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Chapter 12:

All Is Violent, All Is Bright

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7 Days after Skitter's transformation began
Lake Geir, the Rift
Farkas of the Companions

The rain was nearly thick enough to swim in.

Early spring thunderstorms were no stranger to someone of Farkas' experience. Neither was seeking shelter on the island in the middle of Lake Geir, where a small, mostly dry cave sat. Both of those things happening at the same time, when Iverstead was right there… that was a rarity.

Farkas spun carefully on the incline leading to the cave, whipping his freshly-tended-to sword around to lop off another troll's arm. The beast's screech was cut off when he planted the tip of the blade in the creature's throat, but that was enough for the other four to come grunting and huffing through the shallow waters, hot on the Companion's tail. With a snarl of disgust, Farkas kept running up the muddy embankment toward the cave, taking care not to jostle the tall, narrow box on his back too much.

In the past week, he'd made good time through the Holds, delivering Khepri's honey. The honey bread she'd given him before he left was nearly gone, and if its tastiness was any indication… well, Farkas was looking forward to seeing what the fine lass did with mead. The stamina potions Khepri included were better than what Arcadia sold, too; Farkas still had three of them, having saved the vials for the Seven Thousand Steps.

He also had little doubt Khepri would run Goldenglow Apiaries and Honeyside out of business in short order, once she moved to Whiterun and really got her business going.

Farkas planned to help her move there.

He planned to be one of the first to drink her mead.

Khepri was a fine, dangerous lass who could take care of herself well enough. Farkas would still make sure no stupid bandits or asshole corpse-humpers darkened her door. She was a lass worth fighting for, and was interested.

No girl ever looked at Farkas with that much interest before… so he'd return, whenever his duties brought him near Khepri, and make sure she wasn't lonely. Loneliness wasn't good for veterans like her, and the Chaurus, while loyal, weren't people.

Farkas wanted to live a long life, maybe help Vilkas become Harbinger someday... and, maybe, have somewhere other than Jorrvaskr to call home.

Four grunting, hungry trolls stood between the young Wolf and that hopeful future.

Barreling into the cavern, Farkas took the box with Khepri's honey off his back and carefully placed it in a dark corner, then readied himself to fight four trolls on uneven-

An ancient Nord arrow skipped off his cuirass, followed by a hoarse growl he knew all too well.

Whirling, heart pounding in disbelief and rage, Farkas saw three bow-wielding Draugr Deathlords, two of which held a strange blue shine to their persons. Against the far wall of the cave, bracketed by glowing mushrooms, a man's corpse laid in a pool of dried gore next to a pickaxe… and a shattered section of wall, with an ancient lever set into a stone.

The isle was a fucking barrow!

After ducking two more arrows, the screams of the four trolls rang in the inn-sized cave. Three of them ran at Farkas.

In his mind, he saw Khepri's smile beneath the northern sky, heard her soft laugh, saw her kind gaze, smelled…

'I will not die here.' Farkas thought, throwing his sword into one troll's chest and letting the Wolf in him free.

The citizens of Iverstead shivered in their homes that stormy evening, as the howls of wolves and monsters drifted over the lake between claps of thunder.

Near the morning, the innkeep was shocked when a Companion of Ysgramor, covered in wounds and carrying a narrow box, staggered through the door and nearly collapsed into the fire. Luckily, the Fellstar family had plenty of homemade restoratives in their cellar, but it was still a near thing.

By the next morning, the Companion, Farkas was his name, was hale and healthy once more. The tale he told the townsfolk both awed and frightened them; a second barrow, on the lake?! Oh, certainly, everyone was grateful for his dealing with the trolls – few men could fight one, let alone four, and expect to come away alive or whole – but if some fool had disturbed the resting place of the Ancient Nords…

The people of Skyrim were not known for being foolish, in the face of hardship. Iverstead was a small community with no champions of its own, only boasted a small garrison, and the Companion was on a mission to High Hrothgar. So the townsfolk would keep a weather eye on the island, until Jarl Law-Giver could send reinforcements and Priests to re-seal the barrow.

One haunted tomb was bad enough, exclaimed the Innkeep to the nodding agreement of all, save Farkas the Companion, who was already striding for the Seven Thousand Steps.

Farkas only wondered how the amulet he found might look on Khepri's neck.

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12 days after Skitter's transformation began
Skitter's Den, Dawnstar
Skitter

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The Great She Who The Queen Named Skitter shivered in the cold, and felt the changes to her body through the air against her chitin.

