Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): ANGST. High levels of hurt/comfort, too. Thalmor, Canon-typical everything.

And so we stray further and further from the plot..!

Also, for those who are not aware of it: This story is gonna be Gay. As. Hell.

Last time…

We pass through, leaving Brynjolf and the Ragged Flagon behind. Leaving me alone with a fuming Housecarl who turns dark eyes on me the second the door shuts, lips drawn into a tight line and fury in every square inch of her expression. Well, shit.

Chapter 42 – What I want…

But before I can step up in my defence in any way, shape, or form, the Altmer in the Elven armour takes Rayya's attention away from me. When the Thalmor smiles darkly and murmurs 'too easy' as she approaches, my Housecarl sends me a withering glare, poking my chest harshly with a single, flame-spewing finger.

I didn't even know she knew spells.

"This. Isn't. Over."

I give her a smile that probably looks more like a terrified grimace, eyes wide and sweat beading down my brow in fear as I hold up my hands pleadingly. "Of course."

Then the High elves descend upon us like crows descend on rotting meat and we're forced to jump apart and split up, taking down the agents and dodging spells like crazy as we go. Now no longer caring for whatever reputation Rayya holds me to, I resort to playing dirty.

Not the 'kick in the shins'-sort of dirty, but the 'kick sewage water into your eyes and then shove my other foot in your family jewels'- level dirty.

It gives me a weird sort of glee, to see a proud Thalmor Wizard's face crumble comically before he clutches his crotch with his Sparks-spell still active.

Grinning with an instinctual wince of sympathy, I shove him off the ledge, not waiting to hear the crack of bones meeting unforgiving stone as the blade of my axe meets an Elven sword near my left side, the Altmer growling at me with livid gold eyes and it's absolutely thrilling when my other axe swings down and –

The fight is over far quicker than I'd like, and I quickly loot the corpses of anything interesting before moving on, not bothering to exchange barbs with, or even glancing at Rayya since the woman is too mad at me to respond anyway.

I mindlessly down a health potion, grimacing at the taste only briefly, though I really should be used to it by now. The giddy feeling that always fills my body with jitters and excitement not unlike an adrenaline rush leaves me faster when I drink a potion, or eat something that isn't meat or fish of any sort.

Perhaps it's the dragon instincts finally getting a chance to kick in – Oblivion only knows how many times I've intimately experienced dragons in their battle modes.

I think with wry amusement, readjusting the grip on my bloodied axes and licking my lips clean of the blood I'd coughed up after that one Wizard caught me with a shock spell to the chest. I'm getting too used to receiving and then disregarding injuries that would have Ma confine me to bed for weeks without preamble.

But… that's neither here nor now. Now, I have to get to Esbern, since the Thalmor obviously aren't going to stand around and wait until I conveniently arrive.

"…"

For a few moments, I only stare in disbelief. The room, with two levels and far too many arches and doors and gates, would have taken me quite some time to fully explore in the hopes of finding the elusive Blade.

… The sole door with at least ten locks on it, made of heavy wrought steel and with a single, small sliding door at eye height, makes my job impossibly easy.

I blink once more, before jarring myself back into motion, leaving the two lowlifes in the room in Rayya's capable hands as I walk up to the incriminating evidence of someone trying to hide from something very, very dangerous.

"Go away!"

Why, thank you for showing such courtesy. At least the sliding door is open, allowing me to face the man who calls himself 'Esbern' clearly.

"Esbern. Open the door. Delphine send me." No use trying to negotiate something – if he won't let me in, I will leave and tell Delphine I found him. If the Thalmor get here before she does, it isn't my problem.

Luckily – though he doesn't know what I'm thinking of – for Esbern, the man considers my words seriously. "Delphine..? How do – So you've finally found her. And she led you to me. And here I am, caught like a rat in a trap."

I sneer at the inane words. If he's smart, I might grow to like him. If he tries to use or manipulate me, I'm cutting all ties with these 'Blades' and start helping the Greybeards, Xrib be my witness. "We'll both be rat feed if we don't leave, now." I press him, and he nods absently several times before startling.

