Author's Note:
So many reads! I thank you all yet again for reading and commenting and everything else 3 And a special thanks to Hildr53 for her constant support :) I highly recommend her own fanfic on Skyrim Romance 'Dragonsick' available on AO3.
Chapter LX – Solitude
They walked towards Solitude practically hand in hand.
After the entire night of being beset by the cheery soldiers and villagers, it seemed like the last few moments of complete privacy they could get.
Karnwyr finally caught up with them – they haven't seen him ever since the dragon appeared. Now he looked rather morosely at the approaching city. The prospect of being cooped up inside its wall with no excitement beyond chasing birds was not exactly pleasant for him.
Ever since they left Whiterun, Bishop hardly ever let the thoughts of his past plague him. Aeyrin's constant presence at his side and their progressing intimacy pushed all other concerns aside steadily. There was still the occasional pang of guilt for keeping secrets from her, but he was doing it for her protection after all.
He was doing the right thing.
The fact that he got to enjoy their closeness with no fear of losing her was an added bonus to that; and a significant one at that.
They entered the city gates, their attention immediately caught by the large crowd to their right.
There was a man standing on a large stone platform, clothed in tattered rags, hands bound behind his back and a block of wood with a bucket beside it was right by his shaking legs.
The large man beside him was draped in tight-fitting leather vest, decorated by metal rings all over it. His arms were uncovered, save for two thick black gloves, and they were very muscular, a large battleaxe was gripped by them firmly. The man was a Redguard, his scalp shaved and his expression stony.
The large crowd in front of the platform was silent, waiting expectantly for the scene to unfold.
The unpleasant memories of Helgen rushed through her, the fear of the headsman's axe invading her thoughts again, the back of her neck burning unnervingly.
She hugged her arms around herself, creasing her brows, looking into the expression on the prisoner's face.
She wondered if she looked that scared back then too.
And why were the Imperials in Skyrim so fond of public executions anyways?
"Come on, we don't need to be here for that," Bishop draped his arm around her shoulders gently, ushering her away from the scene when he noticed her expression.
There was nothing to be done anyways, so what was the point of stirring bad memories?
He led her towards the open market, the tension easing only very slightly.
Her first sight of the capitol captured her thoughts so much, she barely managed to register the city itself.
She slowly managed to direct her mind away from the scene at the gates, looking over the grand city.
It was so colorful, much more than the rest of the cities they visited. Definitely much more than the monochrome Windhelm.
No wonder Ulfric was so morose.
The buildings were made from similarly grey stone, but they had beautiful red roofs, strings of colorful flags draped from one to another. The cobbled streets were beautifully light and thick with flowers and greenery along the sides. It was even more enchanting than Whiterun and the streets were bustling, even with all the people huddled back at the gates.
They reached the market square where Bishop directed her to a specific stall immediately.
An old white-haired woman was standing in it, crates full of green bottles all around her.
"Welcome! Would you like to purchase a bottle or two?" she smiled at them kindly as Aeyrin threw a questioning look at Bishop.
"Best wine in Skyrim, ladyship," he gave her a wink, eliciting a skeptical look from her.
"It's her first time, let her have a taste," he chuckled, giving the old saleswoman an uncharacteristically charming smile.
She smiled back, pondering a while before she took one of the bottles and a tankard from the wooden counter, pouring a few sips into it and handing it to Aeyrin.
"I have heard rumors that Solitude might have some… illustrious visitors," the woman gave her a sly wink, the news from Dragon Bridge likely already reaching her ears. Aeyrin didn't respond to that, hoping the rumors would dissipate before she did something to confirm them.
She took a tentative sip, a strangely sweet and… spicy taste filling her mouth, her throat and stomach warming pleasantly from the alcohol.
It was… good.
Better than good. Better than she hoped to find in Skyrim. It was even on par with some of the wines from Cyrodiil.
