Laugh and Dagger

Skyrim had many natural topological features that made it especially beautiful to look at – from a bystander's perspective. This usually worked best when the bystander was a traveler from a foreign land, because then the effect would be intensified as he or she witnessed the sheer diversity of climates present; some regions almost tropical and moderate, with others fiercely cold. The humble traveler – in most cases – would respectfully express admiration for the landscape. Only long-standing residents of Skyrim knew how truly unforgiving the actual terrain was – and two of them were crouched inside a rather misshapen and small cave, a few steps away from falling off a large, crag-ridden mountain overlooking the little village of Rorikstead – buildings and houses rapidly flickering and burning even with the current violent wind and heavy rain, issuing flames tall enough to be seen from thousands of feet away, making the two individuals shudder with every minor explosion. They had thought it was nighttime at first due to the thick, impenetrable darkness of the clouds above – but must have realized at some point that it was, in fact – afternoon.

Brom, standing at the precipice of a jagged stone protruding from the edge of the mountain, watched as Rorikstead consumed itself in fire, the rain useless against the raging infernos.

"It's gone," a voice behind him whispered, idly drumming fingers against the dome-shaped stone ceiling. "And stop standing on the ledge; you'll fall to your death."

Brom turned around immediately, staring at Lydia for a moment before issuing a request. "We have to go back for him."

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, standing up before calling Brom. "Come here."

Although he knew what she was going to say, Brom obeyed her request regardless and slinked over to her space, the sounds of fire and rain fading away.

"Do you really think - " Lydia began, mouth open in restrained anger. " - that he is still alive? After all that?"

Brom bit his lip, shaking his head in dogged refusal. "Perhaps. There is a - "

"Go to him then," Lydia cut across, turning away from Brom and holding her stomach as she began to cramp up. "Go and tell him how stupid you are – then die by his side."

Brom's throat choked up, and he breathed loudly to signal to Lydia that he was angered. She smirked cruelly before patting at her stomach in exasperation. "How poetic would that be?"

"What about your other friends?" Brom rang out, frustrated that she was not looking at him. "Don't you care... at least about them?"

This seemed to touch a nerve. Lydia crushed the stone that she was leaning against, but Brom remained fearless. "Why would you care? That's how you've always lived life, isn't it?"

Her entire body was shaking, and Brom still felt no incentive to stop talking. "Going through life with everything just... pushed your way. Lost some friends? Oh that's fine, I'll just replace them along the way."

Lydia had taken her hand off the wall, and was heaving her chest in slow, deliberate movements.

"I don't have that luxury," Brom spoke, moving his voice down to a whisper. "I can't simply repla - "

He stopped talking as he had heard her swing before she had even began it, but found himself too slow to react to her fist as it cut through the air and smashed into his torso, buckling him inwards and bringing him to his knees.

Brom coughed violently and wheezed, clutching at his bruised stomach and kept his head down. He heard Lydia speaking above him. "Do not - "

And she grabbed him by the hair once more, not even to turn his head her way but rather to simply inflict more pain on him. " - dare to question my loyalty to my - "

And she breathed to calm herself down, discarding Brom's hair as his head drooped down and he was left once again with a burning sensation on his scalp. He looked at her – but was dismayed to see that once again her back was turned to him, silent enough so that the idle patter of rainfall grew in the background.

"I'm sorry," Brom managed out. "I – was just – I mean I was – saddened to see Skulvar spend his last moments - "

"Being violently stabbed to death?" Lydia finished for him, turning back to flash him a glare. "Yes, what a horrible way to enter Sovngarde."

This caused a twinge in Brom's heart, but he ignored it and tried to backtrack from his earlier statements. "What about your companions? I didn't see Bok anywhere..."

"He - " Lydia started, gaze softening. " - he might have escape out of the back. I didn't see him anywhere. I remember two men coming into my room and holding swords to my neck, and then coming outside and seeing Brit, Wuth and Hahk - "

Lydia gulped, lowering her head as Brom saw her unbound hair flip over her and dangled in front of her face – masking her expression.

