Chapter 9
Reunion
It was the Nineteenth of Evening Star, the last day he promised he'd stay there. It was already early evening and he was continuing to chase his ongoing hangover with hard liquor. Orgnar just gave grunts of disapproval or annoyance every time Bishop asked for another hit until finally he had enough and slammed the entire bottle of whiskey onto the counter and asked with irritation, "How much longer you plannin' on stayin' here ranger?"
Bishop downed his glass and said, "It's my last night here. I leave in the morning."
"Good," Orgnar grunted as he went around the counter to serve his few other patrons, "Oh and if you need anything, don't holler for me, 'cause I ain't gonna help you."
Bishop just rolled his red-rimmed eyes, grabbing the bottle and started pouring himself a fresh glass when he said, "This is all I need, Orgnar."
Bishop stared into the bottom of his glass. He really was pathetic, thinking she'd actually show up. Of course she wouldn't. She'd sworn to stay away from him, to keep him safe from the dragons. He sighed and mumbled to himself, "If she only knew just how wrong she was." Karnwyr whined at his feet, sensing his master's distress. He looked down at his most loyal companion and said, "Just one more day buddy. Then we'll get out of here, I promise. I know it's pointless to stay, but... I promised her. And maybe..."
He heard the door open and turned to look back, just as he'd done every night that week. But it was just another traveler, a really tall Altmer from the look of it. He thought it might be Serlas for a minute, but as the man pulled up a chair at one of the tables and lowered his cowl he saw that he was much younger than Serlas. Then he remembered that the old man was up in Winterhold. He'd agreed to take on the role of the College's Arch-Mage since the tragic passing of his good friend and colleague, Savos Aren. He also continued checking in on Septimus Sigmus, in hopes that the man would have some information on the whereabouts of the Elder Scroll.
Bishop turned back to his drink and leaned his elbow onto the counter, pressing his head into his hand. He knew the scroll was somewhere in one of those damned Dwemer Ruins. He'd considered taking the dive into a few of them himself, to try and help Rona, but it was one of the few ways he could track her movements and he didn't want to screw up the pattern, not to mention he'd been inside one of those dreaded places once before and it was not a fond memory. Being nearly burned alive or almost dismembered and attacked by the Falmer were reasons enough to keep him out of those places. It was times like those when he wished he still had the beast blood. With heightened senses, he felt he could easily wipe those places clean, but he wasn't entirely sure how to acquire that gift again without getting mauled by another werewolf. And he didn't even know where to start on finding one.
He groaned and rubbed at his aching head. It was too much to think about and he'd been thinking a lot the last week. He half-considered turning in early for the night and giving up on it all when someone in black robes strode up to the bar and took a seat beside him.
Bishop glanced over and groaned loudly, "Oh please tell me you're a hallucination from my week-long bender."
Sam Guevenne threw a hand to Bishop's back, patting him hard and said with a cheerful grin, "Afraid not friend. I'm as real as that donkey-piss you've been guzzling since this morning."
"Ugh, fuck," Bishop pressed his face further into his hand, hoping he could rub the vision of the human version of Sanguine out of his eyes.
But the Daedric Prince continued talking making it clear that he really was there, "Why you drinkin' this swill, Bish?" He shook the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, "You're a wealthy man now, should order some of the good stuff."
Bishop laughed into his hand, "Do you see where we are right now?"
Sam looked around drunkenly at his current surroundings and said, "Oh right. Hmm... well alright, let's fix that," he snapped his fingers and the counter was suddenly littered with an assortment of boozes and wines.
Bishop scoffed and shook his head, "Where were you seven nights ago when I first got here?"
"Oh I've been around," Sam grinned at him as he poured himself a glass from one of his own select brands of ambrosia, "Been keeping an eye on you for a while now and I gotta say, Bish, I am disappointed."
"Of course you are," Bishop groaned as his head gave a light throb of pain.
"I'm the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, sure, but I'm also the Daedric Prince of Merriment, Bishop, and to be honest, you have not been very merry at all lately."
"And I'm sure you know exactly why," he grumbled as he took another shot from the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He did not trust any of the other bottles on the counter, not after his last experience drinking with Sanguine.
"You know Bish if it makes you feel any better, she really wanted to be here," Sam said with a sympathetic look.
Bishop looked right at him and hoped that the Daedric Prince wasn't just fucking with him and that he might actually give him real answers, "She did?"
"Mmhm," Sam nodded, "Problem is. Well, she's the Dragonborn and you know, a few things came up that she had to take care of."
"Is she alright?"