"This is… amazing! What is in this?" she gasped. She never had wine with such strange but pleasant spicy aftertaste.
"That's a secret, dear. But I'm glad you like it. Are you going to buy some bottles?" the saleswoman asked eagerly, taking the tankard away from Aeyrin.
"We need some money first. We'll be back," Bishop nodded at the woman as he chuckled lightly at Aeyrin's still astonished expression.
"I can't believe there's actual wine here!" she exclaimed when they walked away from the stall, making Bishop laugh out loud. Her snobbish attitude towards wine was really surprising for someone of her background.
"I'll go to the pawnshop to sell our crap… well… what's left of it," he gave her a teasingly admonishing look. "Look around the markets in the meanwhile. If nothing else, this is the best city to shop in… and the most expensive," he smirked, kissing her briefly on the top of her head and taking her pack for himself as he made his way back towards the wide street leading towards the gate, Karnwyr at his heel.
Aeyrin started to look around the stalls one by one.
There were so many books in one of them. She looked through them briefly, seeing if she found anything on dragons and their history. She did not. Most of the books there seemed to be either the same or similar to those popular in Cyrodiil – histories of the Empire, tales of knights and nobility and outlandish stories of other provinces.
She continued to the other stall which had a myriad of spices and foods. Maybe Bishop could try buying some and improving his cooking on his own. But it was likely not something to waste money on. Well, they would see how much they had left once they were about to leave Solitude.
The next stall caught her attention then.
It had a beautiful array of jewelry – necklaces, rings and earrings, playing in all the imaginable colors with intricate designs and shapes. The midday sun made them sparkle breathtakingly.
She was not one to drape herself in jewelry – it got in the way of the practicality of armor, but she always loved looking at it at least. Such beauty should always be appreciated, and the work put into it by the talented craftsmen too.
Her gaze fell on one particular decoration – it was a very delicate headband, possibly invisible in one's hair, but at the side of it, right above where one's ear would end, there was a rose. A beautiful red rose, carved, as if from glass, sparkling and… moving – opening and closing its petals, as if it was breathing.
She touched it tentatively, noticing the shopkeeper's satisfied smirk at her fascination. The light tingle of magic coursed through the tips of her fingers – it was likely an illusion, probably trivial for the mage enchanting the headband, but it still looked so… otherworldly, like something worn by Dibella herself.
"Beautiful."
A deep sonorous voice came from somewhere behind her back.
She turned around, looking at the source of it with surprise.
There was a man standing there, taller than anyone she's ever seen, even taller than Bishop. She felt like he could stomp her to the ground like an ant with how tall he was.
He was an Imperial with the a strong chiseled jaw and kempt handsome appearance. His hair was short and black, brushed back neatly, his eyebrows were making his face seem stern but his eyes were gentle. And they were mesmerizingly blue.
He wore a full-plate set of armor, meticulously polished, bright silver with occasional golden engravings, glinting and shimmering beautifully in the midday sun. A large greatsword was sheathed on his back, decorated by a small golden dragon in place of its pommel.
He was like a knight from a story book.
"It is," she smiled demurely, looking back over her shoulder briefly at the magical rose.
He gave her a kind smile and a polite nod, almost ending up in a bow.
"Excuse me, my lady, but… I was wondering. Do I have the honor of addressing the Dragonborn?"
She recoiled a bit, her smile disappearing. She really hoped she could avoid admitting this at least for a while. It seemed like that was not meant to be. Those damned dragons couldn't just leave her with one city where she wouldn't be instantly recognized, could they?
"I apologize, if that was too presumptuous, my lady," the man frowned almost immediately, noticing her conflicted expression. "You need not answer. I would still like to speak to you, if you don't mind," he raised his hands in mock surrender, giving her another kind smile.
She nodded, still a bit uncomfortable at his likely knowledge of her identity and waited for him to speak.
