So here's Chapter VII, finally. Sorry for taking a bit longer than usual, the last couple of weeks were ridiculously busy for me. i had all my midterms to write so I was busy studying frantically. And, of course, that was when my profs decided to pile on all the homework and assignments and projects and crap, more so than usual. And then after I finished everything, I went out and bought Mass Effect 3 and played the crap out of it last weekend, so I got nothing done then, too. it's a fantastic game, by the way. But you didn't come here to read about my life so I'll stop boring you with stuff you don't care about now. So here it is, at long last: Chapter VII

Oh, and I'll be impressed if anyone spots the rather clumsy reference to a folk song I threw in here.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Leto, Avernus, and several associated original characters. The rest of the masterpiece that is Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.


Avernus watched his sister and the other merchant approach. She was the second oldest sibling in the family, born eight years after Avernus, shortly after his mother married his adoptive father. How old was she now? About two and a half years had passed, so that would put her at twenty-one years of age. Just looking at her now, she seemed so young, as little more than a girl. She had always been interested in fighting and adventures as a little girl, and had practiced with a sword as she grew older, but to see her now as a caravan guard was surprising.

She took more after her father than their mother. She had his height and his blonde hair (currently tied back in a ponytail), his sharp, nose and broad chin, but she had their mother's brown eyes as well. There was no recognition in her eyes as she strode towards Avernus, hand in hand with the other merchant, which added to the apprehension he felt. He had been gone for two and a half years, no doubt presumed dead, and apparently he had changed so much that he wasn't even recognizable to his own sister who stood right in front of him. What does one even say in such a situation? 'Hey, it's me, Avernus. Look, I'm not dead!'? While Avernus was indeed quite happy to see his sister again (they had always been close growing up), he was quite nervous also and found his hand instinctively grasping Leto's for support and comfort.

"So, what's the deal, Heinrik? Are we taking them to Whiterun?" asked the second merchant, the one who had been off with Avernus's sister. He was younger, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and was fairly typical for a Nordic man; he was big, had blond hair, blue eyes, and strong facial features. He was clean-shaven and dressed in simple travelling clothes.

"Yeah, we are. They made quite the offer. Here," replied the first merchant as he tossed the coin purse to his partner. This man was shorter than the blond merchant and unlike him, had dark hair and brown eyes, and sported a moustache and goatee.

"We're leaving in one hour, so be ready to go by then. That goes for you two as well," Heinrik said, gesturing to Avernus and Leto.

"Well that's settled then," said Alvor, who was standing next to Heinrik. "Good luck in your journey, you two."

"Thank you, again, for your hospitality and aid, Alvor. Leto and I truly appreciate everything you've done for us."

"Think nothing of it," Alvor said with a smile as he waived his hand dismissively. "May Talos guide you in your travels, friend," the smith bade them farewell, before turning and leaving for his own house. Turning back, Avernus found his sister still there, staring at him and Leto with curiosity, but not wariness, he noticed. The other merchant had gone off to help Heinrik prepare for their departure and the other two guards had long since lost interest in them.

"Hello, Magnhild," he addressed his sister in Cyrodiilic, his voice small and heavy with apprehension. She bristled and her eyebrows met in a frown, turning her curious gaze into a hostile glare.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded defensively in Cyrodiilic. Strangely enough, her response helped calm Avernus somewhat. It was such typical behaviour for his sister, skipping right past surprise, or else not showing it, and jumping straight to confused vexation. It was a familiar response and this helped soothe Avernus.

"Because you're my sister," he answered quietly.

"What are you-" she began to reply, but faltered. Avernus saw her eyes making tiny movements as they examined his every feature, and slowly he saw the light of recognition seep into them. Her mouth fell open in shock as she gasped, and Avernus recognized new emotions colouring her visage, chief among them shocked disbelief and horror.

"Avernus? Is that you?" she asked in dumbfound incredulity, to which he merely nodded faintly.

"Shor's bones, it really is you!" she exclaimed as she dashed forwards and wrapped him in a giant, crushing hug, lifting him up and sending his cane clattering to the ground. However, the sudden contact of armour plating against his pathetically weakened body was quite painful, and the abrupt force jarred his ruined leg, causing Avernus to shriek in pain.

