EDIT 11/21/2020

Changed the date, as it was in error. 4E200 is the correct date, not 4E201

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Chapter 18:
Nightmares of Lost Hours

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12th Rain's Hand, 4E200
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In Dawnstar, the current month's name was less a descriptor and more a suggestion, unlike First Seed.

Case-in-point: the light snow falling all over the town, dusting the world with a sheet of sparkling white under rolling grey.

Luckily, the temperature wasn't too cold, only just enough to allow snowflakes to crystalize. Unfortunately – for the children, mostly – this meant the streets were rather slushy most of the time, with the dropping temperatures promising a cold wet night to come.

My Chaurus didn't mind – they'd all be in the grotto or in the nest of hay Skitter made under my porch – and neither did most of the guards, the Nords in particular some of whom bid myself and Jordis, who was dressed-down for the evening, greetings as they passed my house by.

Skitter was dozing under the porch with Imp and Bentley, while Sophia and Defiant watched the snow from the greenhouse door, and the rest of the Hunters were hiding in the evergreens on the ridge, or, in Rachel and Amy's case, cleaning their shells in the gravel of Skitter's old den. Erandur had even found time to come visit for tea and conversation, earlier, so I was in a pleasant mood, pursuing a rare book Farkas sent me in the mail: The Song of Pelinal, a poetic recounting of the Alessian Rebellion against the Ayleid kings of Cyrodiil.

Quiet evenings like these were common, of late. With the settlement and manor at Weynon nearly completed – Bori and his family had moved just three days ago, to ensure the final stages of construction weren't bothered by any bandits – and most of the Dawnstar operation of my business under Cal's direction – five new employees, as well as his new wife, would aid his efforts – there was little for me to actually do, other than tend to my Chaurus herd and enjoy my quiet retirement.

Still…

"Jordis." My Houscarl – and secret contact with the High King's court – looked up from oiling her armor at my quiet call, "You've read of Pelinal Whitestrake, yes?"

She nodded and replied, "Yes, m… Khepri. The Bard's College have the song in their library, and he is a major character in Tamriel's history."

I flipped from one page to the other, frowning, "Why does he seem more a Dwemer automaton than mortal man, then?" She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to laugh; I didn't understand. "Honestly. I understand the need for vengeance, I understand the plight of enslaved Man, I even understand the need to destroy the Ayleids… but was he really so… so…"

"Utterly devoted to his task, to the exclusion of just about everything else?" she almost sounded… proud?

Then again, if there was anything I truly admired about Jordis, it was her sense of right and duty. Unlike Pelinal, though, I was fairly sure she'd have spared the Khajiit; there was revenge, and then there was… that.

"I have difficulty believing such a powerful person could be so… single-minded and bloodthirsty."

"Who can say, Khepri? It was nearly five millennia ago; different times, different situation." She paused. "And it was for an honestly good cause."

"Yet Cyrodiil allowed the Argonians to be enslaved in Morrowind… but, then, the Tribunal. Still, I've noticed multiple inconsistencies and paradoxes with Tamriel's history. Pelinal, here, is only the most recent one; take the accounts of the Dragon Break, for example," I went on relentlessly, drawing a sigh from Jordis. "Mannimarco said something about Pelinal knowing how to find him, during that event, but… was Pelinal even a man? He seems more like some kind of… small Numidium, or something."

Jordis blinked at me. "A… small… Brass God, my Thane?"

I nodded, examining some Falkreath tree spider silk that I'd woven into a napkin. The latest specimens in my quest to locate strong silk were more temperamental than the local cave spiders or Frostbites, but the tensile strength appeared sturdy, much more so than the local fare.

Soon, I might be able to make some… exciting… surprises for Farkas. Just the thought made a part of me want to giggle in mischief; I suppressed the urge. Not in front of Jordis. She was still too…

Well, I was going to punch a certain Thane of Solitude in the face, sometime in the future.

Yes, annoying him with flies would be fitting, given his… tendencies, but sometimes it was more satisfying to mete out punishment directly than do so with the Swarm. I was a Thane of Skyrim, apparently, which gave me a certain authority in all the Holds; there wasn't much Thane Erikur would able to do in reply and survive.