"Oh, right, yes, of course… Now where did I put those…"

When he opens the door, I don't step inside, I only wait and keep an eye out for more threats – and Rayya's temper. She's still fuming, absolutely livid. And I'm distantly aware that it's my own fault, though I want to yell at her that I didn't exactly choose to join up with a group of cultist assassins. I have a feeling though, that she'll have her answers… One way or another. I rubbed off on her a little, I'm afraid.

Once Esbern joins our ragtag group, having gathered some stuff from around his room, I quickly lead us back to the Ragged Flagon, the man quietly observing my bloodied figure and weapons, something strangely intense in his gaze as it weighs heavily on me.

The new wave of Thalmor are almost too easily dispatched with the strange, ragged man at our side.

Or well, the strange, ragged man and his gigantic ice atronarch.

The Ragged Flagon is almost empty, but I only pause once we're past the sign, on the other side of the room, before turning to the old human. "You… Dragonborn. Is it really true?" Inclining my head slightly, I glance at the bar, where several pairs of eyes are still watching my every move, even more warily than before, Brynjolf being the sole exception, the interest and curiosity clearly written all over him.

Tsk. Dealing with thieves now, am I? I wonder how much further I can stray from what few moral laws I abide by before I'm on the path of no return.

And perhaps I'm already there.

"Let us talk properly in clean air." I suggest, and the Blade only nods silently again.

…

"You… Are not what I expected." Sitting next to him in a shadowed corner of the graveyard, the statue of Talos looming over us and Rayya keeping watch a few feet away, still able to hear our conversation in the crisp autumn air, I can't help but scoff.

"We can't always have what we want."

I can't have my family, or my people, or Marcurio, or some peace of mind, or my friend's safety… Aye, I've not spoken truer words in quite some time.

Esbern's eyes are wise and knowing, a different sort from Marcurio's sharp intelligence, or Ondolemar's hooded gaze. "Nevertheless," the greying man states, "This is far more important than even she realises. If you truly are Dragonborn, then… Then there might just be hope for us, after all. For so long, all I could do was watch our doom approach, helplessly."

Frowning slightly, I shift to get more comfortable, the sticky crimson on my face and hands drying, leaving me wishing for a bath and a vacation. "The dragons, I presume?"

"Pah! Dragons, no, they can be killed. The Blades killed many, in their early days. No, the dragons are merely the final portent of the End of Days."

And there, in the shadow of the human-turned-god that caused the Nords to start a civil war, in the thief-infested, filthy city of Riften under a cold, watery sun, I stopped breathing.

Well, for a stunned second, anyway.

With a loud whoosh of air, I let the moment pass, though the blood has drained from my face and my hands are shaking ever-so-slightly.

All of a sudden, it feels more real.

Not like fighting for my life every day hasn't felt real enough.

But my destiny of fighting Alduin.

It's one thing to hear about it only in prophecy.

It's another matter entirely when someone else comes to me with it, with the expectation of me actually fulfilling the unfinished prophecy.

"The prophecies." I breathe.

He seems surprised that I've heard of them at all, but agrees solemnly, turning grim.

"Alduin has returned. The Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! None can escape his hunger, not here, and not in the afterlife. Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him!"

Perhaps I am not thinking clearly, but…

I swat him on the back of the head, even though Ma would have given me the scolding of a lifetime for so blatantly disrespecting a scholar and elder.

"How about you stop that doom-driven thinking and figure out a solution, instead? Delphine was under the impression you were intelligent." I bite, harsher than I intended.

I've been annoyed lately, angered by how people and 'gods' alike are intent on pulling my strings from all sides, expecting me to dance to the tune they set for me.

All I ask, is a forge, a warm bed, and a good meal made by someone I can share it with. Instead I get trouble whichever way I turn and dragons carving marks into my soul when I eat theirs… After they attack me, no less. Scowling at the sky, I wait for the aghast man to catch up.

"I am one of the most esteemed dragon scholars in all of Tamriel. I have lived without hope for such a long time, that I forgot myself." He states calmly, and I glance back at him to see him… perfectly calm.