Magnhild immediately dropped Avernus and recoiled in shock, as if she had just been slapped. Avernus would have crumpled into a painful heap on the ground if Leto hadn't reacted as fast as she had, catching him in her arms and wrapping them around him in a protective, yet supportive manner.

"By the Eight, I'm so sorry!" cried Magnhild, who looked horrified and seemingly on the verge of tears. By now, they had caused quite a scene. The other two guards were staring at Magnhild and muttering conspiratorially amongst themselves. The second merchant was staring at her with a look somewhere between shock and embarrassment, and Heinrik seemed positively livid.

"What in Oblivion is going on, girl?" Heinrik demanded angrily of Magnhild in Nordic as he approached, "What did you do? Why are you harassing a client?"

"It's fine," Avernus cut in before his sister could answer. "Magnhild is my sister. We haven't seen each other in a long time and she was a bit too … enthusiastic in greeting me, that's all."

"Wait, how can you be siblings?" Heinrik asked in confusion, "You're an elf, and she's human."

"He's only half elf, Heinrik," Magnhild answered, "We share the same mother."

"Huh. Well just don't cause any more trouble," Heinrik said, having since calmed down, before he turned to help the other merchant prepare for their departure.

"Let's go sit down," Avernus suggested in Cyrodiilic to his sister, while gesturing (for Leto) to a fallen log by the merchants' wagon. Leto relinquished her tight embrace on Avernus and assisted him in limping painfully over to the log, followed by a curious Magnhild.

"So, ah, who is your … companion?" his sister uncertainly asked as they sat down.

"This is Leto," introduced Avernus, "She's a Falmer, and no, she's nothing like the Falmer in those ridiculous stories Father told us. She's a dear friend and I owe my life to her several times over."

"I see. Well in that case, pleased to meet you, Leto," Magnhild said with a smile as she extended one gauntleted hand in greeting. Leto just stared at Magnhild, gazing at her hand for a second before meeting her eyes once more, a confused look on her face. The scene brought forth a laugh from Avernus, something he hadn't done in years.

"She doesn't understand you, Hilda, so I'll have to translate if you wish to speak with her," he said, referring to his sister by her nickname. "She also probably has no idea what a handshake is, either."

Avernus then explained his sister's behaviour to Leto in Falmeri. Leto brought out one bony, clawed hand and slowly, cautiously, placed it in Magnhild's gauntleted one. The human woman then squeezed and shook her hand a couple times before letting go. Magnhild then turned her attention back to her brother with a sorrowful expression on her face.

"But what happened to you Avernus? Where were you these past few years? You look like a corpse!"

Avernus was quiet at first. "Were you told anything?" he asked after a moment or so.

"The Imperial University sent us a letter. It said you'd gone on an expedition to some ruins and went missing. It told us you'd been gone for two months and presumed dead, and that all your earnings over the years were being delivered to Ma and Da."

"I see. I was part of a research expedition sent to study and analyze a Dwemer ruin here in southern Skyrim," explained Avernus, "We were sent specifically to search for libraries, archives, or any store of recorded information. The Dwemer were a very advanced people that created many technological marvels, and their standards of living were most likely greater than many of the societies alive today. Most of Skyrim doesn't even have plumbing, save for a couple wealthy cities, while the Dwemer developed it independently thousands of years prior. If we could discover and decipher even just fragments of their accumulated knowledge, who knows what discoveries and advances our civilizations could make. Since I've studied the Dwemer civilizations and learned their language, I was an obvious choice for the expedition."

"The ruins we were sent to were located in the foothills of the Jerall Mountains. It was a large system of artificial caverns and buildings built into the cave walls. Since it was so large, we assumed it must have been a relatively important city for the Dwemer, which would mean that it likely had the stores of knowledge and information that we were seeking."

"However, it connected to a natural system of caverns even further below. These natural caverns were filled with the remnants of the Snow Elves who, contrary to what even most scholars thought true, survived their genocidal war with the ancient Nordic humans. A group of Falmer ambushed our expedition and killed all our guards. Some of our scholars were killed also, but the rest were dragged down to their lair and briefly interrogated before being executed."

"I was kept alive because I could speak their language. They interrogated me for information on the surface world and the people that inhabit it. Afterwards, I was kept and … tortured. And starved. For what reason, I don't know. Entertainment, probably. I … don't wish to go into specifics."

