Chapter 40: Look Again

Hadvar's grief over Ralof was plain now that I knew to look for it. While he didn't speak of his friend's death again, I noticed a sorrow I had not seen before in him in every move he made.

I was no expert on grief so I didn't try to force his feelings out of him, for what would we do then? We had neither the leisure time nor the desire to be immobilised by our sorrows. So, while I longed to ease his strife; to ask him more about their connection so that he might remember Ralof as the friend he once knew, I kept my questions to myself.

I remained with him while he prepared to leave for Solitude, and helped him to dress in his Legion armour. I focused on what his report to the General might entail, and how long he thought soldiers might take to gather in support of Whiterun. I was aware now that planning for the future helped him to feel secure and confident, and if it would help to distract him, I would plan with him.

I talked of anything that didn't relate to our lost loved ones, and would have readily continued talking to him in this manner long into the night, had the Divines permitted it. But as Hadvar had said before he'd asked to kiss me; our time was too short.

I understood now that when he had spoken of our time, Ralof's execution had been fresh in his mind. He had meant it in the context of the briefness, the fragility of our very lives, though I had not realised it. But it explained his desperation; his fervour; his desire to make love to me then and there, despite what he had promised to me, and himself, the previous night.

"I'm ready," he announced quietly, standing tall and shouldering his pack. His expression was flat and I could tell just by looking at him that his mind was already miles away on what my audience had set in motion. Maybe it was better this way, otherwise he would have to think about what we had learned, and the past.

I stood at once, faltering as I made to step towards him; yearning to hold him, but not wishing to make our good bye any more difficult than it had to be. "Must you leave at once?"

Hadvar nodded and said nothing. His eyes had that faraway look about them as they flickered over me sadly, and I dipped my head, unable to bear his gaze as I felt my throat grow thick with tears.

Convince him to stay the night, I prompted myself. It would not be a great challenge to change his mind, and we could take comfort in each other; put off the wants of the world for a few more hours. I knew that I could convince him to stay. But it would have been for the wrong reasons, and selfish to boot.

Legion boots entered my line of sight and I glanced up hastily, flushing at where my thoughts had brought me, but asking him to stay anyway, with my eyes.

His large hand brushed over my shoulder, then settled on my arm. "I will write to you at High Hrothgar," he promised softly, his breath shuddering as he looked away from me. "Even if you never receive my letters; know that I am always writing to you."

I nodded shallowly. "Can I write you back?"

A trace of uncertainty marred his sadness as his eyes flickered back to me. "You could…try."

"Perhaps I could address them to Castle Dour?" I offered with hope. "The Legion would keep letters for you there," I made myself smile.

He nodded this time, and tried to mirror my smile. "I would like that," he answered pensively, before he lowered his hand and took mine. He stared at it for a moment in silence, inspecting it thoughtfully and running his thumb over my palm in small, circular motions. Then he closed his eyes and the gentle, soothing movements stopped.

"I must go."

There was no point in dragging this out. Between us was a silent reminder that demanded we be grateful for what we had; at least we were both alive to say good bye to one another.

Silently, we returned to the common room. I held Hadvar's hand as I looked between my friends. They asked a few, brief questions, and Hadvar answered them accordingly. They rose; we all made for the door.

Once we were outside, Hadvar let go of my hand and moved toward his horse. "Tell Jarl Balgruuf that I'll be advising Tullius to put the legions the Empire can commit on standby in Rorikstead. That he need only send word to the inn there, should he desire our support against the Stormcloaks," he outlined as he tied his pack to the back of his saddle. With a sigh, he added, "Make sure that he is aware that the Legion will not move in without his express consent."

"He will give it," Lydia assured swiftly. "Neutrality serves nobody when you're dead, and Stormcloak has declared war on Whiterun."

"That he has," Hadvar murmured resolutely. He continued to tighten saddle straps, lost in a thoughtful silence.

I couldn't watch him prepare to leave any longer; at each passing moment I found it more difficult to breathe. I turned sideways and looked down, but saw little of the wooden planks of the porch. My hair covered my eyes, and I swallowed the lump that had muted me as I hurriedly blinked my tears away. I noted that Vilkas was beside me, and Farkas beside him; I glanced up through my curls to regard them. They were both watching Hadvar prepare with mildly speculative expressions.

What were they sensing from him? His grief for his friend? Nerves over what he had to tell the General? Something that indicated how much he disliked good byes? Or was his mind more guarded than mine; was he able to not only mask, but suppress his woes and fears? Were they sensing serenity; was the thought of the quiet, snowy roads ahead a comfort to him?

