Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): cliff hanger

A/N: I'm alive? cheesepotassium gave me a review after a year and this happened. I have no idea why or how either but I hope you enjoy it.

Revised: 24-2-2020

Last time…

He says it as if convincing a Jarl in the midst of a political crisis to make some room and time to trap a fire-breathing dragon into his wooden palace is a good idea.

"I…Fine. We'll see what the Jarl has to say about it. Hopefully, we'll be able to capture an ally without too much… drama." Marcurio snorts derisively. "I wouldn't get my hopes up."

Chapter 67 – Lit the Pyre

"If we're supposed to go to Whiterun, why are we in Riften?" Marcurio asks for the fifteenth time this morning. I would know, I counted.

"I have to ensure that I travel back in time." I reply, glancing left and right to catch pickpockets before they get too close to me. Not that any Thieves' Guild affiliated pickpocket would be that stupid, after the new arrangement between the Brotherhood and their organization that… Oh. That'll only go into effect in a month. I can't seem to keep this time travel stuff straight. Which makes both of us fair game. But Marcurio looks like an easier target. And he's carrying our provision gold.

"But, uh, you already did the whole time-travel thing?" He sounds confused.

"Of course I did. But that doesn't mean that I will do it again. I need to find Kagrenzel after all."

"But Fjaldi, you've been there!" He snaps, gesturing wildly in the general direction of Kagrenzel. Oh, I guess he hasn't figured it out yet.

"I have. But my past self hasn't. It'll be a while before he comes back to the Thieves Guild – I will give my Dwemer key for the doors to my father's study and the location of the Kagrenzel ruins to Delvin, I can tell him when to give them back to me. He'll not ask questions, and know to stick to what I tell him to. He only had those materials in the first place because I gave them to him." I explain before dragging him behind the temple of Mara, towards the graveyard. For a guild full of Thieves, they have the loudest and most painfully obvious secret entry I've ever seen.

"Delvin… Mallory? The guy with contacts in the Dark Brotherhood?" I'm surprised Marcurio even knows he exists. Then again, he did live at the Bee 'n Barb for a while.

"You've heard of him?" I ask anyway. He shrugs uncomfortably.

"He's one of the most infamous people in Riften really, even though few actually know what he looks like. Should have figured you'd be on good terms with him, what with the… Brotherhood. Though I thought you didn't like thieves..?"

Ah, well…

"Not… really. But they've got their charms, I guess. I've had to… make a lot of concessions when it comes to my personal likes and dislikes. Over the past few months."

"You like the B- uh, you like your family though. Why them and not the thieves?"

"Of course I do, love. They worship Sithis, as do I. And the Night Mother is kind to her own. And, uh, speaking of the Dark Brotherhood…"

"Yes?" He's apprehensive. I hope he won't be too disgusted at the idea I'm about to propose. Not that now is the time to address it, but then again when will it be the 'perfect time' for anything when Time itself is falling to pieces around us?

"Once this mess is over, can I introduce you to the family? They'll like you – I approve of you, after all. Plus, we don't have a mage -" not anymore at least, poor Festus "- And you're an expert at sneaking around with no qualms about murdering human beings for the right price."

"I am a mercenary, not an assassin." Even as he says it, I cannot find any outrage at the idea in his expression or gait. If anything, he's thoughtful. Thank the gods.

"You could be both? Ah, but don't feel pressured or anything. It's just… Consider it, alright? You and Nazir would get along famously, I'd bet. Both sarcastic assholes. Might be some issues with Cicero, though. He's very… attached to me."

I want you in my family so nobody can ask the Night Mother to put a contract on you. And I want you in my family because I love you, and you're mine. A little bit. Mostly I just want you safe and I want you to like my family. I don't say any of those things, however, and just smile up at the wizard.

"Cicero?" A raised eyebrow. I rub the back of my neck absently as I chuckle, keeping only half an eye on the streets.

"My brother. The Keeper of the Night Mother. You'll know when you see him." If we weren't in a graveyard, I wouldn't even dare to breathe right now, what with all this sensitive information being shared. But there's nobody around, even the shrine to Talos abandoned. Not a lot of people dare to go outside these days.

"Uh-huh. Well, I'll think about it, but don't expect an answer soon."

"Sure. It's not high on the priority list at the moment anyway."

"Alduin first?"

"Alduin first. You want to take a carriage to Whiterun?" He nods, and we don't speak, and I don't even break my stride as I enter the Ragged Flagon and dump everything I need dumped on Delvin in terms of information and Tonilla in terms of loot I still want to sell. Ambling behind me, Marcurio is lost in thought. The only reason I know he's still fine is by the way he sends a thief tumbling ass-over-kettle into the sewer water when grubby hands get too close to his purse.

Fools. Don't take absent-mindedness for unawareness. At least Vex and Delvin get a laugh out of it.

The sun seems to blink, drenching us in darkness and it's evening all of a sudden, a ripple in an otherwise still lake. Exchanging wary looks, we hurry inside the Inn, almost running straight into a merrymaker who drunkenly stumbles past us and vomits over the nearby railing into the canal water below. Someone else starts shouting angrily up at him.

Inside the Bee 'n Barb, there is an explosion of sound and whistling as some people spontaneously burst into song, Viper the Fleet chief amongst them. From here, I can pick out Sapphire as she casually bumps into people left and right, no doubt picking their pockets as she goes. The Bee 'n Barb is alive in a way I've never seen it before, bustling and hustling and tankards spilling onto the creaking wooden floors. Keerava is at the bar, her husband running about serving people with a large grin on his face.

What the ever-loving fuck is happening here?

I don't exactly expect merrymaking and parties at this time.

