AN: This was a longer chapter. Hopefully no one will be able to tell how extremely exhausted I was whilst writing some parts of this. But you can probably tell how exhausted I am by this author's note, though (yikes). I hope you enjoy regardless.

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim is property of Bethesda Softworks. I own nothing but Roseleigha. Thank you for allowing my words to have the privilege of your time.

The Seer and Her Thief, Chapter 8

Senses were the only thing she had left now. It was as if someone had sucked everything and everyone she held closest right from her life. She felt the grass surround her, closing her heavy eyelids. Her lungs repeatedly became full and empty with the fresh, cold air. The sleepy mind of the young Nord wandered to her family and what she had experienced a few days ago, but felt like it happened years ago as well as yesterday.

She knew she let her family down. As the eldest of six, almost seven, she had failed to keep them safe. Where are the ones she couldn't find now? Her only hope was they didn't suffer as much as she saw Nirn did in his last moments.

Tears overflowed from her eyes and warmed her cheeks as she remembered her little brother. Why did her last moments of light have to be of him in such pain? She remembered the color of his fingers, severely burned and in complete contrast to his face that was pale from blood loss. She tried her best to stop the bleeding, she swore to the Nine. Even her high-level healing spell and exceptional restoration skill couldn't keep him from bleeding out.

Roseleigha pushed the heel of her hands into her eyes, trying to halt the tears but to no avail. The cold wind blew harshly against her damp cheeks as she sobbed her way into a deep sleep.


Roseleigha could see Volskygge right ahead of her. She and Brynjolf dismounted their horses, letting them stay further away from the tomb so as not to get involved. They both dodged for cover behind a rock nearby the excavation-looking staircase. She sensed three bandits; one on a ledge to the left next to a fire, one on the right, and one right in front of the main entrance.

"We should be able to sneak past them real easy," Brynjolf commented.

"No," she replied. "As soon as they hear that door open, and they will, they'll be chasing after us and all the draugr will be alarmed. We have to take care of them."

She readied her weapon: an ebony-like bow enchanted with shock and frost damage, beautiful intricate designs of silver-like lines and swirls around it with an engraving of a crow with its wings reaching to grasp a moon that hung above it. Taking a deep breath, she tuned out the urgent questions of the man next to her and landed a daedric arrow right between the eyes of the bandit next to the fire.

"How…" Brynjolf gasped.

"Shh," she whispered. She didn't have enough time to spare him a moment. Three more draws of her bow took care of the other two bandits: a shot into the side of one's head, and two shots in the abdomen of the other. She grabbed the hand of the stunned man next to her and made a dash into the ruin.


Roseleigha allowed Brynjolf to have a moment to catch his breath from the amazement of the stunningly preserved Nordic tomb. She smiled as he took a moment to look around with eyes mimicking that of a child. It reminded her of when she first showed the gorgeous streams of different colored lights in the night sky to each of her younger siblings once they turned four summers old.

Her breath left her as she remembered her family. I wonder if those night skies are like that in Sovngarde, she asked herself quietly. She allowed herself to rest her eyes and relive moments of her past. She could remember all of their faces so well. It felt like none of them had been gone at all. They never were, in fact. The nights she slept were filled with the last days of being with her family and her days were filled with reminders of where they should all be right now.

She lifted her eyelids with a slight startle as she felt eyes on her. "Let's keep moving," she said and moved pasted Brynjolf.

The other bandits were easily avoided, take one. Brynjolf was able to elegantly throw one of his daggers into the bandit's throat as she tried to yell for backup once she spotted them. They were able to find chests and pick up the loot inside of them until they reached another large room with three sarcophaguses in the center of it. Brynjolf examined the stone carvings of different animals while she took the liberty of looking into the book that sat on a pedestal in front of the blocked path.

The first fears all, the second fears none.

The third eats what it can, preferably number one.

The fourth fears the second, but only when alone.

All must be activated in order, if you wish to go home.

She chuckled. Home, eh? If only it were that simple. She turned around only to then find herself shoving Brynjolf into the ground.

"What the hell was that for, lass?" he asked, taking the hand she offered him.

She lifted him back up with a grunt and said, "You were being stupid, as always, Bryn." She brushed some dirt off his shoulder and looked to the lever he was about to pull. "It needs to be done in a certain order."

"How the bloody hell are we supposed to know the order?" he asked.