The blood drained from my face and I turned back to look at Hadvar as I realised with horrific clarity that he would be alone on the roads between Windhelm and Solitude, with important – no, crucial – information for the Imperial army. Information that Ulfric Stormcloak would know we hoped to relay to the General as swiftly as possible. If Hadvar never made it to Solitude – the Legion might not be able to assemble troops in time to defend Whiterun when he attacked.

And Ulfric would know this. The road ahead for Hadvar would be dangerous. The last lone officer of the Legion that I had met on the northern passes had ended up thrown into a snowdrift, dead and forgotten, and robbed of her messages.

No matter how I tried to convince myself that Hadvar was up to the task of meeting whatever the Stormcloaks threw at him, I couldn't contain my panic. My training failed me, and I found that I had no idea of how to voice my concerns to him around the premonitory terror coursing through me. All I knew was that if he left now, he would be captured and I would never see him again; of this I was suddenly certain.

Vilkas' hand landed on my shoulder. "You all right?" he asked in a gruff undertone.

Biting my tongue and closing my eyes so I wouldn't jump out of my own skin, I shook my head stiffly. Vilkas' hand squeezed my shoulder; a wordless offering of support, should I need to offload.

As he lowered his hand, I did gasp. My eyes flew open and I turned to Vilkas, wide-eyed, as I realised there was one way I could keep Hadvar, and his message, safe.

"Go with him," I quipped swiftly to my shield brother.

Vilkas frowned. "What-?"

"Please," I grasped his arms in desperation, ready to beg, to offer anything he asked if he would do this for me. "You are better at hearing if there are dangers ahead than any other," I pleaded, avoiding directly referring to his gifts in case Lydia caught my words. I was speaking too quietly for Hadvar to hear.

My shield brother looked taken aback; blinked as though trying to focus. "You want me to go to Solitude-?"

"Yes," I cut in. "Please Vilkas," I lowered my head to him. "Please, do this for me."

"Celeste," Vilkas sounded unconvinced. "Whiterun needs-"

"All the help it can get," I finished for him again, my eyes bright as I turned up to him. "Which means that it is imperative that Hadvar makes it to Solitude."

Vilkas closed his mouth and grimaced. "Oh," he murmured quietly, understanding and casting a quick, wary glance in Hadvar's direction.

Gratified that he had picked up at least part of my reason for insisting on such an arrangement, he still had not agreed. On the spot, I changed the course of my immediate future, and knew that I would delay my journey to the Greybeards a thousand times more if it would ensure Hadvar's safety.

"If you will do this for me, then I will return to Whiterun with Lydia and Farkas," I swore.

Vilkas' silvery eyes drifted back to me; steady and watchful.

"What of High Hrothgar?" he drawled.

I shook my head. "I'll wait for you to return before I leave."

Vilkas huffed. "And if I return with an army on the eve of war?" he posed.

I cast him an imploring look. "Please, brother," I whispered.

Before Vilkas could answer, Hadvar's voice rang out from the place where our horses were tied off.

"Well…good bye."

Fixing Vilkas with a final earnest stare, I turned around. Hadvar was mounted up and his bow and quiver were slung over his shoulders. His expression was calm, but aloof; as though he was not even a person any more.

I opened my mouth, but Vilkas spoke first.

"Wait," he called begrudgingly.

My heart swelled with relief as a slight furrow crossed Hadvar's brows. "Wait?"

Vilkas sighed, stepping forward. "Give me five minutes. I'm coming with you."

"You're what?" Lydia asked, surprised.

Hadvar's furrow deepened and he shook his head. "That isn't necessary."

"Good," Vilkas shrugged, half smirking in the process. "I will be glad to waste my time in this endeavour. Five minutes," Vilkas stressed, turning on his heels before Hadvar could reply and heading back into the cottage.

I approached Hadvar on his mount, drawing his attention in the wake of Vilkas' announcement. I smiled supportively when he caught my eye.

"You asked him to do this?" Hadvar asked quietly. "Why?" he seemed perplexed, not angry.

I nodded, reinforcing my smile and explaining my reasons; at least, those that didn't involve my incomprehensible sense of foreboding. We had to ensure that our message made it to Solitude; that we must anticipate Ulfric attempting to stop us from sending word to the General; that, as he had seen for himself, Vilkas always picked up on what lay ahead, well before it was in plain sight.

Hadvar accepted this with a silent nod and a small downward curl to the side of his mouth.

"It does make sense to divide our numbers, actually," Lydia commented, having heard all I had outlined to Hadvar.

"And if it means you will come back to Whiterun with us," Farkas added, for he had heard all that had passed between his brother and I, "then I am for it."

Hadvar's eyes flicked to me swiftly. "You're not going to High Hrothgar?"