"Oh yeah, no, she's fine... well mostly fine. Got a lot on her plate right now, but she's doing pretty good otherwise. Better than you I'd say," Sam laughed.
"Where is she?" Bishop gave a pleading look to the Daedric Prince. It was extremely pathetic of him and on a normal day, he'd never do such a thing, but he was desperate and the ache to see her again was killing him.
Then Sam completely and utterly surprised him when he smiled and said, "Why don't I take you to her? I mean, it won't be right to her, but it'll be in the same town. 'Course it'll be up to you and our good friend Karnwyr here to sniff her out."
Bishop couldn't believe his ears and said, "I think I've had too much to drink."
Sam laughed and said, "Oh, believe me, normally I would disagree, but you definitely have had too much."
"What's the catch?"
Sam smirked and said, "Here," he handed off a bottle of what looked like wine but Bishop knew better, "That's for when you see her again. You two enjoy that and enjoy yourselves for once. You both need it. It's not as strong as the stuff I usually make, but she'll like it."
Bishop looked over the bottle in his hand, a little unsure whether to trust the Daedric Prince, but he had helped them once before and even saved Karnwyr's life, "Why are you always helping us?"
Sam shrugged, "What can I say? I like you, Bish. You've always been one of my favorites. And when you met that spritely little elf only for her to become the Dragonborn, well, let's just say you got a whole lot more interesting. Watching you go out of your way for your girl... it's nice. Even if it does mean you've put your old friend debauchery behind you." He chuckled then stood up and stepped into an open space in the room. He waved a hand in the air and he was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, turning him back to his usual black and red Daedric looking self. Then he snapped his fingers and a portal opened.
Bishop glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else was seeing what he was seeing. There were only five other people in the bar at that moment, Orgnar was there, of course, then there was the town blacksmith and the local lumberjack, the inn's bard and the stranger from earlier. They all had looks of drunken delight painted on their faces, except for the strange Altmer. He was staring hard at Sanguine and looked like he was fighting whatever spell the Daedric Prince was putting over everyone else.
Sanguine held his claw out to the portal and said, "After you kind ranger."
Bishop grabbed his pack off the floor, stuffed the bottle of wine in it then looked at the portal and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothin'," he exhaled and clicked for Karnwyr to follow. He stepped inside with the wolf following right at his heels and both vanished from sight. Sanguine snapped his fingers again, dispersing the portal then turned his attention to the Altmer who was tightly gripping the armrests of his chair as he watched in near horror as Sanguine approached him.
The Daedric Prince said, "Wow, you're a lot stronger than you look, Niven. You know, I don't usually go out of my way to step on the old Dread Father's toes, but he's a special case," he said thumbing a claw back to where the portal vanished, "If I were you I'd skip this one."
"What are you?" Niven breathed through grit teeth as he fought the overwhelming feeling of drunkenness that was overtaking his mind. The room started to spin and he blinked several times, trying to make it stop. He'd only met a creature like this once before in his life and he'd gotten a pair of Daedric daggers as a prize for killing it. But the Dremora he'd faced off against nearly a decade ago was nothing like this creature.
"That's really not important, Niven, what is important is that you leave the pathetic ranger and his mutt alone from here on out. There's a certain someone out there who's rather attached to him and we're sort of counting on her to save the world right now. Your world in fact."
"The Dragonborn," he gleaned as his stomach turned over like he'd drank far too much Firebrand wine far too fast.
"Yes, yes, the Dragonborn," Sanguine waved a claw nonchalantly in reply.
"That means the Listener is still out there then."
Sanguine pursed his lips realizing his slip and said, "You know, this is why I never talk to you mortals. You just have to go and ruin the fun with all your little questions and presumptions and I'm really not in a good state of mind for that most of the time. Liquor leaves me with loose lips you know."
The Daedric Prince loomed over Niven and looked him right in the eyes, "Stay away from the ranger assassin... he's under my personal protection."
Niven took a sharp breath as he glared back at the Dremora-like creature, letting his right hand slowly fall to the sharp end of one of his daggers. "And who might that be?" He asked.
Sanguine's eyes burned red and he glowered, "Always with the damn questions-"
(Background Music Dark Harbor by Two Steps From Hell)
Niven spoke an incantation swiftly as he sliced his wrist open, "Veni ad Patrem solibus dirus ferum fructum vitae."
"Shit!" Sanguine leapt backward as black blood dripped from Niven's open wound and an enormous Black Hand formed on the floor like a shadow. The Altmer grit his teeth with the pain of the mark on his chest growing that much faster, spreading and threatening to overtake him. It was definitely a risk summoning a Gravelord so directly, he'd only ever done it once before, against that other Dremora ten years ago, but he had to. He was not equipped to fight creatures of Oblivion like this one, not when they had the power to addle his mind like that.
