The Road to be Taken

Brom thought it was amazing how the weather was actively channeling their emotions.

It had been raining – or rather, it had started raining. Most of the aspen trees had lost their brilliant hues and were replaced with a small, faded ghost of their usual color. Minuscule puddles arose at his feet, displaying his own worn, bloodied face back at him. Some of the animal noises had grown more prominent with the advent of the rain; others had retreated into a variety of caves, nooks, crannies, and a whole manner of moist areas. Brom usually would feel an ongoing sense of depression every time rain had came, but this time the clouds and water seemed nostalgic to him, even peaceful.

And Bok was here too.

"Lydia," the giant Orc tried once more. "We need to talk."

Brom's gaze flashed back to Lydia, who was busy standing in her spot with her mouth slightly agape.

"We thought you had died," Brom managed out, surprise flooding him. He wished it was concern. "Back at Frostfruit."

"Did you?" Bok answered meaninglessly, turning away with an almost ashamed expression.

"Yes," Brom pressed, ignoring Lydia's complete lack of engagement. "We saw blood on a spear and a trail leading out. We figured the Brotherhood might have caught up to you."

"They almost did," Bok corrected, straightening his apparently expensive coat. "I – was very lucky."

Brom nodded. They both turned to Lydia, now staring down at the grass and slowly rubbing at those worn eyebrows.

"You all right?" Bok asked her still frame. "You seem – I don't know."

Her eyes met his.

" - shocked?" Bok finished.

Lydia let out an extravagant sigh.

"Why are you in Riften?" she asked.

Brom was startled. Even though he had quickly discovered how little he had cared about Bok's face, it was interesting to see Lydia casually glaze over his appearance and move forward with an offended tone.

"That's what I need to talk to you about," Bok replied. "Give us a moment, Brom?"

Brom let out a harsh, biting laugh. "Where should I go then? Back onto the riverbank?"

Lydia sneered appreciatively.

"Listen, I don't know what's gotten into you both," Bok angrily spouted back. "But - "

"Shut it," Lydia bit into him.

"Lydia!"

She cackled, turning away from him. Brom watched her kick the water in a nearby puddle for a few moments.

"Can we please talk?" Bok tried again, letting out a recuperative sigh.

Brom watched Bok's face plead for a moment, eyes fixated on Lydia's back. A few birds chirped behind Bok, singing resiliently in the face of rain.

"Fine," she eventually agreed. "Whatever you say, friend."

The last word was delivered with so much vicious cynicism that Brom felt a bit offended just hearing it. Bok looked devastated, but he nodded slowly and beckoned for Lydia to follow him.

"I have a place not too far from here," Bok mentioned. "It's closeby to the Hold. We can talk more there – and on the way there, as well."

Bok proceeded in tandem to Lydia, turning back suddenly in disapproval as Brom followed.

"It's sort of a private conversation kid," Bok threatened mildly. "Mind standing back a bit? Obviously you can come with us – just not close enough to hear what we're saying."

Kid. Obviously you can come, Brom quipped inside himself. As if he decides everything now.

"Lydia?" Brom darted to her face for confirmation, disappointed as she offered an agreeing, but sympathetic nod.

"Hey kid," Bok interrupted. "Stop moving your hands so much."

Brom inwardly gulped. He crossed the quaking palms over themslves, rubbing smoothly despite the anxiety. It was coming back.

"What are you cold or something?"

Brom held the massive Orc's gaze, anger welling up. "No."

"Then?"

"It's private," Brom finished, congratulating himself on the quip.

"Brat..."

Brom was satisfied to see Lydia elbow Bok hard in the stomach.

. . .

Brom wasn't entirely sure why Lydia or himself were being so antagonistic towards Bok, and the ensuing fifteen minutes of walking that had elapsed had only further confused him. Logically speaking, Bok's reappearance should have left Lydia jumping for joy, and Brom – unaffected. He wasn't really close with the Orc to begin with, but surely Lydia might have expressed something more than just – disdain wrapped in aloofness?

He had been carefully studying every few moments of their conversation, despite being well out of earshot and now drenched in rain. Bok on one hand seemed to gesticulate greatly towards Lydia, offering a stumbled profusion of apologies and gentle reassurances – and Lydia in turn, kept walking forward. Her complete apathy towards what he was saying almost made it seem like she was talking to no one at all – but this didn't discourage Bok from trying to appear existent as well.