Brom nodded, even though he knew that she could not see it. "Yes. I saw them too."

Lydia straightened, rubbing moisture out of her eyes. "No matter. I have to end this – now."

To Brom's surprise, the line was not delivered a vengeful tone or even anger – rather, it seemed defeated and remorseful. He watched her as she wrapped a cloth more tightly around her wound, the blood staining her ragged, multi-colored clothing. She seemed to focus for a while, then brought both of her hands up into the air and golden light emerged from them – bathing her entire body and revolving around her wound. Brom forcefully kept his eyes from going wide – watching as the bloodstained and pierced flesh moved and connected again.

"I would have healed myself earlier," Lydia mentioned, rotating around to make sure the flesh was secure. "But I could not risk being hit again – especially when we climbed up this mountain."

"Then you shouted them off," Brom replied with a smile.

She grinned at him. "Yes, I did. But it was you who found a cave and charted out a path for us that made them lose track of their prey."

She exhaled in relief, pacing around the floor of the cave for several seconds before turning to face Brom. "So where are you going?"

Brom found this confusing. "What do you mean? Where should I go?"

"Anywhere but here," Lydia noted, then tensed as she saw Brom open his mouth. " - and with anyone but me right now."

"Where am I supposed to go?" Brom asked again, frustration filling him. "You want me to go outside and die? There were hundreds of them. Even you nearly died. What chance do I have, all by myself?"

"They will forget about you, in time," Lydia responded. "I am their target. Anyone who is with me – as consequence, will die."

"So if they see me," Brom began, welling up with anxiety. "They're just going to let me go? Maybe feed me a pudding or take me to a whorehouse?"

"That is if you are seen," Lydia reprimanded. "You're capable of hiding in a pit somewhere for a while. You can elude them."

"Of course I can, because I'm so adept at hiding," Brom replied mockingly. "Because I am a master of stealth."

Lydia shook her head in exasperation, moving to grab him by the shoulders. "Get away from here. Don't come back. Hide for at least a few days before making your way back to Whiterun – or Markarth – or wherever else you plan on going."

She removed the hands from him, staring at him in the eyes. "Farwell Bro - "

"No," he replied firmly. "This is not farewell. You know as well as I that going outside without help is a straight-trip to Sovngarde. These people – whoever they are, because you never tell me – are not joking in whatever they plan on doing."

Lydia sighed, seeming dejected and dazed. "Have you heard of the Dark Brotherhood?"

Brom raised an eyebrow, frightened by the question. "Yes. While I was in Riften."

"Well they were our attackers - " Lydia informed him simply. " - and they have waged war against me."

Baffled, Brom let out a laugh. "Why?"

Lydia's face seemed pensive and conflicted, but then she simply shook her head once more and stared at the floor. "I don't know."

"Really?" Brom asked, again suspicious.

"Yes," she firmly told him again, raising her head. "And that's all we talk about this."

"Right," Brom lied, keeping his thoughts to himself. "And all of a sudden I'm obeying every word you say now?"

Lydia passed her fingers over the stony wall, moving closer to Brom as the rainfall intensified. She was literally a palm-length away from his face. "If you're staying with me - "

She paused, waiting for him to confirm it. Brom saw that her face looked desperately pleading, almost actively trying to discourage him from responding.

"Yes. I'll leave your company once I feel it's safe," Brom spoke to her disappointment.

"All right then," Lydia agreed, still staying close to him. "Then there are some rules I need you to understand."

Brom bopped his head up, almost chuckling before Lydia silenced him.

"Firstly," she started, tone serious and face hardened. "You always do what I say."

Brom nodded, lowering his gaze. "Right."

"Secondly, you do nothing on your own without me knowing about it – and allowing you to do it."

Brom repeated the head nod.

"Thirdly – anything you might see or hear that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me immediately."