Besides, the way he'd treated Jordis deserved no less than a badly broken nose. Perhaps I'd wear spider silk gloves when I did the deed.

"There's the whole 'hand of light' thing," I continued my musings on the Divine Crusader while idly checking how stretchy the square of silk was; an acceptable amount of give, considering the weave, "and how he single-handedly destroyed whole armies without taking seriously debilitating injuries, and then there's the claim that his gear were given to him by the Divines, which can't be verified, as their canon states the Aedra don't give out artifacts like the Daedra-"

"My… Khepri," Jordis' tone was somewhat suffering; looking at her, I found her gaze full of… pity? "Pelinal lived at the same time as Saint Alessia, in an age of legends, where the Dwemer still walked the earth and the Snow Elves were still occasionally seen here in Skyrim. Was he a Man, blessed by the Divines, or was he simply a drunk warrior who impressed the Dwemer enough that they gifted him armaments worthy of his stature?" she shrugged, and went back to her armor, "Does it matter? The slaves were freed, the Ayleids were destroyed. Whatever the truth, I am as thankful for his existence as I am of yours, my Thane."

I nodded, slowly, and sighed tiredly, ignoring the light coloring of Jordis' face. "Yes. Forgive me, I just… am curious about the history of Tamriel, especially the legends of other heroes; some of these tales are very strange."

That, and Pelinal's story seemed to parallel my own, somewhat. He freed the Imperials from the Ayleids, and I freed the Chaurus from the Falmer. But, whereas I would likely be mentioned as playing a minor role in the actual conflict, Pelinal was just…

Maybe I had a hard time seeing someone doing… all of that, without any superpowers. Then again, the Dwemer could've aided him, and the Divines could've made his arms and armor, but the story itself was just so… ridiculous! And for such an important individual, as well!

"You learn to live with it, Khepri. Much of Tamriel's history can be quite strange, like Vivec's sermons, so it's easier to just accept what you see at face value and only dig into the details if you have to, otherwise you'll disappear behind a stack of tomes until you find yourself reading something called Wabbajack or Dance of the Three-Legged Guar without remembering why."

"Personal experience?" perhaps I'd hold off on the history of the world for a while longer. I'd managed to buy a copy of The Complete Mystery of Talara from the trading post but hadn't yet cracked it open. I mentally added reading it to tomorrow's schedule, as I felt a yawn coming on.

"I was young and too curious for my own good." Jordis looked up at me, "Also, you should get some sleep; the move is in three days, and you'll need your strength for the ride down to Weynon."

"Yes… you'll be staying up, as usual?" I asked, rising from my chair while simultaneously combing over my swarms and the Chaurus, making sure Skitter would manage everything in my absence.

[your female companion is correct, my Queen] Skitter intoned as she mentally counted her fellow Chaurus; five new commons had been born, over the past week, and seven would likely molt into Hunters after we moved south. [rest. I, and she, will watch over these lands as you recover your strength]

Jordis nodded as I was mentally bombarded with [agreement] and [adoration] from my Chaurus, the Nord woman smiling slightly, a rare thing from her, "Yes. The aurora are… more beautiful here, than in Solitude," she stood, briefly, to pat me on the shoulder in farewell, a gesture I returned with a smile of my own, "Pleasant dreams, Khepri."

"Thank you, Jordis. Don't stay up too late," with a smile of farewell, I reentered my house. My house. And soon, I'd be living in a manor.

Goodness, if… they, the Undersiders, could see me now…

I wondered, as I curled up in bed, the spiders put away and notes added to the reams already in existence…

I wondered: what would the people I once knew think of me now?

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"You never learned to ask for help when you needed it."

Sixteen feet. Bone on my chest. Him, the man with scales and flame, standing between us.

"Oh god oh god oh god." Her. Amy. A touch to save the world. Why is she crying?

