Chapter LXVIII – Deliver Us from Evil
His head was pounding.
His face was pressed against something cold and his nose was burning, sending piercings jolts of pain through him.
Yep, it was definitely broken.
He started to focus on the rest of his body. He was definitely lying on a cold floor, face down. There was a sound of dripping water somewhere and someone was talking… no… singing?
He placed his hands under him tentatively, careful to get up slowly as his head threatened to explode.
He finally managed to sit himself up, slumping against a wall right next to him.
He opened his eyes.
A cell.
Of course…
His hand instinctively shot to his waist, to his belt and lockpicks.
Gone. He was dressed in some old rags, his armor and equipment nowhere to be seen. Of course they'd take his shit…
Well… at least there was a rickety bed. Better than the floor.
The sound of delirious singing filled his ears again. It was undoubtedly one of his prison mates.
It made him furious. He needed quiet. He needed to think. He needed to figure out how to get out of there. He needed to see if Aeyrin was alive. She was definitely not conscious, she would have come for him.
"Shut the fuck up already!"
An annoyed voice echoed through the halls. A guard, likely.
Bishop moved himself to the bars with some effort, peering out as much as his confinement allowed, locking eyes with the man in the Imperial Army uniform.
"Aww… not enjoying your nap?" the man snickered, making his way towards Bishop's cell.
"Why am I here?!" Bishop barked at him impatiently. He already had a suspicion, but it was always smart to get more information.
The guard smirked at him, taking out a parchment from his belt, clearing his throat and reading aloud: "Charged with assault, attempted murder and public endangerment… impressive list."
Well… the assault checked out...
"Attempted murder?" Bishop gave him an exasperated look.
"Says here – assault with the intent to murder," the guard grinned at him cheekily, obviously enjoying taunting caged criminals.
Murdering Casavir… that sounded nice… that's what he should have done, ending it, once and for all.
"Public endangerment?" he sighed, resigned to hear what else the paladin blamed on him.
"Says – purposeful hindrance of the mission to rid the province of the dragon menace… sounds like a shitty thing to do," the guard laughed at him, rolling back his parchment and stashing it into his belt.
Was he fucking serious?! He was the one who hindered everything! He was the one who almost got the Dragonborn killed! Maybe got her really killed… Fuck! Don't think about that!
"Is she alive?" he sighed again in a while, looking at the guard, surprisingly pleadingly, desperate for more information.
"Who?" the guard gave him a puzzled look.
"The… Dragonborn. Is she alive?" Bishop growled impatiently.
"What? I guess… How the fuck would I know? I just have my parchment!" the man threw his arms in confusion.
Bishop groaned frustratedly. There seemed to be no way around this…
"I wanna talk to the tin-head," he hissed through gritted teeth, imagining grabbing that pompous ass through the bars and smashing his fucking face against them until he bled out right in front of him.
"Huh?" the guard stared at him dumbfounded, his amused smirk replaced with perpetual confusion.
"The… paladin," he growled. As if that manipulative jackass deserved to be called a 'paladin' after everything he did.
"The one you attacked? Sure… should I bring you some noble to rob too? Some kid to kill? Some girl to rape? We always strive to please our criminals," the guard roared with laughter, shaking his head at Bishop in amusement.
Annoying tit…
"Just… tell him I wanna talk to him. He'll come himself…" he grumbled in exasperation. This conversation was getting tiresome and he needed to know if she was alright.
"What do I look like? Imperial Courier Service? Fuck off and stop bothering me," he snorted.
Bishop was way past caring what trouble he got in. He was in enough shit as it was.
His hand flew suddenly, grabbing the guard by his uniform in great speed. He was all sore, but it hardly mattered. He pulled immediately, making the man collide with the bars; hard.
His grip wasn't as firm as he would've liked though and the man slipped away, backing off from the cell and clutching his bloody face before Bishop managed to grab his keys.
"You fucking maniac! You're gonna spend the rest of your life here!" the guard yelled with strangely amusing pitch in his voice – likely distorted from the way he clutched his nose. He turned on his heel, heading towards the stairs leading out the prison instantly after.
"You can send him here while you're out there!" Bishop called after him mockingly.
Fuck, that was satisfying.
…
"Why am I not surprised that your first instinct was to attack someone?"
The sonorous voice made his eyes snap open and he got up from the rickety bed, walking towards the bars with fury in his eyes.
"Where is she?" he barked at the paladin, piercing his blue eyes with hatred.
