The quiet woke him up again.
It was so strangely unnatural. He was used to hearing the sounds of the wild – the rustling leaves and the nocturnal animals, or the hushed murmur of the taverns, crackling of the fire and the occasional noise from guests that refused to retire to their rooms.
The monastery had none of it.
The fires were doused down and the hallways were pitch-black. None of the old men even made a noise in their slumber, which was probably a good thing. They had trouble speaking without Shouting as it was, their whispers shaking the ground around them. He did not want to imagine them snoring.
He sat up, uncomfortably aware of the cold ground below his bedroll.
The Greybeards offered them shelter while they recuperated after the dragon attack, but it was a far cry from what even the wilderness could offer. They had one extra bed available and while Bishop tried to convince them that they were fine to share, the geezers seemed really opposed to the idea and insisted that he makes himself comfortable on the ground.
Now that he knew the penetrating silence that ruled the night in the monastery, he kind of understood their trepidations.
The food supplies that they delivered left a lot to be desired too.
Sure, he knew what it felt like to go hungry, but it's been a while since he had to make do with stale bread and water.
They had some supplies from their own packs, but those ran out quickly and he left most to Aeyrin – she needed to regain her strength after the ordeal on the mountain. There wasn't anything to hunt this high up either and so the most flavorful meal he had in the past week was half of an apple which was miraculously still spared from rot.
The living conditions were draining to their morale, the austerity spread to the bathing facilities, with only an overused sponge and a small shallow basin of water, barely reaching one's ankles. They were lucky to be stocked with their own soaps and cleaning rags for bathing in the wild.
None of these inconveniences however could compare to the incessant boredom.
He swore in the back of his mind, stretching his sore back – at the very least the wilderness provided some cushioning under the bedrolls, here it was just cold hard stone.
Aeyrin offered multiple times to switch with him, but none of the Greybeards were adept at healing and her body was still badly bruised from the tumble into the cliffside… not to mention her 'training'. At least the frostbite subsided.
Even though they were in desperate need of recuperation, the time spent in the monastery started to become too suffocating with little payoff.
The old men 'trained' Aeyrin in using the Shout and even taught her a new one which she mastered rather fast. Too fast for their liking, in fact. Once they explained to her how Thu'um works, she quickly got the feel of the reach of her power, getting more confident in her Shouting.
But the Greybeards appeared terrified at the determination in her newfound power.
It was frustrating, she needed some assurance from them, needed to make peace with what she was, to know that her powers were just another weapon to use, not some uncontrollable force, yet once they saw the ease with which she wielded them, they started spouting warnings at her, returning her anxiety and fear swiftly.
Bishop tried to assure her, but it was increasingly obvious that he wouldn't be able to undo their damage – they spoke to her in the exact way she was taught to respond to – like preachers.
What's more, they were absolutely no help in the issues that mattered most – their answer for weathering the pain of absorbing the souls was 'patience' and when Aeyrin inquired about what her new role meant and what would be expected of her, they provided nothing save for vague drivel about 'showing her the way, not the destination'.
They didn't even know whether there were others like her.
He tried to stretch again with a sigh but a nasty kink in his back prevented the action.
That was it.
He wasn't going to suffer any longer because of the old farts' inhibitions. He stealthily pulled himself up from the floor right on the bed beside him, nudging the sleeping Bosmer further towards the stone wall and curling his body around hers.
She didn't even make a sound, just subconsciously pressed her back into his chest – that woman could sleep through anything. He draped his arm lazily across her stomach and folded the other one below his head. He didn't care what the geezers said anymore, he was determined to finally get some sleep.
…
Aeyrin woke up to a strangely heated whispering near her.
Her eyes still felt tired but she pricked up her ears to hear the discussion better.
"… curious what would she say. Or do you make it a habit to sneak into a woman's bed, while she's unaware?"
She recognized Arngeir's calm voice, it always sounded somewhat condescending when he was talking to Bishop. Come to think of it, it sounded condescending whenever they talked about her understanding of Thu'um too. It was likely he expected more from a Dragonborn and the people she kept around her. She always felt like a child being chastised when he spoke to her.
"Don't you have other things to worry about? Like being fucking useful to her for a change?" the angry hiss in his voice made her snap to attention.
Bishop was getting increasingly agitated with the Greybeards and she feared that things would get too heated, with no other outlet around.
She sat up on her bed, rubbing her eyes wearily.
