Author's Note:

Dear all, thank you all again for your readership, wonderful comments, votes and kudos :) Only four chapters until the finish. I hope you're all excited and that you're going to stick around for the second book too ;)

This chapter includes a big part in the form of a flashback. It's signaled by the use of italics, therefore I had to put in the emphasis in a different way. I opted for capitalization, so I hope that the format isn't too disruptive with those, but it should be fine, I think :)

Now enough talk, and let's get to it. I hope you'll all enjoy the chapter.

Chapter CXLVII – A Lone Cabin

Bishop kicked down the old moldered door while he continued huffing and panting in exhaustion.

He'd been walking through the forest for more than an hour, barefoot and only in his trousers with Aeyrin clutched in his arms and covered in Karliah's cloak. At least she wouldn't freeze on the way. He didn't have anything else but his own body and the cloak to keep her warm. Everything was gone. Left back in those caves. They took everything from Aeyrin. And the only thing that the bandits had left Bishop with were his pants and, surprisingly enough, his rings – both the enchanted one from Delphine and the one he had received from Aeyrin. He was really glad that it wasn't taken. Maybe Thorn didn't bother with the trinkets. Or maybe he had planned to take them from him after he had cut off his fingers or something. But none of that mattered now. He would never do anything else to him. Not ever again.

Karnwyr found Bishop only a few minutes after he had left Thorn's hideout. He must have been waiting somewhere nearby and he was clearly anxious about the events. Not only did he watch Bishop leave into the caverns and never return, he must have gotten quite confused when he saw the scores of men following with Karliah. He greeted Bishop with relief, but it was very short-lived. When he noticed Aeyrin's unconscious body covered in blood, he began whining desperately at the sight.

But the wolf's desperation got replaced with renewed purpose soon enough when he had decided to take it upon himself to protect them all fiercely from anything that they would encounter on their way. Which, in the end, included a fucking bear of all things.

Karnwyr was beyond impressive as he evaded the beast's claws and bites deftly and kept sinking his teeth into its flesh at every opportunity. He was clearly aware of the fact that he had to fight alone. Bishop was not letting Aeyrin out of his arms for even a second. And he didn't have a weapon anyway – even if he was in any condition to fight, he would have to do it with his bare hands.

All that expensive enchanted equipment… lying wasted in that cave. But nothing was more important than getting through this alive.

Bishop was so tired through the trek, but he continued onwards. He couldn't rest – the forest was too dangerous. Thorn's men could win the fight, after all, and Bishop knew that instead of recuperating, they would hunt him down in the forest, wherever he may go, just to avenge Thorn. Besides, Aeyrin needed to be tended to. Nobody healed her back in that cave. Nobody would bother doing that – healing wasn't wasted on Thorn's victims, no matter how long he wanted to keep them around. Bishop needed to take her somewhere where he could help her. He couldn't stop.

There were priests in Falkreath at that small temple of Arkay near the cemetery, but it was so far away. And there was still the same problem. If Thorn's men won, they would not be safe in the city, not after what just happened. Thorn was usually keeping the bandits away from the cities. He was shrewd. He knew that it was not worth the trouble. But with revenge on their mind and the guard still possibly in their pockets, who knew what his remaining men would do? Besides, the priest would likely make Bishop leave Aeyrin all alone to rest. He was not letting her out of his sight. He had already made that mistake before, knowing the danger full well.

But none of this mattered anyway. Bishop knew just the place to go.

The old witch's cabin wasn't that far and hopefully the secret basement hadn't been looted yet. He was sure that there were healing supplies there.

He remembered the last time that he was there.

He was dragging Jules through the forest back then, no less frightened and furious than he was now. And just like now, Thorn was to blame. Jules was in no condition for jobs like that!

The witch could be a bit obnoxious, but she had always helped them at least. She was a bit more of a decent person than Bishop had been used to.

She took them to the secret basement the last time. It was full of remedies, potions and poultices. Jules needed special care when he was wounded. He was very prone to infections and he needed a healer's help. Someone with his condition would not have survived that, were it not for the witch.

Bishop knew that the woman was long gone now, but he still sorely hoped that her supplies remained. The only other avenue was an apothecary, or Aeyrin's remedies, stashed in her pack – both of which were in Falkreath.

At least here they would be hidden from any potential retaliation from the bandits.

