Chapter 18 Unabandoned

— A Dragon's Game —

I fall asleep easily, but I find no rest.

When the sun rises and the room grows brighter, I leave my bed. I haven't explored the Manor yet.

When I open the door to my bedroom, I smell something? As if someone's cooking something. I walk down the stairs and look to my left.

What is Astrid, of the Dark Brotherhood, doing here?

She hears me, of course. She turns to look at me. "There you are. I heard about what happened, and came to check up on you. Here, I made you breakfast."

This is surreal, with her probably having picked the lock on the door to get in, but I trust her. I sit down. She puts down what she made, and I suddenly feel hungry.

With all the Potema business, I haven't eaten in a long time. The last time was… two days ago. On the morning I woke up in Four Shields Inn with Lydia.

I close my eyes to hold in my tears, calming down in a few seconds.

"Thanks, Astrid."

She smiles at me. "You're welcome." The closest thing to a leader the brotherhood has sits down as I eat. She shares the gossip from the Sanctuary with me. Festus figured some interesting ways to magically kill people. Gabriella split an arrow with another arrow — twice in a row. Cicero is desperate for the Night Mother choosing a new listener. But as nobody really disagrees with him, he just channels it into getting more creative on his contracts.

I feel better by the time I finish eating. And then I feel guilty about feeling good.

Astrid notices my mood swinging to sorrow immediately. "Want to talk about it?"

I hesitate for just a moment, but it's silly. Astrid nor the other members of the brotherhood ever let me down when I trusted them with something. And so I tell her. Not just that Lydia died, but also the how, and how powerless I was.

She sits next to me, then with an arm around my shoulders as I lean on her.

By the end of my tale, I'm curled up on her lap in a gentle but firm embrace, with my head on her shoulder, crying softly while I speak.

"Nothing you could have done. Nothing anyone could have done, my dear Do'samma."

"What's the point of being this powerful if I can't protect those I care for?"

"A single failure hardly means that you can't protect anyone."

I try to look her in the eye to refute her, but she tightens her embrace for a moment.

"Think of all those you've already saved, whether people you care about, or just innocents. Sapphire. Muiri. Fjotra. The people that fought the first dragon with you, and everyone that dragon might have hurt otherwise."

She's right. There's a lot of good I've done. I lean into the embrace, rubbing my head against Astrid's neck and shoulder.

"But no use getting it a rut." She gives my shoulder a firm pat. "You need some exercise. There's space in the basement here, and you said you wanted to be better at the warrior side of things. How about we spar a bit?"

— A Dragon's Game —

Your Blade Proficiency has increased by 3 (45)!

Your Piercing Proficiency has increased by 4 (35)!

Your Shield Proficiency has increased by 2 (42)!

Astrid was right, of course. I feel better with a slight burn in my muscles.

She's also being surprisingly motherly. Assassins aren't supposed to be motherly, but the only reason she isn't overbearing is because she's holding back.

I can still feel what women want, and she's holding back hard. And somehow it makes me feel all the more cared for.

She's making lunch now, and she forbade me from helping. So I grabbed a book, Lost Legends, which has many interesting tales, starting with the Pale Lady of Morthal, all the way to the doom of an ancient archmage, Gauldur.

Folgunthur should be close to Solitude. The name of the crypt sounds like dragon language, but mangled by human tongues over the ages. It could have been Fo-Gol-Thur, Frost-Earth-Overlord? It's quite far north, so probably frozen over most of the year. And most of those ancient barrows dig down into the earth, perhaps because all that weren't are lost to us.

Or I'm wrong. That's also an option.

Lunch proceeds peacefully, mostly talking about the training we did in the morning. Then someone knocks on the door.

"Sit." Astrid orders while standing up.

I have direct sight to the door, though. As she opens it, I see Jordis and Jarl Elisif standing outside.

And apparently, Astrid recognizes them too. "Jarl Elisif, Jordis. You must be here for Do'samma." She opens the door to let them in.

Of the two at the door, Jordis is the first to recover from surprise. She glances at me before turning back to Astrid. "Thank you. Should I…"

Astrid smiles, pretty dimples appearing in her cheeks. "No, I'm afraid my life is a lot less eye-catching than that of either of you."

They enter the house, but there's definitely a bit of an awkward atmosphere. With the half-eaten lunch and all.

"Astrid is a good friend of mine." I introduce her to Elisif and Jordis. "She happened to be in the neighborhood, and when she heard she came to check in on me."

"I see." Elisif nods. "I'm happy to see that Do'samma has so many friends he can rely on."

They sit down at the table, and between the Astrid and Elisif, they make the house feel more relaxed. While calm and full of opportunities for me to talk if I felt like it, they chat about mostly inconsequential matters. When Elisif asks what Astrid does for a living, the reply is both vague and patently false, but said with an absolutely straight face.

More importantly, they get along. And I feel less lonely already.

Should I, though?

Not feel lonely, but be alone.

After all, I'm the only one who grows in power as fast as I do. When I met Lydia, she was about as strong as I was. And while she progressed, it was nowhere near as fast as I did.

Even if I find a traveling companion who is as strong as I am now, or even someone stronger, I'll outgrow them soon enough.

"Do'samma?" Astrid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

"Just…." I search for words. "Perhaps it's better for me to travel alone in the future. I don't want to endanger any of my friends."

"Stop right there." It's not the tone of voice that makes me look at Elisif. It's the pure determination and implacability I sense from her. "Do you regret getting to know Lydia?"

I blink in shock. "What? No!"