"I mean, you ask when you approach other groups." Her, the girl whose smile I liked. She wasn't smiling. She looked… sad. "but it's like you're holding a gun to their heads while you ask, or you ask at a time when it's hard for them to say no, because all hell's about to break loose."

But I don't. I didn't have to ask… I just told them, and then Jarl Skald started the Muster.

"Yeah, you asked [Amy]. You asked me to play along and arrange stuff, when you went to go … Your handling of the … well, I don't want to get into a pattern and start cutting too deep. Let's just say you make a decision by yourself, and then you use others to get help carrying it out. That's not really you asking for help, is it?"

…what are you talking about? I… I didn't use them. I didn't! I didn't even ask for their aid! I'd have gone alone if I had to!

…why can't I speak?

"While I'm saying all this, kiddo, you gotta know I love you. I adore you, warts and all. You saved me, as much as I like to think I saved you. All this stuff I'm bitching about, it's the same stuff that got us through some pretty hairy shit, and I love you for it ... You're brilliant and you're reckless and you … I really wish you'd leave things well enough alone and be selfish. But this?"

This? What do you mean, this?!

What is… no. No, not here.

Not again.

"Shit," she shook her head, tears in her eyes, "You gotta forgive me, just this once. Because seeing this and knowing what you pulled hurts enough that I gotta say this. This makes me feel really sorry for … because I'm starting to get a sense of what you put him through."

No.

Nonononono-

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Blonde, wet dog smell and muscles, stepping toward me no no Rachel nonononoGET AWAY-

I push her back.

"Mm."

Her again. Why isn't she smiling? Please… one more smile. Just… one more. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

'Because she trusts me far too much.' I thought that then.

She was right to.

"She's smarter than I am." Rachel… "Let her do what she needs to."

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Doors everywhere extend my range twist and twine must protect these two keep them close-

Savethem.

ImustImustImust.

Savethem

all.

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FIGHT

IhavetowinIhavetowinIhaveto-

FIGHT

-winwin winhaveto win somanyare dyinghaveto focusfocusfocus-

FIGHT

-buildHEhas aweaknessfound itjust likethema CORE weakpointhave tobreakit have to-

FIGHT

-win. Nomatter thecostIhave tokillhimhave to stop this. I havetoensure everyonesurvives Ican'tgiveup

FIGHT

I-WE-must survive.

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Build parry FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT build flee HE is coming ripping tearing FIGHT fightback fightbackk FIGHT FIGHT hewillkill neverstop destroying…

[He Is Human]

A small voice, my voice, almost drowned out by screeching howls of the GOLD MORNING.

'I can work with that.'

[we]

[together'

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He fights, but he is flagging. I/We are limited, now, butit's almost donea little moreandit'll be over andIcanrest.

Farkas charges past.

No.

Nostop.

[stop'

…whywon't heStOP?

HE looks

betweenus

and smiiillleesssss-

GOLD.

Blood.

[No.'

No. No, not Farkas!

Nonononono thisisn'treal thisisn't[real] thiscan'tbereal thisDIDN'T [HAPPEN]

WE WILL[KILL]YOU, {ZI-

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My eyes snapped open and my swarm was there.

HE wasn't, but that wouldn't last long.

I could almost feel the earth quaking at HIS approach.

I needed to prepare myself, and my swarms.

[queen?] [danger!] [queen!] [queen!] [danger!]

I was out of my bed, searching for my gear and weapons while directing my swarms to scout the edges of my range, the sturdier insects moved closer to me; why did I put so many far away from me? No matter, that'd be rectified in a few moments. The sword- in my trunk. I needed to kit myself before returning to the fight.

The jump pack was gone; Contessa didn't send it with me, but that made sense. How could I maintain it, anyway? The lack of a spider-silk suit was mildly upsetting, but I still hadn't found any silk that could compare to dragline, not yet anyway.

The moonstone magical prosthetic was where I left it; that went on my stump quickly, while I wondered: why hadn't HE attacked yet? The area I was in was cold, so my swarms wouldn't be as effective, it was the perfect opportunity-

[queen! Queen Khepri, please stop and tell me what is the matter?!]