Another nod.

"Fourthly - "

"Oh for Talos' sake," Brom burst out, getting annoyed. "By the time you finish your list of holy commandments, the Brotherhood would have come here, slaughtered us, had a couple meads, and would be halfway to Riverwood!"

Lydia closed her mouth, struggling to appreciate the sarcasm yet reprimand the condescending tone.

"Well," she started. "You get the idea. And for our first task - "

Lydia paused, unsheathing a map from a pocket in her woolen pants. " - we head to Markarth."

"Why Markarth?" Brom inquired, moving over to her side to look at the map. "Because it's close?"

"Yes," Lydia confirmed. "Inside a major city, the Brotherhood will be less active and we can always flock to the aid of the local guards – in case something goes wrong. But more importantly – Sot, Bok, and Egvir might still be there."

Brom half-agreed. The last time he had seen Bok, a trail of blood was pointing towards the Frostfruit Inn's exit. It was entirely possible that he had escaped. And he had not even seen Egvir inside the Inn since the night before when they had arrived at Frostfruit Inn.

But why did she say Sot? The last time Brom had seen Sot, his body was laying crumpled and bleeding on the stone floor – he was moving, but surely by now the assassins would have finished the job once they had realized he was still alive.

"I'm sorry Lydia, but Sot might as well be dead," he announced carelessly. "If he wasn't before, he definitely is now."

Lydia clenched her teeth. "I – I know he might seem that way – but I have some faith that - "

She paused her speech, keeping her head low and immediately turned to Brom again, storing the map inside the pocket once more. "No matter. We shall find out... once we... once we get there. Then we can proceed with our journey to Solitude – and you can leave to your own destination."

"And you will kill the Frost Dragon there?" Brom asked.

Lydia snapped back to reality. "Yes, the Frost Dragon. Yes, I will kill it there."

Brom narrowed his eyes. It almost seemed like she had forgotten about the dragon in the first place. Additionally, her voice was shaky and seemed longing – especially when he had mentioned Sot's likely fate – but Brom instinctively knew not to pester her further.

However, in another portion of his mind he focused on her speech about Solitude – strangely, he wanted to travel there as well, and perhaps try his hand at making a living there.

That's not the reason why you want to go to Solitude, Brom's annoying inner monologue once again kicked in.

Shut it, Brom cursed his own mind.

Just admit it to her.

I hope you rot in Sovngarde.

Lydia looked at him, expression returning to its neutral expression. "Come on, let's move – they can't be that far behind."

"Yes," Brom agreed, following Lydia into a small crevice located at the back of the cave. "They're probably searching the mountain as we speak."

Brom followed Lydia into the crevice, removing the assortment of bandages from his body in the meantime to pass the awkward silence. He stuffed them into his pocket, hoping to reuse them – he wished he and Lydia would have temporarily fought back the attackers enough so that they could scavenge supplies from the dead horses – they had enough food to last the two of them weeks.

He saw Lydia disappear around a corner as the ceiling ended and he was once again back into the raining landscape of Skyrim, droplets of water collecting at his hair and clothes. It was a relatively narrow ledge to traverse across the side of the mountain, but it offered them the opportunity to see far ahead of them. To his disappointment however, Brom saw nothing but giant crags and spiking mountains imposingly standing in front of him – as far as he could possibly see. Lydia seemed equally discouraged by this.

"I had hoped Markarth would be closer," she interrupted Brom's thoughts, standing on the narrow ledge alongside Brom. "But all I can see are these blasted mountains."

"Have you been to Markarth before?" he asked.

She scratched at her cheek. "No. Have you?"

"No," he breathed back, keeping his footing from slipping. "And can we get off this ledge? The height is making me nauseous."

From what Brom could see, it was a clear thousand foot drop before another crag of the mountain broke his eyeline, and the ledge was so narrow that it could barely contain two of his feet if put one in front of the other.