"That is no longer your concern. She is safe. And she will be kept safe. From everything. Including you," Casavir's stony expression didn't waver. For once there was no anger when he looked at Bishop, only cold indifference.
She was alive. Good. That was something. But he still needed to see her. Was she awake?
"Where. Is. She?" he repeated adamantly. He wanted to grab him, but the paladin stood a safe distance away – probably predicting his moves accurately.
"I have an offer for you," his expression remained unchanged as he ignored Bishop's question stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.
"I will have you released. I will make sure your record is cleared – no price on your head… at least not from official sources. In turn, you will leave. You will leave her. You will never interfere with her life again. I will make personally certain of that."
Bishop stared at him in silence for a while, his blood boiling. He knew he wanted her. He wanted her all to himself, no matter what rules he had to break, what vows to forget. It only confirmed what he already knew about him. Those pretenses, those lofty goals and ideals, they meant nothing. Not when there was a pretty girl he could play hero for.
Hypocrite.
"And what does she think of your offer?" he scoffed at him hatefully. Aeyrin would never stand for this extortion if she knew.
"She is in no condition to voice her opinions. But that is not your concern," his face betrayed no emotion again, but Bishop's blood turned cold at that.
What did he mean by that? What was wrong with her? Was she still unconscious? How long has it been?
"No fucking deal! Where is she?!" he screamed at him, anger welling up inside again. Just the sigh of his face was making him see red.
"Why? You may go. You are given a chance for a clean slate. For her benefit. Otherwise your head would already be decorating the castle ramparts from the very second I saw you here. There is no reason for you to refuse."
She was the reason to refuse. He will never leave her with that incompetent fool. He would get her killed, he already proved that enough. And for that matter, he will never leave her at all. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. He wasn't just going to surrender the only person that actually made him… happy.
"I will never let you destroy her, like you did everyone else. If there's anyone she needs to be protected from, it's you! I will not let you take her away like you did Elisie, only to leave her when your true face threatens to be exposed! She deserves better than you!"
For the first time, Casavir's stony façade faltered, his brows furrowing in both anger and… confusion?
"She doesn't 'deserve' a callous criminal! It was your fault she was in that state and… and… WHAT?! 'LEAVE HER'?! She's the one who left! Because of you!" Casavir stared at him in pure outrage.
This was getting strange. What did he mean? Did Elisie send the tin-head away? But she didn't want anything to do with Bishop, even after Casavir was gone… It didn't make any sense. Excuses. Pathetic excuses. Because he didn't know just how much Bishop found out.
"You left her with child you pompous tit! So much for your precious vows!" Bishop spat at him, making sure that the paladin knew what Bishop was privy to.
That did it.
The paladin stared at him for a while in silence, stunned.
Yeah, that's right. I know all about your shameful secrets you fucking hypocrite.
Casavir's face twisted in a myriad of emotions. There seemed to be utter confusion, then a determined realization, followed by pure anger and hatred.
"You will rot here," his stony expression returned suddenly as he turned on his heel, leaving Bishop rather shocked in his cell.
That was it?
No more retorts, no excuses?
And what the fuck was he supposed to do now?!
…
She felt a large calloused hand enclose around hers.
It was so pleasantly warm.
As the hand started to stroke hers lightly she tried to focus on her surroundings.
She was in a bed, a wonderfully soft and warm bed. It was so quiet and peaceful, her face was buried pleasantly in the feathery pillow and her whole body covered with a thick blanket. Her left hand was peeking out from under the covers but it was kept warm by the soothing large hand, stroking over her comfortingly.
"Bish…" a weak smile formed on her lips as she whispered.
The movement stopped suddenly, she felt the hand withdraw slightly, hover above her in uncertainty.
Was something wrong? She got a strange uncomfortable felling. She willed herself to move slightly, her fingers brushing weakly over the hand above hers.
"Lie down with me… please…" she half-sobbed, needing to feel his embrace. She tried to remember what happened, but all that consumed her thoughts of the past was the horrible pain, the slow decomposition of every inch of her body. It was like feeling death crawling through her very being.
"I… don't think that would be… appropriate, my lady…"
An uncomfortable sonorous voice startled her. She forced her eyes open slowly, the blurry shapes revealing the large frame and dark hair.
"Casavir… s-sorry…" she muttered shyly. Where was she? And where was Bishop?