"Arngeir, it's fine, I don't mind," she murmured, hoping to diffuse the situation. She didn't even notice that Bishop was in her bed, but it's not like she was overly concerned about that. It's not as if he would even want to do anything around the old men and the stone floor must have felt horrible for such a long time. She didn't really know why the Greybeards made a big deal of them sleeping separately when there was a lack of beds.
Arngeir only threw them both admonishing looks before walking away calmly – he never really argued but he let everyone know when he was displeased.
Bishop sat down on the bed beside her with an angry huff while she started to stroke his back soothingly.
"I told you we can switch if…" she gave him an encouraging smile before he interrupted her.
"You know you're still not healed. Besides you really thing they would glare at me less for taking your bed altogether?" he grumbled, shooting an angry stare down the hall at the direction that Arngeir left.
He sighed, staring at the stone floor for a while. He thought about adjusting his sleeping schedule so that they would take turns in the bed, but somehow he wasn't able to bring himself to miss her training. It was making his blood boil – how they constantly admonished her for being reckless with the Shouts, undermining any remaining confidence she managed to gather concerning her 'blessing'.
He remembered all those looks of despair and fear that she had after the watchtower all too well and he knew how much she struggled to overcome the trepidations and finally accept her role with determination.
Now they were ruining it all.
"Was it like this in the temple?" he looked at her curiously after a while, the question gnawing at him for some time.
"No one really tried to crawl into my bed in the temple," she chuckled at him, poking his arm teasingly.
"How would you know? You are capable of sleeping through that," he laughed in response.
She blushed slightly, getting a bit nervous about the implications, but decided instead to answer to his original meaning: "It was different. The Eight have varied tenets and they can't be followed to the letter because some of them might contradict each other. The priests had to allow some measure of closeness or friendship. It was more strict about how we approached other people then each other. You know, always helping, never resorting to violence and that sort of thing. The Greybeards have a more… focused goal, they say only solitude and constant meditation can help me achieve the restrain I need," she sighed lightly.
It was a daunting prospect, one she was reluctant to adhere to, but what else could she do? She felt the dangerous force herself – she needed to make sure her instincts couldn't get the better of her, so that she wouldn't hurt those she cared about ever again.
"You mean single-minded and ignorant of the outside world."
She shook her head giving him a light peck on his cheek, probably to shut him up. He saw how much the lessons fractured her spirit but she never said anything derisive or angry about it, and whenever he started to complain about them she quickly changed the subject.
He let out a sigh as they went to join the old men for breakfast, smirking snidely as they all shot him a glare almost in unison when they approached the room.
Aeyrin tried her best to ignore the tense atmosphere, biting into the flavorless bread silently.
Arngeir turned to her, his gaze still chastising. He was the only one to talk to either of them. The other Greybeards apparently couldn't communicate without Shouting anymore.
It was baffling that even with the lack of socializing in the monastery, he still managed to alienate their guests with his attitude.
"Dragonborn, today we should test your restraint again. How you manage to avoid situations without resorting to Thu'um. Bear in mind it should not be used carelessly, simply to ease your predicament."
Bishop snorted at his plan, but didn't say anything further. Again with this shit. He saw this lesson before – they attacked her with shouts and watched as she struggled not to fight back or escape them with her powers. It was ridiculous. They taught her more powers and then got prissy when she used them. They were supposed to be the masters of this shit, but the second someone more capable than them appeared, they tried to curb her talent. Probably making sure that she couldn't just kill them all when she realized her real power.
The Greybeards got up from the table simultaneously, heading towards the courtyard, motioned for her silently to follow.
…
Bishop spent his day with Karnwyr lying by his side, watching as Aeyrin got attacked over and over.
The Shouts must have aggravated her battered body, sometimes even throwing her across the yard when she wasn't fast enough to notice their approach.
It was infuriating.
She could have swept them all in one, throwing them off of that damned mountain. At least that would accomplish something.
After several hours they finally let up.
Most of them headed back inside silently while Arngeir stayed behind a while, watching the weakened Bosmer collect herself from the frozen ground. She used the new Shout she learned a few times to escape their attacks, her flight instinct kicking in subconsciously.
Arngeir shook his head at her disapprovingly: "We will continue on the morrow."
He bowed to her and headed after his comrades.
Aeyrin stood up rather shakily, making Bishop wince at the sight.
She looked so defeated.
Her head hanging low, she headed towards the building before Bishop stopped her in her tracks.