Skitter's wings were longer, larger, as was much of herself. Skitter's tail end – abdomen, the Queen called it – was now long and narrow, ending in barbed stinger; Skitter felt it as a part of her. Not something that would be disposed of, as it was with bees.

Skitter's six limbs had changed, too. Her forelimbs ended in four claws on short digits. They were flexible, Skitter felt, as were the shorter, three-clawed limbs just beneath them. Skitter's hind legs were very long, with two toes pointing forwards, and one back; the knees felt like they could bend backwards…

Could… could Skitter stand, like… like the Queen?

[sister.] Skitter heard the mental call of the Annoying but Crafty She Who The Queen Named Imp, an image flowing through the Hive Mind.

Skitter's head was different, too, but Skitter had already felt this change, in her pupa. Two thick horns curved to either side from the center of her brow, with three narrower ones sprouting from behind the ridge they created; Skitter still had eight eyes, one below and three above on each side, but her new four mandibles looked stronger, tougher, and felt that way too. The color of Skitter's body was now a dark bronze, her wings the color of soft green.

Skitter knew her changes were great, but to think she was so beautiful… [Imp… Queen?]

"Hello Skitter." The Queen was there; Skitter could feel her, hear the Queen's lovely voice, but it was all somehow… more than before. A sharper, more defined… experience.

Within her thorax, Skitter felt breath, a quiet rippling deep inside of her. Air hissed from her mouth, followed by a small cough and stream of residual ichor.

The Queen was looking at Skitter, but Skitter couldn't see. Why?

[sister] [sister] [mother] [cousin] [sister] [Skitter] not just Queen, but everyone. All her fellow Chaurus were present, approaching Skitter, her sister and brothers and hatchlings and fellows. Their claws reached for Skitter, and pulled the wet, cold residue from Skitter's chitin, which made Skitter [grateful] to them, as it became less cold.

And Skitter could see.

The world held color.

The world was moving, always moving, a light green and gold rippling through every blade of grass, every stone and clump of snow. It rippled over the glorious green-black bodies of Skitter's [family]… who all held a small ember of light in their thorax.

A pair of white boots, framed in the hide of a great bear, appeared in Skitter's vision, accompanied by the Queen's voice, "Your vision is very good now, isn't it Skitter? Maybe, once all this terrible business is behind us, I could teach you to read?"

Skitter felt a tightness in her chest. Was there no end to the Queen's generosity, her benevolence?

…her fury?

Oh yes, Skitter could feel it, behind her Queen's warm words. A cold, choking anger that could swallow the world there slept, within their Queen. Khepri.

Skitter looked up, seeing, for the first time, the black-white hilts of the blade Khepri held, the brown pouches on her belt, the blue of her tunic, the wavy dark of her mane… all the Queen's person was lined with a glittering gold.

And then Skitter beheld her Queen's face, as did all the Chaurus nearby, for Skitter could not keep the image to herself; all should see their Queen's beauty as Skitter could.

Their Queen was radiant, drawing a mental gasp of [awe] and [adoration] from the Hive Mind…

"Oh!" and a surprised gasp from their Queen. "That's… interesting."

A slim ring of golden light framed the Queen's head, though it emitted no light of its own. It looked as though the light came from elsewhere, to Skitter's eyes. More than that, a star of light gleamed dimly between the Queen's brow.

There was only one thing this could mean, in Skitter's mind.

[Queen… we both have crowns, like in the stories?] queried Skitter, lifting a forelimb and touching her own crest… getting a small wave of not-unpleasant feedback. Those were Skitter's new antennae, then.

The Queen smiled, a sight that always warmed the Chaurus, "I think you have more of a crown than I do, Skitter." Queen Khepri waved her left forelimb through the air next to her head, turned her head side to side; the ring of gold did not move or change, unaffected by all actions. "I can't even touch mine, it seems."

Thinking on this, and remembering other stories, Skitter than asked, [does this mean I am a… Chaurus Princess, Queen?]

The Queen laughed, "Do you feel like a princess, sewing in a tower, waiting for a knight to whisk you away?"

[no.] replied Skitter, shivering again, but not for the cold. [I am angry, my Queen.]

For twelve suns and moons, Skitter suffered to hear the [pain] and [agony] of those still enslaved to the Falmer. Children, not even a week from their hatchings, whipped and crippled and forced to breed; and when their bodies failed them, slaughtered, their hated masters forcing the younger to consume the meat of their own young parents.

