Chapter CXXIX – Forsworn

Aeyrin followed Cael through the camp while he talked about his people.

He talked about the men and women they passed in the encampment, explaining their roles in the tribe and their skills in the wilds and how they provide for the village.

He mercifully found some warm fur boots for her, but with the scant clothes that she was wearing, there was not much else to do but shiver with cold.

How did they survive the weather? They weren't Nords!

When Cael noticed her shivering, he chuckled at her briefly before he draped his arm around her shoulders, a bit more shyly than she would have expected. When she didn't protest, he suddenly seemed more confident and he pressed her to himself to warm her up. He was so warm. How was that possible?

She may have found it too forward, under different circumstances, but it really helped with the cold.

"What are they doing?" After a while, she pointed towards a few Forsworn who were gathered around a strange make-shift altar propped up on bones and rocks, with several bird skulls atop it.

"Ah… they are preparing one of the rituals to honor the Old Gods. The Nords forbid these practices in their… 'civilized' lands, so, many of the Reachmen who abandoned the cause needed to abandon their faith alongside it," Cael sighed somberly.

It was so ironic. Wasn't it Ulfric who fought against the Forsworn, taking back the Reach? He was doing the same thing to the Reachmen that he was now fighting against!

She always knew that he was a petty hypocrite, but this…

"Do you find this 'savage', my sparrow?" Cael chuckled a bit and inclined his head towards the skulls and bones of the altar. She must have looked really morose for him to ask that. Although, true, that Altar didn't really look like any kind of religion that she had ever seen. But then again, she was pretty sure that many of the faiths of other more southern cultures seemed even more barbaric to the casual observer, like the ones in Valenwood. They were just skulls and bones after all, not actual live sacrifices.

"I find Ulfric's condemnation of it much more 'savage'," she grumbled quietly, but she knew that Cael had heard her.

"Truly?" his eyes went wide at her with palpable astonishment.

"Well… it's your culture! What's it to him or anyone who or… what you worship?" she exclaimed angrily, but she realized herself a second longer and flushed in embarrassment for her outburst.

"Most of the 'civilized' people don't care, sparrow. We're heretics to them, after all. It matters not if it's the Nords or the Empire. They all have their absolute truths," Cael sighed again as he looked back towards the people around the altar fondly, even proudly. It was clear how much he believed in his cause, in his defiance.

"I care! It's why… it's why I came to Skyrim… I wanted to see… to see what the Empire has forbidden. Ironic, isn't it? That the Nords are doing the same to you that they are trying to prevent from being done to them now," she shook her head at him and lowered her eyes.

"Aye, sparrow. One cannot blame them. But one cannot forgive them for it either," he nodded determinedly.

She got the urge to ask a million questions. She wanted to ask if they were really killing travelers and civilians. She wanted to ask if they killed every Nord that they came across because of past scorns. And she wanted to ask if he would have killed her, were she not the Dragonborn.

But she decided against it. She was convinced that she knew the answers already. They were at war. Just as the Empire and the Stormcloaks.

And war made people callous.

"It may have been easier to forgive if people like Ulfric weren't the ones in charge," she murmured quietly. She knew that it was the Empire who now ruled over Markarth… technically… but Ulfric was still the one to take it from the Forsworn, wasn't he?

He wasn't alone. But she couldn't help but blame all the suffering on that man's head. After all, he had brought enough of it upon her alone.

"All men are like Ulfric when they crave power," Cael nodded at her somberly again. "You sound like you had some run-ins with the Bear of Markarth." He looked her over in concern after a while, as if he was already presuming that no one's meeting with Ulfric ended up well for them. At least no one's of her kind.

"More than I'd like," she confirmed, but she did not elaborate further.

"I would have thought that he'd be more thrilled with the Nordic legend walking the lands, killing the dragons for him," Cael pondered.

"He might have been, if I agreed to be used by him in his war," Aeyrin grumbled through gritted teeth.

