Author's Note: Hey guys so this chapter was actually pretty hard for me to write, so it took a while! The song quoted is 'Shadow of the Moon' by Blackmore's Night. You can find the song easily on Youtube!
I don't own the song or any of the lyrics!
~Enjoy!~
Markus
My horse huffs out a mass of steam as it runs, each hoof beat makes my stomach that much more uneasy. Lydia was right, the Skooma is worse than the mead ever could be.
The night air is frigid, but the weather is mild for the north. The map had a small smudge at the top of it with a scribbled word that I couldn't read but '-mouth cave' was after it, so I just hoped there weren't many caves in Skyrim with close names.
But of course Mephala couldn't make it anywhere close by; she had to make it across this fucking country. It feels like I'm not even getting anywhere. Lydia's horse is tied to mine, and it trails behind.
I keep expecting to turn around and see her riding along.
I turn around for one last check, but no, of course she's not there. This isn't just some bad dream or hang over or wild Skooma hallucination.
She won't kill her; if Mephala wanted to kill her she would've done it and moved on… she wants her alive….right?
No comfort comes from that thought.
I ride hunched low over my horse's neck, hoping to do whatever I can to help her run faster. I lay my hand over her neck, and use what my mother taught me about the connection between the animal and man to urge her faster.
My hand glows a soft green, and the mare lets out a loud snort as she begins sprinting full out.
Once I get Lyd back, I'll buy these horses a damn stable-mansion in the south, and let them live out their days eating whatever the fuck they want.
A roar sounds from the mountains in the distance, and a dragon begins circling above.
Once I get Lyd back, we'll wipe out those fucking things. We'll hunt them until they're extinct again, then we'll kill every bandit, troll, hagraven and forsworn that cross our path. We'll change Skyrim, make it peaceful again.
"Is that really all you think there is here? War? Fighting?"
Her voice rings out in my head.
The roar sounds again, the mare sprints faster still.
Once I get Lyd back…. We'll change it.
The dragon comes to fly right above us; gusts of wind come with each flap of its wings. I look up to see the dragon opening its mouth, flames in its throat.
"FUS RO DAH!" I shout up at it. The shout is enough to push the dragon back and force it to land. By the time it gets back up in the sky, it won't bother following us. I don't have time for a fucking dragon.
I just need Lyd back…..
Another roar sounds from the brush to the left of the road, and a bear runs out towards us. As it approaches, I pull out my knife and bring flames into my palm.
It opens its mouth to take a bite out of my horse's neck, but I shoot flames into its mouth before stabbing my knife clean through its skull. The mare doesn't even break her stride.
Why the fuck does everything attack when I actually need to get somewhere?!
I slide my knife back into its holster and pull out the map. I look to my right at the mountain the dragon had come from, and decide that it must be the one pictured just a little ways ahead of the cave.
I'm almost there, Lyd.
I'm almost there.
Draener
"It is done, my Jarl." the soldier captain says as he bends his knee and drops his head. His armor clanks as his knee plate hits the stone floor of the keep; his men- a group of ten, maybe more- follow his lead, armor clanks against the stone as each of them fold their arms across their chests and kneel.
Ulfric leans forward in his throne, a pleased look in his eyes as the captain continues, "The man lies dead in a pool of blood; the tracks have been laid clearly on the path leading to the cottage." I stand to Ulfric's right, though now I couldn't feel more distant to him.
I shouldn't have allowed this to happen…I should've stopped Ulfric from agreeing to this… When I told Markus sacrifices would always have to happen…I didn't mean blatant assassinations….This…this is not what I wanted…..Not what Skyrim needed.
"And you left no trail behind? We can't have the Dragonborn thinking we were involved in any way…" Ulfric says, his suspicion seeping into his voice.
The guard captain keeps his head low, but gives a curt shake of his head, "No, my Jarl, we traveled through the forest, there was no trail." Ulfric nods to himself.