For twelve days and eleven nights, Skitter told them, the Hunters yet to wake, of Queen Khepri. Of Dawnstar. Of the kindness the Chaurus could have upon the surface. And they listened. They spread the word. The time to rise against the Falmer and the Tyrant, who ensured the Queen could never truly have the hearts of the Chaurus… the time for the Chaurus' freedom was near. Skitter told all the Chaurus this, as she changed in her pupa, and the time was truly near.

But Skitter was angry.

Because, in those twelve days, Skitter came to know [love].

Khepri was there, in the Hive Mind. She took the pain of the whip from the young ones upon herself. She comforted them in their agonies, shared in their misery. And when they died, she lifted them up, weaving their minds into the tapestry of the Hive Mind, so no Chaurus could ignore the cruelty of the Falmer, so their sacrifice would live on.

Each day, Skitter listened to her Queen weeping quietly in her bed, mourning each life lost, while soldiers and champions gathered… because Khepri called them.

The Tyrant's hold on the Chaurus was weakening. With every act Khepri made, it became a choice: live on in bondage, or rebel for a chance at light. And Khepri was winning, more Chaurus waiting [eagerly] for that chance each day. The two western hives were already theirs; the far south clan drove their masters into the waiting blades of Whiterun's people. Only the near ruin, and Blackreach, remained in the north.

But Skitter was angry, enough that her wings buzzed. She'd felt her Queen's [grief] and [sorrow] at the cruelty of the Falmer, and it made Skitter [hate] them all the greater with each passing day.

[I am angry, Khepri.] confessed Skitter, looking into the Queen's face, which held an expression of hardly-restrained wrath. [I want to kill them, because they have caused you pain.]

"Not because of your people's pain?" asked the Queen, sounding surprised, like Bori when one of guards called off due to mating too hard but made an excuse yet Bori knew because Bori was smart.

[no. We suffered because we did not know. They made sure we would never know, never learn.] Skitter moved her limbs, loosening them up; she felt strong, light. [you have given us this, and you took our pain, and you have broken our chains. That is why you are Queen to the Chaurus. That is why we will kill them.]

Skitter flexed her hindlimbs, and the knees bent forward. Slowly, carefully – for Skitter's den didn't have a high ceiling – Skitter stood up on two legs for the first time. Plates shifted with the motion, until she was upright, standing just outside her den in front of Queen Khepri. Skitter was taller than Queen, by about half-again Queen's height.

"Well, you're not about to go off alone." Queen Khepri smiled, but it was a dangerous smile, one that Skitter liked. "I swore to destroy these things if they ever darkened my path again. I'm happy to help."

Yes, Skitter felt; the warmth in her chest, it was [love].

[sister, how will you fit in doors?] called the She Named Imp, chittering and tilting her small head to one side. Other Chaurus [agreed], chittering their own queries while the Queen stifled a laugh and observed, "Yes, that might be an issue now. I suppose you'll have to stay under the porch; it's the only place big enough, until the greenhouse is done anyway."

Yes, Skitter [loved] her Queen, but her siblings and relatives could be so [annoying] at times.

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10th First Seed, 4E200
Khepri's house, basement

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"…and Dibella, to you I pray: watch over those who go to protect those they love, so that their passion may glorify Mundus… Watch over your children, oh Nine Divines, as we seek glory in the dark beneath."

Prayers said, I pulled the banner back to cover my small shrine… and sighed.

'I am a hero still, it seems.' Even the distance between worlds can't erase how I act toward others. I've tried to present a normal front to my neighbors, acting as though I would like nothing better than to stay on my porch and watch the aurora, a cup of tea in my hand and pleasant company to chat with.

And, to tell the truth, I do want that. How I want that so badly.

Yet the Falmer would not allow that. They would attack, and attack, and attack, until I either came to them, or I died of old age. And then the Chaurus would be slaves again; the strange presence under Skyrim, the one Skitter called [tyrant], would ensure the destruction of all my work in helping these poor dears..

Yes, they were frightening to look at, the Chaurus, but I thought them cool and beautiful and amazing, far more than I thought them scary. Quite a few people agreed, so I couldn't be too biased. So many people have come, from all over Skyrim, to see the Falmer destroyed, to gain riches and plunder from the Dwemer ruin… yet, the greatest thing they would do had nothing to do with gold or jewels.

They would set an entire race of children free.

And I would stand with them. Because that was what the other me, the Khepri from before Skyrim, always fought for: everyone working together for something right. It was something that still lived in me, one of the few things I wanted to keep from my old life… which was understandable. Too much blood and pain and grief and lonliness.

