Like I said, because of the long (and unnecessary) wait you've put up with for a Mind's Eye update, here is the second chapter update. Enjoy!

As they moved down the mountain, Deanne began to shiver. She'd been shivering before from the cold. Certainly more often as she'd come north. Except now she couldn't seem to stop. Her whole body quivered and shook, almost violently, without pause or control. Soon after she started, Vilkas picked up his pace.

"Hang in there, little one. We're almost there."

Deanne heard the structure as they approached, breaking the wind against its walls and denying the storm that whipped around it. Vilkas made straight for the expanse and Deanne felt his muscles bunch as he heaved the door open and again when he closed them behind.

The inside of the building was warmer than outside, but her shivering continued. Vilkas walked some steps and gently lowered her to the floor. He tucked her against a low stone wall and then dropped his own cloak around her shoulders. Deanne tugged it closer, trying to absorb what body heat it carried. But the cold in her own layers refused even the smallest transfer.

A couple feet away, there was the ring of metal as Vilkas drew his sword. Deanne couldn't help the tremor of fear that accompanied the sound of the weapon coming forth, even his. At least until he expelled a breath of exertion and there was a crack as the blade met some length of wood. The target protested as he wrenched the blade free and then cracked again as he struck it a second time. Deanne listened as he dismantled the wooden structure. Once done with the sword, he took to snapping boards against the low wall and then chucking them into a pile.

The sounds of his demolition echoed through the room. Not long after he'd taken up the sword again, Deanne heard movement behind her. Vilkas picked up the approach almost exactly as she did and whirled to a halt, likely with blade at the ready.

"You've returned." Deanne recognized the voice of the priest of Mara.

Vilkas stood slowly but, by the smallest sound of anger in his throat, he did not lower his guard. "Yeah. But it's not what you think, priest." He spoke the last word with venom, his distrust palpable.

The priest of Mara came toward her back. The low wall Deanne leaned against was not a wall at all, but an elevated platform. "And your companion—? Ah!" He retraced his steps and descended at the back of the platform before coming around toward her. "It is a pleasure to see you again, my child."

Vilkas immediately moved to intercept, putting himself between them aggressively. "I said 'it's not what you think'. She was cold. This place was the closest shelter. That's the only reason we're here."

Deanne could imagine what was happening above her right now: Vilkas standing like an immovable object, daring the priest to try and maneuver or argue his way around. An argument that never came. In fact, when he spoke, the priest sounded positively crushed. "I see…"

And the guilt returned. Here she was, exactly as the priest had requested. But she couldn't bring herself to volunteer for whatever it was he had in mind. Because of Vilkas.

Vilkas was taking her to Winterhold. Without him, she would be alone again. And if she went against his decision, even if she thought that decision was wrong… In order to preserve herself in his care, she had to abide by his choices. And he had decided that she was not to be involved in this daedric nightmare business. So she wouldn't.

But there were more immediate problems. The relative warmth of the room did not chase away the chill that had burrowed into her body. Though she tried to keep the sniff was subtle, it yanked the men's attention away from their confrontation briefly. Vilkas gave the priest a final warning. "Go back to your lab, priest."

Another long moment passed. The priest took a step, but toward Deanne instead of the way he'd come. Vilkas' heavy foot slammed down in that path and Deanne heard a snarl erupt from his throat. "What did I say?!"

In a very reasonable tone, the priest responded, "She is suffering the first stages of hypothermia. I can help her. I am a healer. I have been for most of the last century."

"And you were a daedra worshiper the one before that." There was a sound of cloth that might have been the movement of a head and a slight inhale. "Yeah, I told her. So back. Off."

"Did you tell her also that I renounced that life long ago?"

"Once a daedra worshiper, always a daedra worshiper. And if you take another step toward her, I'll put you down like one."

The priest's tone remained perfectly level. "I have renounced Vaermina and all her works. Which is more than I could say for some."

Vilkas growled like a beast about to strike and Deanne shivered for more than just the cold. "P-please don't fight," she begged. This was too much like Marc and Father. And after the cave and the inn, she couldn't take any more.