"If you'd always stayed passive, you'd never have met her." She tilts her head slightly, looking me straight into the eye. "Life's full of risks. Any who faces the dangers of Skyrim risks their lives, and you never know when you might lose. We may all have our eyes on a future with the ones we care for, but sometimes, people just die." She breathes in slowly.

I sense sorrow in her. Of course I do. She might be in her early twenties, but she's also a widow.

"But that doesn't mean the future you fought for together is no longer worth it. Lydia chose to fight beside you. To protect you, and to protect the people of Skyrim. She knew she was risking her life. And she considered it worth the price."

I want to deny her. Nothing is worth this price. Nothing is worth the life of a loved one. But Lydia did choose to…. But…

But…

After an eternity of attempting to process what Elisif is telling me, her slim hand on my shoulder draws my attention back to her.

She smiles sadly, stands up, and sits down next to me, an arm around her.

I gratefully lean on her.

Her voice sounds feeble, full of the same emotion I sense from her. "Trust me, I know what it feels like. My marriage lasted two months. My family arranged the match, and I first met Torygg in person on our wedding day." She sounds fond. "We'd exchanged letters before, of course. Our shared vision for a better future for all of Skyrim. We weren't really compatible at first. But we shared our goal, and through that, learned to care for each other. We had our goals, and needed the Jarls for some of them, so we called a moot." Regret seeps into her voice. "We thought we could just convince them of our vision. Benefit for everyone. A few short years under the Thalmor, and then recapture our freedom. Instead, Ulfric denounced us as naïve. After we made our course clear, but before others could respond, Ulfric said we would ruin Skyrim, and he challenged Torygg to that fateful duel." She leans her head against mine. "Torygg was good. Always been. Best swordsman in the training yard. Both of us were foolishly overconfident, because Ulfric is a veteran of far too many wars. He offered to fight without the Thu'um, but Torygg refused, even after he'd been thrown clear across the room for the first time. And then Ulfric just tripped him with another shout, and swiftly stabbed him in the throat. In the space of a heartbeat, our ideas about the future of Skyrim had died."

She pulls away from the half-embrace and looks me straight into the eye.

"But I was wrong. Our ideas hadn't died, because I survived. I still live, and I will care for Skyrim. I will protect its people, whether or not they want me to. Because Skyrim is my charge." She pauses for effect. "And the best way to honor Torygg is to bring about our shared vision of a peaceful, prosperous, and free Skyrim." Her voice is full of conviction.

And I know, that whatever happens, Elisif will not give up.

And neither should I.

"Thanks, Elisif."

She hugs me. "Call me Elly. Elisif is a very long name."

"Thanks, Elly."

"You're welcome." She draws back from the hug. "I know I met you for the first time yesterday, but I feel like I know you much better than that."

"Same. It's odd. But I like it."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. But I want to do something."

"I've got an idea." Astrid interrupts. "How about going to the companions and doing a few jobs with some of them?"

I'd almost forgotten she was here. I think for a moment, but it sounds like a great idea. Something active, something helpful, and they rarely, if ever, do jobs alone. And right now, I don't think I want to be alone for the foreseeable future. I'd likely sit down and think in tight, sad circles forever. Eternal monologues about how bad life is.

I don't want that, but I might be too weak to prevent it on my own. And Lydia wouldn't want it for me. Neither would any of my other friends.

"Sounds like a good idea." I look at Elly questioningly, but she nods. It's fine with her.

Wait, why did I ask for her agreement?

…I don't know. It felt right, though. "I'll keep in contact with all of you."

I hear their agreement.

It's good to not be alone.

— A Dragon's Game —

Elisif and Jordis leave first, due to the former's duties at the Blue Palace. They great me with a hug, and I can feel their empathy for me continuously.

"I'm glad you have them." Astrid remarks after they're gone.

"Me too."

"It's truly remarkable. I try to cheer you up for an entire morning, and it doesn't work, but she manages with ten minutes and a hug. I should try doing something nice for her."

Astrid doesn't feel jealous. Then again, her feelings are… different from most people. She cares for me as for the others of the Brotherhood, but to her it's a choice. Not something that just happens, like Elisif's caring about me. And Astrid truly wants to help the Jarl.

"She's trying to get a hold of her own court." I tell Astrid. "Improve her influence. Perhaps find some dirt on Erikur to allow her to revoke Thaneship."

"I'll keep that in mind. And the others also miss you a bit. We know of course you can't just disappear to hang out, but you're still a member of the family."

"Perhaps. But first I want to go fight again. I don't think I should sit still now. I'll drop by, though. And I still got that amulet Babette gave me if there's an emergency." I reach inside myself, and draw forth my mana. So much power… and it can all be for nought if I don't pay attention to it. Even if Lydia's death wasn't my fault, that doesn't mean paying attention and being careful in the future won't save the lives of those I care for.

I tear a hole to Oblivion, one of the Myriad Realms of Revelry opening before me, and I step through.

Not a minute later, I step out into the courtyard of the Companions, Ria raising a hand in greeting.

I don't really feel like talking too much about Lydia, but I'll still have to tell them.

— A Dragon's Game —

Luckily for me, Aela and Skjor aren't talkers either. They were about to leave on a job together, and don't mind me tagging along.

Apparently, there are a few giants harassing the road between Whiterun and Dawnstar. It's a long and rarely traveled road, but the problems should be a bit after Loreius' farm, probably originating in Blizzard's Rest, which is how the Nords call a certain location Giants often camp.