"That's enough, princess, don't you think?" he scowled at her, supporting her wobbly stance instinctively.
"Bishop…" she sighed, signaling again that she refused to discuss this with him.
Why was she so adamant to take this abuse? She had power. She was allowed to use it to defend herself.
"No! I'm not gonna watch this anymore!" his voice got louder, the frustration palpable. "This isn't helping you! They're just scared of what you can do. They can teach you nothing! Let's just get out of here before those fucking fossils kill you out of spite!" his eyes narrowed dangerously, it was clear he was fed up with their stay at the monastery.
"They are just trying to help me. Nobody else knows about this stuff, I need to…" Aeyrin sighed tiredly, it seemed like there was not much fight left in her at all.
Bishop interrupted her before long: "They don't know shit! They told you all that they knew, there is nothing more for you here. Now they're just torturing you because you can handle their precious 'Voice' better than them. It's not like you were Shouting from the rooftops of populated cities for fun before, what the fuck more do they want?!"
She looked at him with weary eyes, it looked as though she was not even going to argue anymore but then she breathed in deeply. "Restraint is important, if I start to rely on the Shouts too much, it might have severe consequences. I already…" she paused for a bit, looking into the ground sullenly before continuing.
"I already hurt you with it once before, what happens the next time I panic?"
Every time they mentioned how dangerous the Shouts were, the scene replayed in her head. The sickening crack after the Shout's rumble dissipated and even with her eyes closed, she heard him hit the wall and grunt in pain.
Then nothing.
For a few grueling seconds she thought he was dead, that she killed him.
Bishop shook his head, a bit staggered that she still thought about that incident.
"That was then. You didn't know anything then. Now you know what it does better, you can control it just fine. I saw you train, I know you know exactly what those Shouts are going to do," his voice got a bit lower as his angry tone turned into encouraging.
The pained looked from her eyes however refused to disappear: "You don't get it. It's instinct. If I don't learn to stop myself…"
That fucking tortured look again. She was so determined before and they snuffed out her confidence like it was nothing.
There was only one think he could think to do now.
"You're such a fucking hypocrite," there was a strange tone in his voice – it sounded hateful, but she heard when his voice was filled with anger and hatred many times before and it was different.
Her eyes went wide in surprise at the change, staring at him and waiting with bated breath for him to continue.
"It's really something, how fucking concerned you are about all that now. I didn't hear you admonish yourself when you were dragging me around Riften with murder in your eyes. It's so fucking rich that you get all high and mighty about responsibility and staying your hand and then you throw it out the window the second you get back to your father issues," he narrowed his eyes at her, watching for her reaction for a second, but continuing promptly when he only found her staring at him in shock.
"You're all concerned that you hurt me when you were fighting for your life? Well, be more fucking concerned that you almost got Karnwyr killed in an unnecessary battle, because you needed to ease your own conscience from feeding your father's habits. That wasn't instinct, sweetheart, that was just you!" his eyes never left hers.
He knew exactly where to hit so it hurt, when to twist the knife. It didn't matter that it was painful for her, he tried to be supportive and it failed, and he didn't say anything that wasn't technically true. He never would have said those words normally, but he was way past his normal. The empty and defeated look on her face made him crazy. If the nice way wasn't going to cut it, this would.
In a moment, he noticed the glint in her eyes, the fire returning to them suddenly as instead of sighing and hanging her head she started to yell back at him: "I didn't force you to follow me there! That was your own decision! You keep saying how you live the way you want, without anyone telling you what to do, then why am I responsible? If you thought that attacking the den was stupid then why come?! Why risk yourself and Karnwyr for my 'father issues'?" she spat the phrase back at him.
He didn't mind, his lips curving upward slightly. She was right, whatever he thought of her plan, he went along with it. The truth was he never blamed her for what happened, family shit always got messed up and in a strange way, he even cherished the memory of it, how she opened up to him about her childhood.
But she needed to get out of this lethargy, to get away from all the guilt-tripping and stand up for herself. If she wasn't going to do that against the old fossils, he might as well get it started himself.
"And of course you hate it so much here," she continued, not paying any attention to his relieved expression, "Divines forbid you spend time somewhere where you need some discipline! That you would actually show some respect to the people that only try to help! Well you don't need to stay! It's not like anything you're doing is actually helping me anyways! You only make things worse, goading the Greybeards with those constant snide remarks and eye rolls. I get it. You don't care about any of this, so why are you still here?!"