I… hesitated, recent memories flitting into the fore, overtaking my frantic preparations. 'S… Skitter?'

[my Queen, please, why are you so distressed?! It is too cold for the little ones to be outside!]

I was… forcing my control on the Chaurus.

Even worse, my trunk was open, and my sword, still sheathed, was in my hand. I dropped it with a gasp.

I'd… I'd been about to attack and control everything around me; I'd even formed plans for abducting the court wizard and using Conjuration to control the whole town. My insects were everywhere, in houses and businesses, the Jarl's quarters and the barracks, all searching for a threat, for HIM; no one had woken, and the guards hadn't noticed but…

For a moment, I'd been transported back to that awful battle, to Gold Morning.

'Oh, Skitter, everyone, I'm so sorry!' I thought at my Chaurus, gently pushing the little ones back toward the cave, sending Twinkie and Bullet to make sure everyone was accounted for and safe; it was so cold out, what was I thinking?!

The image flashed before my eyes again: the GOLDEN MAN, killing Farkas, in that awful final battle…

But that was ridiculous, I thought, trying not to cry at my thoughtlessness, or the [pain] coming from my little ones – or the sharp and painful vision of the man I admired dying to Him – as I stumbled through dressing myself, doing my best to take my Chaurus' [pain] onto myself while sending what [soothing] feelings I could, to calm their [fear] for my person. Skitter and my Hunters weren't mollified, close to me as they were; Imp, in particular, was [anxious] for me, but I couldn't see exactly what she was doing, to keep me calm.

I put that from my mind, and examined my thoughts on my dear companion, Farkas.

Farkas was in Markarth, last I'd heard, delivering some artifacts from Blackreach to Calcelmo's nephew, the curator of that city's Dwemer museum. As such, there was only one explanation for seeing him in a… nightmare…

A nightmare.

I had a nightmare, of that day, for the first time since arriving in Tamriel. A nightmare so awful, I nearly killed my Chaurus and attacked the people of Dawnstar in a panic.

I choked back a furious sob while pulling a snowy saber cat cloak around my body, praying as I left my room for the stairs, "Kynareth, Julianos, clear my mind and help me see the truth of this!" I took my sword with me, of course.

It was the first time, since my arrival in Tamriel, where I'd dreamt of… that day.

This could not be coincidence or happenstance.

I never had anxiety where Farkas was concerned; he was strong, brave, and intelligent. Few were the threats in Skyrim that could fell my dear companion, and he assured me – repeatedly, both in person and what few letters came from him – that he would take pains to steer clear of such enemies.

Therefore, someone had attacked me with dreams.

I would ensure they regretted this assault forthwith.

"…my Th- Khepri?!" Jordis bolted up from her bed on seeing my state, my own eyes – and what few insects that I wasn't carefully putting back to sleep in their designated places – frantically searching for threats, both for inconsistencies in our house or the town. I couldn't see any odd artifacts yet, but the weather made my search slow-going. "Khepri, what is the matter?"

Then Imp knocked on the door. Sophia was watching the alley, Defiant lurking in the gardens, while Skitter and Bentley prowled the front of my house, [concern], [watchfulness] and [devotion] coloring the Hive Mind from my Hunters, my personal guardians.

"A n-nightmare," I gulped, not trusting myself to speak any further, for the rage and self-hate coursing my veins, and opened the door.

There was Imp, blue-green eyes somehow conveying her worry better than the Hive Mind could…

And her mandibles were holding around six golden necklaces with pendants. One of them was an Amulet of Julianos.

[shiny] Imp broadcasted, her intent clear: she was bringing me shiny things, so I would be cheered up and distracted from whatever was making me sad. Tears filled my eyes, touched by her simple actions and the continuing care of the Chaurus, even after I hurt them-

"Where did she…" Jordis began incredulously, cut off as I wetly laughed and stroked my sneaky girl's head.

"The Dwemer ruins, most likely," I sniffed, a smile returning to my face at my Imp's thoughtfulness, slowly calming down-

One of the Frost-Glows woke from their sleep, screaming in terror.