Inwardly wincing, for I did not want to admit that I had used my return to Whiterun as a bargaining tool, I held my head up and shook it, offering Hadvar another smile. "All part of the plan. I must stay with the Companions, until Vilkas returns," I supplied.

Hadvar considered this for a moment, before a small, satisfied smile appeared on his face. My heart thudded with relief at the sight of it; he had been too grim for too long.

"Good," his eyebrows rose as he nodded toward me.

Before he could elaborate, Vilkas returned, dressed in his usual Companion armour and with his backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

"That was quick," Lydia commented shrewdly.

Vilkas cast her a wry glance and a half-smirk as he shouldered past us, making for his horse; "I don't have a pretty girl in my room to distract me from getting ready."

Farkas and Lydia both openly laughed. Hadvar turned his eyes down, also laughing, but quietly, to himself. A childish giggle threatened to burst out of me too, but I held back my laughter by biting my bottom lip as my face flamed.

While Vilkas prepared his mount, I spent a few final, precious moments with Hadvar. It was plain that everybody felt lighter; be it in the wake of this new plan, or Vilkas' timely teasing.

Hadvar extended his arm to me and I took his hand firmly in both of mine, pressing a chaste, but lingering kiss to his palm.

When I glanced up to him from under my lashes, my lips still on his hand, I saw that his cheeks had pinked and his eyes were wider; startled almost.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

He shook his head quickly and the look was gone. Detangling his hand from mine, he leaned sideways in the saddle, brushing his fingers through my hair and placing a kiss on my forehead. "I miss you already," he murmured bitterly; his breath tickling the top of my head.

His restraint was evident, but my need to be close to him outweighed any embarrassment I felt over a public display of affection, or the teasing I might endure from my comrades. This must be love, again, I reasoned. I stood on my toes, lifting myself up to capture his lips softly; a gentle promise, a certainty, that we would meet again. His hand in my hair tightened, and I lifted mine to his jaw, brushing my fingertips along the stubble as we parted for air.

"I love you," I gasped onto his lips; the words tumbling out of me.

Hadvar's eyes were bright and he looked torn between pleased and frustrated. "By the Gods, Celeste, what have you done to me?" he laughed, looking down momentarily and swallowing. "I love you so much it hurts," he glanced up, his grey depths longing as he continued to chuckle.

"Likewise," I teared up, but laughed quietly with him; a happy laugh that shone directly from the bright glow in my chest.

"Good bye Lydia; good bye, brother," Vilkas called out with a pointedly mocking quality to his lilt. "I would kiss you both, but I might fall off my horse if I tried."

Hadvar and I glanced to him, our delight shifting into amusement as we continued to laugh.

"And you'd be knocked down if you didn't fall," Farkas grunted, crossing his arms and brows at his brother.

"I don't know where that mouth of yours has been," Lydia held her hands up in defence. "No offence taken here, if you hold back."

Still laughing, I stole a glance to Hadvar, as he did to me, and we shared a final, mutually affectionate nod. Then, without feeling as though my heart was being torn from my chest any longer, I moved back to Lydia and Farkas' side.

Surprising me by the action, Farkas uncrossed his arms and slung one around my shoulder. "See you soon, hey?" he called out.

"You can count on it," Vilkas replied, clicking his heels into his horse's sides. Hadvar lifted his hand in farewell, but said nothing and then followed suit. The pair directed their mounts through the trees surrounding the worker's cottage, toward the track that would lead them to one of the roads leading west.

This is not a forever good bye, I told myself, over and over.

Lydia, Farkas and I watched them leave in silence, until we could make them out through the trees no more.

Then with a sigh, Lydia turned, shaking her head as she made for the cottage. "We should prepare to leave, too."

"Mm," Farkas agreed, dropping his arm to follow her. "You coming, sister?" he asked.

I felt colder suddenly, possibly entirely from the loss of Farkas' presence, and nodded, turning hastily to join them as I held my chilled arms and rubbed swiftly. "Yes. Let's go home," I sighed resolutely, before I had realised what I said.

Home. Yes, I supposed Whiterun was home, for the now.

The Jarl will be thrilled.

–

So, rather than spend the night at the cottage by the mill, as we had originally planned, Farkas, Lydia and I opted to leave as soon as we could make ourselves ready.

I think that we were all a little wary of what Stormcloak might send after us now that the idea had occurred. While I was certain that he would do all in his power to prevent a message from reaching Solitude, and while Ulfric had directed me to give his melodramatic message about the sun rising over Whiterun to Balgruuf as though he intended for us to precede his attack, it made sense that he might also try to prevent us from reaching Whiterun too swiftly. Whiterun barely forewarned would be easier to take hold of.