From the enormous shadow of the hand came forth an appalling creature. It rose up out of the dark mark on the floor, hulking and huge, a true wraith from the Dread Father. Its body was made from the skeletons of the dead and it wore an enormous black cloak that covered most of the bones and skulls adorning its strange body, looking like a large pack on its back as the skeletal forms protruded from the cloth. It held a giant scythe in its bony clutches and hovered over the ground, looming over everyone in the room which seemed so much smaller in its presence.
Sanguine chuckled anxiously at the thing and said to Niven, "I see you've been taking to the books. Not a lot of your people remember how to call on the Gravelords nor are they willing to risk it."
Then the creature hissed loudly, its voice ethereal and echoing like a thousand pained voices moaning in death, "Sanguine... you would interfere with the Dread Father's work?"
The Daedric Prince held his head high and all playful pretenses were dropped immediately as he looked far more serious than before. "The ranger is mine," he said adamantly, "He's under my protection, in fact, he's been mine since the beginning. Your Master knows this."
"All souls belong to the Void. There are no exceptions," the Gravelord wailed.
"Not this one," Sanguine looked fiercely at the creature and held a hand out, forming a bright red, electrically charged form of energy within his palm, "Now, let me send you back to Sithis with that in mind."
He thrust his hand out, firing the explosive energy at the Gravelord, engulfing the entire room in a thick cloud of red smoke forcing dishes to fly from the tables and shatter everywhere. The few patrons in the tavern fell over, still in their own drunken stupor and Niven held his arms out, covering his face. After a moment, when the dust started to clear he looked through the red haze but the two creatures of Oblivion were gone.
Niven quickly gripped a healing hand to his wrist, sealing the wound and stumbled out of the tavern, feeling ill. He rushed over to the river, fell to his knees in the grass and vomited his guts out like he really had drunk too much.
He caught his breath and rubbed his mouth on a sleeve. So Sanguine was protecting the ranger. "This is going to be more difficult than I expected," he murmured to himself.
He rubbed a hand to his aching chest and yanked his blue tunic down and pulled open his leathers there, looking underneath at the skin of his chest. It was nearly solid black now with dozens of small black hands bursting and writhing from the mark. He was in danger now. Summoning a Gravelord had taken too much from him. He had to fulfill a contract kill soon. Fortunately, his next nearest one was in Whiterun.
He pulled himself together, fixed his clothes and turned back to the inn heading for his stallion. The ranger would have to wait for now. Kisni would be disappointed but he would just lie, tell her he'd already moved on. Still, the Dragonborn was alive, which meant the Listener was out there somewhere. This was good news as far as he was concerned. It was only a matter of time before they found her and then it would be easier to track the ranger's movements with her help.
He climbed his steed, guided him towards the path and kicked off, heading swiftly for Whiterun.
Rona woke up in the back of a carriage just as it arrived in Morthal late that evening while a hard snowfall was steadily threatening to become a blizzard. It was the twentieth of Evening Star. The day after the last day Bishop promised he'd wait for her in Riverwood. She'd had a chance to stop and see him on that last day but decided against it, worried that she wouldn't want to leave him while the Black Hand continued to grow on her arm. And she was right to be concerned about that because the mark had grown significantly in the last two days of travel, already reaching up to her shoulder. She could feel it gripping her and knew that she needed to stem it soon.
She wasn't looking forward to what she would have to do but resolved to finish the job quickly. Then from there, she would make her way to the Ruins of Mzinchaleft and finally take the plunge within.
As the carriage came to a stop in the sleepy town the driver looked back and said over the harsh wind, "You awake, Miss? We're here."
Rona sat up and dusted the snow off herself. Then as she went to collect her pack from the other side of the bench her hand grazed across something at her hip. She tensed up and her eyes widened. She looked down at the Razor firmly hilted to the leathers on her side and stifled the scream rising in her throat.
How!? She couldn't believe it. She'd completely bypassed Rorikstead on her way there, paying the driver to continue on through the night just so she could avoid the blade that she'd left at the inn there. And Niven was nowhere nearby. So he hadn't broken into her room that night.
The Daedric Artifact was finding her, or perhaps it was Mehrunes doing himself, tormenting her by sending it to her. She clenched her fists hatefully. Why was she ever tempted to take that thing in the first place? And now she couldn't seem to escape it. Still... she loosened her fists and touched the hilt of the Razor. With its enchantment, she might be able to better kill her marks. Maybe it was for the best...
