about the venture…"
She got up and tapped Miraak's shoulder. "That bundle over there, that's for you. So you don't fucking freeze, you stupid Nord."
"I'm not a Nord," he narrowed his eyes at her.
"What, then? Imperial?"
"Atmoran."
"Ancient Nord, then!" Bernadette clapped her hands. "A world of difference, my apologies. Be a good ancient Nord and get out of those dunmeri rags, I can almost see your ass through the cloth. No wonder you're trembling like an aspen tree in the wind all the time."
XXX
Miraak watched Bernadette saddle her hooved menace. When the horse looked at him, he recoiled, taking several steps further away from the animal.
Annoyed, he tugged at his long tunic. It seemed that people of this age were in love with their pants, since that was what most of them wore. And he had to wear as well. Bernadette bought him thick brown pants, dark brown shirt with long sleeves, exceptionally thick dark red tunic, rather long, but still too short to be called a robe, embroidered red shawl, even warmer than the rest of the clothing, fur lined boots, gauntlets, heavy cloak and the infernal brigandine she forced him to wear.
How he hated it.
Less than the horses, though. The beast was looking at him again. He scowled at it.
"Stop being such a grump, old man," Bernadette remarked with a smirk. "Zephyr is the sweetest of animals."
The horse snorted and tossed its head. Miraak curled his lip and took another step away. He had a different opinion.
Bernadette opened her mouth to tease him some more, but then she noticed something in the distance. Since she looked there with such intent, Miraak decided to have a look as well.
Three figures were approaching. One large, no, huge, clearly male, reminding Miraak of Hakon. The man had two women in tow, one tall and lean, the other small and sturdy.
"Farkas?" Bernadette called out, almost squeaking. Miraak had to cover his mouth to hide a smirk he could not suppress.
"Dette?" the man, Farkas, bellowed. His rough voice turned strangely warm and inviting.
"Farkas!" Bernadette let Zephyr's reins go and rushed to the man. Miraak backed away a bit, since now the monstrosity was free to do as it wished.
Zephyr bent his head down and began to graze.
Miraak watched as Bernadette, giggling like a little girl, jumped at the man. He caught her and spun her around few times, then put her down. They started talking excitedly.
Zura went to the group with her own horse in tow. Miraak groaned and withdrew from the horses, nearing the two women, standing aside awkwardly.
He narrowed his eyes at them. There was something strange about the two...one was dark-skinned, the taller one. She was hiding beneath a heavy black hood, only the lower half of her face visible. The other was a Nord, strangely small, but rather sturdy, blonde and smiling in a welcoming way.
Yet there was something in her smile that reminded him of a predator.
They noticed he was watching them. The Nord waved at him, her smile broadening. The dark woman scoffed.
Miraak tilted his head. He was all bristled, his subconscious mind warning him about the two. There was one sure way to find out why. He closed his eyes and invoked the Sight.
Once his eyes opened, his eyebrows went way up.
The dark woman's eyes were swirling, glowing pools of blood, slowly dripping into the black void of her soul. Her silhouette, black and tattered, kept shifting in front of his Sight, as if it wanted to drift away, hide from him.
The Nord was some sort of a cat. He clearly saw the golden fur rising on a huge muscular form, strangely humanoid. One of Huntsman's cursed, it seemed, since there was no old god protecting her.
Speaking of the old gods...
Ignoring their alarmed looks, he turned to Bernadette.
Hm. There were no bears anymore. No bear man. But her friend also belonged to the Hunstman. One of his hounds. What strange company did Bernadette keep.
He chuckled. Strange company like himself, hm?
With that he closed his eyes again. When he opened them, the Sight revoked, he found out that the two women neared him, both watching him with suspicion. And fear. He looked at them, tilting his head a bit to see better.
"What was that?" the dark woman asked, hissing in a low tone.
"A little bit of magic, bloodchild," he retorted.
The woman recoiled as if he bit her. She and the Nord exchanged startled looks.
"What's going on?" Bernadette jumped in all of a sudden. "Why are you staring at him? Haven't you ever seen a half blind idiot?"
Miraak raised an eyebrow at her.
"They must have, Skjor is in the hall all the time," Farkas chuckled. Bernadette grinned at him.
Zura decided to join the conversation. "So...are we staying a bit longer?"
"No," Bernadette, still grinning, answered. "We're going to hunt for a dragon! Together."
"Oh, so I won't be doing all the work this time?" Miraak bit in.
"You just need to eat its soul," she waved him off, "now we have the finest warriors in all of Skyrim at our side. The Companions!"
Miraak raised an eyebrow and curled his lip. "As in...the Five Hundred?"
"Yea."
"These are supposed to be…oh, Wolf-Mother, how low the mighty have fallen," he dragged his palm across his face.
XXX
The dragon's nest was close to the border of the Rift, a ruined watchtower the name of which Miraak didn't bother to remember. It turned out that the mighty Companions asked for Bernadette's help because Farkas knew she already killed at least one dragon, whereas they, albeit being paid for it, failed to bring down even a single one.
Miraak scoffed.
Not that he was a fan of Ysgramor and his drunkards, but the warriors earned some respect with their skill, at least.
And now?
A company of monsters, playing at heroes.
XXX
The company split into groups. Bernadette walked with Farkas, holding her horse on a tight leash, since it was getting frightened all the time. How very strange. Horses and werewolves should be the best of friends, no?
Then there were the two women, walking quietly and keeping together. They looked at Miraak, from time to time. He always graced them with a stare that made them turn their gaze back forward.