Vilkas had done as I had asked in the tavern, and ensured that we hadn't been followed when we had left Windhelm, but I still grew more anxious of delay as we prepared our horses. The sun had set minutes ago, and the chill of the mountains seeped through my armour and turned my blood to ice.

I breathed a little easier once we were mounted up and on our way home. Darkness took hold of the land, and the colour was leeched from the skies as we descended the roads leading south and west. There wasn't a cloud to be seen from one horizon to the other, which made the approaching night somehow colder. The stars twinkled brighter as each minute passed, and before long, Masser rose, casting its vaguely pinkish hue over the icy paths; its meagre light really only serving the shadows, making them denser and more pronounced than they had previously been.

Farkas led our group, with Lydia riding behind me this time. Silence was our ally for hours, and the pace we maintained made it impossible for talk if we could have managed it.

I had to admit that I felt guilty over my swift decision to defer my journey to High Hrothgar, yet again. Fragments of Vilkas' argument in the worker's cottage kept flitting through my mind, convincing me that I was doing right by the people of Skyrim by remaining within it, which would alleviate my concerns momentarily. But within minutes, I was agonising over the unknowns, and the certainty that the longer I put the journey off, the harder it would be to say good bye.

But, what good would I do Skyrim if I disappeared for – what, it could be years – to return armed with a powerful thu'um and find the cities laid to waste by the war? No, Vilkas was right; if the people of Skyrim were who the Dragonborn was to protect, then today, I was best placed with the people of Skyrim.

This was the vein of the arguments I devised to assuage my guilt each time it arose, even while I understood that they were all, ultimately, excuses. It didn't help that I had no idea what was expected of me by the Greybeards, or how long they might keep me with them. I had heard it said that Ulfric Stormcloak had spent ten years of his life at the Throat of the World, when he had learned to Shout.

Sometime close to midnight, while I continued to chew over the multiple reasons I had to stay with my friends in Whiterun, Farkas slowed his mount and quietly called for us to halt.

I pulled my horse up beside his; the mare making an undignified noise at the quick change of pace. I reached forward to pat her nose and whisper calm nothings in her flickering ears as Lydia slowed beside me.

"What is it?" she asked my shield brother; her eyes on the horizon before us. "More Stormcloaks?"

Dreading the thought, I sat up straight at once, my eyes widening as I strained to see through the darkness.

"No," Farkas grumbled. I glanced to him, then followed his gaze. His eyes weren't on the road, but a shadowed copse by the riverside. "Mer."

I gave Farkas an unimpressed look; I had not known him to be prejudiced before. "…and this is a problem because…?"

His silvery eyes flickered to me, narrowed and as unimpressed as I felt. "Because they're waiting for you," he replied.

"How can you possibly know that?" Lydia asked in a laughing tone, though I could sense she was a little unnerved by Farkas' grim certainty.

"An ambush?" I frowned, glancing back to the dark grouping of trees in the distance. "Why?"

"I don't know, or care," Farkas turned his mount around, directing her south, off the road. "We're not riding into their trap. C'mon."

I followed Farkas without a word, though I did cast Lydia a worried glance before I went after him.

My housecarl looked torn; I could tell that she wanted to know more and perhaps discuss the matter, but she followed my lead.

"Why would mer be waiting to ambush you?" I heard her grumble as we set off after Farkas along a path that took us through a tree line and around a small cluster of boulders, putting the copse and its offending inhabitants out of view.

My nerves settled the further we rode away from the road. Glancing up, as we continued riding south for a time, I could clearly see the Throat of the World; a dark, foreboding smudge spearing the skies. I swallowed as I regarded it, unable to shake the feeling that someone up there was, at that very moment, looking down, somewhat accusingly, on me.

I averted my eyes. I had made my choice, and when the time came to appear before the Greybeards, I would justify my actions.

Farkas led us on a lengthy route around what he warned was a giant's camp, and then called back that it should be safe to make for road. But no sooner had we laid eyes on it that Farkas cursed under his breath.

He turned his mare back, leading her into the uneven, rocky woods, motioning for us to do the same.

I did as he bade at once, but caught Lydia giving him another pointed, questioning look.

"They followed us," he grumbled as he passed her. "Must know where we're headed," he hissed.

After retreating behind another outcropping, Farkas instructed us to dismount.

This time, Lydia followed without complaining, and I was the confused one. "Shouldn't we keep going?" I whispered to him, uncertain of how far away our pursuers might be. "Even if the going is slow, we will always be faster on horseback."

Farkas shook his head, unsheathing his blades. In the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia unsheathe her sword.

"Get your bow ready," Farkas murmured. "If we can't take these bastards, you run back here, get your horse, and go – go anywhere – got it?" he commanded.