Astonishing enough, she was heard. Unlike when she had tried to quell disputes within her own family, her plea now was answered. The aggression Vilkas was putting off ebbed slightly and he stepped back from the other man—mer. But he still held his position between them.

"We're not here to help you. And I'll tell you what I told her: you try and pull anything while we're here, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Vilkas wasn't making an idle threat, either. He would do it. He could do it. It was strange to witness so much anger in one man. Marc had always been irritated and frustrated. But Vilkas seemed to have a seething rage in him with which he could tear someone apart. Literally. She could feel it, now and back on the slope. And that was something of a shock considering how kind and gentle he'd been with her up until the moment the priest had come into their room at the inn. Deanne couldn't help but worry about being caught in the backlash of that anger should it break the surface.

The priest must have stood down noticeably because Vilkas's aggression receded further. Then the priest offered, "The rooms below are warmer than this one. It would benefit your companion more than the bonfire you appear to be constructing here."

And Vilkas's aggression rose, although he neither spoke nor moved to express it. Deanne waited, trying to stifle her shivers as she waited on the next decision that would be made for her.

"Are you so distrustful that you would deny her any assistance I might give?"

Two heavy steps brought them very close to one another. "You haven't done much to inspire trust."

"Aside from speaking only truth to you and willingly putting my life on the line for the people of Dawnstar?" the priest pressed. "I have made mistakes. But I wish only to serve Mara and the people of Skyrim in her name. Let me do that."

Deanne's shivers continued. It was so strange to be shaking so fervently and yet feel unable to move her limbs from the position they had numbed into. All she could really do was sit by and listen.

"She stays here. And you don't," Vilkas decided.

The woman's head drooped, feeling broken as the promise of warmth was refused.

"Your companion—"

"She'll be fine. Get out!"

Another confrontation of wills. But ultimately the priest backed away and retreated around the platform and up the stairs, his footsteps laden and solemn. Vilkas stayed on the defensive until Deanne could no longer hear the priest at all. And still her shivering persisted.

"Hold on, little one. Just a little longer." He went quickly back to his dismantling, giving a kick that snapped the latest wooden structure. "I'll have this going in just a minute."

Deanne huddled under the fur as he worked the wood into bits, separated out a smaller pile and she heard the tell-tale crackle of steel and flint. She listened hard, hearing the sparks as they were born and as they died. Vilkas blew lightly. Then the sound of grass being consumed.

Deanne's heart leapt in her chest and she sat forward hopefully, fearful of getting too close too soon and disturbing the fire he was bringing to life. Vilkas tended what he'd made, adding bits of wood. Deanne smelled smoke. The pieces of wood being moved became bigger and then she heard the first crackle of a living flame as the smallest wafting of heat over her cheek. The warmth was so welcome that she could have cried.

Vilkas made some adjustments and then gained his feet. "Alright, little one, it should be burning well in a minute. Let's get you closer."

At first contact Deanne hooked her fingers onto his armguards like talons. Or as best she could manage with those fingers refusing to bend to their fullest. When Vilkas lifted her up, Deanne's feet skidded slightly as she struggled to straighten her legs again. But they made it to the fire. It wasn't much yet, but it was warm.

Deanne reached her hands out and soaked them in the ray of heat that the flames were giving off. For a moment, she couldn't get enough. In the next, the welcome heat turned to searing pain. She cried out and yanked her hands back, terrified she might have placed them in the fire itself.

"Easy," Vilkas reassured her and drew her hands out from where they were clutched to her chest. "They're just cold. Too much heat at once. Here." He tugged her hands back into the radius of the fire's heat, then covered them with his and then began rubbing them vigorously between his palms.

It hurt at first. Her skin felt brittle enough that his rubbing would tear it right off. It wasn't long before the friction and the second-hand heat of the fire began to work feeling back into her hands. Her fingers, previously rigid and clumsy, softened and bent more naturally. Vilkas felt the change and moved up to her wrists and then her forearms, massaging life back into her limbs. The fire's heat on her now exposed hands and fingers did not cause pain this time.

"Do you think you can undo the ties of your robe?"

A minute ago the answer would have been 'no'. But now? "I think so."