"I'm sure that he won't be the last, little sparrow. It is admirable of you to refuse," he gave her another gentle smile. He always looked so sweet when he did that, but there was still this strange air of alluring mystery about him.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them as he led her back towards the tent where she had awoken before. His arm was still gently draped over her shoulders, but he was no longer pressing her to himself to warm her. The closeness was enough to ease the cold a little in any case and it was much more comfortable to walk like this.

Once they entered the tent, Aeyrin sat by the fire immediately to warm herself up further. She really hoped that her equipment would be ready soon. How long did it take them to clean it anyway? Maybe they just weren't used to dealing with all that metal.

Cael smiled at her while he watched her lean close to the fire eagerly, for a while. His expression seemed strangely pondering.

"I'm sure that your armor will be ready soon," he nodded at her, after a spell.

It was the middle of night already and she was eager to see Bishop. The thoughts of things going wrong with his mission were returning to her mind constantly during her whole stay at the camp. But there was not much that she could do before she got her clothes and armor back.

"I would like to give you something, my sparrow." Cael's face suddenly bore a determined expression while he said the words quietly, as if he had just made some resolute decision. He walked over to the fur bedroll by the edge of the tent only a second later and his hand slipped under the pillow.

He returned to her momentarily and knelt by her side, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

He revealed the object in his other hand, a delicate bracelet, silver and decorated with charms. Half of the charms looked exactly like those decorating the traditional Nordic amulets of Dibella – little drops with small amethyst stones embedded in them. The rest of the charms were clearly of Forsworn making – carved from bones into little delicate pinecones.

"These drops, they are the symbol of your goddess of beauty, right?" Cael asked her without really waiting for an answer while he began fastening the bracelet around her wrist. "These are the depictions of briar hearts. They are enchanted to return our mightiest warriors to us, to fight for our cause even after the Old Gods called them to their side. Their hearts are replaced by these briars and new life blooms in them."

That sounded odd. Was this some sort of necromancy?

"It is a symbol, my sparrow. I have found it in one of the pillaged camps of our people. The person who made this… they had hope of unity with your people. Hope that… perhaps… there could someday be an understanding between us," he looked up into her eyes as the fire flickered in his. "I give this to you as a reminder of this night. A reminder that there are those willing to listen, willing to empathize and… understand. A symbol of hope for the future."

He slowly raised her hand with the bracelet around the wrist towards his lips and he placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. She got completely lost in the moment, in the tender way in which he touched her, in the passion and hope in his eyes.

She suddenly felt a pit in her stomach. A strange guilt was gnawing at her for feeling this way. For feeling so… drawn to him.

But it was nothing more. A symbol. A symbol of understanding and friendship. Right?

"We do not have to be enemies, my sparrow. Not as long as we are willing to speak and to listen," his hand brushed her cheek briefly and a soft smile was playing on his lips. She couldn't help but wonder if the others in his tribe felt the same way too.

"Thank you, Cael. It's beautiful," she looked down on her hand, still enveloped in his. The bracelet was glittering beautifully in the firelight. "I promise you, I will not forget what you did for me," she returned his smile. His expression warmed her perhaps even more than the fire.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but, suddenly, a loud yell interrupted him, echoing from outside the tent.

They both jerked their heads towards the tent entrance instinctively. Not that they could see anything.

Cael got up on his feet and ran out first, heading towards the source of the commotion. She followed, as fast as she could, and ran out of the tent after him. She could hear fighting below the cliff where the camp perched and then a vicious angry bark.

Karnwyr?! Oh no!

Cael stood atop the cliff's edge, peering down into the fray, faintly illuminated by the moons and stars. Aeyrin quickly rushed over to him and looked into the same direction.

Two Forsworn were fighting viciously with Bishop and Karnwyr. One of them was sword-locked with Bishop in an intense power struggle, the other was trying to shake off the wolf biting ferociously into her leg.

"Is that…?" Cael turned to Aeyrin instantly with his brows creased. She noticed that his hand jerked subtly to the sword fastened to his flank.