She grabbed her pack and hopped out of the carriage, following closely at the heels of the driver, both heading for the inn and seeking shelter from the heavy snowfall. She'd rent a room and get something to eat first then late at night when the Orc was fast asleep she'd slit his throat and flee. It was really her only option at that point.
Rona stepped inside and found the inn totally vacant as usual, save for both Lurbuk and Jonna and the carriage driver who quickly found a seat by the hearth where he started warming his hands.
The proprietor called over to her, "Hey Jill! I missed you leaving the other day, where'd you head off to so early?"
Rona walked up to the bar. "Oh, I had a job I had to take care of out in Dawnstar," she lied.
"Mercenary work I hope?" Jonna asked as she started pouring her a glass of wine.
"Yeah. Just some bandits that were giving a few of the townsfolk grief."
"Well I'm glad to hear it," Jonna said passing her the glass, "It's nice to see you sticking to honest work."
Rona smiled feebly in reply as she picked up the glass of wine and took a sip.
"So what can I get you? Hungry? Tired?"
"I'll take a room and whatever's hot out of the oven," Rona said as she headed for a table near the bard, "I have some paperwork I need to look over though, so I'm just going to sit over here and peruse through it, if that's alright with you."
"Sure thing hun," Jonna said as she disappeared down into the cellar.
Rona set her pack down and pulled her legs over the bench. She took the contract out of her pocket and unfolded it, looking it over. There were no special instructions for killing the poor Orc, only that it needed to be done. She really did feel bad for Lurbuk. He was nice enough, even if he couldn't sing. She glanced over at him. He was seated in one of the chairs in the back of the room going over what looked like some sheet music while he idly plucked much too hard at the strings of his lute. He could barely even play an instrument well. It really was pathetic.
Jonna came over then and Rona quickly stuffed the contract back into her pocket as the Redguard woman served her a hot meat pie. "Thanks, Jonna," Rona said smiling kindly at the woman.
"You're very welcome, Jill! Just let me know if you need anything else tonight, alright?"
"Sure thing," Rona started to dig into her food and just as Jonna walked away she heard the door open behind her and the loud grunts of a very disgruntled man as he stepped in out of the cold.
The sound of his voice though stilled her heart, "Fuck! It's a damn blizzard out there!"
"Back already, ranger? Any luck?" Jonna called from the bar.
He scoffed loudly as he stomped the snow off his boots near the door and said, "None at all. What about you? Any sign of her?"
Jonna laughed and said, "I think I'd remember a little elfling with pink hair and bright green eyes."
"I already told you, that's just one way she looks. I'm pretty sure she's changed her appearance, she has magic to do that." Rona heard the sound of a stool at the bar scrape against the floor as he took a seat. Then she felt the wet nuzzling nose of a certain wolf and glanced down at Karnwyr who was sniffing happily at her feet under the table and wagging his tail. He started to whine and Rona whispered, "Karnwyr... shh." She quickly mumbled out an incantation to pacify and touched Karnwyr on the nose with it, trying to calm him, but she only seemed to make him dead tired as he slumped down at her feet.
Jonna noticed and said, "Hey, mind wrangling your wolf? He's bothering my other patrons."
"Huh?"
Rona heard the stool shift again as Bishop turned back and she lowered her head a bit, allowing the hood of her fur wrap to fall a little more over her face, glad that she hadn't lowered it earlier. Bishop whistled and said, "Karnwyr, c'mere. Quit begging for food, you just ate."
But being pacified the wolf merely looked back at Bishop with groggy eyes and his tongue lolling stupidly from his mouth. Then she heard his footsteps as he came over muttering, "The hell is wrong with you boy? You that cold?"
To her right the Orc started playing on his lute and began singing the song, 'The Dragonborn Comes' loudly and completely off-key. Rona started to panic as Bishop was standing right next to her and he leaned over the bench, reaching under the table for Karnwyr as he said, "Sorry about that, he's not usually like this."
Her heart was thudding hard in her chest as she turned her head away from him. It was now or never. She had to kill the Orc and run before Bishop got a hold of her and... and... and she honestly didn't know what.
She grasped at her pack on the floor and gripped the Razor on her hip. With Bishop still fumbling for Karnwyr, she leapt off the bench and ran right up to Lurbuk and slashed him deeply across the throat with all the fury burning in her blade.
She heard Jonna shriek at the top of her lungs and Bishop shouting, "WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Then she burst out the door into the blizzard and bolted, aiming for her little cottage up north. A gift from saving the town from vampires. She could hide out there for the night until the blizzard died out. But as she ran through the frozen over swamps she heard Bishop shouting for her, "GET BACK HERE! KARNWYR SICK 'EM!" Then his angry roaring sputtered as he questioned loudly, "Karnwyr!? The fuck is wrong with you!? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?"