She handed him the book and proceeded to read along with Brynjolf in her head as he read the words aloud.

"The first fears all, the second fears none. The third eats what it can, preferably number one. The fourth fears the second, but only when alone. All must be activated in order, if you wish to go home…" he paused for a moment while Roseleigha went and pulled the handles to each pillar.

"Snake, bear, fox, wolf," she whispered as she pulled each one.

The gate that once blocked their way further into the tomb opened up. "Nice job, lass," he complimented as she nudged him with her elbow. They both descended the spiral staircase and entered the passages.

The two thieves made their way smoothly through the passages, making sure not to let any of the draugr know of their presence. Reaching a room with a small stream inside of it, they found the large chest behind a chair with a heavily-armored corpse sitting in it. Roseleigha grabbed Brynjolf's arm before they rushed in for the loot.

"You need to promise me you'll be careful," she said, hoping that the slight worry in her voice and eyes were not showing.

It most likely failed, though, since Brynjolf smirked at her, "Don't worry, lass. A few sets of old bones won't take me down."

She gave up trying to heed him of the dangers and proceeded into the room. Despite being extremely quiet, as soon as Brynjolf began to pick the lock of the grand chest, the draugr awoke. Roseleigha was ready with her bow, though, and shot an already prepped arrow into the chest of the moving corpse. That only staggered him, though, as she knew it would.

"Just keep working on the lock, Bryn!" she urged him as she readied another bow. She wondered for a very brief moment why the deathlord did not already bring his sword down upon her. She quickly realized why and made a move to dodge the attack, but wasn't quick enough."

"FUS… RO DAH!" it Shouted at her.

Roseleigha was hurled into the wall on the other side of the stream, feeling as though her whole left side had been shattered beyond repair before landed crudely on the rock floor covered in dirt and vines. So, that is what it feels to be on the opposite end of it, she noted to herself. She was able to keep herself conscious enough to focus her senses onto a restoration spell, rushing to get herself up and out of the ruins before the other draugr had enough time to make their way to their current location.

Propping herself against the wall, she pushed both of her hands onto her left side and began casting the restoration spell. The draugr deathlord was quickly approaching her, and she could tell more draugr was on their way. She reached one hand down a bit further to grab her dagger and readied her feet against the wall so she could launch off the wall and land her dagger into its neck.

Just as she was ready to jump, though, the blue light from its eyes fading away as he fell do the ground with a dagger in its back. She saw the black hooded figure standing in front of her and felt herself swiftly being lifted up into his arms.

"Come on!" he yelled at her as she grabbed the large bag of loot he rushed past before leaving the tomb behind them along with the lesser draugr trying to find them.


They emerged onto the balcony, Brynjolf struggling to catch while breath while Roseleigha scanned for movement around her. He placed her onto the ground and sat next to him. She had healed up her side for the most part, but was still winded. They had already gotten the loot. She knew they should leave right now, but her curiosity got the best of her.

"Stay here," she warned him. She stood up and walked around the corner. He looked much worse than she felt.

"No can do, lass. Not after what just happened."

She saw the Word Wall before her, along with a large sarcophagus laid in front of it. This can't be good. He needs to leave. Now.

"Listen, Bryn, I know you want to keep me safe, but- "

"But nothing, lass. You almost died back there. Nothing you tell me will make me back off."

"Damn it, Bryn! Just listen to me! You need to leave right now!"

He got up and began to walk over to her before the lid to the coffin flew open and a floating mass surged from it. Her worse fear just awoke.

Volsung. The very name was meant to spread fear in everyone's heart. The dreaded dragon priest may have looked similar to the other high-powered priests, but he was incredibly strong. Perhaps his only weakness that Roseleigha knew of was stealth attacks; if she could take him out stealthily, he would be long dead again by now. But now she was in a fierce battle for her life once more by the hands of an ancient power.

Her thoughts instantly went to Brynjolf. Luckily, she had planned for this scenario, but she was hoping to avoid it. At best, he would make it out unconscious, having no memory of her needing to use her power. At worse, he would die at the hands of the priest and she would die at the hands of Mercer.

Roseleigha quickly rushed in front of Brynjolf who stood in shock. The piercing scream of Volsung made both of their heads ache. She quickly drew her bow and aimed straight for the chest plate before the priest could cast his Ebonyflesh spell. Just as she notched the arrow in her bow, though, he was already protected by the magic.

