Chapter 15 - Loss


"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Yang groaned into her hand, tempted to toss the newly-acquired Scrolls to the ground and stomp on them in sheer frustration at her current situation.

Jaune could understand his fellow blonde's frustrations. By Oum, he even shared most of them. If he hadn't been more concerned by the newly-vision-impaired scholar in front of him, he'd probably have joined her. As it was, all he could do was stare at the blindfold around Dexion's eyes, and ask: "That covering on your eyes. Are you..."

"Blind? Yes. I'm afraid so." Dexion replied, with far more levity than Jaune had expected. If he'd been blinded, he'd have been freaking out.

"Can I do anything to help you?" Jaune asked, already channeling Aura into his hands.

"No." Dexion sadly shook his head. He knew the boy meant well, but the Elder Scrolls and their effects were beyond the realm of mortal magics. "It'll have to run its course, and there's always the chance I may never recover."

"Then it's over." Serana said morosely, slumping into an undignified heap against the wall. Yang huffed in resigned agreement, only resisting the urge to break the Elder Scroll because she knew they were effectively indestructible.

Also, because the Scrolls were said to be able to think for themselves, and she didn't want to piss off the divine artifacts.

But still, they'd snuck into Castle Volkihar, right under Harkon's nose, gone into Oblivion, looked for Serana's mother, an ancient vampire whose power rivalled Harkon's own, fought three of the Ideal Masters' Keepers and an Oblivion-damned (literally in this case) undead necromancer dragon, defeated said force in a battle that had shaken the very plane of Oblivion, taken the last scroll needed for the prophecy, talked to the aforementioned dragon when he'd somehow pulled himself back together, and ridden him out of Valerica's study and all the way back to Fort Dawnguard... just to find out they had no way to read the scrolls any longer.

Jaune looked at the faces of his two companions, at the hopelessness that had overcome them, and clenched his fists, wanting to do something, anything, to cheer them up. After all, the mission hadn't been a complete failure. Serana had found and reconciled (mostly) with her long-lost estranged mother. They'd made a powerful ally in Durnehviir. And they had the three scrolls, not Harkon. Even if they couldn't read them, neither could Harkon.

"Maybe not..."

Everyone turned to look at Dexion as he murmured, and Jaune closed his mouth, not wanting to interrupt the scholar. "There might be another way... the question is, how much are you willing to risk to find Auriel's Bow?"

"What do we need to do?" Serana asked immediately, perking up from her corner. Jaune nodded apprehensively, showing his support for Serana, before remembering that Dexion was blind.

Dexion stared in their direction, the blank cloth covering his eyes making Jaune shift uneasily, and he warned: "I can't guarantee you'd be free from harm. Becoming blind could be the least of your worries."

"Don't worry about that." Jaune reassured him, the desperate resolve in Serana helping him make his mind up. He remembered her outburst in the Soul Cairn, her admitting to her mother how she felt about the conflict; he couldn't just do nothing if his friend needed help. "Just tell us."

"Scattered across Tamriel are secluded locations known only as Ancestor Glades." Dexion explained. "There's one in Skyrim, in the Pine Forest. Performing the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth within the glade should provide the answers you seek."

"Explain this "ritual"." Yang interjected cautiously, glaring at Jaune and Dexion. She'd found herself more concerned with Dexion's warning; becoming blind was definitely the least of her worries, considering the other person she knew who'd studied the scrolls had been Septimus Signus. It was unlikely, sure, considering Jaune's and Serana's dispositions, but she didn't want to risk them getting infected with the same thirst for knowledge as Septimus had, especially not if it led them down the same path.

Dexion turned to Yang's direction, with a comforting smile, and began: "It involves..."

-ANCESTOR GLADE, TWO DAYS LATER-

"Carefully gathered bark of a Canticle Tree, check." Yang said, carelessly tossing aside the Draw Knife she'd used to harvest the wood.

"Hope the moths like that bark as much as Dexion said they would." Serana murmured in response, as Jaune caught the draw knife. They'd gotten it from Dexion, after all, and he felt that they should at least return it in one piece, even if Dexion had said he'd probably have no further use for it.

"So... what do I do now?" Yang asked. "Do I just walk around, trying to attract the moths or something?"