"Can I … can I see?" Magnhild asked uncertainly, a look of horror mixed with a strange curiosity on her face. Avernus nodded and held out his three-fingered right hand. Magnhild removed her gauntlets and grasped the remains of his hand in her own.

She stared with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open in silent horror as she examined his ruined hand. She noted how he only had two fingers and a thumb left and how there was even a section of the actual hand cut out! She noticed how gnarled and knobby his hand and fingers were, as if all the bones had been deliberately broken, allowed to heal, then broken some more. She noticed the thin, white scars and the thin, discoloured burn marks that twisted in gruesomely beautiful patterns that ran along his hand and disappeared up his sleeve.

Curious, Magnhild pushed his sleeve up, revealing Avernus's forearm and most of his upper arm. The limb was disgustingly thin and looked like a skeleton's arm wrapped in a thin covering of only skin since there was so little muscle. And again, Magnhild noticed the intricate patterns of abuse and torture twisting along his entire arm, up and up, disappearing once more under Avernus's sleeve. She turned his arm over and found even more scars and long, narrow burns travelling along the underside of the limb. Magnhild could only imagine how much pain her brother must have gone through having such patterns cut and burned into his flesh, as if he were a living canvas for some sick, disturbed artist. Her horror grew with each second she stared at the marks.

"They run all over," Avernus said quietly, and indeed, she could see marks running along the skin out from underneath his shirt collar, twisting and winding up his neck and over his jaw and cheeks, reaching dangerously close to his haunted, sunken eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Avernus," said Magnhild, letting go of Avernus's arm and meeting his eyes once more. To her surprise, he snorted in amusement.

"It's not like you did this to me," he said with a chuckle. "But thanks anyway. I appreciate the sentiment."

"So how did you escape?" Magnhild asked with curiosity.

"Like I said, I owe my life to Leto," Avernus began, "She got the job of keeping me alive after my last caretaker was killed in some sort of inter-tribal warfare. Since she belonged to a low caste in Falmer society, she got kicked around and abused a lot, so she didn't like it down there either. We resolved to escape together. She switched out my poisoned water, which kept me from using my magic, for clean water and gathered supplies. Then when the time was right, she sprung me from my cell and over the next couple days, we travelled through the caves to the surface. We were making our way to Mother and the family in Whiterun, and ended up here along the way."

"Then I'll come home with you," Magnhild proclaimed, "I want to be there when you arrive home. Ma will be so happy to see you again. She took it quite hard when the letter arrived. Everyone did, but her especially."

Avernus looked away, once more feeling guilt well up inside him. "I see," he said, "But don't you have commitments to this caravan?"

"Avernus, from my and the rest of the family's point of view, you've basically just come back from the dead. I'm damn well gonna spend time with my family and if Heinrik doesn't like, then damn him to Oblivion." That coaxed forth a smile from Avernus. His had always admired his sister's boldness, perhaps because he wasn't like that himself, and it was comforting to see his sister like this again. Her blunt attitude was a familiar presence and provided a certain stability to his situation, chipping away at the uncertainty.

"And besides," Magnhild continued, "I'm sure I can convince Villemann to agree to let me stay home for a bit. I can catch up with them next time they come around to Whiterun."

"Is he the other merchant you were with?" asked Avernus.

"Yes," she answered.

"Well, you two seem quite close," remarked Avernus, to which Magnhild snorted in amusement.

"That's because I love him," she stated cheerfully.

"Oh?"

"And he loves me," Magnhild went on, and Avernus had to suppress a laugh at the dopey smile forming on his sister's face.

"So when did this happen? What's he like?" Avernus asked.

"Curious, are we?" his sister teased.

"Of course," Avernus laughed, "It seems I've missed out on a lot since I disappeared. You have to update me, Hilda."

"True, a lot has happened since then," Magnhild responded, "So, I met him about a year after you disappeared. I wanted to travel and see the rest of Skyrim, but I also needed to make money, so I joined this caravan and got hired as a guard. That's how I met Villemann."

"Vill was quite friendly and he'd talk to me and make me feel like my presence was actually appreciated, unlike that grumpy old man, Heinrik. We would just talk a lot, about anything, really: our families, the caravan, his travels, and sometimes just random things. We started spending more of our free time together and eventually got into a relationship."

