This one came rather quickly, and I'm rather happy at that, considering this is the LONGEST chapter I've written yet. I figured I would make things more interesting for the 25th chapter c:
Lemme know what you guys think!
Aeiron woke up earlier than normal that night, scanning around and waiting for any nearby sounds with anticipation. She swallowed harshly in the silence as she sat up in bed. When she deemed there were no nearby threats, she threw the covers off of her and jumped out of bed. Her abdomen was still sore, but only burned when she stretched her arms over her head and flexed the tense muscles. "Time to get out of here," she groaned. Her joints and muscles ached for movement. She was tired of playing sick. She had been studying the guards' shifts for the past few days, waiting for the opportune moment to bust out of her confinement, which, thankfully was now.
Aeiron rolled her neck and shoulders a few times before beginning to travel to the corner of her room where her stuff was conveniently placed for her. She owed Brynjolf a pint next time she was in Riften. Her pickpocket of a cousin was actually useful when he wasn't bedding the nearest wench who had tits the size of an apple or larger.
And then noticed the small square paper in her hand.
Her fingers uncurled and scanned the parchment skeptically, not recognizing the handwriting at all. She flicked her thumb like a lighter and then a small flame emerged from her finger, only giving her enough light to read the parchment and to show part of her face in the darkness.
The handwriting was fluent and neat, far too neat for a quick thought being sketched down by Brynjolf. And on top of that, the words completely took her by surprise.
"I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty."
Aeiron blinked her eyes and her face contorted into a frown. "What the feck is this supposed to mean?" She flipped the paper over to see if there was anything on the back. A name, an identity, a signature of a continued message at the least: nothing.
She shrugged and threw it on the bed before she stripped her tunic and donned herself in her iconic Stormcloak General armor. It felt like putting on a second layer of skin. "Ah, I missed this thing," she hummed to herself in content, closing her eyes and smiling briefly before shouldering her battleaxe and attaching her bow and arrow quiver.
They had gone over the plan before she dozed off on the large absorbent amount of health potions she drank down in order to be able to walk like she was able to now. Brynjolf would meet her and Ralof in Windhelm, accompanying Ralof after he exited the city gates on a mission to "track her down". She would hopefully be able to sneak out without incident, but on the odd chance that she got caught, Ralof would have to be ready at a moment's notice. This was for Trevor, they all vowed.
She couldn't afford to just sit around and wait any longer. Either they acted now or Ulfric might wind up falling victim to the vampire. A Nightmaster, of all the fucking things it had to be. Aeiron couldn't help but feel a headache coming on about how this one was going to be a fecking pain in the arse like the last one was. But she had help this time, so the odds were in their favor.
She was about to make her leave when she glanced back at the small paper on the bed. Aeiron stared at it longer than she had intended. Should she leave it? Should she keep it? What could it mean? She rolled her eyes and snatched it before heading for the door.
Aeiron tip toed out of the room and gingerly closing the door behind her. No guards. She grinned and quietly walked down the steps to the lower floor. Brynjolf did a better job than she thought. There was no one to interrupt her as she made her way to The Great Hall of Dragonsreach back by the War Room and the war table and where Hjornskar was snoring away peacefully. One thing she hated was that Vignar had guards placed around her room around the clock in case anything happened. She was to report to him as soon as she could get up out of bed.
Chances were if someone spotted her he would do everything in his power to keep her from leaving. She wiggled her fingers as she tiptoed out into the light, flames cracking with dry wood feeding them and footsteps of the guards that were constantly patrolling the area filled her ears. Aeiron felt the adrenaline kick in and warm her blood as she held her breath, heart pounding and her breathing becoming more of a necessity. Dawn was beginning to rise and if she didn't move now, her window of opportunity may close on her fingers before she can jump out the window.
Aeiron found herself pulled to the giant map on the war table. Her eyes scanned over it out of old habit to see if any new changes had been made. A small section nearby the Steed Stone had been circled; "Have Aeiron investigate"
She sighed bitterly. Of course.
Her eyes trailed upwards towards Windhelm and then down to the Rift. Nothing new there… The same thing followed for the neighboring holds of Whiterun and Haafingar. Markarth had a small question mark by it, something that may pose as a small side mission for either her or Ralof to check out.