Frowning and taken aback, I shook my head. "That's never going to happen," I told him truthfully. "Why don't we just go and take a look?" I proposed, adopting his brother's tactic of observing before attacking. "Perhaps they are couriers, or they might even need my help?"

Farkas grimaced, and Lydia spoke up. "I agree. Let's hide close to the road, and see what we're dealing with before we do anything rash," she whispered. I assumed she meant before Farkas dived into battle, but she turned on me next, pointing her finger at me. "No thu'um. Not unless there is no other choice."

Grateful that the darkness of night could hide my flush, I closed my mouth and nodded.

"Fine, we look first," Farkas grumbled. "But if I don't like who I see up there, be ready to cover me," he directed Lydia.

My housecarl pursed her lips but nodded, then both of my companions stepped out before me, shifting around rocks and trees and undergrowth with a surprisingly speedy stealth. I hastened after them, mirroring their movements and hiding when they hid as I attempted to place my feet exactly where they had placed theirs.

Before long, the pale road swam into view between the trees. I ducked down between Farkas and Lydia, my bow before me and an arrow nocked and ready to go. Farkas was glancing around swiftly, then nudged me, motioning toward a fallen log. Nodding, I rushed to it and ducked down, peering over the top. Lydia settled beside me after a second, and Farkas pressed his back to the trunk on my other side. I watched him for a moment, wondering what exactly he was sensing from our pursuers. Farkas took a deep breath and closed his eyes, which seemed to centre him. When he opened his eyes, I was grateful to see that they were still their regular silvery colour.

Satisfied that he was in control of his beast, I glanced out over our cover, scanning the road as Lydia was doing. Whoever Farkas had sensed was still out of sight.

When I turned back and checked my arrow was ready to fire, I caught sight of my small, pale hands, as deft as they were currently being, and wondered that they weren't shaking. I took a moment to check myself, and realised that despite Farkas' warning that we were being followed, I felt no fear – only a hollow sort of curiosity.

How was that possible?

Lydia placed a warning hand on my shoulder, and I blinked away my wonder, focusing on the now. Turning my eyes back to the road, I scanned the breaks between the trees, and after a moment, caught the movement that must have warranted Lydia's hand. Tall, silent, shaded figures.

I could make nothing out of their features, but what I did determine was that there were three of them. They didn't appear to be in any great hurry; striding casually along the road, as though time was of no importance.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of these strangers, and wondering what they could possibly want of me, I glanced ahead and spied a moonlit break in the trees that would allow me to see a little more of them than snatches of shaded limbs. I wanted to know who I was dealing with. I had faced Ulfric Stormcloak and walked out of his palace; his city. If I had to, I could face these newcomers.

As Vilkas might have said were he with us; the Gods were smiling upon me – but perhaps in an ironic sort of way. When the first of their party stepped into the gap, they – he, I was fairly certain, by the broadness of the shoulders – held up a hand, and halted, unknowingly giving me ample time to take in the sight of him. The light being reflected by Masser and Secunda – for both were now risen – caught the metal buckles on his dark cloak, and made the pale cheekbones I could see around his hood almost luminous.

Thalmor, I realised, somewhat incredulously.

And like that, my calm was shattered. My heart thumped wildly and I stared, terrified of moving lest they see us. I had been stupid to not understand immediately that it was the Thalmor pursuing us when Farkas had said mer, but I had not even considered them. As with most sons and daughters of Skyrim, I had avoided anything to do with the Thalmor for my entire life.

Why would the Thalmor be seeking me? Was my shield brother mistaken; were we perhaps simply travelling the same road on the same night as this trio of Aldmeri Dominion agents?

My breath caught in my throat as the figure on the road turned, and though his face was obscured by shadows now, it was clear that he was searching the woods. At once knew that they were looking for me. There are no coincidences where the Thalmor are concerned, I reminded myself. With a pang, I recalled that it had been my father who had told me that.

The Altmer within view held out his arms. Not a sound was uttered from his lips, but a purple ball of energy pooled between his hands and was swiftly released, all in the blink of an eye.

Lydia bit out a whispered curse beside me.

I froze as the purple energy expanded toward us, faster than we could possibly run. It was inevitable that whatever he had cast would strike us, and I stood, mustering my will to FUS. Perhaps the power of the thu'um could knock back the spell.

Before I could open my mouth, Farkas grabbed my arm and hauled me back down next to him. As the purple spell washed over us; clumping around us but leaving us entirely unharmed, I glanced furiously to my shield-brother.

Lowering his hand, he shook his head at me in warning, but said nothing. The purpleness gathered around his form moved with him. In an obscure moment I understood that Farkas had somehow recognised the spell.

How? Farkas avoided everything to do with magic!