At least here they would be left in peace and alone.

Bishop stepped into the small wooden cabin. The herb garden outside was trampled and neglected, so it was no surprise to find the cabin plundered of anything that could be of use. Even the beds were stripped of any mattresses and furs. Luckily, that was not the part of the cabin that he needed.

He found the cupboard that he remembered from the last time. The doors were pried open and the shelves were stripped of absolutely everything. He really hoped that no one had found the basement. This place seemed to be ransacked really thoroughly.

He was still holding Aeyrin in his arms as gently as he could while he leaned his thighs against the cupboard and tried pushing it aside.

A tired, pained grunt escaped him. It was so fucking hard to do the simplest things. He needed another healing potion, but he couldn't reach it without his hands free. Besides, he really didn't want to put Aeyrin on the filthy floor with her open wounds. And he definitely wasn't strong enough to hold her with one arm only.

With a lot of effort and panting, he finally moved the cupboard aside, revealing the trapdoor below.

He groaned at the thought of opening it. This would be even more trying than the cupboard. He lodged his foot into the metal ring handle with grim determination and tried to pull the door up.

It would not work that way. But the second the trapdoor was a little opened, Karnwyr rushed over to him and he began nudging his head into the crevice that had formed there. He waited patiently until Bishop managed to disentangle himself from the metal ring before he pushed the door open with his body.

"Thanks." Bishop threw him a weak gentle smile before he began descending down the steps into the basement with some difficulty.

Thank the fucking Gods! The witch's infirmary was still there, full of supplies.

He hurried over to a high cot that was placed near one of the stone walls and he finally laid Aeyrin down on it gently. He let out a groan of relief. His arms were so fucking sore and hurting. It felt like they would just fall off at any second. He quickly began rummaging in his pocket for one of the healing potions. He had considered leaving it for Aeyrin to drink when she would wake up, but he needed to stay awake and somewhat able to move. He needed to clean her up and dress her wounds. Who knew when she would wake up? He couldn't let those wounds get infected. He wasn't even sure if she could heal herself if they did. They had never had to deal with infections on their travels since Aeyrin usually took care of every scratch instantly.

But first, he needed to get rid of those fucking ropes at last.

A knife wasn't hard to find in that basement – there were several on a cupboard by the alchemy station. Bishop cleaned it on his trousers as best as he could before he approached Aeyrin again. He carefully lodged the knife below the ropes on her calves, keeping her legs in place with one hand, as he started to saw through the rope carefully. He knew that there were wounds under the ropes, the blood was making it rather obvious, and he needed to keep her as still as possible through the process. He could not afford to make her injuries worse.

When he finally sawed through all the ropes, he carefully pulled them off of her and looked at the damage. One of her calves had deep gashes over several places, forming an interrupted circle around her whole leg, as well as several dark black bruises.

A bear trap. Of course.

Fuck… she obviously didn't even get the chance to heal herself before the bandits got her. She must have been unlucky enough to be near some scouts, or a group ambushing travelers by the road. Or maybe she was near the hideout itself.

Bishop carefully turned her over then in order to dispose of the ropes on her arms. Luckily, the only injuries under there were some mild scratches from the rough material. When he was done with the ropes, he arranged her carefully on the bed. She still didn't seem to react at all, but she was breathing and her pulse seemed regular. He hoped that it meant that she would eventually be alright, but he didn't know much about shit like this. He didn't know how to tell how much blood she had lost or whether she was actually unconscious or just passed out or something. She would know better than him about this shit, but… well he couldn't exactly ask her now, could he?

He looked around for some clean rags and soaps. Everything in the shelves was covered with dust, but those were mostly potions and poultices, all in closed containers. When he couldn't see what he was looking for, he began rummaging inside the various drawers. The things in there were luckily spared the layers of dust and he eventually managed to find what he needed.

Now he needed to just go outside and get the water. He was really glad that he had taken the potion before. Dragging water out of a well in his state was not a great idea. At least now he didn't feel the constant pain everywhere.

He did still feel a little uneasy about leaving Aeyrin there, but he would just go outside for a minute. And it was not like he could make do without water.

Karnwyr stood up on his hind legs suddenly and he leaned his paws on the cot to study Aeyrin for a while with a sad whine. But soon enough, he got back down and sat by the cot with his back rigidly straight and eyes roaming over the room in alert diligence, as if he wanted to let Bishop know that he'd watch over her while he was gone.