"No apologies necessary. Please, try to sit up. You need to drink and eat something to gather strength," the voice spoke again, the shapes still blurry. Strong arms gripped her shoulders gently but firmly, supporting her weight to sit her up on the bed, her back leaning against the cold headboard. It was uncomfortable, she wanted to lie down again and just… sleep.
She closed her eyes once more, breathing out in effort. Why was she so tired? And how long was she asleep?
"Here, my lady, allow me," he spoke again, then she felt the cold metal of a goblet press gently against her lips. She managed to grab at the item weakly, but his hand was already closed around it, so all she managed was a meager grip on his wrist. He tilted the goblet slowly, letting her swallow the water inside gradually.
It did feel a little better, she had no idea she'd been so thirsty.
She felt some pastry being pressed into her hand and she bit down on it automatically, feeling a little better with each bite.
Her vision finally cleared, at least a little, and she looked around.
She was in a large room, the stone walls were dark and lined with red banners with the symbol of the Imperial Dragon. There was a large map of Skyrim on one of the walls above an expensive-looking wooden desk – almost as fancy as the one Mercer used in his 'office'. There were several armor and weapon racks by an armoire on the other side of the room, all carrying some beautifully decorated arms or cuirasses – likely for ceremonial purposes. She was lying on an enormous bed – larger than any she's seen so far. It was feathery soft and probably the most comfortable thing her body's ever touched, beautiful embroidered sheets of red and gold covering it majestically.
"Where are we?" she looked at him wide-eyed.
"My chambers at Castle Dour. I thought it best for your recovery, my lady. The temple is sadly… full… the injured soldiers are many. And I wanted you to have some privacy and quiet for your rest… the barracks lack those," the paladin gave her a kind smile.
Dammit, she didn't want to be anywhere near Castle Dour and the Legion ever again…
"I thought you were staying at the Skeever…" she pondered, remembering that the only time she saw his room there, it was decidedly lacking a door.
"It was temporary, while one of my men recovered here. For the same reasons I have already mentioned. I am more than happy to provide a sanctuary and healing when the priests have their hands full."
She nodded at him gratefully, picking up the goblet from the bedside table. He already refilled it with water for her.
"Where's Bishop?" she looked up at him before she downed the goblet in one, her parched throat cooling pleasantly.
There was a strangely uncomfortable silence for a while before he spoke.
"In prison, where he belongs," he nodded somberly.
She almost choked on the water. What? Did Casavir just wait for her to be asleep to arrest Bishop? And what for?
"W-what? Why?"
"My lady… he attacked me," Casavir sighed deeply, giving her a regretful look. Oddly enough, she felt it was far from genuine.
"A-attacked? What do you mean?"
"After you… fell unconscious, he lunged at me. I assume he wanted to kill me," he still had that regretful expression. Now she was more and more convinced that it was fake.
Trying to kill Casavir… doubtful. He would likely not attempt such a thing. Not just because he disliked him. And not in front of the Imperial soldiers.
"He… did he… why do you assume that? Did he try to stab you? To shoot you? And why would he…"
"He's an animal, my lady. A vicious killer. What else am I supposed to think when a man like him assaults me, tries to prevent me from healing you? He is a danger to everyone. To me. And to you."
She stared at him in shock. She didn't believe him. None of it made any sense.
"You are not to blame, my lady. I understand. Your kind heart is a virtue, but sadly, it will attract the worst sort of criminals. I know he manipulated you, tried to sway you from your convictions. It was his fault you were… in that state. It was his fault you weren't ready to withstand the ordeal. And when his mistakes were laid bare, he lashed out. He even managed to assault the prison guard…" the paladin scoffed hatefully.
"Every single thing that comes out of his mouth is a lie. He tries to twist the truth with accusations and excuses. He will no longer get away with it," he gritted his teeth, trying to give her a compassionate look. It seemed like… he wasn't talking about what happened at the mountain anymore…
"Casavir… did he… actually try to kill you?" she gave him a doubtful look, making his brows crease even further.
"Why do you keep making excuses for him, my lady? He is rotten to the core. He would have risked your life for his petty vengeance!"
He would never… no matter what, he always protected her, always put her wellbeing first. He took care of her when she was sick, he stood by her, making enemies out of the Stormcloaks, the Empire, being targeted by the dragons. He did everything to keep her safe from Mercer. If his revenge on Casavir was more important to him than her, he would have never stayed his hand before. She was pretty certain he had the abilities to wait for a more opportune time to kill the paladin, even to get away with it. But he wasn't like that. Something else must have happened and Casavir's hatred blinded him to any other explanation.