And then she spotted a small envelope addressed to the Jarl. She scanned around her briskly before snatching the envelope in her hands and picking up the small iron dagger from the table. The blade tore through the side of the envelope with ease and she tilted the envelope until a small parchment slid out into the palm of her hand. She wasted no time in unfolding it and scanning the letter of its contents.
Vignar,
Things out by Solitude have not been as lovely as the formal reports have led you to believe. The Imperial's newly appointed general, a High-Elf by the name of Octavian Nelacar, has been recently seen around the Reach and Haafingar. I've already sent a similar letter to Ulfric. This is something that Stormblade would probably be interested in seeing.
But keep her out of the vampire assaults if you can. I'm handling that as best as I can at the moment. The Dawnguard is making good progress and we're recruiting dozens by the day. Isran and I have discussed having small Dawnguard patrols in the major cities of the holds in order to thwart another incident like at the Gildergreen temple with Aeiron. You say her condition is bad, I hope it's not as bad as you say, because if that's the case she may have contracted Vampirism. It's quite unlikely but I wouldn't take any chances if I were you. Look after my daughter, would you? I hear she's hot on my trail and I don't want to drag her into the mess I'm in. I already lost her mother, I don't want to lose her as well.
All the best,
Phil
Aeiron's jaw went slack as she read the unmistakable signature.
Footsteps suddenly echoed against the staircase nearby that lead to the lower floor of Dragonsreach. The guard stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the torch in his hand. Aeiron gasped and sprinted for the door to the Great Porch and flung the door open with all her strength as fast as she could. The large door opened more slowly than she liked.
"S-Stormblade!" The guard stuttered, unsheathing his sword. "It's Stormblade! GET HER!"
Aeiron pushed past the door and sprinted down the pathway towards the dinner table by the low stone wall on the other side of the area. She ran past a guard who took a second to gather her bearings and draw her bow and chase after the general. Arrows whizzed above her head and the guard by the table attempted to swing at her as she ran towards him. She slid across the table and effectively kicked him out of the way with one swift movement, squatting down to the ground and then stopping when she reached the low wall. "OD-AH-VIING!" she shouted and then frantically turned around to see Vignar and Brill running up towards her, followed by a small infantry of Stormcloak soldiers who were slowly approaching her, weapons drawn and on the offense.
"Aeiron!" the Jarl called. "Get back over here!"
She breathed heavily, staring him down with a pursed lip and tightening fists. She spotted Hjornskar closer up front and Ralof hanging out by the back, standing and watching, waiting for her to cue him if need be. Aeiron smirked and shook her head at the older man. "No can do, Vignar," she called back at him. The distant sound of flapping wings brought her immediate comfort and gave her no reason to fear. She stood up on the low wall with her back facing the horizon.
"What is the meaning of this, Aeiron!" The Jarl shouted at her. He was almost at the end of his fuse with how red in the face he looked. She heard Odaviing roar in the distant and smiled.
"You can't cage me up, M'lord. I'm a free spirit. Keep that in mind next time you lock me up in one of your rooms here. I'll be back when I'm finished in Windhelm and Solitude!" She was shouting gleefully as she waved them all goodbye.
Everybody's jaw dropped when she took a step back and fell off the edge of the wall. A few seconds later, she could be seen riding the red dragon away from Dragonsreach and off to the mountains in the distant. During the commotion of it all, Ralof turned on his heal and briskly made for the exit. The sun was almost over the horizon and he had a long trip ahead of him. The sun was red when it rose over the mountains.
Vilkas sighed in annoyance while pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down, feeling an oncoming headache. Damned woman always had something up her sleeve.
There would be no rest for her, it seemed. Or him with how much trouble she was creating for him. His brother picked this as the ideal time to sit down next to him on the bench by the training yard doors and have a "brother to brother" chat.
"So," Farkas spoke up with a plain smile on his face. "Word around town is that Aeiron broke out of Dragonsreach." This earned an annoyed groan from the other twin. Farkas smirked and chuckled dryly. "She certainly is a handful, isn't she?"