Puttering around the bar in my basement, I started to make sure everything was in place; that morning Bori reminded me, for the fourth time, that there was a tent for me at the ruin, whenever I wished to visit and sit in on the meetings. Honestly, I remembered too many fruitless meetings to want to visit the Muster, though I did make three brief visits, just to check up on the Chaurus and help map the Falmer-made tunnels that spiderwebbed across Skyrim.

Most of those now held nothing but Chaurus, the waxy horrors slowly penned in their deep redoubt of Blackreach. Where the Tyrant lived.

I didn't know what it looked like, but Legate Rikke of the Imperial Legion and Houscarl Galmar Stone-Fist of the Stormcloak Militia managed to agree on one thing: it needed to die.

By that morning, over two thousand people had answered the call to Muster; some veterans and soldiers, some farmer's sons and daughters, many adventurers, even the Arch-Mage had arrived from Winterhold, in the evening of the previous day.

I didn't have anyone present for Skitter's awakening. Everyone who was there for the start was busy; Brelyna was making a type of candle that would allow messages to be sent to Solitude - though she still found time to play a ball game with the children and Chaurus, in the fields - Faralda was assisting the Arch-Mage in coordinating the efforts of the Dwemer experts, and I'd lent Callidus to Keeper Carcette to help organize the attack waves that would, in several days' time, be sent one by one into the deep of Mzinchaleft.

And Farkas… had yet to return. The fact made me frown while I wiped a rag absently over the counter.

Vilkas, Farkas' younger brother, assured me his brother had been in Whiterun some days ago. Going by the route Farkas gave me, he would then go to Falkreath, then take the road through Helgen to Iverstead, and from there… to High Hrothgar.

I sincerely hoped he was well – and he just entered my range, jogging easily up the road toward the town.

Through Judas' eyes, who was perched on the crags under a bear hide blanket, I saw the hunky object of my thoughts slow down and look at the four spriggans walking through the fields, the nature avatars studiously ignoring the Companion as he kept jogging toward Dawnstar… and my home.

I then realized I'd been staring at the wall for twenty seconds. 'Perhaps I should clean up a little?' I thought after shaking myself out of a stupor; my, but the Gods were good to me. Odd that I didn't remember any religious devotions from my previous life, but perhaps that was just another thing denied me, in the face of constant struggles.

Looking about, I found my living space spotless… which shouldn't have been a surprise.

Between aiding Skitter with the Hive Mind, planning a rebellion, and pining over the so-polite and strong Companion, I'd worried myself nearly spare. And when I became worried, I cleaned.

It was about that moment, when one of the guards posted around my house approached my door, did I realize something else.

I had not masturbated since Farkas left.

Quickly, I saw to my person before the guard knocked: my blue-white tunic was in place and clean, boots were buckled, my prosthetic was snug on my stump with its new steel mail that ran up to my shoulder, and my sword was at an angle that gave me freedom of movement while walking. Oh, and my hair was in a long braid over my right shoulder, the end held in a buckle of blue coral.

I was certainly presentable. Excellent.

"Miss Khepri?" called the guard, Joquin, through my door, "A Farkas of the Companions, here to see you?"

"Send him in, Joquin, and thank you." I called in reply, brushing a few hairs from my eyes; why was I getting so worked up?

[Queen. You have good taste in males.] observed Skitter from her temporary den under my porch, sending her mental approval of Farkas' overall size and strength.

'Skitter!' my face felt quite hot indeed, though I forced it down when I felt Farkas enter my house; putting more than a few unfulfilled nighttime fantasies from my mind, I called, "Down here, Mr. Farkas!" and made my way around the bar once more, where several bottles of mead and his payment rested under the counter.

And then he was coming down the stairs, face scruffy and body musky from the road, yet he greeted me in that deep drawl I liked so much, "Ms. Khepri. Sorry that took so long."

I smiled, "Nonsense. You're a whole day early," I paused, feeling concerned by his lack of personal hygiene, "Are you well? You look like you haven't slept in days. Please, sit." I gestured at a stool and produced a mug and a bottle, then set to work uncorking it while the man sat, removing the box I gave him to lean it against the bar.

"I'm well, Ms. Khepri. Don't sleep much as it is. Wilds aren't forgiving, if you nod off in the wrong place." I nodded with an understanding smile, which he favored with one of his own; then he exchanged the mug I passed him with a scroll case, "Proof of delivery, as promised."

"And once again," I chuckled, using some warm water I kept in a kettle on my Alchemy desk to make a quick cup of tea, "I didn't truly need such a thing. You are, as far as I can see, a trustworthy man; your brother certainly thought so."