"This should be enough….The Thalmor have strong ties to the Empire, he will turn to us when he discovers the trail, he will see where his alliance should lie." Ulfric's voice speaks the words, but its Mephala's reasoning. I should've stopped her when she came to us with her plan.
But now the man Mephala called Terran is dead.
Another stain on my soul, another taint on my conscience.
Mephala never mentioned Markus's alignment or relation to Terran, just that "Killing him will push him to make his choice. And he will choose the Stormcloaks. He will choose Ulfric." Ulfric's chest puffed out triumphantly at her last sentence. But I wonder what bond they must've shared if Mephala believed he would change his mind.
"That will be all; you can return to your duties within the city." Ulfric says with a wave of his hand as he stands from his throne and walks down the steps leading up to it. "My friends, we have more plans to go over, it seems." Ulfric gives Galmar a wide grin that Galmar mirrors.
The guard captain stands as Ulfric and Galmar make their way to the war room. I sigh and shake my head as I follow slowly behind them. "We shall have to hold a feast for our impending victory!" Galmar's voice booms within the stone room. "All the citizens of Windhelm should attend, and share with us in this!"
Ulfric's eyes seem to gloss over with a starry look.
"Share with us in what, exactly?" I ask bitterness thick in my voice as Ulfric and Galmar stand across the war table from each other. Ulfric and Galmar both turn to look at me, Galmar's bear headdress seems to snarl as their smiles slowly fade. "There's no guarantee he'll change his mind and even if he does, how can we be sure he will change the tide? He's never fought in a war in his life; he's a boy."
Galmar turns and stands completely straight, as if that alone would make his point. "The Dragonborn are known throughout all of Tamriel," his hand waves across the map, "all know of these stories and legends; tales of the Dragonborn's strength and power, and with the dragons returning the same time as the Dragonborn…" he takes in a breath as if it's a prayer, "the people will follow him, and they will join us, and we will take Skyrim back from these Imperial bastards." Ulfric looks at me with an unreadable expression.
This is an argument both Ulfric and Galmar have repeated many times over. Their point still rings hollow in my ears.
"Stories don't win wars, Galmar," I say with a sigh, realizing that reason will get me nowhere, "soldiers and swords win wars," I give them both a last glance, "just remember that." I turn and walk out of the war room and back into the hall.
As I make my way across the hall toward the quarters wing, a boy's voice calls out, "Urgent message sir!" I turn to see a young boy, maybe fourteen or so, jogging down the hall, a crumpled roll of paper in hand.
The boy wears the Stormcloak messenger's uniform; a simple pale blue tunic with Windhelm's emblem on the front, as well as a very light lining of chain mail that can barely stop an arrow.
I stop and wait for the dark haired boy to hand me the paper.
I pull the small red ribbon off and begin reading the script as the boy speaks, "Haafingar has fallen, sir."
Vex
I sit at one of the tavern's tables, waiting for Brynjolf to get back from searching the town for Markus. Townspeople have overtaken the tavern, dancing to the tune of the bards' instruments as they sing and play, drinking at the bar as a busy Vekel pours drinks and collects coin around the bar happily. They all laugh and sing amongst each other, but they know better than to approach me; I sit at the table furthest from the noise, and closest to the water.
Suddenly, an unhappy looking Brynjolf cuts through the crowd and makes his way back to me. He pulls out a chair roughly and drops himself into it with an unhappy sigh, "I take it you didn't find him?" I hold back a smile.
"He wouldn't just take off like this; I don't understand," his eyes look up from the table and bare into mine, "and don't sound so happy about it lass, he could be in serious trouble-"
"Oh please," I wave my hand angrily through the air, "this isn't the first time he's bolted; you should know this through experience.." Brynjolf looks to the side, his jaw set and his body tense, "He probably just didn't want to come back and face me." I mumble as I lift my mead to my lips. Brynjolf's head snaps back to me, his brow is tight, angry.