She cursed under her breath, dodging to the side as he sent an ice spear into her direction. Brynjolf was able to maneuver around it, but barely. He was still reeling from the reality in front of him. She had to take care of the blasted priest before he was hurt, even though she knew that was impossible.

The Nord woman continued to fire her arrows at the priest, penetrating his plated armor more than five times now, but he would not give up. He had his attacks all aimed for Brynjolf too, possibly seeing and sensing his fear and inability to move as quickly as she was.

Concentrating her aim to Volsung's mask, her eyes left the master thief at the most crucial moment. A frost atronach appeared right behind him, stabbing its arm into the ground and sending Brynjolf rolling down the steep hill and crashing into the stone pillar.

"BRYNJOLF!"

Roseleigha flew into rage, angry at herself for not leaving when they had the perfect chance. She could never forgive herself for letting another person die under her watch.

She turned her fiery gaze to the dragon priest, seeming to be mocking her. Gritting her teeth, she unsheathed both of her daggers, charging straight at him.

"Yol… Toor Shul!"

Fire spewed from her mouth, reawakening the priest's hellish scream. She continued to run directly at him.

"Hevno dinok wah hi!" she screamed as she kicked off of the ground, her daggers flying with such force that knocked his mask just right to weaken him and allow her to cut right down the middle of his chest plate, disintegrating his spirit into a pile of ash.

She fell to her knees, weakened from her Shout and power attacks. Her eyelids grew heavy, threatening to fall and send her into a recuperative sleep. Roseleigha had to prop herself up on her hands and knees, viciously coughing. Her throat was hurting and burning from the Shout; they seemed to be easier with time, but she was still trying to master that one.

Quickly scrambling to her feet, she ran to the limp body now almost buried in snow. Her attempts to awaken him with furious shakes were ineffective until a few long moments later. Brynjolf began coughing roughly, spitting out blood onto his armor and in the white snow.

"You dumb bastard!" Roseleigha shouted at him as she wrapped her arms around his exhausted form. She wasn't bothered with the thought of hugging him, not after she wasted her tears and energy trying to wake him up.

Brynjolf weakly returned her hug, his breathing ragged. "Lass… I appreciate the hug… but I can't breathe."

"Shut up, Bryn."

She continued to hug him until she realized he was still conscious enough to register what was happening. Her hands quickly rummaged in her bag looking for her potions and ingredients.

Grabbing a few health potions, she lifted the bottles to his lips and nearly forced them now his throat. She grabbed some frost mirriam from her satchel and tore some leaves off with her teeth.

"Eat this," she demanded. "It'll stop the ice from draining your energy."

Brynjolf scowled but took the plant nonetheless. "These taste nasty," he remarked.

"Sorry, were you expecting a sweet roll?" she teased, irritated with herself for allowing him to get hurt. "Am I going to need to walk all the way to Dragon Bridge so you can have some tomato soup?"

He managed to scoff but quickly was sent into a coughing fit. "Apologies, but some mead wouldn't hurt right now."

She smiled, knowing that he would be asking for mead sooner or later. Going back into her bag, she pulled out a bottle and took the lid off, holding the bottle to his lips. "You're too predictable, Bryn."

He let the drink flow into his mouth and down his throat, relishing in the sweet taste and lukewarm temperature hitting his throat. "Aye, but at least you can see what I'm going to do. What in Oblivion did you do to that thing? You Shouted at him… Don't tell me you're- "

"Stop talking, you idiot." Roseleigha knew he was going to ask, and now she knew she had to give him answers. "We can talk about it when we get back to Solitude. You need to rest now."

Brynjolf's body suddenly shivered. She stepped away from him for a moment, calling Shadowmere. Once the horse made it up the hill, she had to assist him into the saddle of her mighty steed. She sat in front of him, allowing him to lean his weight onto her back and hold her around the waist. His large and calloused hand gently went up and down her left side, the side that the draugr deathlord had sent flying into the wall. She felt her body heat up in embarrassment, even though she had done the same thing with Arnbjorn. Why did she feel so self-conscious around Brynjolf?

"Something the matter, lass?" he sleepily asked.

She shook her head. "No. Just get some rest. We'll be at Solitude by sunrise."

He rested his forehead on her shoulder and quickly fell asleep. She felt tears of relief and fear pool in her eyes as they road back to Solitude in the depths of the night.