My sorrow was dashed, replaced with purpose and fury as I examined the sleep patterns of everyone in the town; my heart jolted when I realized that over half of them, including Frida the Alchemist and Jarl Skald, were having troubled sleep. Five more people woke from their own nightmares; if this went unchecked, spouses might harm each other seriously before realizing what was happening, to say nothing of what might happen to the children. Young people were notorious for not knowing when to hold back.

"Jordis, get your armor on and sound the alarm." I snapped, taking the amulet of the Divine of Wisdom and looping it around my neck. "A mage, who is likely outside my range, is attacking us with dreams."

"Vaermina," my Houscarl spat, mirroring my own suspicions as I patted Imp in thanks and strode from my house, my Chaurus Hunters quickly spreading themselves out in ones and twos, some searching the crags and fields for the mage, while the others surrounded me as an honor guard while I marched for the longhouse, shouting for the guards and directing them to where they were needed most, all my mind intent on ensuring the town's safety.

.

For 34 years, Skald the Elder had ruled Dawnstar in relative peace – the Great War, the toll it took on the town's sons and daughters, and those who returned, notwithstanding.

Yes, there were the Brass Bows, and yes, the Ghostbeards had been a thorn in his foot for some time, and yes, there was that bloody thrice-damned necromancer what the Companions took care of last summer. But other than that? Skald Felgeif's tenure as Jarl was relatively peaceful, compared to the other, more lucrative Holds, who were near-constantly fighting off brigands.

Though, now, Skald could hold his head high and say his Hold was becoming rather lucrative; one of the more practical reasons he'd warmed to Khepri's presence.

Yes, she was an odd one, only a moron wouldn't be able to see how… non-Tamrielan she was. Yet, in this, Skald held his tongue; what did her unusualness matter, when by her hand his people were smiling, laughing, and gold was flowing into his town and Hold?

It'd seemed nothing but bright, happy days were ahead.

And now…

He'd dreamt of the day his father died, when Dawnstar half-burned from those worshipers of Dagon out of the south.

Intellectually, he knew they'd been slaughtered to the least and last, the Vigilants arriving just in the nick of time.

Yet logic was nothing in the face of reliving the worst 5 hours of his life, in vivid nightmare.

Rare were the days Skald would take up his axe, nevermind lay it on his lap while seated on his throne. Rarer still were the days when his wife, Ingne, would be present in his Hall as he held court; she was more concerned with writing to their son, who was attending the Bard's college, than the matters of the Hold. Here, however, Skald was glad for her presence in the corner of his eye; his rock, the only person who could see the real him…

The only one who knew how many scars were laid on his skin and soul.

It was not the normal time for court, however, the time being three bells in the morning, yet court was being held, and all those most important personages in his town were present. Yet even with their presence, their camaraderie in the face of hardships… not since taking up the mantle of Jarl, did Skald feel so vulnerable.

Front and center were the three finest warriors in the Hold, one of whom was famously 'retired': Khepri, her face grave and icy as her eyes tracked something only she could see, stroking Hunter Bentley's head as a way to keep herself calm; Jod, his own Houscarl, who'd searched the snowberry fields and examined the Dawn Fields, his expression a mask of hard resolve; and Frokmar Banner-Torn, the guard captain and representative to Jarl Ulfric, his usually friendly and happy face now full of anger.

Around them were others: Rustlief and Seren, the wife stroking her pale-faced husband's shoulders in comfort; Frida, the usually bubbly and vivacious elderly woman now clearly irritated where she sat along the east wall with Jurgan, the town's Priest of Arkay, who'd aided the general population in the wake of the… attack. His counterpart Priest, Erandur of Mara, was standing nearer to Khepri, red eyes dark and contemplative as he sipped some of the tea Houscarl Jordis made for those who needed it.

Grinding his teeth together, Skald spoke, his voice a furious growl, "Vaermina."