"Not everything is about you, Vex," his voice nearly barks, "I'd hoped you'd figured that out by now, but I guess not." I break eye contact, I need to look somewhere besides his disapproving glare; I focus on the water instead, as the small waves bob against the stone in a wild rhythm. "Why do resent him so much, lass?" Brynjolf asks in a calm and soothing voice.
I don't answer him, hoping he'll get the hint and leave. "What did he do to make you this way?"
"He broke a promise." My head snaps back to him, my eyes full of anger. Brynjolf's eyes search mine for more, but after a moment he just nods and stands.
"I'm going to watch the streets from the rooftops, if you need me you'll find me near the gates." He hesitates for a moment, I can see the pity in his eyes, and I wonder what he can see in mine. I look down at the table, I hate pity. He lets out a small breath, "Goodnight Vex." Is all he says as he turns and once again wades through the mass of drunken slobs dancing to the bards' songs.
I look back out over the water, but two glowing purple orbs catch my eye. The statue of Nocturnal stands at the center of the lake, a stone hood hiding her eyes, yet two purple eyes glow ominously at me. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again to see no glimmer of light from the statue.
Markus
"Whoa, there," I whisper to my horse as she comes to a sudden halt outside the cave. Snow falls lightly from the sky, and pale light shines harshly down from a moon that threatens to fall out of the sky at any moment. I sling my leg over in the saddle and dismount cautiously.
Woods surround the cave, only a small and barely worn trail led through a thick forest to the base of the mountain where Darkmouth cave is marked on the map.
The wind carries flakes of snow through the air, sending it gliding in every direction, the sound of the wind whistling through the trees sends a shiver up my spine, the woods are dark, the leaves of the treetops shade the forest floor from the moon's glow, whatever lurks in the shadows is hidden in the darkness.
A small gap between the canopies overhead sends a patch of moonlight down unto the cave's entrance, otherwise I never would have noticed it. I give my horse a last stroke on her neck before pulling my hand away, and letting the dull green light slip from my hand, severing the connection.
I turn to the cave's entrance and pull one of my daggers into my hands while in the other I bring flames to light the way. I hold my breath as I take the first step inside in an effort to hear anything that waits within.
Only the sound of dripping water catches my attention. The sound echoes through the small tunnel as I make my way further inside. I nervously rub the hilt of my dagger with my thumb as I hold the blade well out in front of me. The faintest light shines at the end of the tunnel, a slight breeze whistles through the cave, and I catch sight of moonlight shining down from above.
As I near the end of the tunnel, I can see it leads out into a wide open space that seems to be an extension of the forest. Trees, bushes and grass line the edge of the cave's opening, though they are mostly hidden in shadow. A hole in the roof of the cave is lined up perfectly with the full moon, which illuminates the very center of the cave ominously.
A gleam catches my eyes as I look over the cave.
In the center of the cave, Lydia lies motionless, a brilliant gleam coming off of her steel armor. The moonlight makes her pale skin look ghostly; her hair forms a darkened circle around her head. She lies on a slab of rock that is laid specifically at the center of the cave. The slab is raised above the rest of the stone, almost like an altar.
"Lydia," I whisper unconsciously as I stare at her.
"I had a plan, you know." I turn to look straight ahead of me and see Mephala's eyes staring from within the shadows.
"What did you do to her?" I ask, motioning with my dagger towards Lydia, the eyes close for a moment as a small chuckle escapes her mouth.
"Her?" she asks as if she isn't sure, "Nothing," I can almost feel the smile spread across her lips, "yet." I push my palm forward and let the flames shoot out at the eyes. After a moment, I pull back but see nothing.
Silence once again fills the cave and I slowly start making my way to Lydia, careful to keep watch at my back and in the shadows around me. I climb the steps, "But that can be changed quickly." Mephala's voice says in a snicker to my right.
As I turn, a bolt of lightning shoots out from the darkness and the electricity sends me flying back from the altar. My head slams against the rocky floor of the cave, and I open my eyes to a fuzzy blur of light and shadow. I push myself to a kneeling position, trying to regain my balance as I bring my hand up to my forehead and heal my head as much as I can before a glimmer in the moonlight catches my eye.
