A/N: A bit of a short one...
"So, this is a hell of a place," Faith muttered quietly as she, Buffy, and Tara each began to extract themselves from their wet clothing.
Alexander had lead them inside the farmhouse to a large room with seven plain wooden beds spaced evenly against the walls. He had graciously afforded them as long as they needed to dry off and change clothes, promising that the farmhouse's other occupants would steer clear of them until they were ready.
"Yes," Buffy agreed, running a towel over her arms and chest. "When she said she lead an Imperial Legion outpost, I expected a little more..."
"Stone?" Faith supplied.
"That, too," Buffy said. "I guess I thought it would be like the other camps around Skyrim. You know, regimented."
Tara had seen the camps that Buffy spoke of in her travels. They were temporary towns in miniature, tucked away in various places around the province so as not to be found easily by the Stormcloaks. If they were to be discovered, Tara imagined that it would not take very long to tear down the sparse tents and snuff the fires. The camps were hives of business and activity, homey only in the sense that there were bed rolls on which to sleep and a soldier assigned to man the cooking pot at all times.
The farmhouse had not been what she had expected either. It was very nearly like any of the other family-run farms around Skyrim: casual, inviting, and warm. They had entered the main house to find a roaring fire in the fireplace and the smell of a hearty stew in the cooking pot. Except for the armor racks near the front door that held several Imperial-branded breastplates and shields, she would have thought they had walked into someone's home. She supposed that it was like that on purpose. If Willow and her soldiers were only there for research, they would need to blend in so as to not be attacked at a moment's notice.
"It's a research station," Tara explained quietly as she pulled on a dry pair of linen pants and tied off the drawstring at her waist. "They study things about the province and do their best to stay out of the war."
"That's makin' me feel real safe here, T," Faith muttered. "Not that being in a house full of Imperial soldiers is a 'safe' option for me generally."
"You shouldn't feel any less safe just because they're researchers," Buffy said through the shirt she was pulling over her head. "It's obvious that they are all trained soldiers."
"My point exactly! I'm basically in bed with the law."
Tara rolled her eyes while Buffy chuckled.
"Better than being anywhere near those mercenaries," Tara observed. Faith had nothing to say to argue with that.
"Besides," Buffy added, "This place would make a fine base of operations while we try to find some more information about those journals."
Tara looked up, eyes wide. Before she could comment, though, there was a knock at the door.
"Are you guys nearly ready?" Willow's voice called through the door.
"Just a minute!" Faith called back, still working on the buttons of her shirt. Buffy smoothed her blonde fur back from her face.
"Actually, I'm finished," she said to Faith. "I'm going to spend a few minutes by the fire. I'll see you soon."
With that, Buffy left the room, the thud of the door closing behind her muffling her quiet greeting to Willow as they moved toward the common area of the house. Tara finished tying her still-damp hair in a ponytail while she watched Faith's eyes follow the Khajiit out of the room.
"So..." Faith began as she slid the last button through its hole. "Willow seems like quite a catch."
Tara flushed scarlet and shot a glare at Faith.
"No, really," Faith insisted, "I mean it! Even though you completely forgot to mention her to me last night, I think she's great."
"You can really talk," Tara countered, the heat in her cheeks refusing to go away. "You're about as subtle as a brick through a window."
It was Faith's turn to blush this time, the color seeming unnatural on her pale cheeks.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't. I'll just pretend that I don't see the puddle of drool at your feet anytime Buffy is around."
Faith glared sternly at Tara and crossed her arms over her chest.
"It's not like that," she said curtly. Tara threw her hands up in surrender.
"Whatever you say," she muttered.
Tara lifted her pack from the floor and set it on one of the vacant beds that had been made up for them, effectively claiming it. She dug through it idly while Faith pouted silently, pulling out the rest of her clothes and laying them out on the bedspread to take inventory. Finally, Faith sighed loudly.
"It's... complicated," she mumbled, moving to plop down on the bed next to Tara's, which she guessed belonged to one of the soldiers. Tara glanced up at her and caught the uncharacteristically serious look on her face. "But I guess the simple explanation would be that we... Understand each other."
Tara smiled softly at Faith's tone, introspective and subdued. It was rare that Faith let anyone see her more thoughtful side through all of the bravado, so Tara counted herself lucky to have this moment with her.
"I understand," she said quietly, moving around the bed to sit across from Faith. Faith leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
"Do you?" Faith asked with interest, a curious sparkle lighting her eyes.
Tara smiled to herself as she pulled her legs up onto the bed, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"Willow makes my stomach flutter and I find myself grinning like an idiot when I'm with her," she murmured. "She just has this curiosity about her, this need to know everything about everything, even though she already seems to know a lot... At first I thought we could have a... a friendship."
"And now?" Faith prodded, leaning forward with interest.