Bishop's brows shot up in surprise. He did not expect for it to escalate that much. She was supposed to pour out her anger on them, not on him. Why the fuck was she still defending the geezers? Did she not get that he was trying to help her come to terms with her powers, rather than fear them?
"Well?!" Aeyrin looked back into his eyes, the relieved look replaced by one she never saw before, but at that moment she did not care to decipher it.
"LEAVE ALREADY!" she yelled again and instead of waiting for his reaction, she slipped past him into the monastery, the heavy metal doors creaking loudly as she ran inside.
He stood there dumfounded for a second. Did she really tell him to leave her there? Did she really not get anything he was trying to do this entire time? A strange pain went through his chest as his thought swirled about his next move. Should he wait for her to calm down? That would defeat the whole purpose. Should he apologize? What for? He did this for her! Should he really… leave?
…
The day passed in a strangely quick pace.
At some point she noticed the bedroll beside her bed was gone, as she expected.
A strange vigor coursed through her battered body and she was unable to stay still, pacing though the mostly empty halls before finally deciding to get some air at the courtyard.
She needed some way to release some energy.
She considered practicing with her weapons, but there was not even a training dummy and attacking the air was not very effective.
Looking over the courtyard her eyes settled on the edge of the mountain.
A strange thought passed through her head.
She knew the reach of her new Shout, it would throw her off the mountain.
Would she be able to stop?
To control it?
Her life would have been in danger. Would her instinct allow her to die?
After so many days she felt so strangely powerful.
They taught her restraint, but she would never be able to do that. Every time her instincts kicked in, she resorted to Shouting in response. Small wonder that – she was unarmed and unarmored and they were attacking her aching body. Why did she think she could stop herself from fighting back?
But if she could control it… then she wouldn't need to. She could fight back and protect the ones she cared about at the same time, never hurting anyone she didn't mean to ever again.
A little voice in her head screamed at her that she was wrong, that she would die if she tried, but it got quieter and quieter, her newfound goal dead-set in her sights.
"WULD!"
She shouted sooner than she was ready, but once the uncontrollable rapid movement started, she realized herself quickly.
Everything seemed too slow down in less than a second, the blurry surroundings turning into recognizable landmarks and the edge of the mountain, clearly outlined before her.
She got a strange urge to shut her eyes tightly but she knew she couldn't.
All the thoughts in her head focused on one thing – willing her feet to stop.
A deep breath escaped her mouth as she realized that the world stopped moving around her.
She looked below, the edge of the mountain was stone's throw away but she was still, standing on a solid ground.
"Dragonborn," Arngeir approached her, likely witnessing her reckless experiment.
She turned to him, her face betraying no berating and no apology, only determination.
"Did you see?" her eyes searched his, he looked strangely sad, only nodding in response.
"Can you help me control it?" she studied him carefully, but the old man showed no hint of condescension or admonishment. A strange humbleness was seen in his eyes as he shook his head in negation.
"None of us are able to."
After a moment of silence the old sage looked up at her, a hint of a smile and perhaps even hope etched across his wrinkled face. "I would propose a last test, if you are willing," his commands turned into a request so easily and all the tension from the past ten-day seemed to dissipate.
Aeyrin nodded, her heart still racing, but as she listened to the old man explain about a lost relic, only accessible to those who can master the Thu'um, she started to feel so much lighter, as if a great burden has been lifted.
She made her way back into the monastery to spend her last night there and give herself a moment of rest.
With a lot of her concerns over her ability to control her instincts dissipated and her new determination at learning to control her power, her thoughts came back to Bishop and the hurtful things he said.
She played their conversation over and over in her head throughout the course of the night, at times fuming at his words, at times regretful of her own ones.
She barely noticed getting any sleep at all when something started to insistently poking at her back.
She got up groggily, noticing the sun shining through the small windows.
She sat up on the bed unceremoniously, only for her eyes to meet the wolf beside her. His ears were lowered pitifully and he let out a low whine when their eyes met.
What was he doing here? Did Bishop come back?
She asked the old men and scoured the monastery and the courtyard but he was nowhere to be found, Karnwyr constantly following at her heel.
When she finally looked at the wolf in confusion he barked at her happily and ran towards the front entrance of the monastery, motioning towards the door. Did he want her to follow? Was Bishop in danger? No, Karnwyr, would have been way more insistent, and how would he even get inside the building?
He must have left him.
He would never leave him, no matter how angry or distracted he got.
No.
He left him to watch over her.