That made Farkas pause in lifting his drink. Then he blinked in understanding, "He's at the Muster, huh?" I nodded, and he smiled, "Good. Vilkas could use the exercise, after sittin' around on his arse all winter."

"He seemed quite trim to me." I observed with polite honesty, receiving a snort from Farkas.

"Spends too much time rubbing shoulders with nobles, him. Should spend more time in the yard with the pups," he took a pull from his mug, sighing with satisfaction, "than finding flowery words in books to use on noble skirts, in my opinion."

Giving the muscly, very manly man in my basement a slow once-over, I raised my tea in toast. "Well, if he is your brother, if you are any indication, some extra exercise certainly wouldn't hurt." Farkas' cheeks colored a little, though he hid it with another – smiling – sip of mead.

Returning his smile, I reached out and took the scroll case-

Summer rain, snap of pine, spray of salt, cry of eagle, warm autumn wind, musk of fur-

-and jerked my hand away as an impression of Nature Incarnate, a condensed version of what a Spriggan Earth Mother felt like, swept quickly over my senses with enough intensity to make me gasp. "What…" I looked up at Farkas…

Who looked both understanding and somewhat sheepish, nodding as he spoke, "Yeah, I know. Open it."

Curious, yet wary, I carefully opened the scroll, reviewing the names there written, the top four accompanied by wax seals next to their names.

Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak

Jarl Lalia Law-Giver

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater

Jarl Siddgeir

And then there was…

Three lateral slashes, a dot, two angular slashes, and three more lateral slashes with a dot above them. It looked like runes of some sort, ones I'd never seen. However…

There was intent in every centimeter of the slashes. It looked like… not ink. They looked as though they were engraved into the paper, but it remained flat!

I looked at Farkas in questioning surprise. He shrugged and muttered through a blush, "I, ah, might've told the Greybeards about you a little. The head monk signed with the Voice. Oh, and," he reached for the delivery box, "they give back six bottles of mead, brewed on High Hrothgar. Honestly didn't know they did that."

…would wonders never cease.

"Do you know what it says?"

"Hrmm, no. Sounded like Kyne, though, which makes sense." I agreed, still a little stunned.

Then I decided not to think about it. I'd seen far and away more fantastic things, in my day.

So I watched in silent bemusement as Farkas gently placed one unlabeled bottle of dark mead after another onto my counter. Once done, I laughed softly, "I have to say, Mr. Farkas, you've outdone yourself." I gave him another fond smile before stowing the bottles away.

He chuckled sheepishly, the sound rumbling, "Was just a delivery, Ms. Khepri."

"Nonsense." I said, returning with his pay in a coinpurse; palming it, I looked appraisingly at the scroll and thought aloud, "I wanted a memento, to remember the beginnings of my business with. And here you are, bringing me priceless treasures." I bit my lip, and held out the coinpurse, "So, this is for the contract. As for bringing me mead and, well," he nodded for me to go on, "proof of the Thu'um… if your travels ever bring you near my door, wherever I am, I'll make sure you have a meal and warm bed to stay in."

"…Much obliged, Miss Khepri." Farkas toasted my reward to a job well done, his cheeks flaring red, and we both drained our cups.

"Now then," I sighed, and made my way around the counter, "as much as I enjoy spending time in your company, Farkas, there is a Muster nearby, and the various leaders don't seem to agree on chain of command."

"Hmph." The big Nord grunted, easily sliding from the stool and falling into step behind me, "So you gonna go knock their heads together?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Skitter woke up yesterday. I'm going to bring her, and my prepared swarm, to a tent Bori set up for me near the ruin's entrance. If they haven't settled their differences by morning, I'll begrudgingly set them straight." That earned me quite the deep, rumbling chuckle, which I smiled at, and not only because Farkas was checking me out again.

Three minutes later, he was quietly staring at Skitter's new form. I was beginning to get worried, when he spoke.

"You know… I don't think you'll have to knock heads together much, if you front up with her in tow." He glanced at the spiders and clouds of insects swarming over the crags, and added, "Plus the swarm." And he smiled at me, "Makes me feel better about doin' this. With you watchin' over us, everything should go smooth as warm mead."

[very good taste, my Queen. He is clearly strong, intelligent, and virile, and will give you many glorious hatchlings]

I'm fairly certain my embarrassed blush could be seen from Solitude.

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Next time, we get to the Muster - don't worry, I'm not going into huge detail beyond introductions and a few major moments, and Blackreach will only be three chapters, maybe. So five chapters before we get back to Khepri making honey, mead, and eyeing up the beefcake.

Thanks for reading!