She got up from the bed abruptly, a new vigor coursing through her. She looked down on herself, finding that she was clad in simple white robes – likely from the temple, a garb for patients. She wondered briefly whether Casavir himself undressed her and put that thing on her, but it was hardly her largest concern.
"I don't believe that he wanted to kill you. And my… 'state' was not his fault. I make my own decisions on what to drink, thank you!" she puffed, giving him an angry stare. "I want him released," she folded her arms across her chest determinedly, trying to stare the paladin down to the best of her ability.
"No. He broke the law and he will pay for that. He is lucky I decided not to drudge up his past crimes. He would have been a head shorter by now," Casavir's expression turned cold and unfeeling. He stood up from the stool he was sitting on and towered above her.
"He poisoned your mind, it is not your fault," his expression softened as she stared at him in desperation. How was she supposed to argue with him? He wouldn't hear any of it! "Perhaps… would you like for me to accompany you to the chapel? To seek some guidance. I'm certain it would ease your worries. Faith shall deliver us from evil," he smiled, the comforting mantra spouted at her like venom.
She stared at him, at a loss for words, at a loss for thoughts. The initial vigor was gone in her defeat and now she was too aware that she still felt so tired and she could think of nothing that would bring her more comfort than hiding in Bishop's arms.
She couldn't let him do this. She wouldn't let him manipulate her about forgetting about Bishop.
"What is he charged with?" she barked, both anger and despair in her voice.
"Assault, attempted murder, public endangerment," Casavir proclaimed, the stony stare back on his face.
"Did he draw a weapon?"
Casavir scowled at her, pondering a while. "It matters not, the intent was clearly to…"
"So that's a 'no'. What does 'public endangerment' mean? Did he endanger anyone but you?" she felt a tear escape her eye from her stressed out state, but she wiped it hurriedly. Now was not the time to show weakness.
"He endangered you! You needed a healer's attention. And endangering you endangers whole Skyrim!"
"So I was dying? Were you going to heal me? I don't remember being wounded!" she yelled at him angrily.
"You fell unconscious!" he retorted, raising his voice back at her, the situation making them both on edge.
"And how exactly were you planning oh healing that?!"
There was silence. The room suddenly uncomfortably small and cramped with the two of them watching each other, both in despair, regret and anger.
"Why are you doing this to me, Casavir? Do you really hate him so much to go this far? You're… lying," she felt another tear escape her, sniffling lightly. She thought she understood him. She thought that she had a friend in him. That Bishop's hatred of him was an exaggeration. She wanted him to be wrong, she wanted it all to be just a misunderstanding between them, but that seemed like a far cry from the truth right now.
But then, something seemed to break in him. It was as if he just heard a long-kept secret, a shocking news. Was he really so blinded by his anger that he couldn't see what he was doing?
"My lady… I am not trying to hurt you. I only want to protect you from him. I already failed to protect good people from him. I… I don't want you to share their fate," his shoulders slumped down, his face filled with regret, his voice suddenly far from stern and composed, but more desperate and on edge.
Who was he talking about? Jules's girl and the child? From what Bishop told her, it seemed Casavir was rather successful in deterring her from him.
"I… what fate?" she bit her lip, cursing herself slightly for asking. But Casavir didn't sound as if he thought he had something to be ashamed of, something to keep from public, something that only Bishop knew. Maybe it really was a misunderstanding.
"My lady… many good people died because of his treachery. But that was not enough for that monster. After our initial encounter, I found that he was set to torment his own brother's bereaved family. To worm his way into the heart of his brother's lover. When I managed to make her see… he waited until I was away on an important mission…" he sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression, as if willing himself forcefully to speak on. "She was gone when I came back. But I knew what happened. Her neighbors said she was pregnant, alone and struggling to survive. I am certain that she would have never allowed him into her bed willingly and… I… The truth of why she never waited for me was clear. She left to escape from him…" there was sorrow in his eyes.
Did he really believe Bishop capable of something like this? No wonder he had such contempt for him. It was… a different story… but she felt compelled to believe him. Just like she believed Bishop.
They were both idiots…
"He thinks the child was yours…" she whispered, trying to connect the dots in her head.