The Nords have a weird relation with the Giants. They're not animals, but they're definitely not capable of a society like ours either. They just lack the patience to even communicate, despite it being known they can learn our language, or we theirs. They also don't care about any of our luxuries, and are happy with food and a campfire.

As long as they leave us in peace, we do the same to them. Skyrim is more than big enough for all of us. But sometimes some just… attack traders, farms, or villages.

Unless there's a rich person with several paid warriors who stands to lose, most often the victims ask the Companions for help. Most can't even pay in gold, though the companions happily take their reward in mead, furs, foodstuffs, or whatever else they agree on. Aela told me the exchanges, if converted to gold, often barely cover the costs of the journey — let alone make a profit — but they consider it somewhat of a duty.

We leave Whiterun, despite it already being late afternoon. We'll camp when it gets dark, and we should reach the Giant's camp somewhere late on the second day. We'll figure out what we do when we get there. Aela and Skjor both have a lot of experience handling Giants in this way, so I'm not worried.

And if I can tell by scent that they spend the entire morning fucking, then I don't see a reason to mention it. They seem pretty content about it, and it's not like I'm anywhere near in the mood. And I can tell they tried to get rid of the scent.

If it weren't for Aela still being aroused about it, I wouldn't have noticed.

We make good time. The other two are werewolves, and I haven't ever seen any a werewolf tire, not even after long days of constant training. I myself cheat by channeling Respite, which restores almost three stamina for every point of mana I spend, more then enough for me to run indefinitely.

As night falls, we find a nice secluded craig in the land, and curl up together. We don't even bother setting up a tent — they're both Nords, and I got fur in addition to my clothes. Also, 72 Frost Resistance, because of my Frost Magic skill.

We only grab a blanket against the wind. Aela cuddles into my back, and Skjor into hers, and we fall asleep.

I asked them about keeping a guard, but apparently their werewolf senses are sharp enough they'll wake up before anything can get close enough to hurt us. That, and we're not obvious to anything not hunting by scent.

Unlike the night before, I sleep tight and wake calm and energetic. Sometime during the night, sleeping Aela put an arm across and started hugging me, so I wait the few minutes until they wake up.

And if I bask a bit in the casual trust it implies, then I know she won't begrudge me it. She might not be the type to talk about her feelings all day, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care.

Even Skjor cares. Though he knows me less and is gruff about it. While my What do Women Want perk doesn't work on him, my Charisma is high enough that I can't help but notice.

Since packing up camp literally consists of folding a blanket, we continue our journey soon.

"So what's the plan?" I ask him.

"About?" Skjor grunts.

"How we're gonna deal with the giants?"

"Eh, first idea is to just intimidate them. They're tribal and respect strength above everything else. Normally, I just transform and slap one hard enough to knock him on his back, and that's that."

"Makes sense. I could probably use a shout for that myself."

"Got one that won't kill 'm right away?"

"Pretty sure. Should throw them back a few meters, though."

"Might be good. Wanna take point?"

"Sure, why not. Two of you'll still be around if I fuck up, right?"

"That's what being a Shield-Brother means."

Reputation with Skjor increased by 10 (35) for being the good sort.

Affection from Aela increased by 5 (50) for getting along with Skjor.

We pass Loreius' Farm, and a bit further, Aela leads us off the path.

"Over here." She beckons us. "I think I have their scent."

I smell… something, but I don't recognize it. "Your nose is better even outside of wolf form?"

Aela looks at me over her shoulder and smirks. "Yep. Not as good, but even in our frail forms, the wolfblood is a potent blessing."

I raise an eyebrow and look her up and down once. Her torso is covered in enough furs to hide her shape, but her bare arms are visibly strong enough to punch out a man. Nothing that even remotely approaches the word "frail".

Her smirk turns into a grin. "Fine, not as frail as people without wolfblood."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Not everyone has a Daedric Prince's blessing." And sure, I made deals with a few, but no true blessing like this one. Not that I'd take any, of course. If I am to see Lydia again, it's Sovngarde my soul needs to go at the end, not the realm of some Daedric Prince.

"As if Akatosh's own blessing isn't as powerful." Aela sounds more thoughtful.

"Eh, I'm not 'frail'. But I'm not sure how much of that is being Dragonborn."

"Point. There's a lot fewer Dragonborn than we've known werewolves. Let alone other skinchangers."

We fall silent as Aela leads us through the forest. I quickly figure out which scent Aela is following.

About an hour later, we see the light of a campfire through the trees.

Aela turns to me. "Well, you can lead the way. They don't speak our language, so just make a few confident and intimidating sounds. One of them will approach you, though outside of reach, and posture back. Then you knock him on his arse. If they act submissive after, it's okay and they'll stop harassing caravans. If they attack, we kill those that charge us before they do the same to us, and then we see if the rest will leave, or needs more encouragement."

"That sounds a bit crude."

She shrugs. "Giants are crude creatures. No need for eloquent words. Just power. And no grudges. I kind of like their simplicity."

I nod, square my shoulders, and head towards the campfire. Aela and Skjor fall in step behind me.

It feels good to have them at my back.

When we enter the clearing, the giants notice us. There's about ten of them, each having a club longer than I am tall. I purge myself of any doubt and give a loud shout, looking confidently at them.

I should of course have expected it, but I'm surprised to see there's woman and children among them. Three women, two with children — one carried and one hiding behind its mother.

The males of the tribe are the ones to respond, roaring in response and defiance.

The biggest of them approaches me, stopping at about twenty meters, and glares at me, show off its muscles. Where the women are covered in furs, the bigger and healthier males wear less, and this one even has his torso bare.