Bishop leaned down to ruffle the fur on his head affectionately. At least he had someone to help him through this.

Karnwyr always knew when Bishop needed him the most, it seemed.

He felt a tinge of guilt at how much he had been neglecting his friend ever since he had started to spend his nights with Aeyrin – their hunts were suffering sorely for it. But now, somehow, he was sure that Karnwyr wasn't upset over it.

He loved her too.

…

At least the water was clean.

Bishop slowly ran the rag over Aeyrin's face, cleaning off the grime and blood. He was especially careful around those deep scratches there. They looked like claw marks or something. Like from a Khajiit or…

Fuck, he should really stop this.

Constantly imagining what had happened didn't help anything. It only made him more and more anxious and angry. Every time an image appeared in his head, filling his mind with ideas on how each specific wound got there, his blood practically boiled. He found himself regretting Thorn's mercifully quick death more and more.

But their survival was more important than revenge.

He should probably rather concentrate on what he would do when she finally wakes up.

He needed to confess to her, to tell her what happened, what he hid from her. She deserved that at least.

Then… then…

Fuck… how was she ever going to forgive him for this?

She must have been so upset when she found the notices. And then… having to go through this?!

Bishop's hand was still a bit shaky as he ran it towards her ear. He wasn't sure if it was from the exhaustion or from seeing her this hurt, or from the places his mind kept wandering. None of it was good. He couldn't stop the shaking, the anxiety, the fear and anger, all at once. Even the numbed pain and exhaustion were kind of a reprieve to concentrate on, rather than what was going on in his head.

He tried to clean off the blood from her ear, but there was so much of it. The rag was soaked already. He had to take another one out of the drawer in order to continue the process. That was definitely one irreparable damage, but… at least it was just the very tip. Thorn would have normally cut off her whole ear. Bishop knew why he didn't. It was systematic, he wanted to prolong this as much as he could. He would often do stuff like this with the members of his gangs – damage that didn't impair them but caused them enough pain. He just wanted Aeyrin to have all her senses still somewhat sharp while he… did stuff to her. And even if this was just a minor thing, in the face of what could have happened, the fact that Thorn got to do anything to her at all was making Bishop's teeth clench in fury.

But now, with Thorn finally dead, he had no one else to blame but himself.

He knew that he had made a mistake by not telling her everything. But now he couldn't help but wonder if he had always known and just… lived in perpetual denial. Maybe he was so afraid that Aeyrin would leave him that he had convinced himself that this was the only way.

Whatever other options there were to handle this mess, he had clearly chosen the wrong one, since it got them here.

He finally managed to clean her ear from the excess blood and he looked over the wound for a second before he quickly turned his eyes away. The idea of there being a permanent reminder of this night was… heartbreaking.

Not just for him, although remembering anything about Thorn was always grating to him, but… he was so worried about what this would do to her. He couldn't help but remember their talk after her ordeal under Ulfric's whip in Windhelm instantly. He didn't want her to get jaded, broken. It would be understandable, but he couldn't stand the thought. After everything that happened, the fact that he might never again see her like he used to, that he'd never again be with the person he fell in love with…

He knew that people changed, but… he didn't want her to. He wasn't ready for it. He needed her insufferably naïve optimism and her eagerness to help and to care about everything and anything.

He couldn't imagine his life without it now.

Maybe he was just being selfish again.

Maybe he just needed her to be like that because… because the person that she was would forgive him.

Would she? He wasn't even sure anymore.

What was wrong with him?!

Why did he constantly try to predict her reactions without letting her react on her own? He kept taking away her choices from her, just because he thought that she would make the wrong ones.

The wrong ones for him.

Words from the past rang in his head unpleasantly at the thought.

'You can't decide that for me! It is my life to endanger! Even if I don't have much of it left.'

Jules got so angry when he had found out just how much Bishop had been doing to protect him. How Bishop would grovel at Thorn's feet, how he would do anything that that fucker asked him to, just so that he didn't decide to put Jules to work.

And Jules got especially angry when he saw how much all of that was killing Bishop, how much he hated doing those things.

But he had to! If he hadn't, Jules would have died a lot sooner!

But… now it just seemed like Jules's words didn't really stick with Bishop.

He couldn't help himself.