A long, shining rod hovers in the air, gently bobbing up and down slowly. The rod hovers above the altar- above Lydia- and suddenly, the gentle bobbing stops, and the rod points straight down, towards Lydia. I squint for a closer look at the shining of the metal, and realize it's no simple rod, but a spear.
"NO! Mephala wait!" I scream as I push myself to my feet and begin a stumbling sprint across the cave towards the altar. Suddenly a flash of purple light sends me flying back, and pain ripples through me as my back slams against the rocky, uneven cave wall.
I try to breathe, try to move, but my head is foggy and my body doesn't respond. A purple fog keeps me pinned against the wall, I try to bring flames into my hand but nothing happens. "As I was saying, I had a plan, a brilliant plan," Mephala hums smugly, "you would –in a worried haze- rush from Riften to your uncle, only to find him dead-"
"Y- you!?" I manage to spit out at her; the fog feels as if it's squeezing the life from me as I struggle to breath under its pressure.
A smug chuckle echoes from across the cave, "I didn't kill Terran, Markus, but I most definitely didn't help him, either." A shady figure steps into the light at the center of the cave, drawing closer to Lydia and the spear keeps its place in the air above her as it slowly spins. The figure is cloaked, but I have no doubts it's Mephala. "You complicated things, you ran off after you found him and you made my plans…. Much more interesting…." The spear's spins stop suddenly, and the spear draws up in the air, the tip pointing straight down, "so thank you for that."
"STOP!" I manage to yell, but the sound of metal piercing metal rings out through the cave. Lydia's body lurches up, her eyes open wide and her mouth letting out a silent scream of pain. "LYD!?" I call out to her as her eyes close once again and her body lies back against the stone. Blood begins dripping from the altar, spilling out over the steps at an impossible speed.
Mephala suddenly disappears from sight, and in an instant she's before me, her hand slipping around my throat and bashing my head back against the stone. "You can still save her, Markus," she says hastily, "GIVE ME WHAT I WANT." Her voice screams through clenched teeth as her grip tightens.
The souls. She wants the souls.
Her hood covers her face, making it impossible to tell which form she's using now.
"Fine." Is all I can manage to say.
Suddenly, her hand is gone from my throat and I can breathe again. I don't open my eyes though; I keep them closed tight as a delighted hiss escapes her lips, "Good! Repeat after me now; Webspinner, webspinner,"
I take a deep breath and open my eyes, I watch the red liquid as it drips down the side of the stone altar, "Webspinner, webspinner," I say in a whisper.
I can practically feel the grin on her lips, "I give you my might,"
I keep my eyes locked on Lydia; there's no way I'll be able to spit out the words if I'm looking at the monster in front of me. "I give you my might," I say in a bitter tone.
"I give you all in exchange," her voice is dripping with anticipation, rage suddenly fills me.
"I give you all in exchange," I say through gritted teeth.
"For the bite." She says with finality. I look back to her hooded figure in confusion, and her hand comes to turn my face back to Lydia, whose blood has spread on the stone alarmingly quickly. "Finish it!" she hisses.
I turn my stare back on her, giving her a murderous glare, "For the bite." Instead of a smug laugh like she would normally give, a low, animalistic hiss escapes her mouth.
"This might sting." She slurs as she reaches through the fog grabs my arm and pulls it forward. In an instant she pushes my armor's sleeves up and her fangs slip from the shadow of her hood.
"Wait-" Her head snaps forward and her fangs dig into my skin, it feels as if acid is flooding my veins, tearing into my arm. I watch in horror as blood drips down my veins turn pitch black beneath my skin, with every second the blackness fans out further through my body, sending a fire burning through me.
It seems like an eternity before she withdraws her fangs and they slip back under her hood.