Which only serves to annoy me further.

I bite the inside of my cheek, sighing softly. Great, now I feel guilty on top of everything else. Esbern keeps his disappointed, grandfatherly face on as he rises with some difficulty.

"For now, we must make way to Riverwood."

"I have business in Solitude that cannot wait." I disagree, standing as well and brushing the statue as I go, the sudden blue glow startling not only me, but the other two as well as a rush of power, tingling at the back of my throat, engulfs me briefly.

I waste a few precious seconds staring blankly at the face of Talos, before deciding that I've had enough mystical stuff today and ignoring the light.

"I want to visit some friends here in Riften and then make my way there as fast as possible."

Esbern frowns. "Perhaps… Since this was sprung on you so suddenly, I might have a compromise. I shall head out to Riverwood by myself, and will meet Delphine there. In five days, we shall see you at Karthspire, in the Reach. It's not too far from the road to Solitude, and won't keep you long, I assure you." I quickly take inventory of our little group.

There's me, bloody and wearing dragon armour, carrying far too many valuables on my person to be healthy. Then Rayya, still angrier than I've ever seen her and out for answers I don't want to give, her hands twitching over her scimitar and her glares reserved only for me. Esbern is gaunt, pale, skinny, and dressed in nothing more than rags. He won't survive on the road for a day.

I pull out a coin purse and hand it to him, keeping my expression carefully blank. "Get yourself something warm to wear and supplies. I do not feel our agreement is fair. I was… harsh, in my treatment of you, where you have done nothing to warrant the aggression."

Not you. Delphine. Delphine and Astrid and the Jarls and the Greybeards and Ulfric…

"Rayya will help you get to Riverwood safely, after I've talked to her."

…

"You're with them. Since when?"

"Falkreath. And not by choice."

"Were you forced? Coerced? Did they threaten to kill those you held dear?"

"I was brought to their hideout and up to my neck in trained killers. I like living."

"You should have died."

A strange feeling of emptiness and dimmed frustration wells up inside my chest. It twists my stomach, it's ugly, and it makes me feel sickened. "This conversation is over. Leave with Esbern, accompany him wherever he goes, and keep him safe. Consider it my last order as your Thane. Rayya…" I pause, closing my eyes briefly and sighing.

"I will consider you a friend, always. Please, in the light of what we've been through together, heed this one request of mine, not as your superior, but as your travelling companion. Be free. Do what you want. Do not let anyone dictate the choices you make. One day, you might not be given a choice in the first place."

I watch her nod, tight-lipped and eyes softening, fogging up like warm air on cold glass before she abruptly turns and leaves, following Esbern out the gates in Shor's Stone's general direction. It… hurts, to let her go. But I know that, much like Lydia, she never wanted to be a Housecarl. She told me herself, after all.

Five days to Karthspire. I grimace, walking along the outside of the city walls towards the river to wash up at last. Esbern's courteous, at least. I… suppose it can't hurt. It'd be folly to get myself into more trouble than I am right now, but – No, it can wait.

The doors to the Bee and Barb look anything but inviting. Still, I push them open. It's warm and merry inside, with some guards having their break, and the regular patrons rallied around the bard for more songs as the mead flows. I stand silently in the doorway for a moment, before forcing my feet, glued to the floor, to at least take a few steps to avoid getting in anyone's way. The trepidation settled deep inside my body is almost palpable, my hands clammy and my ears twitching at every movement I spot.

Abruptly, I sink down onto the bench next to Marcurio, not daring to look at the mage – hah, as if he isn't the first and only thing in here that holds my attention for over a second.

He glances my way once, then has to do a double take, spewing a mouthful of mead all over the polished, worn wooden floorboards. "I expect you clean that up!" Keerava barks from her usual place behind the bar, even as she gives me an unsettlingly broad grin. "Welcome back, Fjaldi. Hadn't thought I'd see you here so soon."

I let myself play along, chuckling softly even as I shove over the coins for a bottle of ale. "Neither had I. Funny, how things go." How some deplorable fate insists on playing with me.