He practically never found people who would actually mean anything to him. But when he did… he just couldn't help it. He had to do everything that he could have to protect Jules and he had to protect Aeyrin.

He knew that he would never stop doing that.

But… at least… at least he needed to give her a choice. At least, whatever happened next, he needed to tell her the truth and be honest with her so that they could always devise the least dangerous course of action together.

If there was to be any 'together' ever again.

He really shouldn't be thinking about that now.

It wasn't helping anything.

…

Bishop's eyes were constantly closing involuntarily and his strength was waning.

He could probably try to find some stamina potion on the shelves around, but he had no idea how he would make sure that he didn't accidentally drink some similar-looking poison or something. The bottles had no labels on them.

He didn't drink the last healing potion – he was saving it for Aeyrin, but the previous one was fortunately still in effect. He didn't feel that much pain.

But he was so damn exhausted.

At least he had been able to find the healing poultices in the drawers. They would have to suffice until Aeyrin would be strong enough to heal herself, or seek out a priest. He could tell that these weren't some poison in disguise – they looked and smelled just like the ones that Aeyrin had.

He gently dressed her wounds in the substance while he tried his hardest to think about anything else but how she had gotten them.

This place made him think of Jules a lot. Whenever he actually managed to divert his mind from Aeyrin's injuries and the uncertainty of what would follow when he told her the truth, he thought about him. About the last time when they were there.

And about how they got there.

He'd been rather bitter about Jules's insistence on going through with that stupid mission back then, especially after everything that Bishop had been doing to keep him away from all this shit.

Only now he seemed to realize why Jules was so… spiteful.

Aeyrin did the same thing after all.

Bishop's secrets seemed to bring it out in people.

But after everything that happened since him and Jules were sent back from the Guild straight to Thorn… he couldn't help himself.

...

"I did what you asked!" Bishop spat at Thorn with a piercing hateful glare.

Thorn's reply was never anything but a pleased smirk and a shake of his head. He was so fucking infuriating! Bishop wanted to wring his fucking neck and snap it so badly.

"Why the fuck should I keep doing this then?! When you still keep him in there?!" he yelled at Thorn again furiously. This was pointless! Thorn was just using him! He kept saying that he'd release Jules from that fucking pit after Bishop 'proved himself', but that asshole was just trying to torment him more and more.

He should just leave that fucking place. Let the bandits try and find him.

But he couldn't just leave Jules there.

"Maybe you should think about what I'm gonna do to you if you refuse," Thorn laughed at him maliciously.

"I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck! I'm not doing SHIT for you until you release him!" Bishop fumed at him. He didn't even want to imagine what condition Jules was in by now. He's been in that fucking pit for two weeks already! Alone in a pile of corpses, given only water and old stale food. A healthy person would likely not come out of that all too well, but Jules… this would take years off his already limited time, Bishop was sure of it.

If… if he wasn't already dead… and Thorn wasn't just keeping it from Bishop in order to use him, and keep him around for that precious bounty of his.

That fucking bounty! If it weren't for that, Thorn would hardly ever take such interest in him. Although… if it weren't for that bounty, he might have just killed him outright too…

"It's pathetic how easy you make it to manipulate you, Bishop," Thorn smirked at him mockingly before he rolled his eyes as if he was actually bored with this conversation. "Fine. Let's see how the whelp's doing, shall we? I'll get someone to look after him. I'm sure he'll be up on his feet soon."

What?!

Really? Thorn would really release Jules AND get him a healer?

That… that was way too easy.

Well… it wasn't 'easy'. It was a damned torture to go along with those fucking jobs. Bishop wanted to mess up on purpose so badly, to sabotage Thorn at every step. But he couldn't risk him taking it out on Jules. He knew that the fucker would do that all too happily.

Thorn started walking across the suspended bridge that was hanging high above the cavern's lake while Bishop followed him on uncertain feet. This was odd… was Thorn really going to release Jules? Had he finally realized that Bishop would not let this go on?

He followed Thorn silently through the halls of Lost Knife while every bandit they passed greeted Thorn with eagerness. Pathetic suck-ups. They were all sniveling around him, pissing themselves about accidentally getting on Thorn's bad side.

Well… he couldn't really blame them.

Thorn's bad side was not a good place to be. He was pretty sure that the eternal nightmares of the Quagmire were preferable to being on Thorn's bad side.