"Go ahead and do it. Your layers are keeping the heat out better than they're keeping it in right now."

He let go of her arms and Deanne reached up to get the robe undone. The ties were still cold from the outside, but her fingers weren't. Once she'd gotten the robe undone, she went on to the buttons of the first overlarge dress, then the ties of the second, and loosened them just enough to feel the fire's heat burrowing through her inner garments and reaching her skin. She could have cried for joy.

"Better?" Vilkas asked.

Deanne nodded trying to stave off the sting of tears in her eyes.

"Can you feel this?"

There came a little pressure on her foot. But she didn't know where exactly he was touching, only that her boot shifted a little on her calf in response. Deanne shook her head. "Not really."

He exhaled. "I'd like to take off your boots and do the same thing I did with your hands. That alright?"

Deanne nodded. Even though she had misgivings about him taking off her clothes, the promise of relief from the bitter low temperatures was too much to refuse.

He untied her laces and then worked to loosen them all the way down. Deanne tried to help get her boot off, but her ankle wouldn't bend like she told it to. There was a bolt of fear when Vilkas hooks his hand under the back of her knee. The feel of the bandits' grasping at her rose up quickly. But Deanne clenched her jaw and refused to make either movement or sound.

He finally got her boot and stockings off, and began rubbing her foot and then her calf in the heat of the fire. Deanne had to focus very hard on keeping control of her terrors. The feel of someone's hand on her skin still only meant horrible things to her.

But the effort to keep from reacting was well worth it. The feeling returned to her toes as well as it had to her fingers. The room was not as warm as the inn and the floor harder and colder than the bed, but it was a vast improvement on freezing out on the side of the mountain.

There was a sound from the platform again. Vilkas's hands stopped moving and his aggression returned. "I told you to keep out, priest."

"And I thought that the least I could offer would be some bedding and blankets. We are not all blessed with Nordic resistance to cold."

Vilkas growled, but acquiesced. "Fine. Drop 'em and be off."

The priest moved carefully down the platform and toward the side of the fire nearest Deanne's back. She felt Vilkas plant a hand beside her and lean forward and a bit over her. But she doubted he was looking at her. Chances were he had his eyes locked on the mer, prepared to pounce on the priest if he came too close.

The collection of cloth was set down approximately two yards away but, instead of leaving like Vilkas had ordered, the priest walked around the fire and descended to the ground opposite the flame from them.

Vilkas was not pleased. "That wasn't an invitation to stay around."

His voice even as it could be, the priest responded, "I cannot depart in good conscience. I share your concern for your companion's safety."

This declaration incited a particularly intense growl from her escort. He wholly distrusted the priest, didn't he? There was no movement, just a nonverbal battle of wills between those with the sight to do battle with. It seemed clear enough to Deanne that the priest was not going to leave and that Vilkas could not make him unless he did so physically.

When there had been no movement for several seconds, Deanne reached forward to undo her other boot. Her feet were still cold. That brought Vilkas back.

"I've got it."

There was enough blood flowing through her that Deanne could arc her foot so that the boot came off smoothly. It still felt good for Vilkas to massage her last appendage back into proper working order. He did do so more slowly than the others, probably keeping an eye on their new arrival the whole time. Vilkas kept his watch until he was done with Deanne, and as he stood and rearranged the delivered bedding. All the while the priest neither moved nor spoke.

Deanne didn't either, but she wasn't paying the others much attention. Instead, she tried to focus on the fire, making a memory she could dwell on during their journey over the 'tundra' tomorrow. Waves of heat washed over her, seeping into her skin and clothing just as the cold had. It crackled merrily filling the empty air and driving off the awkward atmosphere the two men had consolidated. Deanne listened and felt, absorbing all of it, and let her eyes droop as contentment set in.

"So how long have you known each other?" the priest asked out of the quiet.

"None of your business—"

"A few days," Deanne answered automatically. She clapped her mouth shut when Vilkas gave a disapproving rumble.

The priest went largely unperturbed. "Hm," he said thoughtfully. "I would have guessed you had been together for some time."

"I'm warning you, priest—"

"I am only making polite conversation," the priest replied innocently.