I lean forwards, glaring back, but he doesn't back down.

I breathe in. "Force Balance!" fus ro!

A blueish wave strikes forth from my mouth, hitting the giant squarely in the chest. I knock him off his feet, throwing him back seven meters, where he lands in the snow on his back.

When he stands up, I resume glaring, not having moved from my spot.

He hesitates, then bows his head.

I glare at the rest of the giants, and the other males submit as well.

Rarely has something gone this well straight away.

— A Dragon's Game —

"That went well." Skjor is still gruff, but he's definitely approving. "Glared at them right, showed them you wouldn't be backing down. At first I thought they might choose to fight, but you scared 'm straight."

We're sitting around a small campfire for the night. Aela shot a deer, and we're eating well.

"So mission successful?" I ask.

"Very much. Though while I'm glad we didn't have to put any down, I'm still kinda itching for a fight right now."

I think for a moment. "Any dragons spotted around?"

Skjor looks thoughtful.

Aela says "Actually, yes. There was one at Shearpoint. Chased a few people from their houses, if I remember correctly."

I ask "That's close, right? That peak over there?" I point to our southeast.

"That's the one."

"We could go there tomorrow. I wouldn't might a bit of a fight either."

"Skjor?" Aela asks.

"Fine with me." He responds, then turns to me. "Think you can ground this one like you did the last one?"

I answer. "Probably. At least punish it for flying hard enough. If it stays in the air and in my range, we win."

"Let's go, then."

— A Dragon's Game —

At the end of the morning, we pass by Korvanjund. Koor-Vah-Jun ? Summer Spring King? It sounds like this name, too, could be dragon language mangled by human tongues. But I guess I'll never know.

The slope is quite easy, so we progress swiftly, arriving at Shearpoint late in the afternoon.

This dragon also doesn't bother with introductions, unlike the previous three I fought. Instead, it dive-bombs us with a shower of ice.

Aela and Skjor transform into their werewolf forms, dodging most and ignoring the rest.

I step out of the way with Whirlwind Sprint, and draw deep on my mana.

Fire blooms in my hands, and I emit an intense beam, surprise striking the dragon, who howls in pain.

I try to keep the beam on target, but the dragon dives to the ground.

I don't know exactly where Aela and Skjor are, and I don't want to risk hitting them, so I stop channeling the beam.

The dragon barely lifts its head after its hurried landing, and a werewolf already jumps at it. Definitely too fast for its reaction, and it looks like that claw swipe got the eye.

It roars in pain, lifting itself on all four legs. It pulls its wings into the air, and strikes out with a wing, the power behind the blow sending the werewolf flying.

I don't know which of the two it is, but (s)he'll be fine. It's hard to injure a werewolf without sharp weapons.

I Call Lightning it from above, causing it to recoil again. The werewolf feints, drawing its attention and provoking a bite.

Right as the dragon goes in for the hit, it roars as the other werewolf straight up rips through the tendons of its left hind leg.

It goes down a bit before it recovers, but it's too late for it. I unleash my Disintegrate again, now having a clear shot once more. It attempts to block with a shout and a wing, but that opens up its throat, and the werewolf in front jumps, bites, and tears out a huge chunk of flesh.

I feel it snap into alignment again, and I pull, absorbing its soul.

I close my eyes as I silently bask in the warmth of my dragon soul growing in strength. I'm getting a knack for this.

— A Dragon's Game —

I offered to bring us back to Whiterun by portal, but the other two convince me to just take the walk back together.

And I have to admit it's great to just travel somewhere without being in a hurry and having something urgent to do.

Most of my recent time, I've just been hurrying everywhere, or at least, that what it feels like. I've still got a lot to learn from them. Aside from the martial stuff, they also teach me more about just wilderness survival, which I've been neglecting as of late, with my teleportation and all.

Your Blade Proficiency has increased by 8 (53)!

Your Piercing Proficiency has increased by 10 (45)!

Your Shield Proficiency has increased by 4 (46)!

Your Archery has increased by 12 (28)!

Your Skinning has increased by 5 (19)!

Your Butchering has increased by 6 (18)!

Your Harvesting has increased by 8 (21)!

Your Gathering has increased by 7 (26)!

Your Tracking has increased by 12 (18)!

Especially Tracking benefited immensely from having two capable trainers.

And with how easily those levels came with two skilled teachers, it feels almost like a free boost.

Right now Aela and I are competing who's the better archer in the dark, but I feel she's winning out of familiarity. I think she could still hit the bullseye with her eyes closed on this range.

True, she's trained here most of her life, but despite werewolves in "frail" forms not seeing as good in the dark as a Khajiit, I'm still losing.

Then again, losing to Aela in an archery contest isn't something to be ashamed of.

"I'm giving up." I tell her. "I'm half convinced you can hit the bullseye by the feel of the stones under your feet."

She scoffs, though I can tell she's amused. "I'll admit it's an advantage. But not that great. I'm definitely further off."

"True, and I'm improving. There's just a long way to go."

"There is, but you're improving much faster than I was. But…" She feels uncertain, which is rare for her.

"What is it?"

"Skjor and I want to make you an offer. Mind coming with me?"

"Nope. Where are we going?"

"It's called the Underforge."

I notice we're heading in the towards the skyforge. "What a mysterious name. I wonder where that would be located."

Aela punches me on the shoulder, hard. Might have broken a bone on a lesser person, but we're both made of sturdier stuff than that. "Smartass."