"There's no way," Tara sighed out. She released her legs and let them fall back to the cold wooden floor. "I've only just met her and I already feel like I'm going to make a life with her someday."
Faith's brows furrowed.
"We were having lunch together when you came to the inn," Tara continued, a perplexed look coming over her face. "We hardly know each other and I feel like I've known her forever."
Silence enveloped them for a few moments, as Tara stared at the floor in thought. Faith watched her curiously.
"Buffy doesn't act rashly," Faith said finally. "And she thinks before she speaks."
Tara glanced up and met Faith's eyes. The Breton looked like she was choosing her words carefully. Faith seemed to be relaxed by outward appearance, but Tara could detect the tension in her shoulders from several feet away.
"This is her entire life," she continued after a moment. "I get that."
Tara understood Faith's meaning. The life that she lead, of risk and reward, was not something that she had chosen for herself; it was merely what she had always had to do to survive. She had known nothing else, no other way. So, when she had been offered a position with the infamous Thieves' Guild, it had seemed to her to be the natural path to follow. It had taken Tara a long time to understand why Faith would choose to continue to live in the kind of danger that she constantly seemed to find herself in when there were many other opportunities, both in Skyrim and beyond, that would offer safety and stability.
Tara had come to the conclusion that Faith was like a flame: beautiful and volatile, creative and destructive, transient and enduring. She required a spark to get her started, something to give her meaning, and with the right fuel, could turn that spark into a raging fire. Life with the Thieves' Guild provided all of those things and Tara had seen her do amazing things, true feats of bravery and cunning that only a bard could dream up. But if she was smothered, forced into the mundanity of safety and stability, Faith's flame would go out. Tara realized that this path was Faith's calling and nothing else would fulfill her.
Tara inferred then, by Faith's vague description, that Buffy was cut from a similar cloth. It brought Tara a measure of comfort and familiarity to know that about the Khajiit, though she was certain that Buffy had led a very different life from Faith's.
"Thank you for telling me," Tara said quietly, smiling knowingly at Faith. The tension in the Breton's shoulders seemed to drain away and she looked truly relaxed for the first time that day. She grinned sincerely at Tara, her head tilted to the side.
"You always did know me better than I knew myself," she joked, her dimples denting the sides of her smile charmingly.
Tara barked out a laugh.
"It never would have worked out," Tara shot back. "You're too wild for me."
Faith truly laughed then, her eyes crinkling with humor as she stood from the bed.
"You're right, of course," she said through a chuckle. "We should probably get out there before Buffy eats all of the food."
As if on cue, the door to the room opened and Buffy poked her head in.
"Are you two coming?"
Tara just chuckled.
Tara and Faith joined the others just long enough to be introduced to Mikael, the only other soldier stationed at the outpost, and to receive their steaming bowls of stew. It had been a quick affair, Buffy handing them their bowls and taking two for herself while Willow exchanged a few words with the soldiers. After she finished, she lead them into the hallway and up the stairs.
They filed into a large, open room on the second floor, the ceiling pitched all the way up to the roof. The walls of the room were lined with bookshelves, most of them empty, and a few framed maps of the provinces of Tamriel. In one corner sat a small, spartan desk covered in neatly-arranged parchment rolls, leather bound journals, and a brightly-burning oil lamp. An alchemy station took up the opposite corner, its shelves and tiny drawers filled with all manner of ingredients. The focal point of the room, however, was the over-sized round table directly in the center of the floor space, surrounded by four long wooden benches with red leather cushions upholstered to their seats.
It was to the table that Willow lead them, gesturing for them to take seats while she disappeared through a door near the writing desk. Tara, Faith, and Buffy each slid onto one of the benches, setting their bowls of stew in front of them on the table. After a moment, Willow returned with another leather bound journal complete with inkpot and quill. She seated herself on the remaining bench and set down her supplies as Buffy slid one of her two stew bowls in front of her.
"Thank you," she said politely, picking up her spoon. She dipped it into her stew and gingerly blew the steam from it before taking her first bite.
"What is this room?" Faith asked as she dug into her own stew.
"It's my study," Willow explained. "We've been using it for a little bit of everything, though. Briefings, meetings. But I can maintain some form of privacy here. I thought it might be a better place to talk than the common room."
Faith hummed in response.
"So, from what I can gather," Willow continued as everyone continued to eat, "Something happened that caused a group of Nords to send mercenaries after you. You stole something."
Buffy chuckled.
"That's the very abridged version, but yes."
Willow fixed her with a calm stare.
"What is the unabridged version?"
And, after taking a deep breath, Buffy began to speak. She told Willow about the break-ins in Markarth and the potentially profitable treasure they may have stumbled upon. Faith interjected occasionally to give her side of things as they spoke about the finds they had made on their second trip.
In the meantime, as she had already heard the story, Tara took the opportunity to watch Willow.