"He… told you? About Elisie?" Casavir's brows shot up in surprise, his expression uncertain, wary. He was without a doubt imagining what lies Bishop spun. "Do not believe his version of what…"
"Stop! Neither of you know what happened! You both just rely on rumors and blame the other one. Why? All this… hate… just because you both keep assuming… Bishop would never…" she shook her head in exasperation.
"You think it the only reason?! I had cause to believe him capable of this! He's a liar, a traitor! The things he did before… He is without a doubt lying about Elisie too…" his anger subsided slowly, his brow furrowed in deep thought. There was doubt… she could see it.
"Whatever you think of him… you cannot do this. You can't punish him for what you assume he did. You don't know what happened with him and… Elisie. You don't know if he was going to kill you. Please, Casavir. You know you can't keep him here. I'll… pay his assault bail…" she gave him a beseeching look, the waning anger giving her more and more hope.
It took a long time for him to speak, his face contorting in clear conflict, reason and emotion waging a fierce battle beneath his creased brows.
He looked at her once more, searching her face, as if to find any hint of doubt. Any hint that she was uncertain about Bishop's innocence.
There was none.
"Promise me one thing, my lady…" he sighed in defeat as she waited expectantly. "Do be wary. Be prepared that he may one day betray you, no matter his… affections. And… please, don't let his venom poison you against other people," his look was strangely pleading. Was he afraid that she wouldn't speak to him after this? Well… at times that's exactly what she planned, but… it all seemed too tangled now, everyone's pride getting in the way of understanding.
"Only if you promise to stop 'protecting' me from him," she gave him a wry smile.
Casavir sighed deeply again, heading towards his large desk. He shuffled some papers around, scribbling something down. In a while he returned to her, handing her a piece of parchment.
"A release form. Please, make sure to rest some more. I, of course, offer you my chambers, but… I want him out of the Castle," he frowned again, but his expression softened as his fingers brushed hers in the exchange of the piece of paper.
"Thank you… I think… I'll just return to the inn. I need to make sure no one stole from our room. There's this beautiful headband that I'd really miss…"
His smile seemed to melt all the tension in the room.
…
His back hurt like crazy.
The bed was worse than the floor in Riften sewers.
It was worse than the floor in High Hrothgar.
Or maybe it was just the fact that he didn't get any sleep for three days now…
He rolled over angrily, groaning in pain and frustration.
The paladin never came back and the guard never came near his cell again, only threw some waterskin and bread at him occasionally, not risking the proximity.
Nobody would tell him anything. He had no idea how she was, where she was… if she survived…
She must have. She was stronger than that. That fucking beast wouldn't kill her, not even when she was weakened like that.
It was all the tin-head's fault. He told him to let her rest!
He needed a rest.
He just wanted to sleep…
…
He felt the warmth spread over his nose – the familiar tickle of healing magic.
Did the paladin grow conscience? Doubtful…
As the magic moved a bit, over his black eye, a soft touch of familiar lips replaced the tingle on his nose.
His eyes snapped open.
There was a beam of light shining through the barred tiny window, making her golden hair glitter otherworldly as she gave him a gentle smile, hems of a sleeve from a bright white robe tickling his neck when she moved her hand over his bruised face.
That was like an image from some religious book for children…
He was pretty sure he was dreaming.
"What is it with you and prisons? Why do you keep hanging around them?" she giggled, moving her hand away from his face and leaning in to kiss him gently.
"Fuck… princess… are you alright? What happened?" he quickly placed his hand on her cheek, making sure that she was really there.
"I'm alright… just… tired. We should really go sleep off last night…" she chuckled lightly.
"Last night?! We've been here for two fucking days!" he sat up on the bed sharply, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Oh… I only… I just woke up… I'm sorry you had to be stuck here…" she sighed, racking her brain to figure out the date. "What did you do?" she gave him a curious look after a while.
"It was his fucking fault! If he didn't drag you in there… he deserved to have his fucking jaw fixed!" Bishop fumed.
"You… didn't try to kill him, right?"
"If I tried, he'd be dead! And I fucking should have! He deserves a slow and painful…" he was silenced by her finger on his lips, her other hand brushing over his hair gently.
"Let's just go get some sleep, please… I don't want to think about any of this anymore…" she gave him a weary smile, laying her forehead against his.
He sighed in palpable exhaustion. Getting as far from this place as possible sounded so good.
"Yeah… let's get out of this place."
He planted a brief kiss on her forehead before he got up from the bed determinedly.
This better have been the last time he had to deal with that fucking tin-head.