His hands would shiver every odd moment or so, and by now he found it very difficult to repress them. There were no diseases that he could think of in Skyrim that could leave him with such a condition for weeks, and Brom was fairly certain that the shivering was getting progressively stronger.

"Lydia!" Brom shouted over the rainfall.

The pair stopped, Bok immediately looking back with a shred of disappointment.

"What is it boy?" Bok queried, condescendingly frowning.

"He called for me you moron," Lydia spat at him, walking back immediately to Brom's side. "Don't worry I'm not telling him anything!"

This seemed to be enough for Bok, who took brief refuge underneath a nearby tree.

"What?" Lydia asked kindly, maybe even a bit cheerful to be pulled away from the Orc. "Something wrong?"

"I have to go to Riften first," Brom started. "I have to get this hand thing – investigated, by someone who has experience with medicine..."

"Gonna leave me all alone with that buffoon eh?" Lydia smiled sadly, looking back to growl at Bok.

"Why are you so mad at him?" Brom blurted out. "I thought you'd be happy, or jumping up and down, or - "

He paused, thinking of another adjective. Lydia remained emotionless.

" - I don't know. The last thing I would think of, is you being angry, that's all."

"I'm not angry," Lydia calmly measured.

"Right," Brom sighed. "And I'm actually a prostitute in disguise."

This made her chuckle out loud, concerning Bok.

"I'm not telling him anything!" Lydia roared back at the troublesome Orc, who shook his head with disapproval. "Moron."

Brom smiled, but made sure to keep her gaze from moving away.

"Is it really that bad?" Lydia inquired, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes," Brom repeated. "The shivering is getting worse. I doubt whatever I had went away."

"And you're sure it's not the weather?" Lydia asked hopefully. "It is raining rather hard."

He had already thought about this. However, his hand had been shaking nonstop ever since she had first pulled him out of that stupid riverbank, and most of the effort he had been making to repair the damage was not helping at all. The hand remained moving, resistant to any attempt at stillness.

"No," Brom replied finally, noting Lydia's own shivering as the rain drenched her long hair. "It's been doing it for a while. Before the rain. Bok!"

The lumbering Orc skipped quickly to Brom's side, delighted to be included in the conversation again.

"Are we close to Riften now?" Brom asked.

Bok scratched at his temple, confused at the sudden need for information.

"I suppose so," the Orc managed. "But didn't you want to accompany us to my house first?"

Lydia pouted, seemingly angered at having remembered that Bok was here.

"No," Brom cut across. "I changed my mind. I'm going to Riften first."

Bok shrugged his massive shoulders. "Fine by me. It's about a good twenty minutes from here. Follow the dirt trail between the trees."

The Orc pointed it out for Brom, highlighting a thin patch of mud extending to Brom's left.

"Just follow the mud and you'll get there in no time at all," Bok affirmed.

"Thanks," Brom responded, frustrated by another twitch in his fingers.

Lydia turned hastily towards Brom, expression nervous and reluctant. "Don't do anything - "

" - stupid," Brom predicted. "I know."

"And the second you see any trouble, you come find us, right?"

"Right."

"Want my dagger?"

Brom eyed the shining blade for a while, observing his reflection.

"No, it's okay."

"Take it."

"But - "

"Just take it."

Brom sighed, pulling the dagger from her open palm before turning away and following the dirt trail. He thought about looking back, but decided against it. His mind knew it would be too significant, too raw - for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, Brom could walk alone, to wherever he wanted to go.

He kept his pace steady and controlled, aiming to eventually disappear from their sight. With a couple of jumps over some hilly sections, and shrouded by the thick layers of Aspen - Brom was sure he was mostly invisible.

He had deliberately kept their conversation short. There wasn't any justifiable reason he could think of as to why he had not brought up any mention of the "dreams" he had encountered the past few nights - and considering how discerning Lydia was, talking about it would probably make the both of them more anxious than anything else.

The Aspens began to follow a regular pattern, framing the dirt trail and line of puddles as the rainfall continued to beat down on him, masking most of the sunlight. A thin trail of footsteps lay encrusted in mud ahead of Brom.