"What brings you to this ratty little corner of Skyrim today?" The Argonian continues conversationally, and I can sense the underlying need for gossip. So I gesture vaguely around me, uncorking the ale carelessly.

"Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. Dragons are bad for my health, it seems. Who'd have figured, right?"

She laughs throatily. "Too true. I've heard the best cure is some good arrows and a sharp blade." I raise an eyebrow.

"Arrows? No thanks, I'd rather the dragon."

Finally, Marcurio has had enough of watching us, and watching me ignore him, as he grabs my arm and drags me up the stairs, throwing some coin at Keerava for the room. Dumbfounded by the wizard's sudden aggression, I let him haul me up, into the far room, which he locks behind him before turning to me, crossing his arms.

"Well, well now, look what the horker dragged in." He drawls lazily. "Still running around Skyrim causing trouble, no doubt?"

I can only shake my head sadly, trying not to let too much show through my half-assed grin. "Trying to get rid of the sources of my own troubles, at the moment. It's a full-time job." I glance up at him, not quite daring to hope too much. In for a coin, in for an ingot.

"Well, maybe a little less if I had a master of the Arcane Arts at my side."

The beaming grin that crosses his face has my heart ache with an acuteness that's as disorienting as it's terrifying. I quickly dive into my pack to avoid meeting his eyes. It's… weird, how my frustration seems to dissipate just being in the same room as the Imperial. "I'd say you've come to the right place, friend! After all, I, Marcurio, am -"

"I was thinking more of Onmund, really." I cut through his spiel, finally digging up the crinkled letter said mage gave to me and handing it over to him. Marcurio accepts it curiously, settling down on the bed next to me as I draw my knees up in a cross-legged position, waiting for the mage to notice.

When the coin finally drops, his slack-jawed expression is worth every septim for it to be painted onto a canvas, framed and hung over the mantelpiece in some fancy manor. I cackle, for once not thinking about my never-ending list of problems or the threat of the World's End pressing down onto my shoulders. Nearly rolling off the bed with laughter, I watch through teary eyes as Marcurio exclaims and curses, shocked and then indignant before moving to being pleased.

"Y-Your face! Xrib's Forges, you should have seen your face!"

Now, the mage also snickers. "I bet he charges triple of what I do. As per our previous agreement – a hundred septims. Four hundred once I've proven 'worthy of investing'." The mercenary grins, before turning more serious, the smile fading and his dark brows creasing. "Or I'll come with you for free, if you tell me what triggered you to leave without Erandur and I so suddenly." Like an elk in Magelight, I stare at him.

"What makes you think…" I clear my throat when my voice gives out in a high-pitched squeak, "What makes you think it had something to do with you?" His brown eyes, his beautiful, painful, brown eyes look into mine.

Taking a deep breath, I move.

…

I'm such a fucking coward. Sithis, take me to the Void so I may be freed of my self-inflicted idiocy.

Behind me, Marcurio plays with the coin I gave him, twirling a lone Septim between his long fingers as he watches me from the corner of his eye worriedly.

I clear my throat for the umpteenth time this hour, ears still droopy in a clear sign of my detrimental emotional state. "We make for Karthspire. R… Some associates of mine will meet us there. I'm not sure what the point is, but keep yourself ready for possible threats while we're there."

Those too-intelligent brown eyes don't leave the back of my head until we've set up camp and they succumb to sleep. I stare up at the night sky with a sigh, fooling myself into thinking the wetness running down my cheeks are just droplets of rain. Faintly, I recall a time where I would sit, staring at the sky with my hand held by Ma's, as well as a time where I'd hold mead instead, the warmth of a companion at my side as we discussed this very sky.

Now, I sit and stare upwards, not seeing the stars, wondering when the night stopped being the calm haven I needed it to be.

I want to go home.

Do I really have a place to call that, though?

A/N: aand that's it for today. I have woefully little time to edit, so I might get back to this chapter later. If I do, I'll mention it. Stay tuned for next week! I'm planning to speed up the storyline a bit and, well, scramble some quests beyond recognition. You'll just have to wait and see.