"Cael, please, stop them!" she gripped his arm firmly to still his movement, but she let go in an instant. She didn't wait for his answer any longer and she ran alongside the edge of the cliff to make her way down.

"STOP!"

She heard Cael's voice, suddenly booming and strong, across the valley. The Forsworn stopped their attack instantly and even Bishop and Karnwyr got startled by that, pausing in their assault.

She knew that it was short-lived, though. She needed to make sure that they wouldn't attack again.

"Bishop!"

When he heard her call, Bishop turned his eyes away from Cael and located her instantly as she ran towards him down the cliffside. He seemed completely unconcerned with the Forsworn now. He sheathed his sword quickly and began running towards her to meet her halfway. The Forsworn looked like they wanted to stop him, but instead, they threw an uncertain look up at Cael who was still standing above them atop the cliff with a determined expression.

When she finally reached Bishop, Aeyrin threw herself into his arms immediately. Her hands draped around his neck and her feet were barely touching the ground as he firmly hugged her to himself, lifting herself up on his form. She could have sworn that she felt him shaking while his hands dug into her flesh desperately in a tight hug.

He murmured something about her 'being alright', but she couldn't make it out. His voice was muffled completely by her hair.

After what felt like a long while, her grip on him eased and she tried to dislodge herself from the embrace, but he didn't let up. He squeezed her to himself even tighter, unwilling to let go. Another long while had passed before his hold on her eased a bit, letting her step back onto her feet. He looked her up and down with palpably panicked confusion while his hands still rested on her hips gently.

"What the fuck, princess?" he breathed out in exhaustion and bewilderment both.

"R-right… it's a… long story. I'll explain everything." She gave him a wry smile, but before she could get into it, an angry voice interrupted her.

"Chief! What is this?! He attacked us! And he's a Nord!" the Forsworn woman yelled up at Cael while she still clutched her bleeding leg desperately.

"I didn't attack you! I told you I was going in to find her!" Bishop snapped at the woman instantly.

"And I told you, you weren't allowed in our camp!" she yelled back at him, still clutching her leg to try and stop the bleeding.

Bishop turned his head to retort, but Cael's surprisingly booming voice interrupted him again.

"ENOUGH!" the chieftain folded his arms across his chest with determination. "Get back to the camp and tend to your wounds. I will deal with this."

The Forsworn warriors grumbled considerably, but they obeyed. The man approached the injured woman and grabbed her into a bridal carry before he began walking with her back towards the camp.

"What the fuck is happening here? Why are you…?" Bishop scowled, whispering, as his eyes continued roaming up and down Aeyrin's body in her scant fur clothes. "You know what? Never mind. I…" he grabbed her again and pulled her back into a fierce embrace, clutching her as if his life depended on it. "I thought I lost you," his voice was barely audible now.

She felt so guilty. For spending so long in the camp while he was out there, looking for her. For leaving him so concerned. Did he really think that things were that dire?

"My sparrow," Cael's voice, now gentle again, called out to her from atop the cliff. Bishop released her from his embrace again reluctantly and his eyes widened at the familiarity with which the Forsworn had addressed her, then they narrowed dangerously as he peered up at Cael. "Meet me back at my tent, please."

Bishop's eyes widened again when he looked back at Aeyrin and a disturbed and worried expression appeared on his face.

She only gave him a reassuring smile and a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Come, Bish. I'll explain everything."

…

"I have no idea why he would do this… he just… attacked me… out of nowhere," Aeyrin shook her head in confusion while she relayed the events from the mine to Bishop.

They were nestled by the fire in Cael's tent. The chieftain himself was still outside, placating his people and explaining to them why it wasn't a terrible idea to allow an aggressive Nord into their camp. It must have been quite a task for that poor man.

Bishop only nodded somberly while he pressed her closer to himself by the fire. He didn't seem very surprised by what she had told him about Thongvor's ambush, but he was still clinging to her adamantly. His hands never left her, one way or the other, as if he was afraid that he could lose her again at any second.