They finally stopped by the corpse pit and the horrible stench hit Bishop instantly. Fuck… every fucking time that he was allowed to come here, it made him sick to the stomach. And it wasn't just the stench. The fact that Jules was being kept in there was… more than he could handle.

At times, he even looked forward to Thorn's jobs. At least he could think about whatever that fucker had him doing, whoever he was supposed to be killing, robbing, kidnapping or whatever Thorn wanted. At least he didn't have to think about this fucking place.

"Still alive, whelp?!" Thorn laughed, yelling into the pit as his voice echoed across the walls.

There was only one answer. A strained cough and raspy wheezing.

Fuck. Bishop would have preferred another session in Thorn's torture rooms to hearing that.

"Looks like he's still kicking. I'm sure we have a capable healer around. Like I said, he'll be up on his feet in no time…" Thorn smirked again before he leaned a little closer towards Bishop and his voice suddenly quieted, threatening. "Up on his feet and ready for a proper job. I was thinking Logrum's party. Thoughts?"

Bishop's blood turned cold as he stared incredulously at Thorn.

He KNEW that it was too easy!

That motherfucker!

Jules could NOT do his jobs! Thorn knew that! And Logrum's party?! Those fucks that ransacked small settlements and farms to drag back more victims for Thorn?!

He knew that Thorn had only said that to rile him up…

But it fucking worked!

Jules would return to that damned pit voluntarily rather than doing Thorn's jobs. And even if by some miracle his brother acquired a sense of self-preservation, he would die instantly on any mission that Thorn had sent him on!

Bishop could not let that happen.

Thorn was counting on that, and it was so fucking painful to play into his cards. But what choice did he have?

"Boys, get the whelp out and get him one of the healers. Bishop and I have his next job to discuss, don't we?" Thorn grinned at him victoriously.

He only nodded, clenching his teeth.

No other options…

…

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Bishop stormed into the tiny room with a fierce glare on his face.

Jules was already fastening some armor on, checking over every buckle. He turned his eyes towards Bishop briefly, but he didn't speak as he began concentrating back on his armor again only a second later.

"Why did Thorn cancel my assignment all of the sudden?!" Bishop fumed once more. There was not really any point in asking, he had figured out what happened already.

"You mean MY assignment? Well, wouldn't you know, I decided to handle it myself after all," Jules scoffed derisively.

"And how the fuck did you get it into your head that you would survive it, you fucking ice-brain?!" Bishop yelled at him. Why would Jules do this?! Bishop's worked so fucking hard to keep him out of this shit! He's done EVERYTHING to keep him safe! Why would he just decide to ruin it?!

"Don't worry about me, Bishop. I'm up for anything. Elisie's been taking good care of me," Jules smiled. It was impressive how calm he remained during the exchange. Bishop assumed that he took the assignment because he was angry…

And what the fuck was he talking about anyways? He wasn't 'up' for ANYTHING!

"What?! Who?! What the fuck are you talking about?! This is not about what you're…," Bishop screamed at him furiously, but his outburst got interrupted in an instant as Jules turned to him briskly with an angry scowl etched on his face.

"Elisie. My healer. I talk about her constantly. Who else would I talk about when the two of you are the only people that I ever see?!" Jules gritted his teeth. "And you know what? This is EXACTLY what's wrong! You don't even know what I'm telling you anymore! You walk around like a fucking ghost! Like you're fucking dead already! I barely get a word out of you anymore! And for what?! I heard you talking to Thorn! I heard him threaten you that he'd put me to work if you didn't do whatever the fuck he wanted you to! Why wouldn't you tell me?!" Jules's angry scream turned almost desperate towards the end. His dark eyes were so accusing at that moment.

What the fuck was he angry about?! Bishop was keeping him safe!

"Why would I?! What the fuck does it matter?!" Bishop threw his arms up with a scoff. "You were safe! And you're not fucking 'up for anything'! You barely survived after that pit! You think that I'm gonna let everything go to waste now?!" He clenched his fists angrily. He didn't understand why Jules was even arguing. Didn't he get that Bishop was doing this all for HIM?

"You can't decide that for me! It is my life to endanger! Even if I don't have much of it left..." Jules shook his head. "You think that I'd be grateful that you turn yourself into a tortured husk to keep me safe?! You think I'd be fucking happy about that?! Why couldn't you just talk to me?! We could… we could have figured something out together. We always used to…" his voice cracked slightly when he finished his outburst and he quickly averted his eyes from Bishop.