"I… could not help but notice the amulet you are wearing, my lady," he inclined his head to her Stendarrite amulet, prominently showing atop her dark shirt without her armor on. "It is a customary talisman among the members of the Stendarrite congregation in some other provinces. Were you… aware of this?" he looked at her curiously, probably trying to ascertain if she had anything to do with the clergy or if she got it somewhere without knowing what it actually was.
"Yes, I know. I was brought up in the temple in Chorrol," she nodded, taking the pendant into her hand and giving it a fond look.
His eyes lit up at her answer, going wide with surprise, then his smile turning heartwarmingly genuine.
"Pardon my manners, my lady. My name is Casavir, paladin of the Eight, from the Order of the Imperial Dragon."
This time he did bow, well… as deeply as his armor allowed, his arm over his chest as he did, the smile still etched on his face.
She didn't pay much attention to the paladin orders, but she's heard of this one. Her good friend joined it right after his vigil – they served the Empire and Akatosh foremost, battling any threats and enemies to all the provinces under Imperial protection. Most of its members were schooled in the Imperial City with a few exceptions, such as her friend, then they were sent out into the world, usually settling in different provinces and watching over their people's well-being.
It was not surprising that a branch of the Order could be found in the now tumultuous Skyrim – they were likely concentrating their efforts on the civil war.
"Aeyrin. It's a pleasure to meet you," she gave him a smile in turn, blushing brightly as he took hold of her hand gently and ghosted a kiss at the back of it. He was so… courteous, but different from the men she encountered before. The only courteous ones she interacted with in Skyrim were mostly somewhat sleazy or overeager at the same time, like Mikael or Alec. This man was different. She couldn't help but get a little lost in those blue eyes as he looked up at her before letting go of her hand and straightening back up to his impressive stature.
"I have never been to the chapel in Chorrol, I would be interested in hearing your impressions of the place," he nodded at her encouragingly, his eyes fixed on her with kindness and curiosity both.
…
Bishop left Bits and Pieces with more coin than he expected.
He headed towards the markets, pondering what to spend it on.
At least several bottles of Evette San's wine, that was for certain – Aeyrin's expression was so cute when she tasted it, he had half a mind to jump her there and then.
He smiled to himself remembering their last encounter, after that dragon was dead. He never thought to be grateful for anything to any of those beasts, but that was… invigorating. He loved how swept away she could get – he would have never expected this from her back when they were only getting to know each other. She was still so bashful about all that, but when she got turned on, she was like a different person, all consumed by the passion.
They would certainly need money for a good room at the Skeever. The walls were thick there, it wouldn't be hard to convince her that it was fine to indulge themselves, even in the crowded tavern.
Dammit, he couldn't think of anything else lately.
The way she moaned and clenched around him when he was inside her… fuck, he would do just about anything to make that happen any time any place.
Right, the money… focus!
They still needed to stock up on some healing potions and… what was that?
He noticed a very tall figure clad in something disturbingly silver and shimmery.
No… that wasn't who he thought it was, right?
He took a few hurried steps forward, the obstructing well revealing the familiar man in ridiculously shiny armor… talking to her.
Was that really him?
Fuck, he didn't even think of the possibility of running into him!
But more importantly, what the fuck was he doing talking to her?!
Panic rose in him suddenly.
What was he telling her? Did he know they were together? Was he pulling the same shit again? Was he trying to do the same fucking thing he did those years ago?!
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
She was smiling at him.
He looked at her like he wanted to devour her.
Fuck.
What the fuck was happening?
He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let him ruin this. He couldn't let him take her away from him.
She was his!
He should kill him once and for all. That fucking bastard deserved nothing less.
Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!
His legs carried him forward. He didn't even notice.
Fuck… he saw him.
…
Casavir's expression suddenly hardened as he spotted something at the corner of his eye.
She looked towards the direction of his gaze.
It was Bishop with Karnwyr at his heel.
She gave them a smile, but Bishop looked rather angry. What happened now?