He ran his finger gently over the dark bruise covering her entire neck. She said that Thongvor had choked her to prevent her from Shouting. He's never seen a mark like that before… maybe when he was choked with that fucking metal bar for Mercer's amusement. It seemed like all of his 'friends' were the same.

She had bruises all over her body, even more visible with how much skin she was showing. She must have gotten really caught off guard to end up beaten like that.

"What did they do to you, sweetness?" he scowled deeply while he carefully looked over every bruise, burn and scratch.

Aeyrin cringed in response and she shook her head for a while, as if she was refusing to even think about it, but then she took a deep breath and began explaining her injuries: "He wore a full Dwemer plate and he choked me with that armored hand… I… haven't really seen it yet… is it that bad?" She touched her neck lightly, careful not to hurt herself. Her entire neck was still so sore, but it no longer hurt to talk or breathe. "I couldn't heal it completely."

Bishop just nodded at her in response. He was sure that if he spoke, his voice would tremble. He couldn't stop imagining that fucker hurting her like that. And he couldn't stop imagining the much worse things that would have happened to her if Thongvor had managed to capture her.

"I… I managed to hit the other two men. I thought that I was gonna pass out then from the choking, but I managed to hit Thongvor in the head and he let me go. I Shouted at him, but I don't know what happened to him then. One of the other men attacked me and he threw me down to the mud. I couldn't breathe again… he was laughing and saying something about his 'boss'… I don't know what… I have no idea what they wanted from me. I think some of the mud got stuck in my throat… I was going to pass out again. I just barely felt him fall off me as the arrow hit him. I… don't really remember anything after that until I woke up here," she said morosely.

"Cael said that they had to resuscitate me… he said that Thongvor managed to limp off and that they were more concerned with saving me than chasing after him. They brought me back here, took my armor and clothes to get rid of the mud. That's why I'm… well…" she shrugged a little as Bishop's eyes roamed over her borrowed clothing again with a scowl. "He said that they followed us before. That they saw us fight against the dragon and against the tribe at the river. He said that Delphine attacked them."

"Yeah… fucking Delphine! Maybe they would have attacked anyway, but… fuck! She started another fucking battle before we were even done with the first one," Bishop shook his head angrily. He was rather surprised that these Forsworn didn't hold a grudge over Delphine's recklessness. He never thought that he'd be grateful for anything to any of these barbarians. And it still angered him a bit that they were the ones to save her… when he was supposed to be the one to watch her back, to keep her safe. But he was more angry at himself than anything.

"I stayed here for a while, waiting until they would return my things to me, but… well… you were faster," Aeyrin smiled a bit sadly. She felt so guilty that Bishop had to go to such lengths to track her while she was being swept away by Cael's passionate words.

"I am so sorry that I wasn't there, princess," Bishop murmured quietly.

"Don't be. We can't… you can't be there every time. I… should have been more wary… I just… this is all so…" her eyes glittered as she got overwhelmed by the events of their travels in the Reach. It was all becoming too much to handle. And she was more and more sure that she wouldn't be able to handle it much longer.

But Cael suddenly entered the tent, interrupting the somber mood, and Aeyrin tried to recompose herself quickly. She was unable and certainly unwilling to show such vulnerability in front of anyone but Bishop right now.

"I have… spoken to my people," Cael sighed while he sat himself by the fire opposite them with his eyes downcast. "They were already wary of having you here, my sparrow, but after the attack…"

She could see Bishop's scowl at the way that Cael addressed her, but he kept quiet. Maybe he was wary of stirring more trouble… fortunately.

"I didn't want to send you off into the night. You can stay here until morning, but my people will be guarding this tent to prevent any incidents," Cael nodded determinedly. It was no wonder that his people were wary of them, especially after Bishop's rather forceful insistence on finding her.