"Don't remind me, Brother," Vilkas looked at his brother with very un-amused eyes. "The woman can't go three days without pulling some sort of stunt that could kill herself and/or everyone around her." He wanted to roll his eyes at how she was prone to being so melodramatic when it wasn't necessary. And to top it all off her sadism when it came to piling up corpses just for the sheer pleasure of it, especially those corpses were Imperial soldiers or Vampires. She might as well build herself a throne while she was on top of said mountain of corpses while she was at it. She already had the evil laughter down…
Vilkas' annoyance spiked when he heard his brother's laughter again. Farkas' hand slapping his back quickly followed as he howled with anger. The other twin growled beneath his breath. "She's her own kind of woman, that's for sure! I doubt Hircine himself could keep a reign on her!"
The other twin felt something snap, and the beast was suddenly alert again, growling at his brother for his slip of the tongue. "What do you want, Farkas?" He cut his brother off rather quickly. As always, Vilkas wasn't in the mood for small talk or idle chatter.
Farkas still grinned at him and chuckled a bit. "Someone's annoyed."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, brother, but you still have yet to answer me." Vilkas gave a scrutinizing look towards his brother before he noticed it. "Wait," he spoke up. "What's with that dreamy look in your eye?"
The bigger of the two smiled widely, almost childlike. "What do you mean, Brother?"
Vilkas raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth tipped upward into a smirk. "It's Lydia…you're in love, aren't you?"
A small flush colored Farkas' cheeks as he smiled bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a nervous laugh escaping him. Vilkas couldn't hold back a small chuckle as he clasped his brother on the shoulder. The other twin looked at him surprised and a little startled. It was rare to see his brother act like this, but he saw more of these moments ever since Aeiron joined them.
"You will be fine, Farkas. Lydia is a nice woman."
Farkas nodded his head sheepishly. "When I was playing with Lucia and keeping Lydia company, she smiled at me a lot," he looked away and that dreamy look in his eye returned as he smiled blissfully. "I think she's the one, Vilkas."
Vilkas smiled bitterly and forced it to stay on his face as he gave his brother a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Why couldn't things be so simple for him?
Brynjolf smirked and looked over to see Ralof still glaring at him. "Oh, come on, Lad. It was just a bit of fun."
"It was just a bit of fun," Ralof repeated in a mockingly high pitched voice before glaring at the thief. "That bear almost killed me!"
The thief snickered, continuing to walk as the Stormcloak captain stared at him in rage. "Your fault for not being able to move out of the way in time, Ralof."
The blond rolled his eyes and caught up to the Fox, still giving him the evil eye. "Whatever you say, Thief."
The day quickly passed them by as they trekked through half of the country, stopping for little rest if it couldn't be helped. And thankfully so far that brown bear was the only thing that gave them a run for their coin during their trip.
"Isn't the symbol on Ulfric's banner a bear?" the thief teased.
"Drop it, Brynjolf," Ralof spat back through almost gritted teeth. His left arm was still badly cut up but already healing thanks to the potions he brought with him. His Celtic abilities were slowly kicking in and taking the sting away from the tear in his forearm. They were slowly returning to him after that incident with that Thalmor sword slicing his back open, but too slow for his liking. Aeiron had tried reassuring him that it was due to his abilities not being fully awakened yet, but he couldn't stand the waiting, especially with all the fighting she was doing.
So her solution was to place him in the greatest danger she could think of, A Nightmaster vampire. Swell.
Brynjolf's low snickering brought Ralof out of his train of thoughts as he looked at the master thief. Why couldn't Aeiron be here to put this stupid fox in his place? Ralof took his right hand off of the cut on his arm and feebly punched the thief's arm, smirking a bit. "Knock it off, will you?"
The thief settled with a content smile after that. Ralof usually had no trouble getting along with Brynjolf; the thief was normally laid back and casual, being able to switch out from lying about to being almost a blur in combat with little effort if any was ever needed. Any thoughts of him not being able to be trusted were quickly proved to be false by the thief's sharp tongue and his blunt honesty. However, the captain did need to watch his coin purse every now and then, not for fear of losing money, but for…
Speaking of which, Ralof immediately opened his money pouch and reached his hand in. He immediately yelled and held his hand away from him as much as possible. The snake wriggled restlessly in his hand. "BRYNJOLF!"
The red haired man laughed menacingly, throwing his head back as Ralof timidly watched the snake slither away into the woods on the side of the road. "You're still so easy to fool, Lad," he grinned with a twinkle in his eye. Ralof felt like beating the living shit out of him, and would have, were it not for that grin fading suddenly and a frown coming on.