"Follow me," Lydia answered, pointing to a small clearing that lead to a traversable dirt path downward. "That seems safe, doesn't it?"

"You're the expert here," Brom replied back.

Brom followed Lydia patiently as they both got to the clearing. She tilted her body back as she prepared to descend the path. He mimicked her, tilting his body back and found that it helped as he naturally went down the declined slope, holding onto the rocks jutting out to his side for support. As far as Brom could see, the path went down more for approximately a few hundred paces before becoming level again, but by then they could not see above the mountains and thus were traveling entirely blind.

"Are you sure this is the way to Markarth?" he whispered, careful to keep his voice down.

Lydia chuckled. "If my map is correct, then yes, I'm sure."

"That gives me confidence," Brom quipped, knowing that she would not turn back and glare at him - risking her position and balance.

"You're a highly sarcastic boy," Lydia fired back, although her tone seemed playful. "One of these days someone will put an end to your life because you couldn't hold back your tongue."

Brom kept walking, gripping a large rock as an anchor. "Many have tried to. All have failed."

"Probably because they felt pity towards you," she guessed. "Maybe they thought it was wrong to kill a fourteen-year old girl in cold blood."

Brom mock-laughed. "I am of sixteen years, and I am not a girl."

"Well with that hair," Lydia pointed out, turning back briefly to poke his head. "You might as well be."

"I think it makes me look elegant and refined," Brom stated, noticing the path gradually level off.

"It makes you look like a milk-drinking sissy," Lydia hissed. "Who clearly cannot afford to cut their hair once in a while."

"Don't be jealous of me because your hair isn't quite as - "

Brom stopped, feeling his footing slip a bit. He almost tumbled onto Lydia, but was saved as he grabbed another rock protrusion as the path was beginning to almost become level with the ground. Another few paces later, and Brom felt his feet and boy align perpendicular to the floor.

"Be careful," Lydia cautioned, relieved that the ground was level once more. "The rain is making this worse. Will not be good for my blades."

Brom realized that he had not noticed the three daggers hanging from Lydia's waist. It was bound on by a cheap leather band, similar to the one Skulvar had used to forge his bracers, and Brom found himself wishing that she had taken her armor along with her before forcibly leaving.

"Your dragonscales would have been handy to have right now," he announced.

Lydia agreed, sighing. "It's not exactly like I had a choice in the matter."

"Right, right," Brom agreed, attention still on the three steel blades. "Say, can I have one of those?"

Lydia appeared confused, turning back at him. "What, these things?"

She pointed the three blades out to him, and Brom nodded – then frowned, as she laughed right in his face. "What, so you can go poke a poor Nord's eye out?"

"For self-defense," Brom urged, ignoring her humor. "So if I meet up with any other - "

"If you do meet up with them," Lydia interjected. "You would be dead. Trust me, these will be more use to us when with me."

"They're very sharp," Brom noted, pressing his point further. "I'd think I could do some damage."

"Yes indeed," Lydia mock-agreed. "To yourself."

"Do you suddenly have three arms or something?"

"No."

"Then why do you need three? Give one to me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No, and remember the first rule I said?"

"Oh by Tal - "

Brom turned away in anger, thankful for the level ground so he could pace about and show her how upset he was.

"Did you suddenly become a warrior overnight?" Lydia cruelly asked. "If not, then don't ask to use my blades. Seriously speaking, you could injure yourself."

Brom sighed, turning to her again. "Then teach me."

Lydia scoffed at him, turning away and putting a hand above her brow so the rain could be stopped from entering her field of vision. "Teach you what? How to swing a dagger?"

Brom waited patiently, ignoring his hair as it fell over his ears and bothered him with its wetness. He stood staring at Lydia, who had turned back and was equally perplexed to see Brom so determinedly looking at her.

"Oh by the – fine!"

She moved to him, sweeping the hair out of her eyes and unsheathed one dagger to present it to him. "Hold it."