Bishop's stomach clenched uncomfortably at his words, but he knew that there was no point to what Jules was suggesting. Bishop knew him too well, Jules would never let him carry all the burden himself, even if they both knew that it had to be that way. There was nothing to talk about. Bishop was doing the right thing for his brother.

There was no other option.

"Forget it, Bishop… I'll… I'll talk to you later…" Jules slumped his shoulders when he got no response and he turned on his heel, intent to head out of the room, past Bishop.

'Talk to him later'?! He would DIE later! What the fuck was he thinking?!

"I'm coming with you."

…

Jules was insane! His condition got so much worse after his stay at the pit. He could die instantly!

That girl… the healer… what did Jules call her again? She had told Bishop all about Jules's condition. How much worse his breathing had gotten, how even a minor blood loss could kill him, how each of his bones could break with some pressure on it. By the way she made it sound, Bishop was surprised that Jules could even walk!

He must have been doped up on potions, but even now, Bishop could see the strain that the long trek across Skyrim has left on him.

Idiot… why would he EVER agree to do this? Had he no survival instincts at all?!

"So… tell me about the other jobs you did for me," Jules asked him bitterly.

Pfft… as if he really wanted to hear that.

"No," Bishop retorted sternly.

"Wow. An entire word! What did I do to earn that?" Jules scoffed while shaking his head in annoyance.

What the fuck did he expect?! How would HE like it if Bishop probed him about some shit that he didn't want to get into? If that was what he wanted, he would get it.

"You wanna talk? Fine. Why don't you tell me what you've been doing all those days in that pit with your corpse buddies?" Bishop barked at him sharply. That would at least shut him up. No point in dragging out…

"Thinking… mostly…"

Bishop's eyes went wide at Jules. Did he just start talking about it to spite him?

"About everything that happened, you know… things I regret. It felt like the right time to do that. I was… I was pretty sure that that was it for me…" Jules didn't look at him. He kept staring into the ground as they marched onwards through the Falkreath forest.

But Bishop couldn't stop looking at him with his eyes still wide. Maybe… maybe Jules actually wanted to talk about that. Maybe… he needed to talk…

"I was… thinking about Raven. If… if something happened to him… after…" Jules sighed. His eyes were full of sorrow.

What?! He spent all his time, while he was almost dying, thinking about that scumbag?!

"Why do you care?! That two-faced fucker betrayed us!" Bishop snapped at him instantly and his fists clenched involuntarily.

"He betrayed YOU," Jules smirked a little, but then shook his head again with a somber expression on his face. "He was trying to save people. His friends."

"He was trying to save HIMSELF," Bishop scoffed hatefully. Why was Jules still thinking so highly about that jackass?

"I was… also thinking about what would happen to you," Jules sighed after a few seconds of silence. "About what you would do when I was gone. If you would just get angry and do something stupid… probably. Or… or if you would realize that it was not just MY life and freedom that were worth fighting for," he shook his head morosely and an affirmative bark and a low whine interrupted him for a second when Karnwyr nuzzled his leg.

"Yeah… you get it, boy, don't you?" Jules gave the wolf an affectionate smile.

Bishop felt a lump forming in his throat, making him uncomfortably aware of his sudden inability to speak. Did Jules really think that Bishop didn't care about his own survival? Of course he did! Didn't he? He didn't want to think about that.

They shouldn't be talking about this at all. It was pointless. Bishop needed to focus on the job. The talk was just distracting him. And it didn't help anything. Not in the way that his efforts did, in any case.

At least they were almost there.

"Alright. Stay here. I'll go take care of this," Bishop nodded determinedly at Jules.

That job was meant for him anyway. He was supposed to scout the entire area for any lurkers. Stealthily. He needed to kill them all as covertly as possible, in order to not scare the main target.

Wasn't Thorn's main base near Falkreath? How had he let a ragtag group of wannabe bandits take hold of a portion of the woods anyway? And why the fuck would he sent Bishop here to take care of them all the way from Lost Knife?!

Bishop wasn't sure if he should be flattered that Thorn valued his stealthy scouting skills or whether he should be worried about being 'valued' by someone like Thorn. Or maybe that fucker just wanted to make the job extra annoying? That was an option too.