"My ass is nothing compared to my tail." I swish it at her. I have little control over it, but it can exert the same force as a light tap.

She grabs at it with one hand, but misses. "Brat."

"Brat? I'm the dragonborn out of legend, destined to save Skyrim!"

"Doesn't make you not a brat."

Before we know it, we reach the Underforge. The entrance is a cleverly hidden door, which Aela opens by pushing hard on it, in just the right spot.

As she pushes, a large slab of stone slides soundlessly to the side. Skjor is inside.

"Ah, there you are. Come, sit down."

The room is small. There are a few shallow alcoves, and in the middle there's a pedestal with a basin on top. On the far side, there's another corridor, curving out of sight, but I hear flowing water from there.

I join Aela and Skjor, sitting down in an alcove, on the floor, and with our back to the wall.

"So what's this about?"

"We wanted to offer the wolfblood to you." Skjor speaks softly, but I still. This… is big.

Aela follows up. "It used to be a tradition that we'd give the wolfblood to any new member of the circle. However, Kodlak, Vilkas, and Farkas want to break with it."

"Why?"

"Because of Sovngarde." Skjor answers. "Those of the wolfblood are bound for Hircine's Hunting Grounds. For me and Aela, that's perfectly fine. But they want to go to Sovngarde, which means they need to strip away Hircine's blessing somehow."

"They're fools." I haven't seen Aela this worked up before. This… scared? "There's nothing in Sovngarde denied to those of the blood."

"It is their right, Aela. Each and every man and woman is entitled to fight for their afterlife."

Is Aela… pouting? "They're hurrying into it." She responds. "Not thinking it through like they say."

"And Kodlak might not have that long until it becomes important. And any job can turn sour and cut the time of the other's short. It's part of our way of life."

Aela looks up, eyes glistening. "Especially if they throw away half their strength. Even without, I know they're a match for any foe you care to name. But it takes only a single lucky arrow, and a normal man is dead. I… I…"

"You don't want to lose them." I gently respond.

Aela starts, but Skjor just glances my way once. There's no way this is the first time they have this discussion.

"I understand that, if anyone does." I continue. How could I not? I lost Lydia. But still… "But it's their choice. They know the risks."

"There's more." Skjor adds. "Werewolves have… not exactly a pack, but by nature, we group together. Keep each other in check. To even attempt to leave, it feels like abandonment. Down here." He pats his heart. "Even though we know that's not their intention. Our inner wolves are terrified of breaking up the family we form."

I tilt my head. "Family?"

He nods. "Out in the wild, wolves live in families. A father and mother, their pups, up to a few years. When they're old and smart enough, they find partners and start a new pack. For us, it goes similar. The Harbinger is the forebear, and the others become werewolves from drinking the blood of his or her werewolf form. All four of us became werewolves through Kodlak's blood. We're a family, and if they stop being werewolves, to our heart, they stop being family."

I… somewhat understand that. And that means that… "And now you wanted to invite me into your family."

Aela nods, and composes herself enough to speak. "The decision has been made to no longer turn all new circle members into werewolves. We choose to interpret that as permission to turn those outside of the circle, as well. To preserve our family. And with the members we stand to lose, we desperately need more. So…. Yeah. Would you accept joining us in the blood of the wolf?"

While I want to… "I'm sorry, but I can't." I hold up a hand before they can respond. I feel sick at the sheer hurt I feel radiating from Aela. "Not because I don't want to." I look up, making eye contact with both. "I really want what you're offering, but I can't. I'm a dragonborn, a shard of Akatosh. I don't know what happens when I promise my soul, an actual part of Akatosh, to a Daedric Lord." I look Aela in the eye. "I'm truly sorry, Aela. As much as I want to, I cannot join your pack."

Aela closes her eyes, hiding her tears. I turn to look at Skjor. He's… contemplative.

He nods at me. "I understand. Don't like it, but I understand." He glances at Aela, but she doesn't notice. "Are you still willing to work with us?"

"Of course." I answer immediately. "You're among my best friends, and I'll happily join and help whenever I'm welcome."

"I'm glad, and thank you. Could you… give us a moment?"

I glance at Aela. "Of course." I stand up and leave.

Behind me, Skjor skirts over closer to Aela.

I hope he'll be able to make her feel better.

— A Dragon's Game —

"Want to help clean out Gallow's Rock?"

Well, that came out of nowhere. Aela has dealt with it well. I didn't lose Affection, but I've felt some hurt from her, occasionally. For a while she seemed afraid she'd scared me or something. But apparently my Charisma is good for something, and I keep finding small ways to show her otherwise.

Still, this is sudden.

"What lives there?"

"Silver Hand. We were planning to go there… well, after the other night. But even without, we still need to clean it out. They've been becoming more blatant lately. They even attacked some of the Companions who aren't even wolves, or know of us."

"Oh. Anybody got hurt?"

"Luckily, no. And they thought it were just bandits, which isn't exactly wrong either. Still, they need to be dealt with."

"Sure, I'll help. Just the two of us?"

"Three. Skjor is coming. We thought not to involve the others, for various reasons."

"Understandable. When?"

"We were hoping to leave today."

"I can teleport us close. Raldbthar is like an hour away, maybe two. We could be there before nightfall."

I can see her hesitate, but she nods. "Yeah, that might be good. Give them no warning at all. Come on, let's grab Skjor."

— A Dragon's Game —

Five minutes later, we step out of an Oblivion Gate made from purple flames, and head downhill, to the south-east. To Gallows Rock.