Zura kept moving from group to group. Sometimes she rode a bit ahead, or dismounted her horse and joined Miraak, limping alone on the tail of this venture.
XXX
It was rather strange, seeing Bernadette giggle and smile all the time. Her eyes bright, she kept chatting with Farkas, her voice almost turning bubbly. She even laughed from time to time. Very loudly. Heartily.
She seemed so...young.
She was young, Miraak had to remind himself. She couldn't be much more than twenty winters old, judging from her appearance.
He kept watching her with curiosity. This young woman full of life, so different from the stern, vulgar warrior, intrigued him. She made him think about her in a different way, to join these two different Bernadettes together into a whole new being. She also made him remember people long dead. Feelings he had long since forgotten. Happier times.
He sighed. Annoyed by strange feelings followed by deep melancholy nestling in his chest, he got up and limped away from the circle of light, cast by the fire in their camp.
He was better off alone in the darkness, anyway. The only tormentor lurking in there was himself.
XXX
He watched the moons travel across the sky. He watched the stars shine bright, then slowly fade out. Sitting alone, his back against a tree, he barred himself, trying not to hear the screams echoing deep inside.
He didn't dare to close his eyes. Instead he kept them on the Wolven star intently.
When the sun climbed up the sky, he let out a breath of relief.
XXX
According to what Bernadette said, they should arrive at the lair tomorrow. Good. The less time he had to spend with these "Companions," the better. Both of the she-monsters were rather hostile to him, probably because he discovered their true nature.
Since he wasn't allowed to blast them into the void, he had to endure the hostility. And it grew ever more annoying. All the suspicious looks. Soft growls, teeth flashing when no one was looking. Tension when he walked by. The she-cat tried to approach him and actually talk to him several times, but the bloodchild would always stop her.
XXX
With a sky shaking roar, the dragon took off. As he did, he swung his tail, hitting the werewolf. The hit sent Farkas over the edge of the ruined watchtower.
Miraak, leaning against a ruined wall, chuckled. He spread his fingers. When Farkas hit the wide net of telekinetic energy Miraak conjured, the priest clenched his fingers, keeping only a fragment of the net existing, to gently set the werewolf on the ground. Then he summoned a ward to protect himself and Zura, hiding behind the wall. Fire splashed at it.
She poked her head up.
"Why aren't you helping?" she asked, her voice shaking.
He shrugged. "Her highness said she had the finest warriors in the land."
Zura rolled her eyes. "Look, I get it, you want to stick it up her bottom, but, please, could you keep your drama for a less life threatening situation?"
He sighed and stretched a bit. "Oh well, since you asked so nicely…" Another blast of fire spattered across his ward with a loud "boom." Zura vanished behind the wall with a yelp. Miraak flinched a little. He didn't like this large amounts of fire.
Releasing the ward, he cracked his knuckles and looked up, watching the dragon's flight carefully. This bronze was sloppy...he moved in patterns.
When the dragon stopped to spew flames at Bernadette, Miraak hit him with a spray of lightning whips. Several whips connected, winding around the scaly body.
This bronze was far tougher than the frost dragon, though.
With a deafening roar the warrior dragon hit the ground. He growled as the impact forced the air out of his lungs, but then he flexed his muscles against the whips. Slowly, putting his strength against Miraak's, he unfurled his wings.
Miraak cursed and let the whips go. The dragon arched his neck, turning his piercing eyes to the priest. "You will burn for your insolence, meat," the dragon snarled in dovahzul.
Miraak bristled. "Not even the General accomplished that, little lizard! TIID KLO UL!"
Time around him grew almost still and the world dulled into grey. Miraak scoffed. He hopped down the tower, strolling through the air to the dragon, ever so slowly opening his maw. As he neared the scaly bastard, Miraak began gesturing.
Time found itself again and returned to normal.
"YOL TOOR SHUL!" the dragon shouted, releasing scalding stream of flames. It hit the tower and melted some of the rocks. The dragon closed his maw and narrowed his eyes. The little mortal wasn't there. Where was he?
"Right here," Miraak's voice came from under the dragon's head.
The dragon growled. Maw wide open, he bit down at the source of the voice.
Miraak roared and spread his arms, bursting with electricity. An explosion followed. Crackling and sizzling, Miraak's silhouette burst with lightning, splitting into a net of blue energy, engulfing the dragon.
The dragon shrieked, his whole body going into seizure. Thunder rolled in.
Miraak reached up. The sky rumbled and darkened. His lips pressed together into a stern line, the priest brought his clenched fist down. A single bolt of lightning, reminiscent of a sizzling, shifting column, shot down, hitting the dragon.
Deafening thunder, making pebbles dance on the ground, rolled in.
Miraak wiped his hands.
XXX
"Thank you for helping us so promptly," Bernadette snapped at him. Miraak raised an eyebrow.
"You're welcome."
She scoffed. "Would you please be so kind and read this for me?" she pointed to the dragon wall.
"As her highness wishes," his lips twitched and he gave a hint of a bow. "Noble Nords remember these words of the hoar father: To kill in glorious war is to honor oneself, to die in glorious war is to honor all of Skyrim."
"It really says that?" Farkas wondered. "I thought all the dragon people were rubbish. This sounds like something Ysgramor would say."
Miraak grimaced and turned his blind eye to Farkas. Better not to look at this "warrior." He almost scoffed. Just the same idiot like all the others, lusting for blood. If they rather sought to protect…
He hummed to himself. But that was what these three daedra-cursed were doing, was it not? Even if for money. He tilted his head to steal a thoughtful look at Farkas, smiling at Bernadette.