She practically skittered across the ice, trying to evade him. She refused to shout, not wanting him to know it was her. She couldn't bear for him to know what she'd just done right in front of him.
She barreled through the marshes hoping to put some distance between them. But then she slipped on an ice-formed puddle of the marsh. She fell forward, sliding on her knees a bit and quickly pushed herself up and darted forward again as her hood fell back setting her long, wild hair billowing behind her.
Bishop was right on her heels snarling, "NOBODY TOUCHES MY WOLF!" She felt a painful yank on her head as Bishop caught a hold of a bundle of her hair and she yelped in pain. She had to get away, she had to escape!
In one swift motion, she took her blade in hand and spun on the spot, cutting her long hair short. This, however, had the effect of breaking the color enchantment she had on it and as she slowly spun about, her eyes met his and they both watched as the hair on her head and the bundle of it in his hand changed from the white-blonde shade back to its original rosy hue. He stared at her stunned and breathed, "Rona?"
She swallowed hard and then opened her mouth to shout and he cried, "Wait! No no no no - DON'T!"
(The Song is Frozen by Voyage)
But it was too late, she shouted, "TIID KLO UL!" Freezing time and making everything come to a near halt. She watched as Bishop's free hand reached out for her and the pained expression on his face cut her deep inside. She hated herself more than ever, but she knew she couldn't stay.
She turned away from him and marched across the marshes aiming for her house on the hill all while her tears streamed steadily from her eyes. She wasn't sure how far she was from him when Jillian shimmered into being beside her and started to strum her lute. Then another appeared, the young woman with the long curling white hair. Only this time it was tied up into a messy bun. Both of them followed her staying close by her side. Keeping her company perhaps.
Rona soon found herself near the shack she'd been dragged to by the Brotherhood several nights before and she stopped there, trying to catch her breath. Then Jillian started to sing and the other woman joined her and Rona cried even harder at the truth in their words.
"Never look back 'cause it hurts. Sometimes I regret what I had to do,
My heart is so cold
I feel the frost,
Never look back.
I feel the darkness on my shoulder,
The frost is in my heart.
So cold my hair is frozen,
Touching my skin, my flesh.
'Cause our love was somehow true.
But I had to leave you,
For the sake of the moods."
"Stop," she sobbed, "He'll hear you! Just stop!"
But she knew they wouldn't. It wasn't their doing, it was hers. Her pain was revealing itself through them, these strange ancient Dragonborn. They were always following her, always guiding her. Only they knew her pain, for they too had lived it once before.
She heard Bishop running through the marshes and calling out for her and she quickly cast invisibility over herself and ducked behind the shack.
"Rona please!" His voice cut through the air with such agony as he begged and pleaded, "Please just listen to me!" She heard a sob come from him as he roared, "I just want to see you!" Then he lashed out angrily from his helplessness, "Is that it then!? Are you really so frozen inside that you'd leave me again!? THEN TELL ME TO MY FACE! TELL ME YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE! I NEED TO HEAR IT FROM YOU DAMN IT!"
She pressed her face into her hands and stifled her crying as the two women sang her pain.
"Frozen tears turn into my skin. I feel the darkness on my shoulder,
Frozen memories of you.
Sometimes I see your face,
As pure as you are mine.
The frost is in my heart.
So cold my hair is frozen,
Touching my skin, my flesh.
Never look back 'cause it hurts.
My heart is so cold
I feel the frost,
Never look back."
(The Song is Frozen by Within Temptation)
She was shaken from her grief then as the sounds of a dragon roared loudly around them. Rona peered through the blizzard but couldn't see a damn thing through the blistering white fog. Then she felt the ground shudder under her feet and knew it had landed somewhere nearby. The furious snarling coming from Bishop and the loud barking of Karnwyr told her exactly where it was.
Jillian drew her glinting greatsword from her back and ran into the fray while the other woman pulled a pair of blue Stalhrim daggers from her sides. The white-haired girl flashed Rona that mischievous grin of hers, inviting her to join her with her smile before kicking off the ground and bolting for the beast.
Rona steeled herself and drew her own duel blades from her back. She looked to the sky and shouted, "LOK VAH KOOR!"
The blizzard came to an abrupt halt as her voice split the thick clouds above, revealing, to her horror, Bishop, as he bravely faced down a Frost dragon. He held an ebony shield out and had a sword drawn as it roared a blast of ice at him. He stood his ground though and with Karnwyr at his side shouted, "ATTACK!"