Suddenly a large armor-clad hand landed at her collarbone, pushing her back a few steps, her brows shooting upwards in surprise.
"Step away, my lady. That man is dangerous," Casavir threw Bishop a hateful glare.
Did they know each other? Or did he just assume? A lot of people just assumed Bishop was a criminal or some such.
Well… he kind of was, but that was beside the point.
She never understood how they could tell. Maybe it was Karnwyr. Traveling through a city with a wolf by one's side would seem fishy at best.
She chuckled lightly at Casavir's overreaction but Bishop didn't seem amused in the slightest.
With a gentle smirk and a shake of her head, she pressed her hands at the armored arm in front of her, making him lower it.
"The fuck are you doing here?" Bishop growled, unbridled hatred in his eyes.
They did know each other.
Of course Bishop hated him, who didn't he hate? Has he even made a friend in his life before he met her?
"Mind your tongue in front of the lady, cur! And don't step any closer!" Casavir spat at him with equal hatred in his voice.
This was getting a bit intense. What have they done to each other? She gave out a light laugh, slightly nervous at their exchange, before she decided to interfere.
"I'm quite used to it, Casavir, no need to worry," she gave the paladin a gentle smile and stepped towards Bishop, outstretching her hand. He shoved her pack into it, his narrowed eyes still fastened on Casavir as an incredulous gasp escaped the paladin's lips at their familiarity.
"My lady! What are you doing with this… this…" it seemed like he wasn't even able to articulate the intended insult.
"YOUR lady?!" Bishop shouted, looking ready to actually lunge at the armor-clad man.
She quickly stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest calmingly.
"Alright, enough, you two!" she gave them both a stern look, hoping to seem more assertive than confused and uncomfortable.
"My lady, please you must listen to me! This man is a danger to everyone. You should not associate…" Casavir's expression seemed almost desperate as he gestured rather expressively for such stern-mannered man before Bishop interrupted him with an almost feral growl.
"Stop fucking calling her that, tin-head!"
Casavir looked ready to retort before she raised her hands at them again in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
What happened between them must have been quite grave to cause such fury.
"Enough!" she raised her voice determinedly.
The two men remained glaring at each other before Bishop wrapped his arm around her waist swiftly, pulling her along.
"Let's just get the fuck out of here," he growled again, but she stood still as she noticed Casavir gesture for them to stop, still scowling fiercely at Bishop.
"Please, just wait a moment, my lady. There are things I wished to discuss with you," he gave her a weak smile but his frown never disappeared from his face.
"She's done talking to you!" Bishop barked again.
In an instant he was forced to recoil a bit when she threw him an outraged look. That was over the line! He did not get to dictate who she could and could not talk to.
She flinched away from his arm with a scowl, making him drop it in surprise and… defeat.
"What did you wish to discuss, Casavir?" she turned to the paladin pointedly, ignoring Bishop's mean glares.
"I… perhaps, it would be better to speak more… privately, my lady. Perhaps, you'd do me the honor of joining me for a meal tonight? Alone?" he threw another hateful look at Bishop, not even trying to hide his disdain.
Bishop would flip.
She could practically hear his blood boiling, even though her back was to him.
She was too upset with him though. She never though herself spiteful, but at that moment, he deserved it. Besides, it was not as if it was anything more than dinner. And if the paladin had things to discuss with her, having Bishop around would likely only halt any attempts at conversation. Plus, she was curious about what Casavir wanted from her.
"Alright," she threw Bishop a meaningful look before he managed to interfere again.
He looked both angry and crestfallen.
It didn't matter.
He would not get a say in who she talked to!
If he was worried about her letting another man seduce her, he did not know her at all. Besides, Casavir was a paladin. He took his vows already. It was not as if he even shown any interest in her in that way, so why was Bishop so upset? What happened between them that a simply her conversing with the paladin would rile him up like that?