We talk basics of strategy on the road and reach Gallow's rock before dusk.

It looks a lot like most other ruined forts dotting the landscape of Skyrim. There's a somewhat collapsed outer wall, and a tower at one place among it. Due to rockslides against the wall, the tower has become easy to access over time. Most of the wall still stands, though there are separated sections. Nobody is on top, which probably means there's no ramp for easy access.

Which likely also means it's an excellent place for Aela to support us while we fight those that are outside.

We sneak towards the wall without getting spotted. Skjor folds his hand to make a step, and Aela steps in it.

Then he throws her. She flies up three meters to grab the top of the wall, and climbs up.

If we weren't being stealthy, I'd have let out a low whistle.

Following our plan, Skjor and I dash around either side of this isolated wall segment.

A small group of them is around a campfire close to the entrance, and Skjor charges at them.

I throw a few firebolts, which hit at the same time as Aela's arrow. Two go down, and the other two are in no way able to fight back as Skjor engages.

As agreed, he splits off and enters the fortress to prevent reinforcements from showing up. I hear Aela's arrows fly, forcing the remaining Silver Hand on the surface to seek cover.

I go around from the side, flanking them. I take out one hiding behind a ruined wall. The second jumps up to shoot at me, but forgets about Aela and takes an arrow through the throat because of it.

Only the tower remains as a holdout, so I enter, drawing the Sword of Whiterun. I encounter one Silver Hand at the entrance, but the redguard is far too slow to pose a threat to me, and with the lightning enchantment, I take him down in a second. A few bolts of lightning take care of the second, and I take a few minutes to verify nobody else is around.

I exit the tower, finding Aela there.

"Empty?"

"Yep. Weren't threats in the first place, but our backs will be safe."

"Good. Let's find Skjor and clean out the subterranean part."

I nod and follow her to the main entrance.

But when we enter, Skjor isn't there.

"Did he go ahead?" I ask.

Aela sniffs the air. "Yeah. Let's go. I got a bad feeling about this."

— A Dragon's Game —

Aela growls. "Watch my back. I'm going in fast."

She shifts and bounces forwards.

I hurriedly cast Courage on her, increasing her Health and Stamina by well over double, and rush after her down the stairs.

She runs on all fours. There's shouting from the room ahead, but Aela just jumps the first one, tears out his throat with her teeth, and jumps to the next one. She feints with her teeth, but then claws open his belly and neck in two quick swipes.

The scent of blood rises strongly in the air. I heal Aela in case she got hurt, and follow her further down.

She's tracking Skjor by scent, but the man must have rushed past all the Silver Hand. What could have been that urgent?

No use thinking about it. Fast as I can run, I have trouble keeping up with Aela. I use lightning bolts to fuck up an archer, opening him up for Aela to slay.

We turn a corner and enter a broad corridor. On either side are cells — some containing humanoids, but one of them has a fully grown werewolf.

It smells… different. Feral compared to Aela.

But I don't have time to free them, not now. Aela slays another Silver Hand, while I cast a few Fireballs to take down some archers on the far side.

Aela's not stopping, but so far there's only been one direction all the way. We'll pass through here on our way back, and can rescue the prisoners then.

And right now, Aela needs me. I rush after her. Right when she charges three Silver Hand, one impales her on his silver sword. I can see it protruding from her back.

I shoot a lightning bolt at his head to loosen his grip on the weapon, and I Shout at Aela.

"Life Essence!" haas rii

A yellowish light streams from my mouth, and engulfs Aela. The healing shout pushes the silver sword from her body, no matter her form's weakness, and knits the wound up, no matter how ineffective normal werewolf regeneration is against silver-inflicted wounds.

She howls, and then backhands the Silver Hand's head, decapitating him and sending the head flying across the room.

The savagery stunned the other two in shock, and within two seconds, Aela disposes of them.

As I walk past, I smell that one of them pissed themselves.

And I follow Aela. I hope she's getting a bit more careful after that encounter. Though with the intense mix of anger and rising concern I feel from her, I'm not holding my breath.

And not just because I'm running harder than I can ever remember.

I heal Aela every so often, even if I haven't seen her get hit. When possible, I also heal her Stamina, though that one requires me to touch Aela, and she doesn't exactly sit still to wait for it.

I also use it on myself. The constant sprinting has me down to five-hundred Stamina from well over two-thousand, so I can use it.

I also take a mana potion. Part of me wants to save it for when I really need it, but to be honest, right now is already time critical, and I do not want to run out of mana.

Not again.

Not when I'm defending people I care for, again.

So I chug the oblivion-be-damned potion. And I sprint after Aela.

Another room, another three dead Silver Hand.

We reach a last door, and Aela's hackles raise.

She feels fear and loathing in equal measure, but doesn't tarry. She doesn't bother opening the door, and instead crashes straight through it.

Right in front of us is a bare-chested man with corded muscle, wielding a short spear in each hand. His cloak… yeah. That's werewolf fur.

Werewolves turn back when they die, but separated body parts don't transform back.

The implication… I purge it from my mind. Not now.

There are three more Silver Hand around the room, but I hardly even notice them.

There, at the far end of the room, is Skjor.

Three silver spears are holding him against the wall. Two through his chest, and one in his throat, covered in blood. He's torn up from shrinking back to his normal size from his transformation.

Without a doubt, he is dead.

The spearman opens his arms, gesturing like a showman. "Ah, so there you are. Shall w—"

I interrupt him, using a disintegrate to do so. I burn his left arm off at the shoulder. The absolute shock in his eyes is delicious.