"I... don't think that'll be necessary..." Jaune replied, as Serana's vampiric hearing picked up the soft beating of wings. The two women looked up to where Jaune was pointing, and found clouds of large grey moths descending from around the cave, swarming towards Yang with purpose.

"Look at them... they've definitely taken a liking to you." Serana laughed, as they began landing on Yang's hair, and she resisted the urge to swat them away. "And unless I'm seeing things, you're starting to... glimmer."

"I'm seeing it too." Jaune confirmed, watching the moths circling Yang in amazement. He'd never seen anything like this, in Remnant or Skyrim, and he couldn't take his eyes off of it. "She's glowing. Are the moths doing it?"

Yang noticed Jaune ogling her, and smirked. Unfortunately, before she could even attempt to tease him, Serana cut in: "The effect around you looks an awful lot like that huge column of light shining on the dais. Let's check that out."

"Fine..." Yang sighed, rolling her eyes.

"By the way, Yang..." Jaune whispered as they walked towards the dais. "You sure you want to be the one to read the scrolls?"

Yang glared at Jaune, and he held his hands up, defending himself: "Hey, just saying... my Aura would probably protect me..."

"Vomit Boy, you're not from here. We don't know what would happen if you read the scroll." Yang gave him a plausible (and partially-true) excuse, before continuing: "Meanwhile, as Dragonborn, I'm supposed to be favored by the gods or something. Of us all, I'd say I have the best chance of successfully reading the scrolls."

"... if you say so..." Jaune reluctantly conceded, before softly adding: "I hope Dexion's right about this..."

Yang nodded in agreement, as she stepped up to the dais. When they'd asked why Dexion thought they could pull off the ritual that even the most resilient of Moth Priests needed years of training to successfully carry out, Dexion had merely (and ominously) told them: "You've come this far, and you've found several Elder Scrolls. Whether you believe it or not, the scrolls have a mind of their own. If they didn't want you to find them, they wouldn't allow it. Because of this, I strongly believe you were meant to hear the ancestral chorus."

Of course, then he'd ruined it by adding: "Only one way to find out."

Sighing, Yang decided to put aside her doubts, as they'd serve no further purpose, and instead focus on the here and now. Smiling at Jaune with a lot more confidence than she felt, she pulled out Valerica's scroll, stepped into the shaft of light illuminating the dais, and opened the Elder Scroll, focusing on its contents.

Oddly enough, all she saw was a blank paper, but as she looked closer, she noticed imperfections, lines in the parchment. Light began to seep from beneath the lines, imprinting themselves in her vision, and she felt a tugging sensation in a direction she could neither name nor describe, before whiteness filled her consciousness.

Blinking, she opened her eyes, to find herself in some nameless void, a blank expanse of light all around her.

"Ah, we finally meet." A voice echoed through the space, both ethereal in quality and oddly human.

She turned quickly, fists raised, to find a man slowly approaching her. His face was gentle, self-assured, and his demeanor was non-threatening and comforting. She didn't let her guard down, though, even as the warm presence filled the space. No mere mortal should be where she was, could be where she was. Instead, as he drew closer, she growled: "Who are you?"

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me. I could have sworn there was a statue of me in the Imperial City, Yang Xiao-Long of Bravil."

"..."

"I am an aspect of Akatosh. History remembers me as Martin Septim. It is... interesting, to meet a fellow Dragonborn."

"The hero of the Oblivion Crisis and the last Septim Emperor?" Yang asked, looking the man over. He didn't strike her as a wartime leader, much less a being who had gone toe-to-toe with Mehrunes Dagon, but if she really was dealing with a Divine, even a mere aspect of one, it didn't matter.

"Most histories forget that I was a monk for most of my mortal existence." Martin smiled easily, reading her skepticism.

Yang nodded, relaxing fractionally. She had read that fact in the history books, but everyone seemed to focus solely on his actions during the Oblivion Crisis. More to the point, though, if he'd wanted to impress her, trick her, been a daedra in disguise, he'd have probably shown up as a dragon or something, displaying more glory and splendor than the humble monk before her. "So, what do you want from me? Is this something that happens every time someone reads an Elder Scroll?"

"Oh, nothing like that, Yang. I just come, from one of Akatosh's own to another, bearing humble advice."