Erandur nodded, lips pursed and voice clipped, "It's common knowledge in this town that Nightcaller Tower was once the den to a Daedric cult; the Vigilants briefed myself and Jurgan when we were posted here. As you know, my Jarl, the Tower was sealed, but…"

"Magical barriers can wear out, over time." Madena, the court wizard, stated in a weary voice; like many present, she'd suffered from the horrible visions that assaulted the town. "There has been a slight uptick of unpleasant dreams and night terrors, though I'd long considered that to be natural; most of them were children and veterans, and, well, many children are vulnerable to troubled nights. The veterans… well, their nightmares have obvious causes."

"And now the truth of the matter is clear." Skald growled again, a hot fury building in his guts. "Someone's broken into that Tower and is attacking my town."

"The door is still sealed, my Jarl," Khepri stated; another rare thing was the young woman's voice being colored with real anger. "I just had a Frostbite Spider test the entry; the barrier seems to be intact, but that's just the door, and I'm not about to have Skitter tear the whole tower down. It's right above the iron mine, the Chaurus cave, and the hot water pipe."

Left unsaid, but clearly implied, was that she very much wanted to level that blighted place. From the looks of things, just about everyone agreed.

"My Jarl," Erandur spoke up, though he sounded… hesitant? "I have been trained in the destruction of Daedric artifacts, and am experienced in magical combat. I can investigate Nightcaller Tower, possibly discover the source of this curse-"

"And then what?" Jod snarled suspiciously, not the only one casting a doubtful gaze on the Dunmer priest. "So you know of the items, aye, but their followers are worse. What do you know of Daedra worshipers, Priest?"

"I was not always a Priest, Jod." Erandur's quiet, admonishing reply made Jod pull up before he could get going; sighing, the Priest continued, "Yet, you have a point: my old life was long seasons ago, and if there are traps or beasts lying in wait, I may not have the ability to deal with them all."

Jarl Skald nodded, "I agree, and more: you're rather well-liked around here, Erandur, both by the older crowd and the younger. Replacing you would be… annoying."

Khepri looked up, face deceptively calm, tone light and conversational, "By your leave, my Jarl?"

The tension in the room rose, slightly, but no one spoke up against her, not even Erandur, who Khepri was close friends with; rather, they looked to Skald, who closed his eyes in thought.

It was an easy decision, but at the same time, it galled him. Giving Khepri permission to go would be akin to sending a Legion to deal with a small gang of bandits; yes, Daedra worshipers were hardly bandits, but it was Khepri. The word 'overkill' was rather apt… but then, better overkill than possibly half-assing the job.

At the same time…

He pointed his axe at Khepri, speaking as though to his own child, "You go up there with Erandur, examine the place, and if it seems too dangerous for the pair of you to go it alone – it's cold as an ice wraith's breath tonight, so you'll be limited to your Hunters and yourself – then you two march right back on down here, get some sleep, and wait until daybreak. Frokmar! I know Carcette's down in Riften seeing to that fort with those Dawnguard folk, but there'll be some Vigilants still in their headquarters; grab who you can, and bring them here. Best case, they'll have to walk over what's left after Erandur and Khepri sack the place."

Then he looked at the Thane of Skyrim and Priest of Mara, who both blinked at him, "I'd say take Jordis with you, Khepri, but if whoever's done this has others waiting outside your range, I don't want to take any chances. Go, deal with this, and Gods willing it'll be the last time you'll have to take up arms for my Hold."

"Knowing my luck, my Jarl, that won't be the case." Skald snorted at her dry tone; still, she rose, bowed, and left, Erandur and Bentley at her heels.

Jarl Skald sighed, then rose from his chair, giving Banner-Torn the order to wake him if there were any developments, for good or ill.

Then he returned to bed, and his wife's embrace, and tried not to think of fire and chanting in the night.

.

Erandur had been worried that Khepri would take the revelation of his past badly. In his time as a devotee to Vaermina, he'd committed… crimes, ones that took years of devotion to the Divines in general and Mara in particular to heal from. Even though the scars had healed over, with this latest attack from those he'd thought long gone…

Some wounds never truly healed, and he feared what Khepri, a woman he truly respected and cared for, would think of him.