You harmed mine. And you will not live to enjoy it.

My attack startles Aela out of her frozen shock, and she howls.

I almost run from her in fear, but I stand my ground.

The Silver Hand don't match my willpower. The spearman lets out a whimper, but can't even move a foot before Aela tears his throat out. She then dashes towards the others.

One tries to fight, blocking her first attack with his shield, but she shatters his arm, and her second strike tears open his throat.

One attempts to hide behind a tanning rack, but she tears through the wolf hide, and grabs the woman by the throat. Aela squeezes, and she drops.

One runs towards the door behind me, and Aela chases. This one started running first, but Aela still catches him before he can reach the door.

Hesitantly, Aela trots over to Skjor's body. I follow close.

She grabs a spear to pull it out, but releases it with a small whimper of pain.

I say. "You hold his body up, I'll pull them out."

She basically embraces Skjor, and I remove the spears, tossing them aside.

When I take out the last one, Aela lets him down, cradling him in her lap. She shifts back to human form.

I hear her whimpers. "No no no no no no no no no no no no…."

I lightly embrace her from behind. I liked Skjor, and he was a good friend. But my pain over him is nothing next to Aela's.

— A Dragon's Game —

Skjor's wounds are burned shut by the silver. Despite three gaping wounds, he isn't bleeding.

Alea cries for well over half an hour before I feel her stir beyond attempting to cradle as much of Skjor as she can, being as close to him as she can.

"What do you think happened?" I softly ask.

"I smelled it when I transformed. Skjor must have too. The one with the spears… his name was Krev the Skinner. He was the most well-known member of them, and a leader. He's… well, known for skinning werewolves alive."

I give her a brief squeeze, and she leans into my embrace for an instant. I feel her calm down slightly.

"There are feral werewolves. The blood of the wolf is… strong. It can overwhelm a lesser mind, which is why we're always very careful in selecting new ones. However, there are still werewolves not part of our group. A bite can also transmit the Gift, and a werewolf out of their mind may do that." She absentmindedly, but gently caresses Skjor's head while she explains.

A slight distraction, but it's what she needs to collect herself.

"Transformations are more painful. It's harder to transform without the moon, and harder not to with it. And it's often much harder for those werewolves to control themselves, which in turn helps the spread of the stunted Gift." She sighs. "These werewolves are a danger to normal people, true. And this is how the Silver Hand lies to the people about protecting them. We, the Companions, are the best to deal with the ferals. We can catch them, because we're stronger, faster, and our minds are our own. And even if we lose, a feral wouldn't slay another werewolf, and also can't infect them. Then we have them drink our blood, so they may control ourselves. We help them get their lives back on track, and teach them about the transformation." She leans her back into me.

I tighten the hug.

"They hunt the only pack of werewolves actually in control of themselves. They actively spread false tales about ferals to lure us in, hindering our work in protecting the people against those. And Krev was the worst of them. He's slain one of the Circle, a few years back. So Skjor must have smelled him, and just… rushed for him."

"Alone."

"Alone… no shield sister to watch his back. You brave, stupid, stubborn fool." She says the last to the dead man in her lap, not bothering to keep the fondness out of her voice. Then she stills. "And just like I did. I just… rushed in after him. If you hadn't been there…" I sense her guilt rising, as she undoubtedly thinks back about when that one Silver Hand impaled her.

"But I was." I don't want guilt to rule her now. She has enough to deal with. "We need to leave, though. The Silver Hand had several more prisoners, who we've yet to release." I release the hug.

"Yeah." She doesn't move, still leaning against my chest.

"How do the Companions normally lay their dead to rest?"

"A pyre. On the skyforge. That the ashes of the fallen may strengthen those who come after."

"Let me take him. No time will pass, and he will be as fresh as he is here when I put him on the pyre." Aela and Skjor both knew about my inventory and my special learning skill. Which is probably part of me being dragonborn anyway, somehow.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's good."

I reach over, and Skjor's body vanishes from existence as I inventory him.

Aela collects herself for one more moment, and stands up. I can feel her move back into a more business-like state of mind.

I also take the silver equipment. Whether to display as trophies in Jorrvaskr, or to melt down and sell them, I don't yet know.

It feels like a form of poetic justice to take their namesake and turn it into money funding the Companions.

Aela seems to agree with me, and we take everything of value from the Silver Hand as we head back towards the surface.

When we reach the jail, we free the prisoners. Three cells contain various races of Tamriel, who aren't even werewolves. Either the Silver Hand isn't picky, or they rely completely on rumors.

Those disappear upstairs, not wanting to stick around when we uncage the werewolf. I ignore their fears. Yes, it's hypocritical, but I've got more important things on my mind now.

The last cell contains a transformed werewolf. It whines when I unlock the door with my lockpicks, but carefully comes forwards when Aela gestures him, obviously smelling she's a werewolf the same as she is.

She draws the wolf out of the cell, and then kneel, keeping eye contact. The wolf closes, and she hugs it. Crawling one hand in the mane, and the other across its back, whispering sweet nothings.

Within a minute, the werewolf transforms into a sobbing woman. She is nude, and I see burn marks all over her back.

Right. A transformed werewolf under strong feelings, like fear, shame or pain, cannot revert. And even after calming down in Aela's arms, she's still drenched in all three.

What have these monsters done to her? I'm not sure I even want to find out.

I cast a calming spell on her. Don't want her to freak out now. Her sobs slow down, but her deathgrip of a hug on Aela doesn't weaken.