"I'm really just here for-"

"My bow, yes? Don't look so surprised; Auriel, Auri-El, Akatosh... all are different names, different faces, of the same greater being. Be not afraid; we will address my bow later. But first... if you want to learn more about why the dragons are returning, you should pay a visit to Kynesgrove, after dealing with Harkon and his followers."

"Kynesgrove? Why?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow.

Martin just smiled at her serenely, before looking down below. "Next... your companion, Jaune Arc."

Yang immediately bristled. "What about him?"

"The longer Jaune Arc is on Nirn, the more danger he will be in." Martin told her easily.

"Is that a threat?" Yang's fist clenched, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. After all, this was nothing like Hermaeus Mora; the Divines were supposed to actually be benevolent, and far more powerful in the physical plane, compared to the Daedra.

"Peace, Dragonborn, I mean him no harm." Martin held up a hand placatingly. "But others have begun to take notice of him. I know you are aware of what I am talking about."

"Sheogorath. Hermaeus Mora." Yang hissed out the last name with more venom than a snake, before glaring back at Martin. "I know he's in danger, damn it! He's more naive than a newborn, and knows even less! And that's before he jumped head-first into the dragon crisis and a war with ancient vampires! I've been keeping him safe all this time!"

Martin nodded, his expression still as friendly as ever, and replied: "Do you expect to emerge victorious against all the Princes of Oblivion?"

"If need be." Yang answered firmly. "What else can I do?"

"You could always help him to return to where he came from." Martin pointed out, tone neutral.

"If we knew how, I'd consider it!" Yang snapped back, refusing to play along any further. "But we don't know how he got here!"

Martin raised an eyebrow skeptically, but still answered: "The breach occurred from his end. And-"

"And none of that helps us at all." Yang irritably interjected. "Now, the location of your bow? I can only deal with what's in front of me, and right now what's in front of me is vampires who want to blot out the sun and enslave the world."

"Very well. The way to the bow is in a place called Darkfall Cave. The scrolls will have imprinted its location into your mind." Martin replied amicably, before pausing, and adding: "And Dragonborn?"

"What?"

"... good luck, Yang Xiao-Long..." Martin bade the irritable blonde farewell with a serene smile, as she felt the tugging sensation once again, and before she could say anything in return, whiteness overwhelmed her vision.

"Yang... Yang!" A familiar warm voice echoed in her mind, filling her thoughts, and she felt herself relax fractionally. Then she felt a pulling sensation, and immediately flinched, tensing up, her eyes shooting open.

"You're awake!" Jaune exclaimed in relief, face right in front of hers, hands still on the Dragonborn's shoulders where he'd been shaking her, and Yang relaxed once more, relieved to see that it was just her companion, rather than the scrolls pulling her around again. Then she blinked, and noticed how close his face was to hers, and thanked the Divines she wasn't so easily embarrassed.

"Are you okay?" Jaune continued asking her, oblivious to her inner thoughts or their proximity. "You went as white as the snow!"

"Yeah, we almost thought we lost you there." Serana added, before quickly masking her concern with a mocking tone: "Would've been so much more trouble, finding another drunken Nord to punch stuff for us."

"I'm glad to have spared you the effort." Yang rolled her eyes at Serana, and she relaxed, reassured by the knowledge that Yang was still herself.

Jaune, however, wasn't so easily mollified, and continued fussing over her: "So, what happened when you read the scrolls? You're still a bit pale..."

"Never mind that!" Yang quickly waved him away, not wanting to let them know about her meeting with Akatosh. "It... it worked, okay? The scroll told me where Auriel's Bow is."

"After everything we've been through, it had damn well better work." Serana commented. "And? Where is it?"

As Yang told them what she knew, what Akatosh had told her of his bow, and of the knowledge the Elder Scroll had imprinted in her mind, she couldn't help but think back to what Akatosh had told her, what he'd tried warning her about.

She couldn't help but wonder what was in Kynesgrove.

But most of all, she couldn't help but wonder, what if Jaune ever did find a way back... what if he left her, abandoned her too.

-1 YEAR AFTER THE FALL-

Not for the first time, Pyrrha sighed and looked out of the train window, wondering if following Ozpin (or should she call him Oscar now?) had really been the right thing to do. Even after all they'd done for him, after they'd lost him on Ozpin's orders, she couldn't help but feel that their former headmaster had still been keeping a few secrets. It was also obvious that he preferred using Team RWBY to Team JNPR to carry tasks out for him; even Nora had noticed, and she had actually managed to pull herself away from her new boyfriend long enough to complain to Pyrrha about being left out when he'd brought them to fight the Grimm horde bearing down on the Relic (and the train they were on, not that Ozpin ever seemed to care).