Brom blew air out of his lips sarcastically, grabbing it from Lydia's open palm before feeling the weight press his hand down. It was much heavier than it had looked, sitting on Lydia's waist a few short seconds ago.

"You'll notice that it is quite decently heavy," Lydia announced, moving to Brom's back. "Skyforge Steel always is."

"It's not that heavy," Brom lied, although he could almost hear Lydia rolling her eyes at him. She moved close to his torso, and kept her hands on his waist and wrist holding the dagger.

"Number one, the dagger is a stabbing weapon," Lydia spoke into his ear. "You don't want to find yourself swinging this thing at whoever comes your way. That's what swords are for."

Brom gave a smug but guilty look. "I knew that."

"Of course you did. Now when you stab someone, you generally don't want them to see it coming, so it's best to first lower your wrist..."

She pressed his arm down, and he moved along with her movement and then stopped as it was parallel to his body.

"...then roll the dagger behind your forearm."

Brom appeared confused, but did it anyway. "Why would I do that?"

"To mask it from someone who's checking you for weapons," Lydia promptly responded, taking a moment to flip her head back to keep out the rain. "A closed fist is much less suspicious than a dagger jutting out from your hand."

"Ah," Brom agreed, trying to make his fist look as non-threatening as possible. "Now what?"

"To properly unsheathe it," Lydia continued. "Bend your wrist behind you, so the blade naturally falls down and the hilt slips into your palm."

Brom found this direction somewhat confusing. "Erm, how?"

Lydia moved her hand on his arm to his wrist, gently bending it backwards but forcing his fingers to stay attached to the hilt – before it naturally slipped into his hand.

"Now when you have the blade pointing down to the ground," Lydia motioned for Brom to do it, then continued. "Rotate your hips and arm smoothly - " She clutched his waist, pushing him forward while turning his waist inwards, " - and extend."

Brom shot out his arm in a line perfectly parallel to the horizon, and squealed in exhiliration. "I did it! I'm a Nordic warrior!"

"Yes, well done, oh mighty Ysgramor," Lydia joked with a smirk. "But you're lucky that I'm here to guide your movements. It's a heavy dagger, and it takes some getting used to."

Brom chortled, twirling the dagger in his palm and fingers while he looked out at the horizon – still eclipsed by mountains. He made his voice as deep as possible before dramatically standing with an arm pointed out. "Nonsense. Follow me companion! Let us forge the way to Markarth!"

Lydia sighed behind him. "Giving you it was clearly a bad idea."

"Nonsense," Brom discounted, keeping his fakely low voice. He watched Lydia pass him with an eyeroll and then stop, waiting for him to follow. "You have merely empowered the mighty Brom Ven, slayer of Dragons and savior of women and children!

Lydia shoved her palm against her forehead. "Would you stop fooling around and start following me?"

"Yes I will companion," Brom reiterated, still keeping the fake voice. "But only because I want to."

He walked in front of her, beginning another path of descent down the mountain. He had barely walked four steps before he heard his name.

"Sir Ven?"

Brom shook his head, confused by the sudden use of a formal term. He turned back to see Lydia, expression brimming with what appeared to be genuine excitement.

"I have an exciting new move to teach you with the dagger!" she announced.

Brom opened his eyes in eagerness. "What?"

"It is called - " Lydia stopped, forming her hands into the shape of a dagger.

" - the hair cut."

Cheeks reddening, Brom immediately turned back and swept the hair and rainfall out of his eyes, trying to block out the increasing noise of Lydia's racuous laughter.

"Sir Ven! Why have your cheeks become rosy and blushing Sir Ven?"

Brom wondered whether a fall would instantaneously kill him.

A/N

Enjoyed writing this one immensely...

I try to mess around with the Skyrim map to exaggerate or undermine certain distances to make the story more believable, so hopefully that's not confusing if anyone's fact checking me against an actual map.

More to come, and as always I would appreciate any support and thank you for the view! Forge onward!

~TWa