Someone starts howling a falsetto rendition of "Ragnar the Red" a second time, his red-nosed friend cackling even as another patron tackles the offender to the floor. More cheering at the bar fight as well as some calls our way as I hold Marcurio's hand securely, weaving through the crowd.

I'm an expert at it. Two stools at the bar are now unoccupied, and we sit down without much pause. Keerava takes note of us then, smiling at me but doing a double-take at who I've brought for company. "You – but…" A moment of silence as even the jubilance of the bar seems to momentarily dim. Then she throws her arms up and places a tankard of mead in front of Marcurio, settling her hands on her hips. "On the house. Just this once. And don't let any of those purse-grabbers hear, you hear!"

"What can I do for you two?" She continues, but for some reason her eyes remain only on me, pityingly. Her tail swishing and eyelids drooping. What? How curious. Why would she give Marcurio some mead but look at me like – Oh. Right. Last time my other self was here I told her Marcurio was dead.

"I'll have some of whatever stew you're serving tonight and a bottle of wine, please. And why the sad face?"

She flounders for a moment, dropping the cleaning cloth in her hands before she hurriedly moves to wipe down the counter, not really doing anything about the stains. "Well! It's just, you see, with all this business with time falling to pieces, I could have sworn I saw you just last week, and in quite a different situation. I suppose it can't be helped. It's too confusing to keep track." An empathic, firm nod. "I just hope the Dragonborn can help us solve this. Travelers have it harder than anyone, and I need them hearty and healthy for my business. People here are celebrating, yes, but Hist only knows it's because they fear there's not going to be anything left to celebrate tomorrow."

She ignores Marcurio completely, but sets a bowl of stew down for both of us nonetheless. Awkwardly, she backs away and returns to cleaning and serving plates, rather than holding conversations with us like she usually does. Around us, the inn is lively and jubilant, but within our little bubble the atmosphere is sombre, and we stay silent as we eat.

"Keerava? Do you have any room for two left?" I interrupt her while she walks by us later, resisting the urge to tug at her clothes to draw her attention since she's ignored our existence for the whole evening. Someone in the background got their hands on a lute – and I realize that I do not much care for it being played whilst the owner is piss-drunk and off-key. "Sure." She digs through her apron, one tipped claw poking out of the bottom left corner through the worn little hole there. "Here's the key. Honeymoon suite's the only free room, so it'll cost you extra."

"Not a problem." I assure her, exchanging the coin for the small object and rising from my seat.

She huffs and puts down her serving platter, ducking out of the way of yet another bar fight and to Marcurio's left, where he's slowly humming "Age of Aggression" under his breath, swaying a bit in his seat after the fifth tankard he'd emptied. I bodily drag him up, one arm underneath his shoulders to keep him properly upright.

"Thanks Keerava, you're a lifesaver."

"Yeah, yeah, happy End Day's Celebration."

What kind of a name for a holiday is that?

Luckily for me, the next day Marcurio wakes up without a hangover, and when we ask after the date, it's already the twentieth of Frostfall rather than the fourteenth it should have been. We're losing time at unnerving rates. I suppose it would be too much to ask it to stabilize itself for a bit. At this point, I doubt anything will surprise me. How does it even work? Did we pay for the room for several more days?

Actually, yeah, my purse is much lighter than it's supposed to be. It says a lot about Riften that I'm actually not sure if it's because of Time itself falling to pieces or because of some pickpocket.

I really want to have this whole mess of the World Being Eaten by a Dragon finished and for everything to calm down. The self-imposed deadline for this is when I get to the point in the present where my other self went into the past – who knows what would happen if I died, or if something with my other-self went wrong.

The carriage driver refuses to go anywhere, clutching at his horse as if she'll leave him if he lets go. The poor sod is terrified, and when Marcurio tries to push him, I lead the wizard away and down the road.

"Let him be. We're used to seeing weird things. That man isn't. Besides, we need to move fast - I'm not sure where you planned on taking us." Here, I glance at Marcurio as we walk out of the city with a less-than-relaxed pace. He'd mentioned a ruin he wanted to visit, but… "But at this point I don't want to risk it. I don't know how much time we'll miss, or if we'll miss time at all going to Whiterun. For all we know we'll get there by tomorrow. Or tomorrow next year – if time still holds up that long."

Marcurio nods in agreement. "It reminds me of scholarly works of the Dragon Break." He shudders as he looks around the bare wintertime trees of the Rift. "Apparently, there were so many things happening back then whilst time destabilized that nobody knew what was real or not at the end of the day."

"Well," I say with forced cheer, "at least we have that to look forwards to."

We're out of the Rift before the sun has peeked over the horizon – not that such a thing says much about how long we have been travelling these days. Guiltily, I realize that spending all my time with the Dark Brotherhood after Marcurio was time I could have better spend saving the world rather than… Killing people. Too many other jobs and tasks and quests, and not enough focus.

And now others pay for that negligence.

Nothing has the guilt hit home quite as hard as seeing Whiterun.

I think it's the setting sun at first – the brilliant glow of reds, oranges and yellows, just over the hills in the distance. I expect, perhaps foolishly, the city to greet us warmly, in all her splendor, an oasis of peace between the turbulence of the mountain regions. But the light isn't from the sun at all, because the sun is shining at our backs.

Our shadows stretch out before our feet. And how dark my shadow seems, when compared to the lights of chaos ahead. The glow is coming from fires, and the sky roars, choked by the smoke curling black from the wooden houses, the ancient battlements, like clouds of ink in the air.

The city is aflame.

Dread sets in. I can't fix this. I can't do anything about this.

I exchange glances with Marcurio, who merely shakes his head with a shuddering breath. "We must have been away longer than we thought."

"Too long." I agree, fists clenched at my sides and feeling sick. "Far too long."

And with Whiterun on fire, Dragonsreach about to fall –

How am I ever going to fix this?