The fog releases me, and I fall to the floor. My arms try to reach out and slow the impact, but I feel weak as the pain continues surging through my arm. I land in a puddle of water and suddenly realize I've been screaming through it all when the sound of my voice bounces off the cold rocky walls and echoes out of the cave.
"I'll be seeing you." She says as she turns to leave.
I reach out and grab her leg, "Wait," I spit out between heavy breaths, "who killed him?"
"In the long run, is it really going to matter?" My breath sends ripples across the puddle, and looking at my reflection in the dark water only makes me feel sick.
"Please," I say as I close my eyes.
After a pause, Mephala speaks, "Skyrim is a treacherous place; friends, allies, even family cannot be trusted here. Even the Northern winds cut like knives." Suddenly, my hand is left empty, and I look up to see she's disappeared.
I use my good arm and push myself up off the ground, "Lyd?" I say in a pained huff as I cradle my bleeding left arm to my chest and push off my knee to a standing position.
Lydia just lays there, a spear sticking out of her stomach, blood dripping down the stone like a grim waterfall. I stumble toward her, pain shoots from my arm to my legs, to my chest, to my head….everywhere. My arm feels as if it's burning, I look down to see the blackness pulsing through my veins steadily.
I climb the steps to Lydia and cup her face in my hand, "Lyd?" I whisper. She doesn't respond, just lies there in a fleeting sleep. I turn to the spear; the metal of Lydia's armor has been crushed in by the force of the spear being driven through her. I try to pull the spear from her with my right arm only, I pull with everything I have, but my one arm isn't strong enough.
I reach out and place my left hand gently on the spear's wooden shaft, pain ringing through me with every movement I make. I try to ignore the pain, but it's too much, I snap my hand back from the shaft and bring healing into my right palm. I bring my hand over the gnarled skin where the bite is and begin trying to heal the wound.
Only instead of healing the wound, the healing sets off another flare of pain, one even worse than before. Whatever is in my veins is reacting to the magicka, making it burn in me. I pull my hand away with a pained intake of breath and look back to Lydia; blood continues to spill from underneath her.
I place both hands on the wooden shaft and force myself to focus on Lydia's face as I brace my shoulder against the spear and pull as hard as I can manage. I ignore the pain; I instead focus on the thought of saving Lydia, and making her laugh again, making her smile even when she doesn't want to.
"C'mon Lyd," I say as I continue trying to pull the spear out, it must be wedged in the stone beneath her, since it's too damn stiff and rigid to be only in her, "just hold on, I'll get you out of this," I whisper to us both, "I'll get you out of here and you'll be good as new," I close my eyes and pull even harder than before, I feel as if I'm on fire, I try to take my mind off it by talking to her, "everything's gone so fucking wrong, Lyd, there's gotta be one good thing; you're my one good thing, you can't leave me now."
Suddenly, the sound of metal scraping against rock breaks me from my focus, and I stop pulling for a moment, I'm sure that I've gotten it out of the stone at least, now comes the hardest part. I gently begin pulling the spear back through her, trying to do as little damage as possible.
The spear slides out with little trouble, and I toss the bloody weapon away and the tip clatters against the rocky floor as it fumbles away. I quickly begin unbuckling Lydia's armor, though I'm careful to keep her as still as possible. The armor is ruined, but that's the least of my worries.
Lydia's pale blue undershirt is completely drenched in blood; I lift the shirt up to her rib cage and look at the wound. A gaping hole in her stomach makes me wince. I bring healing into my hand and once again a fire strikes in my veins. I hold my left hand tightly to her stomach as blood pools around my fingers; I lean closely to her face and bring my right hand up to lightly stroke her cheek.
"Please don't leave me now; I need you with me Lyd." Pain flashes through me, and everything in me screams to stop the magic, to stop the pain. Instead I rest my head against her shoulder and keep talking to her, "Everyone's leaving Lyd," tears stream down my cheeks as my mother and uncle's faces cross my mind.