But even if she didn't trust Ozpin, it was clear that Ruby Rose did, and Ruby Rose would've jumped into an active volcano if Ozpin had told her it was necessary to save the world. Pyrrha felt she owed it to him to at least protect his first friend, since...

At least she'd managed to avenge him, though. The recording he'd managed to take had given them a decent insight into Cinder's abilities and fighting style. The Fall Maiden powers within her stirred at the emotions the memories brought back, but she fought them back down, gripping the handle of the still-broken Crocea Mors tightly. She knew he wouldn't have wanted it to end the way he had; he'd forgiven Cardin, for Oum's sake! But Cinder hadn't exactly given them a chance in Haven; she'd have speared Weiss if Pyrrha hadn't ran her through first.

The train jolted as it deployed it's brakes, and Pyrrha instinctively pressed down on her hood, making sure her distinctive long red hair wasn't revealed. That was another thing she wanted to blame Ozpin for; her status as the new Fall Maiden meant it was safer that she travel incognito. Too many people knew the Invincible Girl, after all; even if she could pass off her new powers as her Semblance, word would spread of the Invincible Girl's location, and Salem, the Grimm, and her remaining agents would be all over them like Rapier Wasps on Red Sap.

Of course, even she had to admit: she enjoyed the anonymity, forced or not; she'd gone to a whole different Kingdom just to escape her fame, after all.

Looking around, it seemed nobody noticed her, and she turned around as Ren and Nora approached her, fingers interlocked. She spared a small smile for them, a rare genuine one; it'd taken them more than long enough to finally stop dancing around their feelings, and finally become together-together.

A dull ache in her chest gave her pause, though. She couldn't deny to herself that she was slightly envious of them. Couldn't help but wonder, if he hadn't stayed behind, if he'd been less oblivious and insecure... if she'd been bold enough to actually say out loud how she'd actually felt...

Her emotions must have shown on her face, because the next thing she knew, Nora was embracing her (and not in her usual excited spine-crushing fashion, either). Ren walked up to her, placed his hand on her shoulder, and comforted her as well: "We miss him too."

"... I'm sorry..."

"We know." Nora said gently, before jumping up, and excitedly saying: "Now come on! Argus awaits! And you still haven't told me if it's beach season yet! By the way, where are we staying?"

"Yes, Nora, it's beach season." Pyrrha rolled her eyes as she answered the Valkyrie's question for the hundredth time, before playfully continuing: "And I told you, where we're staying is a secret."

"Betrayed by my own teammate!" Nora gasped, and she flew back to Ren and cried: "Ren! Pyrrha's being mean to me!"

"And here I was going to introduce you to the best pancake stall in Argus," Pyrrha slyly countered, and she could see Nora's expression turn to genuine horror as she added: "But, since I'm so mean..."

Ren merely sighed and smiled as Nora immediately began alternating between groveling and threatening Pyrrha's legs. He still remembered how cold and focused Pyrrha had been on Patch, just after Jaune had died, and how she'd thrown herself into training. The fact she was willing to smile and play along with Nora again had him relieved, though he blanched when Nora had asked him to intercede on her behalf, or make her a hundred pancakes to make up for it.

Pyrrha also smiled at their antics, even as a part of her felt wrong. It took her a second to realize that their routine had been so familiar, so reminiscent of their time in Beacon, that she'd been expecting their team leader to add his piece to their shenanigans. Fortunately, before the moment turned awkward, she spotted her mother, and quickly led her team to her.

"Oh, you must be Ren and Nora! Little Ra's told me so much about you!" The bespectacled redhead swept the bemused pair into a tight embrace, and Pyrrha fought the urge to wince at her childhood nickname. Then she got hugged as well, and barely squawked out in protest: "Mother!"

"Oh, hush, I haven't seen you in 2 years! You barely even call or write!" Pyrrha's mother lectured her pouting daughter as she released the trio, and as she led them down the road and to her mansion she continued (much to Ren and Nora's amusement): "Where did we go so wrong... you were such a sweet and polite child, and even in school you at least called every week!"