The wolf skittered over the ice and lunged at the dragon which snapped back at him. Karnwyr dodged the dragon's maw and darted under its body giving Bishop a chance to run forward and swipe at its face with his blade. He caught it expertly in the eye and it thrust its head back in pain.
Rona released her power to the sky, singing with all the power in her voice as she joined her two female comrades in facing down the beast. She tried to summon her fire, to bring forth the wall of flames that would cause the most damage to this particular dragon, but they would not come.
So instead she shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" Sending the dragon rolling across the ice before it had a chance to shout another frost breath against Bishop. She stopped beside him then as they watched it roll and she said, "Get out of here."
"Not a fucking chance," he snarled back.
She looked up into his burning amber eyes and he met her gaze, standing resolute and ready to fight with her.
"We need to kill it fast then," she said as she ran forward, looking to plunge her blades into its body before it could regain its bearings.
Bishop kept pace with her, sheathing his blade and drawing his bow. He started to pelt the dragon with arrows while Rona joined the other two women at her side. The white-haired woman was running almost as fast Kitaere could. She sprint across the ice and performed some wild acrobatics before slamming her daggers hard into the hide of the Frost dragon. It let out another deafening roar just as Jillian and Rona both plunged their own blades into its guts. Then it twisted its head furiously and hissed out a flurry of ice right at them. The ice caught Rona in the leg just as Bishop darted in front of her with his shield held out, taking the brunt of it.
The dragon flapped its wings harshly and took off but the white-haired woman was still clinging to the beast, with her daggers buried in its side. It did several barrel rolls through the sky, trying to throw her off as she began using her knives to climb it, yanking one out and slamming it in higher on its body to move forward. She did this multiple times until she managed to get onto its back.
They were out of sight for a moment, too high to keep track of, until the beast came plummeting downward right where they were standing. Rona grabbed a hold of Bishop by the waist and shouted, "WULD NAH KEST!" Sending them both careening across the snow-strewn ground just as the dragon smashed into the marshes, shattering the ice and sinking into the muddy water. The white-haired woman's hair came undone and fell around her shoulders in soft wisps as she yanked her daggers free from the dragon's skull.
She wiped at the sweat on her brow and flashed Rona a friendly smile before vanishing in a pillar of lavender fire. Jillian too nodded to her and vanished in her own blue flames. The dragon's body burned up and Rona devoured its soul as always.
She sat there for a moment, taking in everything that just happened as Karnwyr came over and started to lick at her face, so happy to see her. She laughed a little as she scratched behind his ears in his favorite spot and said, "It's good to see you too Karnwyr."
Bishop was sitting beside her too, just staring at her, like he wasn't sure what to do now that she wasn't running away. But her attention was suddenly brought to the pain in her leg. She grit her teeth gripped it as a biting cold coursed through her. It was Dragon's Frost and it was bad.
"You're hurt," Bishop said as he moved closer and leaned over her, "Show me."
Rona knit her brows together and removed her right boot revealing the mottled black and purple frostbitten flesh on her foot. She yanked her pant leg up a bit, revealing even more of the wound. She could feel it running all the way up her thigh and she was really worried then.
"Dragon's Frost," he said, "This is good, you can heal it."
Rona gave him a pained look and said, "I... I might not be able to."
"What do you mean?" He asked shaking his head in disbelief, "You have the power to heal this frostbite. So just do it, heal yourself."
Rona looked at the wound on her leg and held her hands out to it. She tried to summon her fire, which flickered in and out until going out entirely. Her tears were streaming again when she threw her hands to her face and cried, "You were right! I really am frozen inside. I can't even use my fire anymore, Bishop."
(Background Music All's Well by Jeremy Soule)
She felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders then, holding her tightly, giving her comfort as he whispered, "Then let me warm your frozen heart, Rona." He scooped her up off the ground holding her close to his body as he once did so many times before to her annoyance. She welcomed it now and buried her face into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Just up the hill there," she said, "There's a cottage..."
He chuckled and shook his head, "Another home of yours, Ladyship?"
She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin at the sound of his most fond pet name for her. "I'm Thane of Morthal," she explained.
"Of course you are," he said still smiling as he walked along, hiking through the snow as he carried her with Karnwyr following close behind. He didn't have to walk long before arriving at the quiet little cottage. There wasn't much there because Rona had rarely if ever used the place except as an occasional stop off point to rest. She fished around her pockets and found the key. Bishop stood in front of the door, still holding her as she unlocked it and let them all inside.