She'd gazed at him for a long moment with an unreadable expression, Skitter, Bentley, Imp, Defiant and Judas surrounding her. In that moment, Erandur feared his life was measured in minutes, or seconds.

"We all began as something else, Erandur," she finally said, softly, repeating the words he'd said to her on Heart's Day a million years ago. Her smile returned, small and fragile, yet not pitying, but understanding. "I am the last person who should judge another's past, given my own misdeeds before arriving here; regardless, I know nothing of this Casimir person you used to be. I've only known the Mer before me, whose name is Erandur. And he is a good person."

And that was that, apparently.

Though, as they entered the Temple proper – Skitter had a bit of trouble with the entryway, but managed in the end – and proceeded into its depths-

Erandur chuckled as the Chaurus used their caustic saliva to remove the bars lining the inner wall of the hallway, so they could crawl around the walls and access the soul gem focus for the barrier. "I say, I'm glad you're here, otherwise we'd have to employ more, ah, esoteric means to bypass this obstacle."

Khepri huffed and tapped the hilt of her sword, casting a dark look at the magic surrounding the Skull of Corruption, "I take it we'd have to use some Daedric ritual or other?"

"Likely."

"Then I am glad as well."

-Erandur wondered about something, a gossip that reached his ears over the weeks.

Yet, he waited until they'd passed all the enemies lying in wait to address the rumor.

"So, Farkas of the Companions?"

His tone was conversational, but slightly breathless; indeed, he'd let himself get a bit lazy, in the years between then and now.

Khepri's grin came back in full, the glowing blush and brightness of her eyes at odds with the sight of the woman cleaning her bloodied blade, "Yes. He…" she gave Erandur a look, "I tell you these things in confidence."

"I will not tell a soul, until Arkay takes me," and he meant it, too. Khepri would find out if he blabbed.

"I feel safe with him." she sighed, clearly wistful and smitten. "Yes, he isn't the most handsome man in the world, or the smartest, and I would be fooling myself to say he is the strongest physically… but these shortcomings don't matter to me. He is kind, caring, and has such a strong sense of justice and what is right or wrong; he is brave and dauntless in the face of adversity, and though he isn't a scholar by any stretch, Farkas is still the furthest thing from stupid… because he's wise. He says he was given the strength of Ysgramor, while his brother was given his smarts… but, between you and me, Erandur, I think it was an even split.

"He writes me sometimes, you know; he is so good at describing the places he goes, it's almost like I'm there," she sighed, happy and sad all at once, "If it weren't for my business, I'd happily travel with him, see this beautiful and storied country – oh, all the sights we could see, without fear of anyone or thing bothering us. The secrets we could uncover, together…" she laughed, and the Chaurus seemed to brighten at the sound, happy that she was happy, "Maybe when we're older, and have fewer responsibilities but still have our strength."

He could see it, and smiled to see that light in Khepri: the way her arms moved expressively, how her voice was cheery and bright as she spoke of Farkas.

Khepri was falling in love, and it was a beautiful thing to see.

No jealousy appeared in his heart, for which Erandur was grateful; what he and Khepri shared that night was… wonderful, yet also mildly stressful. While she was an amazing lover, she was a better friend and confidant, in his eyes.

"Well, I shall pray to Mara, for you both to have many years of happiness," his smile turned a bit teasing as he straightened and prepared for the final push, "Perhaps I'll even have the honor and privilege of marrying the two of you."

Khepri's blush and muttering excuses – it was too soon to even speak of such things, apparently – were adorable… yet, all good things must come to an end.

Thorek and Veren were still alive.

"We knew you'd come, traitor." Thorek spat; behind the two leaders of Vaermina's cult, the barrier around the Skull seemed like… a lens, "Our Lady awakened us, alerted by your proximity."

"And so you used the Skull's abilities to torment the people of Dawnstar, drawing me out." Erandur replied bitterly, "Well, it was useless; I will still stop you."

"Hmph," Veren was dismissive, spells swirling around his arms, looking between Erandur and Khepri, who seemed bored, "Big words for someone who whored himself to the Divines. Our Lady's power is in us, and-"

"Oh, good. You're finally here. I was worried you taken a wrong turn and gotten lost on the road of life again, Erandur."