"Mother! The CCT was down!"

"Don't they have pens or paper in Vale?"

"We've been busy! And I sent a letter!"

"Yeah, a letter! One! And that was just when Beacon had been-"

"Excuse me, did you say "Beacon"?" A small voice suddenly interrupted their conversation, and they turned to find a long-haired blonde carrying a little boy with her finger raised, trying to get their attention.

For some reason, the blonde's face reminded Pyrrha of someone, but she couldn't quite place it. It nagged at her, though, and alarm bells immediately began ringing in Pyrrha's head as she tensed up. Had she seen this person in Haven? Could it be one of Salem's spies? Emerald Sustrai was still unaccounted for...

Noticing her daughter's discomfort, and completely misunderstanding, Pandora Nikos quickly replied: "Yes, Saphron, we did. My daughter and her friends were students at Beacon. But it's a bit of a sore subject..."

"I know, and I'm sorry... but I can't just give up on..." Saphron awkwardly apologized, before trailing off as she took a closer at the trio. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, blinked again, before finally asking: "... would you happen to be... Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie?"

Pyrrha blinked bemusedly; it was the first time someone else had been recognized over her. Then, paranoia kicked in; neither Ren nor Nora were exactly famous. How did this Saphron know them?

Nora, not privy to Pyrrha's thoughts, boldly stepped forward, and answered: "Yeah, that's us! Ren and Nora, of-"

"Do you know where my brother is?!"

"... huh?" Nora deflated in confusion. Saphron desperately continued: "I saw you two competing at the Vytal Festival at Vale, with my brother, Jaune! You know, the tall blonde noodle? You were teammates, right?"

Pyrrha's heart sank as the familiarity finally became apparent to her. The tears she'd thought she'd run out of threatened to come back, and Pyrrha found herself thankful for her hood once more. Nora's face fell, though, and Ren winced. Saphron noticed, and her voice shook as she asked: "Did... did something happen to him?"

"... maybe we should talk about this over dinner, Saphron," Pandora interjected, looking around at the general atmosphere, which was negative enough to summon a Goliath. "Feel free to bring Terra over when her work ends! You know where my place is, right?"

-1 DINNER LATER-

"Terra, dear, why don't you put Adrian to bed?" Saphron hinted, with all the subtlety of a Beringel, and as Terra complied, she leaned forward, waiting desperately for someone to start. The teenagers around the table gulped and looked down, but Pandora put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, and gently squeezed, before throwing out a simple hook: "Pyrrha, why don't you start? You used to talk about him all the time, back in Beacon!"

"Oh?"

"Mother!" Pyrrha shouted, face flushed, and she ignored Nora's waggling eyebrows as she began: "Jaune was... he was my best friend, and the best partner and team leader we could ever have asked for. Team JNPR was lucky to have him. Did... didn't you ever hear from him?"

Saphron sighed, and as she stared into her glass of water she explained: "Jaune... my little brother always wanted to be a hero, you know. A Huntsman, saving people from the Grimm. But he was never the strongest, physically, and our parents disagreed.

"He ran away in the middle of the night with the family sword, and no matter how much we all searched, we couldn't find him. He even left his scroll behind, and didn't tell us where he was going, so we didn't know where to even start looking, or how to contact him!

"The first news we had of him was during the Vytal Festival, when we saw him and his team win. We were furious, of course; what on earth was our Jaune doing, participating in the Vytal Festival?! But we were also proud, deep down, that he'd apparently grown enough to hold his own.

"And then the CCT fell, Beacon fell, Vale was thrown into chaos... and no matter how much we asked around, nobody knew what happened on that night. No one could even tell us if our brother made it off of Amity safely...

"Please, at least tell me... did he make it?"

Tears flowed freely from Saphron's face as the dam burst, and she vented out all her bottled-up feelings. Ren and Nora held each other sadly, and Pyrrha's mother stroked her daughter's head, trying to comfort her. Pyrrha swallowed, and finally answered: "I'm sorry."

Saphron choked up as her brother's fate was finally, definitively confirmed, but she forced herself to smile, and said: "Thanks for your honesty... Pyrrha, right? Could you also tell me... how it happened?"