"I will return your equipment in the morning. And… I will need to take your weapons for safe-keeping," Cael looked at Bishop surprisingly sternly, considering his ordinarily gentle manner.

"Oh, fuck no! Who knows what you're planning!" Bishop snapped at him instantly, making Aeyrin wince in anticipation of another confrontation. Why couldn't he just agree? She didn't want to go back to Markarth now. She was so tired after everything. And… she really didn't want to run into Thongvor again. At least not right now.

"'Planning'? What is there to gain from killing you? You are hardly a threat to our cause and if anything, the sparrow has only been helpful," Cael explained calmly before he gave Aeyrin a gentle smile.

"I don't care! I don't trust you! As if you would help with no ulterior motives! She's not helping you with anything, and definitely not with your fucking 'cause'!" Bishop barked angrily. For some reason, Aeyrin could have sworn that there was something else hidden behind his yelling besides anger. He's been looking so rattled the whole time he was there. Was he really suspecting the Forsworn to plan on harming them or using them, or was he just as overwhelmed by the day as she was?

"Bishop, please. Let's just stay. Cael doesn't mean us any harm, I promise. Please…" she was sure that her voice trembled in exasperation. Bishop gave her a deeply concerned look for a while and then he turned back to Cael, scowling again.

"You better not pull any shit, Forsworn, or I swear, you won't live to regret it," he growled angrily, but he still took his sword and bow and handed them to Cael. She noticed that he didn't give him his hunting knife, but that was not unexpected. She wasn't going to point it out and cause more trouble.

"I have no interest in you, Nord," Cael scoffed derisively while he snatched the weapons quickly from Bishop's grasp. "Are you sure that you don't want me to throw him out, my sparrow? You might be better off."

"Stop fucking calling her that!" Bishop snapped and he almost got up on his feet before Aeyrin firmly pushed her hand against his thigh and gave him a tired, pleading look. She didn't even have it in her to be angry at his outbursts. The effects of her ordeal were finally hitting her with full force. She was busy letting herself get distracted by Cael, but now, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened before again. What she had allowed to happen.

What she was so powerless to stop.

Bishop gave her another concerned look and he let out a long defeated sigh a second later.

Cael raised his brow at him, waiting for a second to see if Bishop would snap again, but when he stayed quiet, Cael rose to his feet and nodded at them determinedly.

"I will sleep in Robin's tent and come back in the morning. Please, do not leave the tent. My people will not hear any excuses. We… will speak after you rest. Sweet dreams, sparrow," he gave her another gentle smile, ignoring Bishop completely.

"Thank you, Cael. For everything," Aeyrin returned the smile and a strange brief calm washed over her, a short-lived respite from her overwhelming anxiety. But it was gone the second the chieftain turned on his heel and left them alone in his tent.

"Why does he call you that?" Bishop growled angrily and his arm draped over Aeyrin's hip in a possessive gesture as he pulled her closer to him.

"I don't know. Does it matter? Can't you just… stop? He saved my life!" she snapped at him. Was that really what he wanted to concentrate on now?

Bishop's scowl turned into a forlorn look in an instant and he shook his head as if in disbelief at his own words: "Yeah… he saved you when I couldn't." If he wasn't so obsessed with his revenge on Mercer and Thorn, he would have been there to protect her. If he wasn't such a fucking coward, he wouldn't have put her in this danger at all. Her life would have been so much easier without him in it. But… he was too weak. Too weak to give her up, too weak to let her go. And now it was too late. He made her life a living nightmare. She'd be hunted by every scum in Skyrim incessantly and she didn't even know it.

He had to tell her what he's done to her.

There was no running from it now.

He swore to himself that he would tell her.

"Bish, you're not blaming yourself, are you? You didn't know! I went with that man because… because I was naïve… I should have…" she cast her eyes down and a barely subdued sob escaped her.

"Don't say that. You know that none of this is your fault. You can't let this get to you like that. I can't stand the thought of you getting all mistrustful and jaded because… because of other people's shitty behavior." Because of my shitty behavior. He collected her in his arms and placed her onto his lap in his firm embrace. He laid his head onto hers a second later and began stroking her elaborately braided hair gently.