It was a single room cottage with a small kitchen pressed to the back corner and a large bathing tub set against the wall near the hearth. There was a large bed in the center wall nearest to the door and a small dining table in one corner with two chairs. Karnwyr seemed happy to be out of the cold and shook off his damp fur before settling down on a rug in the middle of the floor. Bishop kicked the door shut and immediately stepped towards the bed, setting Rona down on it to let her rest.
He looked around and said, "I'll get a fire started, you should probably get changed into something more comfortable and we'll see about healing your wound. I've got plenty of Qetesh's Best which is always worth a shot. At the very least it'll help with the pain."
Bishop went about starting a fire then and busying himself with household tasks. He seemed extremely fidgety however and his eyes kept darting back to her like she was going to disappear if he didn't keep his eyes on her. He was kneeling by the hearth, swiping flint on a stone and kept looking back when she finally said, "Bishop," he stopped what he was doing and looked back at her again. "I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not right now. Please trust me."
He turned away from her and with a harsh motion he managed to start the fire and said, "Can you blame me? You left me on a mountain Rona right after I..." he trailed off and she felt her heart twist in her chest. She'd really hurt him. Of course, he was still angry. She'd hoped that he wouldn't be after all that time, but here he was, thinking she didn't even love him anymore.
She started to busy herself as well, undressing from her leathers down to her underwear. It was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears again. She shucked her armor off and clutched at the short wisps of her hair, remembering she'd cut it off earlier. She used her magic to lengthen the strands back down to a shoulder-length deciding against long hair again. She looked over the Black Hand on her arm. It had receded significantly, going back down to a mere few fingers pressed at her wrist. A gift of life from Lurbuk the worst bard in all of Skyrim.
As the fire started to roar and warm the room Bishop got up and turned around, aiming for the kitchen and stopped in his tracks at the sight of her nearly naked form. Granted her leg was almost entirely black with frostbite and she had a feeling she looked like a dirty, sweaty mess, but even so, his breath hitched in his throat and she started to blush from his hard staring.
"Bishop," her voice broke him from his trance and he blinked, "do you think you can get one of the dresses out of the dresser for me? I don't think I can walk on this leg."
"Right, sure," he said quickly as he strode across the small room and started rifling through the drawers.
"Bottom drawer," she said smirking a little at his haphazard search. He yanked it open and pulled out a soft yellow day dress. He brought it over to her and she pulled it on, covering herself.
Bishop looked at her leg, dismayed and asked, "You can't heal it?"
"I'll try again. If I focus hard enough I can usually summon my fire. It's just lately... it's been near impossible. Even when I try to shout fire it does almost nothing."
Bishop said nothing to this. They both knew why it was. Her powers had always been deeply connected to her emotions and without him in her life her heart had become so cold. She really was becoming like Jillian of Heart Frost.
She held her hands out to her leg again and took a deep breath, reminding herself that she wasn't alone anymore. He was here, right here with her, watching over her, and keeping her safe and warm like always. Rona smiled and said, "I'm going to be so tired after I do this. I might pass out."
He sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand into his, letting their fingers weave together. "I'll watch over you while you rest then. I won't let anything happen to you, Sweetness."
She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, trying so hard not to cry. Even after everything he still loved her. She gripped his hand into hers and said, "Thank you."
Then she reluctantly pulled her grasp from his and held her hands out again, willing her fires to burn. Her golden flames burst from her palms, brighter than they had in a long time and she breathed out a laugh. She let the fire touch the frostbite and it burned like fire to oil as her energy was completely sapped from her. She fell back onto a pillow and looked up at Bishop sleepily. He smiled at her and leaned in, kissing her cheek and whispered, "Get some rest, Princess. I'll be right here."
She smiled back at him and let herself drift off, ready to truly rest in a peaceful, dreamless sleep for the first time in a long time.
Bishop looked over her sleeping form, taking in the moment for what it was. She seemed so tired, not even just then, from healing herself, but before when he first caught hold of her. She was so weary and broken. He knew he had to convince her to stay with him. She couldn't keep doing this to herself.
He pulled a blanket up over her, tucking her into the bed tightly, as though that would keep her there while he went about cobbling together some semblance of comfort in that tiny cottage.
He looked around for a minute and caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror. He cringed at his own appearance. It'd been a long time since he'd indulged in his own self-care, where back then he kept up his appearances for her sake and his own comfort, now he'd let himself turn into a bedraggled looking mountain man with a dirty, wiry beard that would rival the Greybeards themselves. His eyes were sunk in and dark from how tired he was and a bit red from the excessive drinking he'd been indulging in. His hair was long too, so long, in fact, he'd had to tie it back and he hated having long hair.