"Stay down," Lydia grated between her teeth, stepping purposefully between me and the mer on the road, her sword raised and ready. The spell that had coalesced over us a moment ago clung to her like her own personal, colourful cloud.

"They won't touch her," Farkas growled lazily; a promise to Lydia, and a warning to our pursuers, for there was no reason to pretend that we did not exist any longer. "Not while I live and breathe," he muttered in an undertone.

"It will serve nobody's interests if you run," a high-born voice called toward us from the road. "Least of all your own. You might as well come out, Celeste Passero."

My heart leapt at their naming me, though I grimaced at the smugness to the Altmer's tone and lifted my bow, taking aim on the Thalmor who had cast the purple spell over us. I knew little of magic, but I had to assume it was a life-detection spell, for its purpose seemed to have been to reveal our position and nothing more.

Which alerted me to one, crucial thing that stayed my hand; they wanted me alive. That gave me some leverage. "Why are you pursuing me?" I called. At once, Farkas' hand was on my arm, trying to hold me back.

"We have a matter of importance to discuss with you," another of their party replied.

Farkas growled, but Lydia cut him off.

"Seek an audience in town, if you wish to speak to our Lady Dragonborn," Lydia spoke up, sonorous and reasonable, but her tone left little room for alternatives. "Leave us to our business for tonight."

The reply was three quiet, distinctively amused chuckles from the roadside.

"I don't like this," Farkas hissed, growing edgier by the moment. "Why haven't they attacked? They reek of attack," he added in a low, snarling voice.

I glanced to him to see the purpleness of the spell fading from the edges of his form and the amber rising in his eyes, almost in its place. "Because they want to talk," I told him flatly, twisting my arm to indicate that I wished to be released. I lowered my bow and took a step sideways, to stand before Lydia.

Both Farkas and Lydia made urgent sounds, but I held my hand up behind me for them to cease. "Let me talk," I whispered, to myself, more than my companions.

The spell the Thalmor had cast was fading swiftly now, but I knew that there was no point in running. Thalmor had all manner of spells in their arsenal, and if we ran, the next thing they fired upon us would not be so benign.

I am a servant of the Empire, I thought desperately, dispelling a tremor as tried to convince myself that I was up to the task of talking my way through this. We have a truce, however tenuous, with the Thalmor. I glanced about, trying to catch a glimpse of the other two Altmer.

"What do you wish to speak of?" I asked as calmly as I could manage, holding my head high, despite it being unlikely that they could see such a detail.

I could still only see one figure on the road, and his face was still obscured by the shadow being cast by the hood of his robes of office. I had no idea if the other two were near him, or skulking through the forest to our position, though I consoled myself with the knowledge that, should they approach, Farkas would know about it first and react.

"Not what, but whom," he who replied bore no trace of their prior amusement; instead, only an unnerving superiority. "Delphine Comtois."

Well. I hadn't expected that. The only Delphine I knew was the woman who I had met in Riverwood; the same who had met me when I had returned with the dragonstone to Farengar. What did they want with her?

I bit my bottom lip as my fingers flexed around my bow. I longed to lift it again, just as a precaution, but dared not, for they would react at once, and they would be faster than me, of that I was certain.

"Who?" Lydia mused quietly, stepping up beside me.

I hadn't thought of the woman since that chance encounter in Farengar's office. Despite the frustration I felt toward Delphine and the secrets she had withheld from me, Farengar's words during our audience drifted back to me.

She is being hunted, and I might be signing her death sentence if I told you, and mine if she found out I had.

"I've no idea," I murmured to Lydia, hoping that the Thalmor would hear me; hear my confusion. "I know nobody by that name," I called toward the road, just to be sure.

"Must we stand yards apart, yelling at one another like common fish mongers wives?" the third Thalmor, who had not yet spoken, made his voice heard. His tone oozed boredom.

The one who I had eyes on replied; his obscured head tilting curiously. "Do not play games with us, Celeste. We know that you have spoken with her," he waxed.

"It is possible that your sources are mistaken," I insisted.

"We would appreciate it if you answered our questions, none the less," one of the Thalmor replied.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as Farkas stepped into my peripheral; his weapons were sheathed, but a barely-audible, rumbling growl was issuing from his throat.

"Farkas," I whispered in warning. If he shifted now, they would capture him, study him, and then kill him.

The growling stopped, but his scowls didn't.

"We are getting nowhere," one of the mer on the road muttered, then called out imperiously. "You have until the count of three to cooperate, or you will be arrested for obstructing a Dominion investigation, and then we will take our answers from you. Three," he intoned.

Again, Lydia cursed, grasping my arm and throwing me behind her. "Farkas!" she hissed urgently.