A voice, that was both pleasant and terrifying, rang in the hall. It seemed to come from the Skull… which meant…

"Vaermina, I presume." Khepri's tone was disgust and suspicion as one, Imp and Judas chittering at her sides.

Thorek snarled, "You dare speak to our-!"

"You presume correctly, Khepri Dawnbringer." Vaermina replied, ignoring the confusion of Thorek and Veren… and Erandur, too. Dawnbringer? "Though I'll understand if you continue living without a surname; it is merely what some of our more reliable servants call you."

"Not to mention how pretentious it sounds," Khepri rolled her shoulders and looked between the increasingly hostile devotees to Vaermina, "I take it Dawnstar has these two to thank for making them relive their darkest moments?"

"Correct."

Then Skitter fell on Veren and Thorek from above, smashing both of their heads into the cobblestones so hard they splattered like a pair of melons.

Given all the injuries and troubles they'd visited upon Dawnstar over the past few hours, Erandur didn't feel the least bit of remorse for the s'wits.

Vaermina expressed a relieved sigh, "Thank Father, they're finally gone! All night and day, it's Casimir did this, and we will have our revenge. Ugh; three years of putting up with their blithering plots was almost enough to make me go ask Sanguine for a drink. I was this close to asking Vile for a favor, did you know? Oh, and Erandur? Be a dear and send my Skull back into Oblivion?"

Erandur blinked, not… understanding what exactly was going on, but who was he to argue? Still, "Let it be clear that I already intended to do that, and am not interested in becoming your Champion, Lady Vaermina."

He was still polite, of course; only an idiot or a zealot disrespected the Daedric Princes to their faces.

"I'd sooner Champion a scrib, or a guar, than willingly bring you back into the fold, Priest of Mara," Vaermina said disparagingly; while Erandur prepared to banish the Skull, the Prince of Dream and Nightmare addressed Khepri warmly, "Apologies for my followers interrupting your rest and retirement, Khepri… and my own machinations, of course; it was the quickest and most efficient way to get rid of the sods so I could set up a better challenge somewhere else."

Did… did a Daedric Prince just apologize to Khepri?

Erandur ignored that, and focused on opening his magic and soul to the Divines.

"I accept your apology, Vaermina, but I won't be forgetting this," he heard Khepri reply, her Chaurus buzzing fiercely with her words, "It really would be a shame to have to wage war against any Daedric Prince, nevermind how much stress that'd put me through."

"Hmm, yes, you wouldn't be able to pull off the 'gray-haired and young' look, anyway. Well, hopefully we won't cross paths again. Farewell, Erandur, Khepri. Oh, and say hello to Sam for me, would you?"

"Wait, what?"

The Skull vanished back into Oblivion with a swirl of purple-red-black light, as Erandur finished his ritual; shaking himself, he turned an incredulous look on Khepri, who looked extremely confused herself, "Dawnbringer?"

She looked rather uncomfortable, "I'd… really rather not talk about that. Let's just say that my final battle was against a very powerful Daedra and leave it at that."

"Fair enough…" Erandur glanced around and huffed, before looking at Khepri, "So… we tell the Jarl that we came here, found a couple Daedra worshippers mucking about?"

She nodded and sheathed her sword, seeming to have collected herself, "Yes. And we make sure to emphasize Skitter making sure they were well and truly dead."

"zzzzPuny monsterszzz" buzzed Skitter, crawling up the wall while Khepri and Erandur made their way back through the Temple for the surface, ignoring Imp's grabbing of every ring, jewel, and tapestry she could carry in her saddlebags.

"…Khepri, a philosophical question."

"Very well. It'll keep me awake, at least."

"Imp doesn't have a saddle, so are they still saddlebags?"

After a moment of staring blankly into the middle distance, Khepri's lip quirked in humor, "Buggy-bags."

Erandur was glad she still had a sense of humor, even after the meeting with the Daedra; he really needed that laugh.