"Would you join me at dusk at The Winking Skeever then? I would be truly honored to share your company," finally Casavir's façade turned back to the polite expression he wore before, his meticulous attempts to ignore Bishop's presence completely now very palpable.
She nodded at him politely, and started to walk away from the markets, further into the city, hearing Bishop's footsteps follow her closely.
…
Fuck, this was bad.
It wasn't as if he could tell her not to talk to him!
Would she agree to the invite even if he didn't snap like that before?
He couldn't help it. The tin-head would ruin everything! He would tell her everything. And he would spin it in his own way, making him look like the worst person in the world.
Maybe he even was that person.
No.
He did what he had to.
Maybe she would understand. Maybe if he told her… he could tell her his side of things. She was always so forgiving of his less than pristine past. She accepted him for it.
He needed to tell her.
She needed to hear everything from him.
Well… not everything.
He still couldn't risk her going after Thorn. But some things… those that that damned paladin would tell her. Those that he told before…
"Princess…" he stopped her in her tracks.
He had to tell her.
She turned to him, arms folded across her chest, her expression both expectant and annoyed.
Just tell her.
"…"
Just tell her, you fucking coward!
It wasn't so bad, was it? It's not like he did most of those things himself… he just… helped them along. And it wasn't like he was the one to actually… drive the blade in… Fuck.
She will hate you.
He couldn't.
He's probably never worn an expression that pitiful in his life, since it made her annoyed scowl falter. She looked at him for a long while before giving out a long sigh instead.
"Bishop, you don't have to tell me how you know him if you don't want to. But you don't get to decide who I talk to!" she took up the scowl again, folding her arms across her chest once more determinedly.
He was such a coward.
She was so perfect.
She knew how hard it was for him to talk about his past. She didn't know why but she still accepted it. She deserved the truth. He hated himself for not being able to give it to her.
That fucking paladin would tell her.
Just like he did before.
It was no use.
But at least… at least he could still have today.
"Yeah… just… be careful around him, please. He's… not what he seems," he sighed.
The least he could do is shed some light on him. She believed that every priest, preacher and paladin took their 'callings' the same as her. She could never believe he was capable of the lies and manipulations that he was.
He knew it would sound like an excuse. If he called the tin-head a liar, it would only seem like he tried to undermine what Casavir would eventually tell her about him.
"He's… just… don't let him manipulate you," he sighed defeatedly.
Anything he tried to tell her seemed pointless.
"Manipulate… what do you think he'll try to do?" she shook her head at him, narrowing her eyes with a frown.
"Take you away from me," he scoffed, more at himself than anything.
Surprisingly enough, her scowl turned into a smile as she closed the distance between them, patting his cheek with a slight smirk: "As if I would let him."
He smiled despite himself.
It was not true.
But it was comforting.
He wondered if she would actually ever fall for Casavir's charms after he made sure she despised Bishop.
He was sure that the paladin did the same to Elisie, tossing her away after he had his fun, breaking his precious vows... they meant nothing to him, he knew all too well.
It didn't matter if Aeyrin hated him, he would not let her fall into the same trap.
"Ladyship… if he… tries… anything. Don't fall for it. He's not a good guy, believe me," he sighed again, stroking over her hair with an uncharacteristically sad expression.
She looked at him wide eyed for a while before giving him a doubtful look: "'Tries anything'? Bishop, he's a paladin. He's not gonna 'try anything'. Didn't I tell you about the vows they take?"
He shook his head somberly. Always so naïve.
"I don't think they mean as much to everyone as you'd think. He's still a man you know. And you'd make any man's blood boil."
She frowned a bit, as if remembering something, than gave him a mocking smirk.
"Oh poor me, the helpless damsel! I hope I don't go weak in the knees and fall madly in love once a man spares me a glance!"
He chuckled at her, but it was more in pain than anything else.
He knew how this story went. He's seen it before.
He wouldn't allow that ever again.
But what could he do?