"I see, but what's he like?" asked Avernus.

"Well, he's not a greedy bastard, which is more than I can say about most merchants," Magnhild joked, "He's calm and quiet, but friendly. He's a sharp businessman too, though that's kind of obvious since he's a merchant. And he's a musician too!"

"Not a bard?" asked Avernus.

"Nope, a musician," stressed Magnhild, "He focuses more on the music than the poetry, and he plays for more than just to entertain others and for coin, that's the difference."

"What does he play?" asked Avernus.

"A kind of harp," answered Magnhild, "He learned from his parents and then later went to the Bard's College to formally study music, before becoming a merchant. "

"Oh, he plays so beautifully, Avernus," Magnhild went on, he eyes glazing over somewhat. "You should hear him play, it's almost magical. When he plays, it's as if … as if the whole rest of the world disappears and all your troubles vanish. There's just him and his music, and you lose yourself in it. Nothing else matters anymore at that moment, not where you are, or who your company is, or anything; Vill and his music become the centre of your world. He plays so wonderfully, Avernus, I swear he could charm a troll if he tried."

Avernus had never heard his sister talk or act like this before. The words she used, how she described him, the far-away look on her face as she spoke were all new to Avernus coming from his sister. Never had he seen her talk about someone with such passion before, and with language that was such a departure from her usual blunt attitude. It was obvious that he she cared a lot for the man.

"And I'd be lying if said it wasn't also a bit arousing," she said with a lewd grin.

Now that's more like her, Avernus thought with a chuckle. "You really do love him, then, don't you?"

"More than anything," his sister replied.

"And he feels the same?"

"He does, without a doubt."

"Then I'm happy for you," said Avernus with a smile.

"Thanks, Avernus," said Magnhild as she reached over a hugged her brother.

"You're all grown up, now it seems," Avernus mused, "Gods I've missed out on a lot, haven't I?"

"Yeah, kind of. But we'll fix that when we get home," replied Magnhild optimistically, "Anyways, I should go help with getting ready to leave."

"Of course. It's really great to see you again, Hilda," Avernus said sincerely.

"And it's really great to know you're not dead," his sister replied lightly, "Anyways, we can catch up more once we get going." Magnhild then got up and strode away, towards the two tradesmen, who could be seen moving crates and barrels, and loading them into their wagon.

While Avernus knew he'd been gone for a long time, his reunion with Magnhild really drove it home. So much had changed for her since he disappeared. She was no longer living at home anymore; she had a job now, one that took her all over Skyrim; she`d developed a relationship with a man whom she cares for dearly. She seemed much more grown up now than two and a half years ago. And yet, she was still the same person. It made him wonder how much his other siblings had changed, how much they`d grown up since he was captured.

Avernus was distracted from his thoughts when Leto grasped his left hand in her own and began to gently stroke it with the other. Back in his cell underground, he had noticed that Leto would often establish some sort of physical contact between them as they spoke. When he asked her about it, she got confused; she said all her people often touched each other, and that the idea that this wasn't the case with Avernus's people seemed quite strange to her. Avernus assumed that because the Falmer had no vision, their other senses were relied on and employed much more frequently in social situations. Perhaps holding his hand or stroking his arm or other similar touches was the Falmer equivalent of eye contact. Vision was quite new to her, after all, and the customs associated with it – like eye contact and not staring at people and so on – would have been unknown to her.

"Your sister seems nice," said Leto in Falmeri, "And less distrustful of me than other surfacers."

"Well to be fair," said Avernus, "We've only come across people from small towns with relatively homogenous Nordic populations and little daily contact with outsiders. But my mother and grandparents are immigrants to Skyrim so my siblings and I grew up in a predominantly Cyrodiilic household, not a Nordic one. Since we come from a different society from the one we live in, it makes sense that she's not as likely to judge you based on petty appearances, doesn't it?"

"I see," said Leto as she continued to stroke his hand, "That makes sense. What did you talk about?"

"We were just catching up a little," Avernus answered her, "I've missed out on a lot since I was captured. Magnhild told me a little of what she's been doing since then."