"Way ahead of you," Farkas growled, then cast Lydia a swift, golden glare. "Get her out of here," he ordered, then barrelled toward the approaching Thalmor before either of us could react.

"No!" I insisted, knowing I was too late.

"Two," the Altmer counting seemed bored and sighed laboriously. The sound of booted feet crunching through leaf litter came to me and I glanced toward the road in desperation.

"Wait!" I called out swiftly, intent on somehow buying us more time. Another burst of purple swept toward us suddenly from one of the approaching shadows.

"No," Lydia clutched my arm, turned, and ran. "No time."

For a moment I was towed in her wake, and I screamed when I heard the unmistakable growling snarl of a werewolf attacking. The forest behind us was lit up at intervals and the sounds of exploding sparks and roaring fires followed us wherever we ran.

We weren't fast enough to outrun the purple haze, but little else could have slowed our pace. If anything, the purpleness made Lydia run faster. She was silent and focussed, zig-zagging at what felt like random around rocks and trees and shrubs.

"We have to go back!" I screeched at Lydia, half-sobbing in desperation. "They'll kill him!"

A bolt of lightning flew past my face and I screamed again, leaping to the right as the smell of singed hair flooded my nose.

Lydia turned, flinging me behind a boulder and drawing her sword in a single, fluid motion.

"Stay out of sight," she grated furiously; her eyes trained on the forest.

I had no time to reply; she roared and raced back in the direction we had come. I knew she was only bellowing to draw them away from me.

Shaking violently, I placed an arrow in my bow and pressed my back to the boulder she had brought me to. Another beastly scream punctuated the explosions and flashes of coloured light. Lydia's battle cry was discernible in the chaos.

I lifted my bow and tried to make sense of what I was seeing before me, but everything was moving too quickly in the darkness to risk firing on anything that moved.

But still I aimed so that I might be ready if an opportunity presented itself.

With my mind and eyes trained on the confusion of the battle before us, I didn't realise that I was not alone by the boulder until a sickly green spell washed over me.

I had time enough to gasp, but that was all, and then I was as stone. My mind raced and panicked and my eyes felt strained, glued open but unable to shift to see where the attack had come from.

The sound of approaching footfalls behind me and a low, satisfied chuckle sent a chill along my spine. I desperately tried to make myself move; to make a sound, to scream; to FUS. Nothing I tried worked.

"Really, Celeste," the mer's voice dripped with complacency, and he was closer to me than I had expected him to be. "I'm disappointed in you."

A gloved hand with long fingers closed around my arm but my scream was trapped in my throat. I felt as though I was drowning on the last gasping breath I had managed to take.

"I would have expected as much from your tedious sister, but from you?" he tutted. "Refusing to assist a Dominion inquiry? Abetting a criminal? Consorting with a werewolf? I thought you were a good girl. Even the Empire would have your head for this."

Unable to speak, defend myself, or move a muscle, my panic surged as a piece of cloth was wrapped around my mouth. With a tug, the fabric was tightened, forcing my mouth to open despite the paralysis spell, and gagging me.

Again, the Thalmor who was taking great care to stay out of my line of sight, chuckled. "Of course, the fate that now awaits Skyrim's baby dragon is a tad more creative and appealing than a barbaric beheading. You will beg us to extract the whereabouts of Delphine Comtois from you."

Of all the reasons to be captured – for that woman?! My eyes burned, watering from being paralysed open, while I longed to cry at the injustice, and the horrible timing of their attack. What would happen to Whiterun?

"When the spell expires," the Thalmor explained, his hands falling to my arms as he dragged me backwards, "you will-"

Thump.

The Altmer let out a startled, strangled, but somewhat muffled cry. With his support gone, I keened backward and crashed hard onto the ground, still as rigid as before. My back stung where it had impacted a sharper rock, but the paralysis spell kept my scream of pain lodged in my throat.

A snarling, tearing sound rent the air, punctuated a moment later by a wet gurgle. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see what was happening or not, but a twisted, nauseous kind of relief flooded me as I understood what the sound meant. All I could see was the stars glinting merrily through the gaps in the trees overhead.

And then the sight of those was blocked by the large, furred head of Farkas' beast; his amber eyes bright and narrowed and his maw dripping with warm blood.

If I could have laughed or cried, I would have probably been doing both. Farkas seemed confused by my lack of reaction and sniffed at me, smearing blood and drool on my cheek in the process. When I didn't react still, he made a snuffling, unmistakably worried sound. His lupine nose pushed against my shoulder; clawed hands grasped me and turned me onto my side. My hands and feet tingled as Farkas' tongue lapped against what must have been a wound from my fall.

"Easy now," Lydia's voice cut through the night; strained from exertion but still hard with warning. "Let me come to her."