"Well don't," Vilkas ordered.

It went unheard. "There is little else to do here. I cannot surmount the barrier alone. And it would be both unwise and fruitless for me to travel down to Dawnstar at this time of night." He seemed to focus on her. "You do seem like long-time companions. I am intrigued. What brought about such closeness in such short a time?"

Deanne's first instinct was to respond truthfully but she silenced her tongue this time. Vilkas didn't seem keen on sharing information with the mer, and she didn't wish to go against him.

"Leave her be, priest. She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Perhaps… Or perhaps she is afraid to."

Vilkas snorted. "Imagine that. Someone reluctant to talk to a daedra worshiper."

"There is more than one person to be wary of here."

He couldn't mean Vilkas. Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he'd seen Vilkas' temper, exhibited now by another warning growl. Except, for the most part, that temper hadn't been directed at her. Deanne was a little wary of the possibility, true. But Winterhold wasn't far, was it? How likely was it he might turn it against her between here and there?

Vilkas came to stand over her, speaking to the mer across the fire. "That's it, priest. I want you out of here. Now. Or I'll put you out."

"There is no need for such hostility," the priest replied, rising to his feet. "I will leave freely if she answers one question:— "

"Not your call," Vilkas growled taking the first steps around the fire.

"—was it his decision that you not assist me, or was it yours?"

Vilkas adjusted his stance, his armor straining as he prepared to attack. "You're out of line, priest."

"My name is Erandur," was the curt reply. "And I would not persist if the need were not great. She has the proper temperament and she is the best chance to save Dawnstar."

"I don't care. Whatever it is, she's not doing it. I said I'd kill you if you tried anything."

"I am unarmed."

"You're a daedra worshipper."

"And what are you, then?"

Vilkas's voice darkened and became low. "Chose your next words carefully, priest." Deanne's felt an involuntary shudder run through her at the sound.

The priest, Erandur, remained astonishingly unafraid. "Do not pretend there is no danger to her in your presence."

"I would never hurt her," Vilkas said, his tone positively lethal.

"Even with your best intentions, there is no guarantee of that."

Vilkas snarled and she heard him go for his sword.

The priest cut him off. "I will leave. But I will finish speaking first. I want you to know exactly what is going to happen if you refuse and leave me to face this alone."

The direction of his speech shifted and Deanne felt him speaking to her more than her protector. "The Skull is conscious. It is feeding by its own volition now, and it will not be sated. That is its nature. The people of Dawnstar have been suffering nightmares for weeks, but that is only the beginning. The Skull will drain them dry.

"In a few weeks more, the first person will become comatose. They will fall asleep and never awaken. And then another. And another. And without a means to sustain their bodies, they will die soon after. The Skull will kill everyone in the town. Then it will grow stronger. It's radius of influence will grow, and more will be affected, drained and killed. And that radius may never stop growing. It will do the same to Winterhold, Morthal, Windhelm."

Deanne's heart skipped a beat. She'd been concerned for the people of Dawnstar, but she hadn't thought the situation was that serious.

"The more it consumes, the stronger it will grow until it reaches all of Skyrim. I can't imagine anything will be able halt its progress. Particularly as there will be no way to reach the Skull to destroy it."

There was a rustle of cloth and Vilkas immediately drew his blade from the sheath in response.

The priest pressed on. "In this vial is what is called Vaermina's Torpor. It is the only sample left in the alchemical lab and I do not have the knowledge to create any more. When consumed, it allows the imbiber to walk the dreamscape of Vaermina. A side-effect is the ability to travel physical distances through those dreams. But it will only work for priests of Vaermina or, lacking that, the unaffiliated."

Vilkas rumbled, "So you should have no problem."

There was the sound of glass on glass and the tiniest undertone of moving liquid, followed by an extended silence. "You see? I have sworn myself to Mara. What more proof do you need that I am no longer Vaermina's follower?"

Vilkas grunted, unimpressed. "So find someone to do it. Someone else," he clarified.