"It is my fault, Bishop. I… I can't deal with this. I can't handle all this. Everything that's been happening. I… I feel so broken, Bishop," she whispered the words, unable to contain the tears of desperation that began rolling from her eyes. "Everything is going wrong. I'm supposed to save everyone from the dragons? I can't do anything anymore! I can't even… I couldn't even defend myself from Thongvor. I couldn't even control myself at the refinery and I couldn't… I couldn't even stand against a few soldiers taunting me. I couldn't even do right by Susanna… I…"

She cried desperately, clutching at his armor and hiding her face from him, her voice trembling. Once the dam broke, there was no stopping it. Everything seemed to bore down on her heavily once she stopped concentrating on this seemingly faraway world of tribes of passionate warriors and noble causes. Now her thoughts were all back in the cold North where nothing seemed to ever go right.

"It can't be me. I can't be the one they have prophecies about. I… I know I'm not the 'Last Dragonborn'. I… I'm not strong enough to handle any of this."

The horrible pit in Bishop's throat threatened to prevent him from speaking. Every word that she said seemed to break him apart, piece by piece. He clung to her desperately, scared to admit that he shared her fears. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she could handle anything this world threw at her. But how could she? How could anyone?

He couldn't.

"You are, princess," his own voice trembled too and his eyes began stinging uncomfortably. "You have to be strong enough. I will do everything to help you be strong enough. I… I can't lose you, princess. I can't. Please, it has to be you." His voice cracked in despair as he clutched her almost forcefully in his arms while she continued sobbing into his armor, listening to his words like a soft prayer.

She didn't expect this. He was like her steadfast rock, always consoling her, always reassuring her. It helped her so much, she was always so sure that that was what she needed. The last thing that she had expected was for him to break down beside her.

Why did it help her more than she had thought?

He needed her.

He needed her to be strong. He needed her to handle everything that threatened to break her. He needed her to survive. He needed her to be the person he loved, the person who loved him back, more than she ever thought she could.

She needed to be strong for him.

She swallowed the sobs and tilted her head up to look at him. He gave her a horribly unconvincing weak smile while his hand stroked over her cheek.

"We can do this together, love. We have to," he nodded at her, but she could see how uncertain and afraid he was. It broke her heart a little to see it.

She needed to be strong enough to fix it. It was an oddly comforting thought. If there was anyone for whom she could get through this, it was him. She nodded at him and leaned in to kiss him firmly, as reassuringly as she could muster. When she felt him relax a little bit in their embrace, it helped to reassure her even more, for some reason.

When she parted her lips from him, Bishop picked her up from the ground and carried her over to the bedroll by the edge of the camp. She huddled below the fur blanket quickly and watched him take off his armor in rushed motions before he joined her and took her back into his arms, hugging her desperately to himself.

He couldn't tell her.

He couldn't add this horrible burden to her. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

This was his mistake. This was his fault.

He had to be the one to fix it. And he had to be the one to protect her from the fallout.

This was not her burden to carry.

He pressed her closer to himself and her hands enveloped him in a comforting embrace in turn.

He had promised himself before that he would tell her.

But he couldn't.

And with every breath she took, every calm rise of her chest, he knew that it was the right choice to keep her from this despair. She didn't need more misery and fear on her mind. She didn't need more danger in her life, lurking around every corner.

She suddenly looked so peaceful – a stark contrast to the previous mood.

He wished that she could always look like that. Like nothing was worrying her.

It didn't matter what he had promised himself. This was the right thing to do.

He listened to her soothing breaths a little longer. Was she already asleep? Perhaps she was just as exhausted as he was after this horrible day. But he didn't want to sleep yet. He just wanted to listen. With every calm breath escaping her, he felt a little better. He knew that he was right not to tell her.

With every calm breath, his promise was forsworn.