The captain knitted his eyebrows together. "What is it?"
Brynjolf scanned the area with his eyes, hands cautiously reaching for his glass daggers. Ralof followed his lead and reached over his shoulder for his warhammer. A gilded arrow whizzed through the air, aimed straight for the thief's skull. He twisted his wrist with the blade following the motion smoothly before slicing through the air and deflecting the arrow at the last second. "We got company!" the thief yelled as he turned to look at Ralof. The Stormcloak captain nodded.
"Aye," he said. His blue eyes glared at the gilded armor that he saw emerge from the woods and walk out onto the cobblestone road, and even more darkly at the High Elves who wore it. Steam from nearby geysers blew into the air from the other side of the road. Giants and mammoths were creating small quakes in the ground below them as they marched on carelessly not too far from where the Celts and the Thalmor were.
Ralof pressed his back against Brynjolf's and for once welcomed the rising smirk on the thief's face. "Looks like we'll be having some fun before meeting up with Aeiron, eh?"
Brynjolf's eyes glowed an emerald green as he gave an animalistic grin. "Aye, Lad."
The Thalmor Justicar accompanying the nine or ten Thalmor troops pointed his staff at the Celts and sneered at them. "Kill them. We can't have them meddling in our affairs!"
The soldiers charged at them and Ralof's eyes gave a feint glow of sky blue as he felt something surge through him.
"Let's see if you can keep up!" he heard Bryn shout over his shoulder. Ralof grinned back at him. He kept up just fine.
Aeiron opened her eyes and stood up, feeling different…empty almost. Her eyes immediately trailed upwards to look at Paarthurnax studying her patiently.
"How do you feel, Kiir (child)?" the dragon asked.
Aeiron looked down at her hand and then her feet, feeling tingly everywhere. "Different," she answered hesitantly. She looked up at the dragon. "Almost like I weigh no more than a feather." The sinking sun to the west and the crimson sky painted above it showed her that she was there far longer than she had wanted to be. The chill seemed to seep into her skin from just breathing alone. She felt so vulnerable.
The dragon grunted in reply. "Meditation is good for the sil (soul). It allows one to reflect and to accept without drawing in matters of the hil (heart)."
She blinked her eyes before turning around in place slowly. Aeiron didn't know what to think of the new sensation that had washed over her. "But what did you do?" she turned her head sharply and looked up at him.
"I only saw what you wanted me to see, Kiir," he sounded amused when he replied. "Your battles are your own, but you trust me with insight, no?"
She stared at him with doe-like eyes before nodding her head silently. "G-Geh. (Yes)."
"Then allow me to share." Paarthurnax's voice felt like it was passing through her and surrounding her all at the same time. He came down from the word wall he was perched upon and slowly crept up to her. Aeiron felt the mountain top quake below her feet and almost fell over as he approached. When he stopped moving, she stared at him for a moment as she mentally regained her balance.
Her hand came out to touch his beak hesitantly, skimming over the rough material he was made up of. The dragon closed his eyes and she suddenly saw the images flooding into her mind. She was a small child again, with both her mother and father holding her hands as they walked down the street together. The sun was out and the birds were singing in the Market District of the Imperial City. The streets were crowded and she heard the shouting of vendors.
And then she was alone. The white lion's bright blue eyes burned into her vision and crept into her soul.
Aeiron opened her eyes with a start and stumbled backwards. She fell onto the ground and stared up at Paarthurnax, breathing heavily.
"Do you now understand, Kiir?" he asked. He already knew the answer. "You cannot keep yourself in the past. You must learn to let go and move on."
She shook her head. Words wouldn't come out of her mouth no matter how hard she tried to string them together; they were all jumbled up in her mind. "I-I can't," she finally stuttered. Her father's dead face with rolled-back was branded behind her eyes. She couldn't let that happen.
"In time you must, little Kiir. Or you may succumb to whatever it is that is out to get you." Paarthurnax's eyes remained fixed on her as she stood up and brushed the snow off of herself. Aeiron looked up at the dragon before shyly looking down at the ground again.
"I-I know," she gulped out. Her hand came up to brush back the stray locks that had gotten loose and were now in front of her face. The Celt took a few breaths before looking back up at the dragon. "Thank you, for everything , Paarthurnax," she smiled faintly.