Farkas' beast tightened his hold on me and he glanced up to her at once, baring his teeth. The underside of his jaw rippled as he growled.

The tingling in my hands and feet extended along my arms and legs; the spell was fading. Hurry, I prayed, trying desperately to lift my arm to calm my shield-brother.

"I'm trying to help you!" Lydia was calling in frustration over the top of Farkas' increasingly aggravated warning sounds.

With a clatter of wood against rock, my bow slipped from my fingers; I could finally move again. I whipped my arm around and caught Farkas' furred shoulder before he could leap over me.

His bright, golden eyes were on me in an instant. I coughed as I tried to speak around the gag, and tasted blood as I furiously pulled it down.

"Celeste!" Lydia was calling out, then I heard a couple of dim, rattling chinks on one of the nearby rocks over the sound of my coughing. "Give her those," she ordered.

I turned toward the sound and thought I could make out smooth glass reflecting the light of the moons filtering through the trees. Potions.

Through a series of hand motions, for despite removing the gag I didn't seem to be able to form words around the pools of liquid in my throat, and helped undoubtedly by Farkas' senses picking up what I desired, it wasn't long before I was pouring the thick, vile healing potions down my throat, one after the other. Whatever damage had been done to me was gradually knit back together, piece by piece.

"Thank you," I panted to both of them, my eyes closed as I felt the wound on my back stretch and itch as new skin formed over the gash.

"Don't – don't try to speak," Lydia voiced from a distance away.

I turned so I might see her better, but Farkas' form blocked most of everything; his furred arms had effectively caged me. I understood that it was a protective gesture, and eased him back with a quiet, "Thank you, brother."

The endearing way he tilted his head before he leaned back actually made me smile, and I scanned the woods for Lydia. "Are you all right?" I called to her.

"Fine – all fine," she answered swiftly; a trace of a nervous laugh to her tone. "Very much fine here," she tried to sound unaffected.

I crossed my brows, but before I could reply, Farkas bluntly pushed his bloody nose to my ear.

Turning back to him and lifting my hand to his enlarged head, I gave him a small, apologetic smile. Tame the wolf first, I thought.

"You saved me," I breathed, pressing my forehead to the dense, dark, coarse fur covering his chest, hoping that they both realised that I was not only thanking Farkas, but his wolf. "But the danger has passed. I need the man again. Do you…want me to call him forward?" I asked him quietly.

"Celeste?" Lydia called out in concern. "That's…it's still Farkas with you, isn't it? You're…you sure you're okay?"

The uncertainty in her tone made my chest ache. This would take some explaining.

"He won't hurt me," I called, pushing back from Farkas and trying to rise. "Farkas is fine, too. He's changing back," I arched an eyebrow at him in challenge, "aren't you?"

The werewolf turned its head down, snorting a huff of frustrated air out of its large nostrils. The hair on its head began to lengthen, and I breathed easier, knowing that it would not be long now.

"Are they all gone?" I called to Lydia, turning my eyes from Farkas but placing my hand on his increasingly stubbly cheek, to remind him that he was not alone.

"That lot won't be bothering us, or whoever this Delphine Comtois is again," she murmured. A crunch-crunch of leaves told me that she was now, finally approaching.

After a moment, she became visible through the scattered trees, and she hesitated the moment I laid eyes on her. Though it was difficult to see in the shadows, she seemed to be focussed on Farkas, not me.

Guilt swept through me; guilt that I hadn't warned her somehow about their inner beasts; that she'd found out by being faced with the hard reality. But surely she would not be angry, surely she would keep their secret, particularly once she understood that Farkas and Vilkas' beasts had changed; that their purpose had evolved from hunter to protector. And she would have to acknowledge that their instincts had been invaluable over the course of our journey.

Before Lydia came any closer, and before I had figured out what to say to her to make this right, Farkas broke through our silence with a distinctly human groan.

My hand fell from his face and I spun toward him in time to see him drop forward and crash onto his forearms; his forehead pressed to the frozen earth and his naked form shuddering.

"Who in Shor's name is Delphine Com-twa?" he grumbled, butchering her surname, as most Nords tended to do with Breton names at first.

"My question exactly," Lydia spoke up faintly as though in shock, shifting swiftly to my side. She fell to her knees; placed a steadying hand on my shoulder – for her benefit, more than mine, I felt – as her other glided over the remnants of cuts and grazes on my skin.

I shook my head thoughtfully, my mind raking over that strange, confusing half-conversation that I had spent with Delphine in Farengar's office.

"I really don't know," I admitted in a murmur.

A/n: In case you were wondering; yes, this story is ending up far longer than I intended it to be. Really hope it's not proving to be tedious; that some of you are still with me, and enjoying the ride.