"He... Jaune died a hero, Ms. Arc. He forced me to leave, pushed me into a rocket locker and sent me away, while he stayed behind to hold back a monster he had no hope of facing... I'm sorry, if I'd been faster, if I'd been stronger..."

The tears were coming back to Pyrrha as she relived that fateful day. Drawing the broken halves of Jaune's sword, she continued: "He was still alive when I returned with help, but then we got distracted... I'm sorry, if I hadn't gotten distracted... he jumped in front of his friend, and took half a dozen arrows to the chest for her."

"It's not your fault." Saphron reassured her, gripping Pyrrha's hand, and as the champion looked up her love's sister continued: "He chose to save his friends. Jaune's always been selfless and kind; he'd have made that choice ten out of ten times, gladly, and no questions asked."

"But, I was supposed to be the Invincible Girl, unbeatable! I should have been stronger, at least strong enough to protect my partner!"

"And by that logic," Ren interjected, as he and Nora approached her. "Nora and I are also at fault, because we should have been strong enough to protect our team leader."

"It wasn't your faults! It was mine!" Pyrrha shouted, refusing to let her remaining team members blame themselves any further for her mistake. "If I hadn't left during the Fall... if I'd just been more honest, more open with the team, rather than being so focused on destiny..."

"And we should have noticed something was bothering you." Ren replied, his Semblance keeping his voice level. "Jaune's sister is right. In the end, he made his choice. All we can do now is respect it."

A moment of silence passed, as they reflected on their dearly-departed knight, before Saphron spoke up: "So... want to hear embarrassing stories about Jaune's childhood?"

"What happened to respect for the dead?"

"Oh, I love my baby brother to death and all, but Jaune owes the entire family for running away without so much as a note and causing us so much worry and grief. This is just a taste of what we're gonna do to him when we get our hands on him in the damn afterlife!"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"Ooh, ooh, did he really have seven sisters?"

"Seven sisters?!"

"Yeah, let me just find the picture on my scroll..."

Pyrrha couldn't help but laugh as she saw a picture of a frowning little Jaune with his hair in pigtails, surrounded by seven little girls, and a sign saying "HELP!", even as she thought it the cutest thing she'd ever seen. Looking at the table, she could just see in her mind's eye Jaune watching them, a frustrated pout on his face, before his composure would crack (with a few light nudges from her), and he'd start laughing as well.

She just wished he could have actually been there, to have been a part of it.


Author's Note: Sorry for the very late chapter! Work's been busy the past few weeks, and while the hours are far shorter than my previous job (44 hours vs 80), this job's a lot more physically intense. Also, honestly, I had a hard time writing this chapter, as most of it is plot exposition, and little of it has to do with any of the trio as characters. I did not anticipate the Dawnguard arc dragging out for as long as it has... don't worry, though, we're nearing the end, I swear.

Meanwhile, to make up for how short it was, I decided now was the perfect time to inject one of the Remnant sections from the original, though I did retool it slightly to fit the context more.

Also, just a reminder, time between dimensions is not linear.

And out of curiosity, should I move this over to the crossovers section? The other wasn't, because it was short, and the unexpected jumps were part of the surprise. But I don't think the fact that this involves multiple dimensions is a surprise any longer...

The dialogue between Akatosh/Martin Septim and Yang took way too long, because I couldn't think of a proper tone and words that the humble Martin Septim would use to warn Yang, while still bearing the divine wisdom of Akatosh, the chief god, the father of Alduin, and all dragons and Dragonborn (including Martin and Yang, by extension). If it comes across as too preachy, Yang would probably have snapped at him, ignoring him, and I didn't want to have my foreshadowing be too blatant, because it then raises the question of why Akatosh doesn't just straight up warn Yang of what's coming. Which is why I just decided to steal a line from a meme... man, I wish I actually had time to finish Doom Eternal.

Also, she takes Akatosh's advice differently from Hermaeus Mora's ultimatum because... well, one is "friendly" advice delivered by the chief Divine via a monk and hero, while the other is a demand from a Daedric Prince. But most of all, Hermaeus Mora demanded Jaune, while Akatosh only put the question in her mind, of what if he somehow found a way back. Sure, she doesn't want to lose him, but there's a difference between losing someone to a Daedric Prince, and losing someone because they returned to their home far far away.

And I couldn't think of a funny chapter title or anything more to say here... it feels so weird, having such a short Author's Notes section...