"Good sign," he whispered to himself, twirling the dagger around in his palm.

Perhaps it was some remnant of foolish naivete or maybe childish enthusiasm that was still actively trying to persuade him to stay longer with her. He had spent the past fifteen minutes poring over this, with really only one obvious conclusion.

It was all pointless.

It was pointless of him to try and reason what had been happening. It was pointless to try and seek any sort of adventure she seemed to embody. It had been pointless of him to accompany her group with Skulvar, it had been pointless to stick around in the cave by Frostfruit, it had been pointless to stick around after Markarth - and now, finally, he was doing the right thing.

Everything had been surface-level. There was nothing about her that he had particularly identified with - and every single action he had taken with her had brought nothing but grief.

Whiterun. Stables. Peace.

That was infinitely better. He saw less excitement in years than he had seen in just a day accompanying her, but there was a critical difference - he was still intact.

In Whiterun, he never had broken ribs.

In Whiterun, he never got bruised so badly it hurt to walk.

In Whiterun, he never felt as if he would die every single moment.

But perhaps most scathingly of all, Brom had always thought of Whiterun as this region of perpetual mediocrity - as if all its citizens were simply, existing, rather than living. Dragonsreach seemed to be some place of immense success - a haven for the talented and the bold, adventurous heroes who storm the land on their noble quest for freedom, honor…

He could not have been more wrong. Throughout the last six months, the universe was sending him a message so blaringly apparent Brom wondered why he was only understanding it now. Perhaps it was simply all the stillness in the air, quiet Aspen trees rocking branches with the rain, or maybe it was his isolation, but either way...

But he knew why.

Logically, nothing about his series of poor decisions made sense. However, there was this grudging feeling, that incessant emotion, that was comparably much more powerful than anything Brom could think of.

With her.

Of course he wanted to stick around her. There had been so many moments fresh in his memory - but not really, because they weren't moments at all.

They were impressions. Touches. Words. Brown eyes. Hazy things.

He wanted more of those moments. He was so desperate to find anything in the world that made him feel - he shuddered to think of it - wanted. It was a new feeling for him.

He had plenty of experience being hated. He had a plethora of moments where he was ignored. Most of his memories were vast in recalling all the brutalized, dejected, isolated experiences.

But not with her. All those feelings felt new and fresh, and they were different - to feel wanted was different. It had to be.

Brom could just make out a the tips of a guard tower and a lantern in the distance. The idle rumblings of a mill became more audible. He knew Riften wasn't very far away. His hands kept twitching, but he suppressed them successfully now.

It had been partially her fault for conning him into it. She had conned him so well, so elaborately - that Brom was deluded enough to think that somehow there were similarities between them. All those fresh memories - in that cramped inn room in Markarth, laying on her stomach, being awoken by brown eyes and jet-black hair, jokes and laughter…

The only reason Brom remembered all these was because he had mistook them to be genuinely connective, as if she was telling him subtly all those times about how similar they were.

But it was a lie. She was the Dragonborn. And he was just Brom.

He wished he could have figured this out earlier.

"Oy," a voice came out from within the guard tower. "What's your business here? Do you have the coin to enter?"

The only task now was to formulate an appropriate, silent exit - the less he would have to talk to her face-to-face, the better - Brom knew how easy it was for his heart to kick out his mind when in her presence.

All of it wasn't her fault - she had discouraged everything from the beginning. And now, he had to relinquish all of those things… all those feelings, smiles, and touches Brom perhaps always knew were doomed from the start.

"Yes," Brom lied, sounding back to the guard.

He was a stable boy, he had always been a stable boy - only now, he had chosen to ride well above his league, and maybe fittingly, could pay the price for such arrogance.

At long last the rainfall stopped, enlightening sunshine just peeking through the thick layers of clouds - they would recede slowly, and perhaps never quite leave - but the light was finally visible to everyone watching. The warmth was immediate, and almost wrenched his entire lungs out his throat - but Brom knew it would leave him in a better state.

In time.

A/N

Half-way point! Chapters will take a slight turn of pace from here, and finally we start to expand our universe a bit. Excited to write again! (Also the reason why the chapter's naming system has changed)

~TW

P.S: Here's a great joke: New chapter in three days!