He hummed in answer. "It is my pleasure, Kiir. Please, come back soon and keep an old dragon company, hmm?"
Aeiron laughed lightly and walked over to the edge of the mountain top. She turned back around at the ledge and beamed at the dragon. "I will!" she shouted. The wind stung her eyes and made them water, but her limbs and body felt whole again. She turned to face the open sky again, feeling the wind almost push her off of the ledge. Her fists clenched as she drew Odaviing's name in the dark. The letters went to their places and swirled in the air as the snow fell around her.
"ODAVIING!" she hollered before jumping off of the ledge.
Aeiron laughed as she felt weightless in a good kind of way this time. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she fell ever nearer to the ground. She heard the strong flap of Odaviing's wings and collided with red dragon scales in the next instant. She always earned herself new cuts and scrapes from crashing into a dragon's back, but she barely felt them and instead giggled as she spread her arms out while straddling Odaviing's back and hollering in the air. It was something she would never tire from.
"Meyus kiir (Foolish child)!" Odaviing bellowed. "You are reckless. Were I not there you would have fallen and merged with the ground below us." Aeiron rolled her eyes and blew out the air in her lungs.
"I'm fine, Odaviing,"she sighed in annoyance. "Wuth dovah fend mindok pruz fein wah laan zey (Old dragons should know better than to question me)."
The red dragon gave a hearty laugh at her comment as he glided through the air. "Your thu'um may be stronger, you are however but a lion. Am los nid met wah dovah (Lions are no match for dragons)."
She liked her conversations with Odaviing and Paarthurnax, and even Ulfric at times. It kept her knowledge of the dov language sharp and allowed her to say to them what others would not understand. And despite what Odaviing had said, she has no envy for his ability of flight. Why would she when she can merely summon whenever she wishes?
Aeiron scoffed at the dragon's response and huffed. "Paarthurnax seems to disagree with me," she mumbled. Odaviing roared with laughter again.
"You are golah (stubborn), Child. It will not do you any good to be this way," he replied smoothly. They were nearing Eastmarch with the sun setting in the distance.
"Drop me off by the stables, Odaviing," she spoke up, completely disregarding his last comment. The dragon huffed in annoyance and flapped his wings some more. He dived down to where the stables were and hovered over the area. Shouting could be heard as people screamed and ran away meanwhile the horses reared up and fought their constraints to get away from the dragon. Aeiron hopped of his back and dropped down to the ground with a grunt before straightening up and looking back up at Odavving. "Thanks for the lift!" she beamed and waved at the dragon. The wind was blowing all around her as he narrowed his eyes at her.
"Dreh ni ofaal hinmaar krii, Dovahkiin (Do not get yourself killed)!" he stated blandly before flying off, roaring as he went. Aeiron's eyes followed him with a small smirk on her face as the winds died down and the red dragon faded in the distance. She then drew her attention back to the bridge in front of her, the torches burning brightly as the chilly air whipped over the bridge towards her.
She began walking slowly to the city gates, giving the passing guards who stopped and stared at her no mind as she marched forward. The gate was open for her by the time she reached it. She nodded her approval to the guards manning their posts and continued on. They turned in their spots and stared at her as she walked inside the city. "What is Stormblade doing here?" "Did the Jarl summon her?"
When she reached the Palace of Kings, she didn't wait for the guards to open it for her. Aeiron heaved the door open and entered the castle on her own accord. She immediately eyed Ulfric sitting upon his throne at the opposite end of the room, too busy conversing with Galmar to notice her enter. As she came closer to the table, she spotted the vampire downing some ale. It's pale grey skin and black hair were a dead giveaway, but most people were not immune to a vampire's charms. He glanced up at her for a brief second before looking again and staring intently. She smiled darkly and he froze mid-sip from his drink.
Ulfric was staring at her when she looked back at him. Galmar's mouth slacked as the Jarl smiled warmly and rose. "Ah, Stormblade!" Ulfric rose from his throne and spread his arms wide. Aeiron held a pleasant smile on her face as she came before her king. "Am Zahreik," he addressed her again. "It is good to see you." He watched her as she emerged from the shadows of the opposite end of the room.
Aeiron placed a hand on her hip as she came to a stop in front of the taller and older man. "Am Zahreik," Ulfric repeated again.
"Lot Kodaav," she returned.