I put a hand on her shoulder and channel healing into her.

I watch the marks disappear as the woman shudders under the warm energy she must feel flowing down her body.

As her sobs fade completely, I put down some normal civilian clothes on the chair next to the two, and turn around.

It's one of Lydia's comfy dresses. There's no doubt in my mind that Lydia would approve of this.

I feel a small spike of discomfort as the woman realizes I could have seen her in the nude, but it's muted due to all the other emotions she felt recently. I hear Aela swiftly helping the woman dress, and then I turn back around.

She's a high elf, taller than me or Aela.

Aela introduces her. "This is Illene. She used to be feral until we caught her a few years ago." She smiled at the altmer. "And it's my blood that gave her control."

Illene blushes lightly. "And today you save me for the second time, mom." Then her blush intensifies furiously, finally pushing aside the pain, shame and fear ruling her before. "Eeep! I'm sorry! I… I meant…"

And Aela snickers good-naturedly.

I could just about kiss Illene right now.

Aela snakes an arm around Illene's waist, and responds to her. "I know what you meant, and it's perfectly okay." She leans closer to Illene. "Even flattering."

Illene hides her face in her hands.

I lead the other two up to the surface, sticking close by Aela.

I hear them whisper, and Aela offers Illene to stay with the Companions for a bit.

Ostensibly to recover from her imprisonment, but Aela also just wants another trusted member in her pack.

And while not a warrior in any way, shape or form, she appears to have some magical talent, and Aela asks her if she could be a healer.

Perhaps I caused the Companions to change their outlook on magic?

— A Dragon's Game —

I portal us to Jorrvaskr, and Aela explains to the rest of the Circle what happened, me and Illene on the sidelines, as both of us know about them being werewolves, anyway.

I can't sense the men's emotions the way I can that of the women, but sorrow is definitely the primary emotion.

On the bright side, Illene is immediately accepted by the others.

The woman's thoughts keep turning to Farkas's musculature, though, so I'm confident she'll be fine, in time.

Everyone disperses, but Aela wants to say something, so I stick around. Her iron grip on her emotions is fading.

When we're alone, she walks up to me. "Can you get us somewhere private?"

I open a gate to a secluded grove in the Myriad Realms of Revelry, and we step through.

As soon as the gate closes behind me, Aela jumps in my arms. She cries again, and I just hold her.

Her arms are tight around me — right above mine, left below. Her head is nestled into my neck, and I can feel the wetness of her tears through my robes.

She finally lets herself go, and I sense all of her emotions.

Fear of loneliness. The pain of a loved one's death. Her mourning for Skjor. A maelstrom of feelings too weak to identify and too chaotic to process.

But also a sliver of hope. A glimpse of comfort. A semblance of peace. Because she is like me. Though we have lost, we are not alone.

We are alive. We are together. We are unabandoned.

After a few minutes, I sit down gently, not loosening my embrace. She lets me guide her down into my lap. I rest my back on a tree trunk and pull Aela against me.

She relaxes into me. And as she slowly calms down, the warmth of my embrace gently lulls her to sleep.

— A Dragon's Game —

Affection from Illene increased by 40 (50) for helping her rescue and healing her!

I'm glad I don't cramp up or have my limbs falling asleep anymore. I don't sleep, instead keeping watch over Aela, sleeping on top of me.

And before I gained my learning gift, this would have been very uncomfortable for me.

Even if it'd still been worth it.

The Myriad Realms of Revelry are shrouded in eternal twilight. A soft light on the eyes, never blinding, never drawing attention, but good enough to see by.

So I also don't quite know how much time passes, but after what feels like a full night's sleep, Aela stirs, waking up.

Perceptive as she is, she knows I'm already awake.

"Did I sleep on top of you all night?"

I answer with a kiss to her temple.

She scoffs in amusement and cuddles close again. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome." I feel my chest moving against her as I speak.

She kisses me on my neck. "Do'samma… I… want to feel alive, again." She looks me in the eye, oddly vulnerable. "Fuck me?"

I grin and close the distance, stealing a quick kiss on the lips. "Whatever the lady wishes."

And with that, her confidence is restored, even if the pain isn't gone. "I'm no lady." She embraces me and steals the kiss back with interest. She slightly hurts herself on the spines of my tongue, but aside from getting a tad more careful completely ignores it.

I inventory both our clothes, eliciting a soft noise of pleased surprise.

She pulls back and lifts herself slightly off me. "Inside." She commands.

A moment of alignment, and she slams herself down on me, moaning loud.

I moan back just as loud — it's been a while. I put my hands on her hips, basking in the feeling of Aela's folds tightly wrapped around my dick.

She leans forward, capturing my lips again, and starts riding me as we embrace.

Responding to her yearning, I hug her against me as tight as I can, squashing her breasts against my torso, and fucking her back as much as I can from my sitting position.

Her strong arms tighten around me. She doesn't want tender lovemaking or foreplay, just a rough fuck, to get her mind straight again. A rough fuck with a continuous embrace, to feel connected.

I push deep into her, using Enhance Pleasure to make it feel better for the both of us.

She speeds up, and with the enhanced pleasure, neither of us last long. The moment after, she lets herself collapse on top of me, folding her head under my chin.

I keep holding her tight and whisper. "Better? I know I do."

She nods. "Much."

We cuddle for ten more minutes, and then it's time to return to Whiterun to start our day.

Your Eromancy has increased by 1 (86)!

Your Affection with Aela has increased by 40 (90) for being reliable and there for her!