"Oh. She seemed happy to see you. I'm glad you have such a good family," said Leto with a smile.

"So am I. Despite the eight-year gap in age difference between us, she`s my closest sibling in terms of age and we`ve always been close."

"These large age differences between you and your siblings, are they because of, um … how you were … conceived?" Leto asked uncertainly. "I'm sorry, that was probably rude of me to ask. Never mind."

"No, don't worry, it's not rude; you need not apologize for your curiosity," Avernus assured her.

"But yes, that's the reason why. The age difference between my youngest siblings and I is less than the difference between me and my own mother, actually. We're certainly a strange family," Avernus noted with a laugh.

"But, an interesting one," Leto added.

"That too, I suppose."

"So what's happening now?" she asked, changing the subject

"Now we're just waiting for the merchants to get ready to depart. Then we'll be on our way to Whiterun, which should take about two days."

"Will there be more bandits on the road?" Leto asked. The group of men that had ambushed them on their way to Helgen and shot Avernus was still fresh in her mind.

"Well apparently, Skyrim is involved in a civil war. It's an imperial province of the Third Cyrodiilic Empire, but a separatist faction calling themselves the Stormcloaks are fighting for independence and waging a guerilla war against the Imperial legions. The merchants say that the war's caused a fair amount of instability in the province and brigandry and bandit activity has increased across the province as a result, so we should expect an attack, just in case."

"Why do these Stormcloaks want independence?" asked Leto.

"I don't know yet," replied Avernus, "This Stormcloak rebellion started while I was still being held captive by your people. All I know is that they want independence, but aside from that, you know as much as I do."

"I see," she said quietly as her one hand rose higher to caress his forearm, "I'm sorry, Avernus. I'll be more alert and keep you safe this time. I promise."

"Leto it's … don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault," said Avernus, faltering a little as Leto's touch sent pleasant chills running up his arm.

"But it was," she insisted, her grip on his hand tightening slightly, "I could smell them, I knew they were there. I should have reacted faster. Please forgive me."

"Even so, you had no way of knowing their intentions. There is nothing to forgive, Leto," Avernus said as he met her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you, but I'll still be more careful," she said.

"It's alright, Leto," Avernus responded, "Besides, we have more people watching out for such threats now. I doubt we'll get surprised like that again."

"Maybe not, then," Leto acquiesced after a moment.

Leto was still stroking his hand and forearm, Avernus noticed. However, as much as Avernus enjoyed the contact, it was also slightly disquieting. They were no longer among the Falmer, and in Nordic society, such touching took on entirely different meanings. Something as simple as Leto holding his hand might be viewed as a sign of a romantic bond between the two, which was certainly not the case. Leto was already treated with distrust and suspicion by most people as it is; it wouldn't do to give out the wrong impression and contribute to the already present misunderstandings and prejudices.

Yet, Avernus couldn't bring himself to dislodge Leto's hand. For one thing, he enjoyed the contact. For another, Leto wouldn't understand why he would do this since he hadn't explained it to her, and it might hurt her feelings, which was unacceptable.

Wait, what? Had he really just used that particular term? He of course wouldn't want to appear rude or offend his friends, but to view hurting Leto's feeling as unacceptable was a bit extreme in its magnitude, wasn't it?

Avernus's thoughts wandered and as he looked upon Leto once more, who was gazing at the trees and mountains that surrounded Riverwood but still holding his hand and stroking it with her thumb now, he felt a familiar feeling creep up on him; it was that same odd attraction he had felt in Eir's house in Helgen.

Again, Avernus was alarmed. It wasn't really attraction, was it? How could it be? By surface standards, Leto would be considered quite ugly if not outright frightening. He turned his head to examine her while she was looking away, as a sort of test.

As he continued to examine her, he was drawn to the subtleties of her head and face. Her chin was somewhat pointed, he noticed. Her jaw was fairly narrow and had a larger, more obtuse sloping angle, her orbitals were large and fairly rounded and her cheekbones were delicate and soft. Leto's cranial features were undeniably feminine. While her sharp teeth were currently hidden, Avernus could still see her claws and her rather distinct nose, or rather the structure of her face that was homologous to a nose. As he stared, he found that he actually wasn't repulsed by these features, not even on a primitive, instinctual level, and they did nothing to lessen that strange attraction he felt. If anything, he was fascinated by the contrast between these sharp features and her feminine cranial anatomy, and it added to her allure.