The redheaded mage listened raptly to Buffy's story, her journal and quill laying untouched on the table before her. She thought back to when she had first met Willow on her journey to Riften and how the mage had scribbled meticulous notes as Tara had answered her rapid-fire questions. It was strange to her now to see the woman merely listening this time; she speculated that Willow was more interested in hearing the story this time than having her questions answered.
Tara's mind drifted then as her eyes wandered around Willow's face and studied her expressions. The way her eyebrows drew closer and closer together was particularly intriguing to Tara. She watched as a tiny depression formed between her brows, deepening slightly as Buffy described the danger they had found at the inn in Markarth. Her eyes skittered across the smooth expanse of Willow's nose and cheeks, settling on the downward curve at the corner of her lips as she frowned slightly. She paused there for a long moment, cataloging every small twitch and press those lips made as the mage stopped herself from interrupting the story. A moment later, they opened slightly in surprise or interest, affording Tara a tiny glimpse at the teeth behind them. She found herself leaning forward intently as she saw Willow press her lips back together in thought before her tongue darted out for a mere fraction of a second to wet them.
"So, the Silver-Bloods are one of the most powerful families in Skyrim?" Willow asked as Buffy finished her story, startling Tara out of her thoughts. She felt herself flush as she realized just how long she had been staring at the redhead.
"They practically own all of Markarth and the Reach," Buffy replied. "It's probably safe to say that they have quite a bit of influence in other holds as well."
Willow hummed in thought.
"Let me see if I've got this right, then," she began after a moment, her tone and face unreadable. "The two of you stole some records from the most powerful family in western Skyrim and then later went back into their city to steal some more things from them, barely avoiding getting yourselves caught and thrown into prison. Then, you sold their secrets and wealth to the Thieves' Guild."
Buffy glanced at Faith and Tara's brow furrowed.
"That about sums it up," Faith said with a shrug.
"But you couldn't get rid of a couple of journals written by some student mage because they apparently have no value to anyone, including the mage's college, so you held onto them in the hopes that they would lead to some mysterious treasure that you've seen no mention of, nor are you entirely sure even exists. You've got a... a feeling."
Tara frowned at Willow's tone which was becoming more harsh with each word the mage spoke. She had not expected this reaction from the woman that she had found to be thoughtful and understanding.
"And then," Willow continued, "After enlisting the help of your close friend to investigate said mysterious treasure, you find out that the Silver-Bloods, with their outpouring of wealth and influence, managed to track the elusive thieves of their keep to Riften and were in the city to either capture or eradicate them. That's when you decided it would be a good idea to lay low for a little while."
Faith, her brows furrowed and mouth gaping somewhat like a fish, stared at Willow in confusion.
"Am I wrong?" Willow challenged, levelling a glare at Faith. Buffy frowned.
"You're not wrong," Buffy said, pulling Willow's attention away from the gaping Breton. "I had wanted to involve Tara from the moment that we realized there was something odd about the journals, but Faith insisted that we wait until the potential danger had passed. Obviously, we failed to take into account the fact that the Silver-Bloods weren't in a hurry."
"Obviously," Willow repeated darkly. She glanced at Tara. "I'm shocked that they were able to convince you to join in this... criminal activity."
Tara pressed her lips together tightly, the softly-spoken rebuke hitting her unexpectedly hard from the woman she felt so strongly for. Her mind reeled as she tried to rationalize this harsh, judgmental woman with the beautiful and curious woman she had been seen so far. Her head tilted forward until her gaze was locked onto the table, refusing to meet Willow's eyes as she tried to work through her confusion.
Buffy fixed her yellow eyes steadily on the mage, frowning deeply.
"As I believe I mentioned before," Buffy hissed, again drawing Willow's attention to herself, "We are far from the Imperial City. Things are very different here. If you plan to stay in Skyrim for any length of time, I would strongly urge you to consider those differences before you make judgments about people or their way of life."
Willow opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, she gaped at Buffy as if she had been slapped.
"I don't believe that we are going to get anywhere with our strategy tonight," Buffy continued with an air of finality that no one opposed. "I think we should revisit this tomorrow after we've had time to rest and process all of the information. I am going to bed."
With that, Buffy turned silently from the table and made her way from the room without looking back. Faith stared after her for a moment before standing from her own bench and gathering their now empty bowls.
"T," she muttered quietly at the still-silent Nord.
Tara glanced up at Willow and swallowed back the angry tears that wanted to burst from her eyes. The mage was sitting as still as a statue, her eyes wide and her already pale skin nearly translucent, staring back at Tara at a loss for words.
"G-g-goodnight," Tara sputtered out in a near-whisper as she stood up from her bench. She all but glued her eyes to her boots as she followed Faith and Buffy from the room.
The door closed firmly behind them with a resounding thud, leaving Willow alone with the heavy silence that had now taken over her study.