The priest exhaled, his reasonable tone giving way to some frustration. "Even priests of Vaermina need to develop themselves mentally in order to effectively use the Torpor. But even if I were to find an appropriate candidate in Dawnstar it would take weeks, perhaps months, before they could use the Torpor to do what is needed. And by then, the Skull will have taken lives."

"Sounds like that's the only choice you've got."

"No, because your companion has the appropriate mentality now!" Deanne sat up in surprise. "I could sense it when I attempted to heal her. Most have to develop themselves, psychologically and magically, before they can use the Torpor. It is very rare to naturally possess the mentality. But I know of what I speak. If she takes the Torpor, she will be able to do what we need."

"Do what?" Deanne asked. She remembered too late that Vilkas didn't want her involved. But it was very difficult to prevent the question from coming forth. Especially as her desire to help had bloomed to life again with the presentation of this chance.

The priest spoke straight to Deanne. "There is a magical barrier erected between us and the lower levels where the Skull resides. It is maintained by an enchantment that is cast from the other side of the barrier. There is no way for us to get to it to disable it, and therefore no way to reach the Skull. But, using the Torpor, someone could travel past the barrier on the dreamscape and return to Mundus where the enchantment can be disrupted and dispersed."

"And what of the marauders and your old cultist brothers?" Vilkas demanded. "You're so wrapped up in this quest of yours that you're willing to put her—anyone—at risk to complete it."

Deanne hesitated. Marauders? Cultists?

"In the dreamscape, she would come to no harm. And if she were to return nearest the enchantment, there would be no one to threaten her. Once the barrier comes down, the Miasma will be slow to disperse. There is no telling how many, if any, will awaken."

"Miasma?" Deanne asked hesitantly, unsure if Vilkas was being swayed at all by this, but too curious herself to keep silent.

The priest replied quickly, "The Miasma is a gas that induces sleep. The priests of Vaermina use it for their rituals. And as a defense mechanism when the Orc marauders attacked—"

"What?!" Deanne balked. Marauders. Like bandits. Like the ones that had almost—! A sudden terror welled up inside of her.

"No, no, my child. They are all asleep. The barrier keeps the Miasma contained around them and the Miasma keeps them unconscious. They would only—ugh!"

Deanne started a little as there was a sound of concussion: Vilkas closing the distance between the two and striking the priest. She could only hope that the priest's sound had been more from surprise than pain, but he stumbled.

"I've been patient with you, priest. I let you make your case, and you've gone and scared her. You're done. Understand me. I'll let you walk out of this room because you might be the only one who actually knows what's going on with that Skull. But I don't promise anything if you come back before we're gone. Got it?"

The priest moved and, when he spoke, he was turned toward Vilkas. "People are going to die. We can stop it. This is our best – perhaps our only – chance—"

"You have a plan," Vilkas growled at him. "Get on it. Maybe only a few people will die while you're training whoever. But you're not using her."

"And if it were your life at stake? Would you say the same? I know it is dangerous. I know it is frightening. But if we do nothing, the result will be worse. Far worse."

"You're not using her!"

"People will die! Does that mean nothing to you?"

Deanne couldn't take it anymore. "Stop, stop, stop!" The two men fell silent and she felt their attention shift to her. By the Eight, she couldn't take the fighting. She hated the fighting. "I-I'll do it. I'll do it."

There wasn't a sound from either of them at first. It was heart-wrenching because she couldn't tell what their reactions were to her declaration until they did. And she needed to know. From Vilkas in particular. Deanne used the silence to gain her feet. They were a little weak and she felt a low roiling of fear in her stomach, but she stood just the same.

The priest of Mara spoke first. "Thank you, my child."

"Not a word!" Vilkas snapped. His footfalls crossed back to Deanne and she tensed subconsciously when he took her arm, even gently. He spoke quietly, "You don't have to do anything, Deanne."

"I…I know. But I want to." She'd spent her whole life being on the receiving end of so much. But now? Now she could give back. Really give back. This was the first time that she could do something significant for others instead of just running errands or doing menial tasks. And if she did die from this...

Deanne swallowed. She wouldn't really be much of a loss. The world might even be better off without a burden like she was. And she would have died saving other people's lives. If she was going to die, that was a good thing to die for, wasn't it?