"Everyone's leaving." I breathe in her sweet scent and turn up my head to look at her through blurry eyes. "You can't leave too," a sob breaks from my chest, "please don't leave too." I just stand there for a few minutes, my head on her shoulder, my hand on her stomach praying for a miracle.
After a while, my fingers begin to feel dry instead of slippery and I look down to find the bleeding has stopped. I pull my hand away to find the wound is mostly healed, a bit of a scab lingers though. I realize that that was just the front half though. I gently lift Lydia to a sitting position and I take a seat on the stone slab next to her.
I let her body lean against me, her head in the cradle of my neck as I reach around and find the wound in her back. I feel as if there's a stone in my gut; if I had just told Lydia sooner- maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe we could've found a way to be rid of Mephala, but no. I couldn't even do that.
You couldn't save your mother.
You just sat there, across the clearing as she burned to death.
You couldn't save your uncle.
You were miles away when he died, bleeding to death in his own home.
And now it's Lydia's turn.
I squeeze my eyes tight and kiss the top of Lydia's head, as if that'll save her.
After another few minutes I feel my fingers dry again and I pull Lydia back and lay her back against the stone gently to look at the wound. It's clear that she's still wounded, but my magic can only do so much.
Bandages. I need bandages.
But they're in the horse's saddle, and I've no intention in leaving Lydia alone, just to be safe. I focus on the thought of my mare, and try to reestablish the bond, though I'm not sure it's possible without contact.
I focus completely on the connection, and once I think I have it I let out a whistle. Luckily, the sound of hoof prints rings out in the tunnel. In a moment, the two horses are galloping into the cave. My mare comes to a stop by the stone stairs and I rise to greet her. "Good girl," I say softly as I stroke her with a blood crusted hand.
I reach into her saddle bags and pull out the bandage wraps before turning back to Lydia. I once again lift Lydia forward and wind the roll of linen wrap around her tightly. My hands tremble uncontrollably as I lean her back on the stone.
I walk back to my horse and pull out both blankets from my saddle bag and cover Lydia with one before folding the other and sliding it under her head. "Alright," I say looking down at her pale face, "you're alright," I brush her dark hair from her eyes, "see?"
My body aches and my eyes are heavy but sleep seems impossible right now, with everything that just happened…
Webspinner, webspinner,
I give you my might,
I give you all,
In exchange for the bite.
I look down at my left arm; my skin is swollen around the big puncture marks. Dried blood has crusted over my arm and my veins are still black beneath my skin. I slowly begin unbuckling my armor and pull it over my head carefully. I pull my shirt over my head and almost throw up at the sight.
Black veins are fanned out on my skin like a….like…. a web.
I just stare at my body as I slowly slide down the stone, my back grating against the rock just sends another shiver of pain through me, but it hardly matters anymore. I close my eyes and sit with my back slumped against the altar, my arm falling to my side as I try to calm myself.
My muscles relax for the first time in what seems like forever and I find myself half asleep, just sitting there in darkness when a squeaking sound wakes me up.
I pull my heavy eyes open to find what looks like a skeever sitting out in the grass below the raised stone. The squeaking sound turns into a warning hiss as the skeever advances.
"Stupid fucker," I half chuckle as it begins sprinting toward the stone. I bring flames into my hand, once again the magicka in my blood boils, and as the skeever makes its way up the stone, I shoot flames towards it.
Except it's not the normal flames; a blue ball of fire shoots forth and completely envelopes the feral animal. A squeak of pain rings out when the flames first contact, but almost instantly the body fall limp and silent. I watch the corpse burn for a moment in blue light before looking back to my arm.
The blackness turns to a shining blue and twists in my veins, making its way back down to my arm. The light baths me in bright blue as the blue makes its way from my chest and stomach back to my arm where it begins to swirl in intricate curls and markings.
The pain is gone and it leaves a pleasant warmth where it had burned before, as if healing me. I watch as the light fades, leaving only black markings on my skin. I bring healing into my palm and look in wonder as the warm orange light burns brighter than it ever has before.