Yes, he was attracted to Leto, Avernus realized. When did this happen, he wondered. Had he developed some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome? This was not supposed to happen. Leto was from a different race, a different culture, and a different society. Surely this was not normal.

So? When have you ever been normal, Avernus? The treacherous thought arose unbidden from the darker depths of his mind. He was right, though; he had never been normal. First off, he was a human-elf hybrid, which was already fairly unusual in and of itself. He lived in Skyrim, but grew up in a Cyrodiilic household with an immigrant mother and grandparents. He'd been interested in magic and history ever since he was little, and showed no interest in swordplay, or fighting, or adventures or other such activities considered to be quintessentially Nordic. Even at the College of Winterhold, he was abnormal seeing as how he'd set the record for the youngest student to join the institution at sixteen years of age. No, he'd never been normal. Why start now?

Why am I even thinking about this in the first place, he wondered. He'd just escaped from years of starvation and torture. He had more important things to worry about, like recovering from his treatment and making it home in one piece, not to mention picking up the pieces of his career so he could return to living independently. But then again, he was permanently crippled now, which already cuts back on his independence, as evidenced by Leto helping him walk long distances and carrying him around like a baby whenever they have to move quickly. Yes, he had more important things to worry about.

With not inconsiderable mental effort, Avernus shoved these thoughts aside and turned to face the waggon, where he could see the merchants and guardsmen loading up crates and barrels. There were only a couple left, and once the last crate had been loaded up, Avernus saw Heinrik start to make his way towards him and Leto.

"Right, we're pretty much done packing so we'll be heading out in a couple minutes," he informed Avernus as he approached. Avernus noticed the man's gaze linger briefly on Leto's hands, which were still stroking his own, before he continued speaking. "Since you can't walk properly, you'll be sitting next to me while I drive the wagon. Now let's go."

"Of course, and thank you again for your generosity," Avernus politely replied. Heinrik's only response was a grunt before he turned to head back to the wagon.

"We're leaving," he told Leto in Falmeri as he reached for his cane and attempted to haul himself up. Leto was quicker, though, and gently pulled him to his feet. Once up, they made their way over to the wagon with Leto supporting Avernus once more, even though he didn't really need it since the wagon was so close.

As they approached, they saw that Heinrik was already seated on the driver's bench of the wagon, while Villemann, Magnhild, and the other two guards were standing around and conversing, waiting for Avernus and Leto.

"Can you help me up, Leto?" Avernus asked of her as he gestured to the seat of the wagon.

"Of course," she replied. Avernus felt her strong hands grab him under his arms, lift him up with little effort, and set him gently down next to Heinrik.

"All set?" asked Heinrik. Avernus nodded in response.

"Good." Heinrik cracked the whips and the caravan set out, slowly leaving the town of Riverwood behind them.


And there's the seventh chapter. I'll make the next one more exciting, I promise. I'll throw in some more action and fights, since we're kind of overdue.

Also, not about my choice of the term Stockholm Syndrome: I'm aware that, since it's named after a city that exists in the real world, but not in the world of Skyrim, it sounds a bit silly. However, I can't think of any other synonymous term for it, and to make up an analagous name for it, like "Solitude Syndrome" would just sound weird and/or stupid, and would require an explanation, since you you'd have no idea what I meant. So I hope this doesn't bother you too much, and that you can agree with my reasoning.

By the way, for those of you who didn't catch it, the song I was referring to is an old Norwegian folk song called Villemann og Magnhild. The only decent translation of the song into English that I can find on the internet is in the description of this youtube video of Storm's interpretation of the song (Storm is a Norwegian folk metal band):

www . youtube . com/watch?v=Gu3TAuw3ZJ8 (remove spaces)

You should at least read the translated lyrics to catch the full extent of my crude reference. Well, if you care to in the first place, that is. However, I prefer in Extremo's somewhat modified version of the song over Storm's version (It's the bagpipes :D And yes, I'm well aware I have really weird taste in music :P )

www . youtube . com/watch?v=8lCDpHNspn0&feature=watch_response (remove spaces)

Anyways, that's all for now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Until next time, take care ^_^