The priest spoke up. "We will make sure you are prepared. You should know the layout of—"

"Shut up!" Vilkas roared.

"Vilkas, please—"

The hand around her arm squeezed. "Don't say another word. You are not—"

"I just want to help," she tried to argue, though it came out more as a whispered imploration.

"The Orcs are all further in," the priest answered her quickly. "You would be at greater risk of succumbing to the Miasma yourself then encountering any of them—"

"Shut up!" Vilkas roared. Then he squeezed Deanne's arm hard enough to be painful. "I will not let you do this. You're going to Winterhold, and that's final."

She tried not to squirm in his grip. "You...you said I should pick my causes. Well, I think this is a good one." Even if she was terrified of what might happen. "I want to help. He said I can."

"He's a daedra worshiper!"

"I am not a danger to her," the priest said, once again taking steps toward them.

Vilkas whirled around, snarling and wrenching Deanne behind him. "Not a danger to her? Look at what you're dragging her into. How is that not a danger to her?"

Deanne reached to where he held her, trying to pry his hand loose. "Vilkas…" she implored weakly. He was very strong and he was holding her very tight.

"We are all taking a risk," the priest argued. "When the barrier is down, I must reach the Skull to destroy it. You think that has no risk?"

"That doesn't make it alright," the warrior snapped.

"I will do everything in my power to keep her from harm's way."

"So am I." The hand on her arm tightened further. Deanne felt the pressure of his grip on her bones and whimpered.

The priest of Mara said forcefully, "Yet look at what you are doing!"

She felt the slight twist of his arm as Vilkas turned to look in her direction. He inhaled sharply and the hand on her arm went limp, although his fingers stayed wrapped around her bicep. Deanne exhaled with relief. She was afraid to try and take her arm back from him, though. He might grab her again.

There was a very long silence. Vilkas' breathing was strained, but she couldn't get a read on what he was thinking. What was he thinking?

Once again, the priest of Mara broke the quiet. "Child, do you truly wish to do this? I promise to do what I can to lessen it, but there will be danger involved."

Deanne's attention shifted to Vilkas, worried about his reaction when she said, "Yes. I understand. But I want to help." The woman turned her final word to her 'protector'. "Please." He could stop her if he wanted. Neither she nor the priest could really stop him if he put his foot down. But if Vilkas could just understand. She was scared but she didn't mind the risk. And this was the right thing to do.

The Nord's hand dropped from her arm abruptly. Deanne reached for the place he'd gripped her, touching the tender flesh of her arm. It might well bruise.

He was going to leave now. She'd gone against his decision. He hadn't wanted her to help and she'd pushed for it anyway. He was going to walk out, probably angry, and leave her to her own devices. That was what happened when you did something others didn't support. They left so they didn't have any part in it. She'd have to find someone else to help her get to Winterhold. Maybe, if they came out of this okay, the priest of Mara would.

"You're going to tell us everything," Vilkas said, his voice low and warning. "I want to know every single detail about this place and everything that happened. How many cultists. How many marauders. Every weapon you remember seeing and every single spell we might get hit with. If we're going to assault this place, we're doing it my way. Got it?"

The priest was quick to accept. "Absolutely."

Deanne was a little…more than a little surprised. "You're staying?"

Now he sounded surprised. "Of course I'm staying." There was a paused and then he took a step away. "I promised I'd get you to Winterhold. And I will. Don't worry."

The woman nodded hesitantly. He was staying? And was still going to take her to Winterhold? She hadn't expected…

Maybe now wasn't the time to dwell on that. They might not even survive this. Not with how many Orc marauders and Vaermina cultists the Priest of Mara was surmising were still in the building. But she was going to do her part here. For the first time, she was going to do something significant for others. Deanne tried to keep her mind on that instead of how afraid she was as she listened to the priest and Vilkas plan. Whatever happened, she was going to do her part.

I hope you liked the chapter. It took a long while to finally get Deanne where I wanted her. She was such a pansy and Vilkas was so protective, it took a few rewrites to get her to take the Torpor.

Thanks for reading. Come back next chapter to see how Deanne fairs with Vaermina's draught.