First things first. He had to clean himself up. So Bishop set to work, putting a fire on under the bathtub before grabbing a large pail from the kitchen. He went outside and started to collect bucketfuls of clean snow and brought it in, dumping it into the bathtub. He did this quite a few times until he was satisfied with how full it was. It would take a while for the snow to melt entirely so he started prepping a dinner for the both of them, pulling what little he had from his pack and taking some old ingredients from the kitchen to work with. He had to cut off plenty of bits sprouting from the potatoes she had there and some moldier parts on the carrots and cabbages, but fortunately, the freezing cold seemed to have preserved everything for the most part. He was grateful that he had a few cuts of fresh meat in his pack from a hunt he went on the other day with Karnwyr.
He worked at cutting everything up and glanced back at her again. He still couldn't believe that Sanguine had reunited him with her but he was extremely grateful. He remembered the bottle of wine the Daedric Prince had offered him and chuckled. It looked like they'd have to drink it now, in thanks.
After he collected some fresh water from the tub in a large pot he set it on the stove to boil and scooped some more melted snow from the tub into the pail. He went over to the dresser, setting it down with a light splash and ran his fingers through the hair on his face. He took his dagger from its sheath and started to carefully shave away the bush on his face, getting as close to the skin as possible. He knew his face was somewhere under that mess and he imagined she'd like to see it.
He spent a good hour grooming himself, smoothing his face down and cutting his mop of hair back to its short length before undressing and settling in the bath to wash the filth from his body. He leaned back in the tub and looked over at Rona who was still steadily snoozing away. He watched her for a while, strange as it was, but he couldn't help it. It was like he was in a dream. He couldn't believe she was really there and he kept having to check and make sure she was real.
He knew it was real and he was feeling a strange mixture of emotions. He was happy that she was there with him now but still felt angry over how she left things. But most of all, he was afraid. She would leave him again, he just knew it and all he could do was try to bring her some joy and comfort while he was with her, even though at the same time he wanted to scream and yell at her, to make her understand what she'd done to him. Her leaving him was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, even worse than dragon's fire.
He thud his head against the back of the tub and groaned, "Don't chase her away Bish... Just... keep that shit to yourself."
He finished washing up, using soap and even a hated bottle of hair tonic he'd found sitting nearby to clean his hair. He dried off and set to work fixing a feast for her. After another hour or so, just as he finished setting their tiny table she roused from her sleep and sat up, rubbing her eye.
He set the last piece of silverware neatly in its spot next to her plate and went over to her, taking a seat beside her on the bed. She looked at him, blinking a few times and that sweet smile he loved spread across her face. She pressed a hand to his freshly shaven cheek and laughed, "Wow, how long was I out for?"
He smirked, "About three hours or so."
"Your face... you cleaned up?"
He chuckled leaning into her hand a bit, "Yeah, it'd been a while since I groomed myself. Thought you'd like to remember what I actually look like under all the hair."
"I kind of liked the beard," she teased.
"Ugh, seriously? Guess I'll have to grow that itchy thing out again for yah."
She just kept smiling at him and he felt his heart aching for her. Before he knew it he was running a hand over her back and pulling her closer to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he murmured, "I love you so much, Rona. I've missed you."
Then he pressed his lips to hers, taking a sweet kiss from her. He started out pecking at her lips, before feeling her lean further into his grasp more and then he really kissed her. Crushing his mouth to hers like his life depended on it and slid his tongue inside to tangle it with hers. She tasted so much better than he remembered. They pulled at each other's lips, breathing hard and fast against one another, while his hands roamed all over her body, grabbing at her rear and stroking her breasts through the fabric of her clothes. She didn't pull away once, in fact, she grabbed him hard by the shoulders and pulled him back down with her onto the bed.
He loomed over her for just a moment, looking over her beautiful flushed red face and her hooded eyes, dark with arousal. He couldn't wait a minute longer and dove back into her, kissing her hard on the mouth again before slowly making his way down, kissing and caressing the edge of her jaw and down into the nape of her neck while she released the most beautiful music to his ears, the sounds of her moaning heavily from his touch.
But when she whispered to him, holding back a sob, "Bishop, I love you so much. Can you ever forgive me?"
He broke. His tears came in waves and he clutched tightly to her, burying his face into her sweet smelling skin. The words wouldn't come to him, only the emotions, all the overwhelming feelings he'd kept bottled inside for half a year. All his fears and worries and sorrows. He released them in deeply pained sobs and she let him, all while holding him tightly in her arms as her own tears silently trailed her cheeks. They were together at last and Bishop prayed it would never end.