Jules threw Bishop an incredulous look and there was a hint of hurt in his eyes, before he scowled deeply. "No. This is MY job, remember?"

What the fuck was he thinking?! He couldn't do this! He KNEW that! Why was he trying to piss Bishop off?!

"Just stop it already! I'm not playing this game with you! You know that I'm doing this to protect you!" Bishop yelled at him.

"How do you still not get it?!" Jules screamed right back with both hurt and fury in his eyes. "I don't want you to protect me! Not like this! I don't want you to fight for me, you idiot, I want to fight WITH you! Why can't you just…"

Jules's heartfelt outburst got interrupted soon enough. An arrow swishing through the air suddenly, snapping them both to attention.

It hit straight at Jules, piercing his shoulder all the way through.

FUCK!

Bishop drew his bow instantly, and he tried to ignore the yelp of pain from his brother while his eyes scanned the surroundings to quickly locate the man who was hiding in the thickets, barely visible with how far away from them he was. They were being too loud, they should have suspected that someone would hear them.

Bishop managed to shoot the man quickly, felling him with a single arrow, but the damage was already done. Jules was bending over slightly and constantly wobbling on his feet. He rushed over to him, ignoring the worried whine from Karnwyr, and he promptly yanked the arrow from Jules's shoulder instantly.

Jules grunted in pain at the action and his hand shakily reached for his own shoulder.

"Don't touch it. Let me," Bishop's voice no longer carried any note of anger. He tried to stay calm, to think rationally and not to panic Jules any further. It was NOT working for his own panic though. He reached under Jules's armor and he tore a shred of cloth from his tunic. He quickly tied it around the wound in a tight bandaging. He couldn't let Jules lose any more blood than necessary.

"B-Bishop? My… M-my head's spinning." A visible shiver ran through Jules's body and he stumbled a little, almost falling into Bishop's arms.

"Hey. Look at me." Bishop's arms supported him quickly and he tried to give him an encouraging smile. "You know where we are, right? You remember? When we first came to Skyrim?"

"Y-yeah… the witch…" Jules's eyes widened a bit with a hint of hope in them.

"See? You're gonna be just fine. We'll just get to the witch. Easy," Bishop smiled at him again before he draped Jules's healthy arm around his shoulders and began helping him along the way. Hopefully Karnwyr would be alert to any more dangers.

Pfft… 'easy'…

As if anything in their lives was ever easy.

…

Bishop gently draped a blanket over Aeyrin, tucking her in to keep her warm.

He still had to be careful not to let the fabric touch the dressed wounds too much. It would have been a lot better if she were awake and could help out with her magic.

It would have been better for a lot of reasons if she were awake.

As scared as he was of her reactions, he knew that it had to be done already.

He was still the same idiot as he had been before, all these years later. He hadn't learned a thing.

He was just glad that he had realized that before Aeyrin shared Jules's fate in the end, all because of his secrets and mistrust.

He wouldn't let that happen.

It was time to finally talk. To finally be honest.

Bishop let out a tired sigh as he walked over to one of the walls in the small basement. He leaned on it, giving his back a brief reprieve, before he slid down against it to finally give his legs some rest too.

He might as well dress his own wounds as well. There was no harm in it now when Aeyrin was taken care of as much as she could be with Bishop's inexpert 'healing'.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged and leaning against the wall. Karnwyr approached him tentatively and he slowly curled next to him, placing his head on his leg with a low whine, while Bishop began rubbing the soothing poultice into his wounds.

They were starting to ache again. The potion's effects must have been dissipating already.

But it was fine, he could handle it. Aeyrin could definitely use the last potion more than him. Her wounds looked like they had been disturbed a lot of times, and the dirt caught in them…

Fuck, stop thinking about this already!

Again he was trapped in the same fucking loop of thoughts.

Either he was wondering about every sick and gruesome detail of what Thorn might have done to her. Or he kept thinking about her reaction when she'd wake up or when she would hear the truth. Sometimes he was thinking about how he was still making the same stupid mistakes that he had made to protect Jules. Even having it screamed at his face didn't seem to make it through his thick skull back then.

Well… he would definitely have it screamed at his face again soon enough.

He kind of hoped that he would.

He wanted to see her angry again. He wanted to see her yell, to scowl, laugh, or blush.

Anything but this.