Whatever she did, it made my magic stronger.
I lean my head back against the stone and look up at the sky through the opening in the cave. The moon hovers directly overhead, casting its light down and bringing a song into my head.
The tune plays, and I can't tell whether it's the exhaustion or the magicka that it causing me to hear the melody as if it's being played before me.
"In the shadow of the moon she danced in the starlight,
Whispering a haunting tune to the night,
Velvet skirts spun 'round and round,
Fire in her stare,"
My voice is dry and rough, and I can barely hold the tune through its cracks, but I say the words quietly anyway as I watch the dark clouds roll past the cold white orb in the sky.
"In the woods without a sound,
No one cared,
Through the darkened fields entranced,
Music made her poor heart dance,
Thinking of a lost romance long ago,
Feeling lonely, feeling sad, she cried in the moonlight,
Driven by a world gone mad,
She took flight,
"Feel no sorrow, feel no pain, feel no hurt, there's nothing gained, only then will love remain"
She would say,
Shadow of the moon,"
I close my eyes as the song goes on in my head.
"Shadow of the moon,
Shadow of the moon,
Shadow of the moon…"
Lydia
A bright light wakes me, pulling me from my deep dreamless sleep. I open my eyes to the harshness of the sun's rays directly overhead. I bring my hand up to shade my face as I try to sit up. A stinging soreness in my stomach makes me lay back, I take a moment to look around.
The jagged walls are a rusty red color, and I realize I'm in a cave somewhere but… "Where…" my voice trails off as I try to sit up again, this time using the edge of whatever I'm lying on to pull myself up.
My stomach is covered in bandages, and the smallest trace of red had seeped through them, I run my hand lightly over the stain, as if that will help me remember. Suddenly a head covered in dark hair catches my eye. It's leaned against this…..rocky table, maybe?
"Markus?" I ask in an unsure and small voice. The figure doesn't move, but I can see his skin tone, as well as the top of his left ear; the top is scarred, the tip being cut off years ago. "Markus?" I ask loudly, my voice sounding rough and hoarse.
This time, his head twitches a little at his name, and he opens his eyes slowly. "Markus," I say again, hoping to wake him fully.
But instead of him waking calmly, his body jumps back against the rock. His head frantically turns and look around the cave, "It's just me," I say, hoping to calm him.
Instead he snaps his head back to me, his green eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. "Lyd?" he asks after a few moments.
"Yes, it's me, Markus, what's going on?" I ask, panic setting in by the look he's giving me; his eyes are glossing over as they look me up and down as if I'm Talos himself. "Markus," I say, taking the sides of his head in my hands and searching his deep green eyes for answers, "What. Is. Wrong?" I emphasize each word with a pause.
In one swift movement, his arms lock me in a tight embrace, his hands wind around me, and he breathes in rugged breaths. I hesitate, trying to think why he'd be acting like this. After a moment or so, I bring my hands up to hug him. My fingers brush over his bare skin, and I just now take notice that he's shirtless.
The warmth of his skin is calming, and I entwine my arms further around him. "Markus, please, tell me what's going on?" I plead, "Where are we? Why am I in bandages?"
He takes in a deep, shaky breath, "I fucked up Lyd," he says, his grip loosening as he pulls away, "I should have told you earlier." His eyes look my face up and down, as if trying to memorize it, "I'm so glad you're back," he says sincerely.
"Wait," I pause in confusion, "what do you mean 'back'?" His brow furrows in equal confusion.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asks hastily. I squeeze my eyes and try to clear the fog in my head.
"We were at your uncle's cabin, and you went to search the woods for clues, but…"
"HELP! SOMEONE!"
I open my eyes, I need to see his reaction when I tell him, "I heard his voice, his voice in the cabin, so I went inside-" his eyes show no sign of surprise.
"Lyd," he says in a rough voice, "that wasn't my uncle, it was Mephala-"
"The daedric prince?" I interrupt, Markus just nods. "That's ridiculous, what- why would she pretend to be your uncle?"
"She wanted the dragon souls," he says flatly, he glances around the cave, "listen we should really get out of here just in case-"
"In case Mephala comes back?" I ask in a harsh tone, his head snaps back to me.
"You don't believe me?" I look away, not wanting to see his reaction. Instead, my eyes wander over his body, coming to rest at his left arm.
I reach out and take it, bringing it to me for a closer look. Pitch black designs cover his arm; I try to brush them off, "It's not war paint." He says in a tired voice.
"Where did these come from?" I ask, looking back up to him. He doesn't respond, just looks back at me. "Where, Markus?" I say sternly.
He moistens his lips before he speaks, "Mephala." And with that, he pulls his arm away and whistles. His horse comes trotting along within moments. "Good girl," he whispers to her before turning and picking up a piece of armor, "I'm not lying," he says as he raises the armor piece to me.
I immediately recognize it as my armor, except with a hole punches through the center. I look down to my stomach, "Is that…" I look up to find him staring down at a nearby discarded piece of wood in the grass. He jumps off the raised stone and leans over to pick it up.
His muscles flex in just the right way, and I don't look at the piece of wood until he turns and holds it out in front of him, its point turned skyward.
The wood near the point is dark, almost black in color and the steel point is tinted a brownish red. I squint, trying to judge how big the spear is before looking back to the small bloody spot in the bandages. I look to Markus for confirmation, "Is that…?" My voice trails off when my eyes meet his.
His jaw is set, and his eyes are dark. His eyes look up to the bloodied tip, "So are you going to tell me the full story of what happened?" I ask in a prodding tone. His eyes turn back to me before he tosses the spear aside.
"First I just want to get out of here, once we're on the road I'll tell you whatever you want." He strides over and grabs his armor top from the ground and slips it over his head, not bothering to secure the buckles before turning to me and holding out a hand with a concerned face, "Are you alright?"
I look at his outstretched hand before sliding off by myself, "I'm fine," I look at my discarded armor, "though I guess I'll be needing some new plating." When he doesn't respond, I look back to him to find a small smile pulling at his lips as he stares at me.
I feel my heartbeat suddenly quicken, "What?" I ask nervously.
He shakes his head slightly, "Nothing," he says as he turns. He takes a few steps before turning back, "It's just good to see you're okay." He gives me another quick smile before turning back to his horse and tightening up the saddle straps.
I quickly turn away to hide the fool's grin on my face and take a deep breath. I look down at the rough stone slab where I woke up and decide to gather up the two blankets and fold them back up to fit in the horse's saddle bags.
I pull aside the large blanket, and a large reddish brown stain stands out against the light tan. A deep gnash in the stone catches my attention. I run my fingers warily over the mark before giving Markus a quick glance over my shoulder.
I wonder how much has happened since Terran's cabin…
Suddenly I realize Markus has turned and is staring at me, "You sure you're okay?" I shake my head to brush the thought aside.
"Yeah," I say quickly, "I just want to get on the road, that's all."
"Agreed," he says with a tires sigh as he finishes tightening the saddle straps. He lets out a small whistle and my horse comes running out from the bushes across the way.
He sets to work tightening my horse's straps and I continue folding the blankets before stuffing them back in the saddle bags.
Mephala….?
I look at Markus's left arm, as if I will be able to see the marking through his black armor.
There's just no way….
My eyes widen as a faint blue light shines out from under his sleeve by his wrist.
Author's Note: So yeah, sorry, I wanted to make this chapter longer but I didn't want to cram too much into one chapter! Next one should be pretty juicy though ;)
A little preview: Markus tells Lydia what's up with Mephala...or at least some of it...*wink wink*, followed by the two heading back to Riften... pretty interesting things ensue.
Next chapter has some cute romance in it (finally, right?)
Anyway, Thank you all for all the support! Means the world!
Until next time!