Man this chapter took quite awhile to write. Honestly, i wasn't sure how to end the chapter. Hopefully it isn't too obvious i struggled with the end. Thank you so much to those who have reviewed, followed, and/or added this story to your favorites. And thank you for reading this story! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Stay safe out there!

Note: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. I have only thought up my own OCs for this story. This is rated M for a reason and will have mature themes. I will try to remember to put a warning before every chapter but if one is missing or you think something should be added please let me know. Also, here is a small guide to help with my writing style.

Italicized with no quotes is the character's thoughts

"No italics with quotes," is the characters speaking the common tongue.

"Italicized with quotes," is the character speaking another language, most likely falmer.

Hope that helps.

WARNINGS: language and consumption of alcohol

Time moves quickly for Ysrae. The cool, rainy weather of Rain's Hand and Second Seed fades for the warmer weather of Midyear. The hard work she has done every day has paid off. She has regained her strength and muscle mass. Unfortunately, she is plagued with dreams from the massacre of her people and dreams of him. Despite the nightmares, she still holds out hope some of her clanmates and brother are alive, but she knows just wandering Tamriel would be an ineffective way to try to find them. If they are still alive, they most likely found a new place to hide where no one can find them.

As she promised, she has been teaching Mol what she knows about the Snow Elves. She even has been helping with his restoration and alteration magic. She tried to help him with destruction magic, but she is somehow terrible at it, as well as conjuration. Mol helped Ysrae learn sayings and insults common to Skyrim. Scouts has helped in this endeavor as well.

Both Mol and Scouts-Many-Marshes have been training with Ysrae. She had been afraid neither would want to train, but neither objected when she asked. Mol had somewhat hesitated; after Ysrae pointed out the pros of being a battlemage, he enthusiastically joined in. Scouts didn't want to get rusty and was able to teach Ysrae a thing or two with a sword. In turn, Ysrae was able to help him improve his stealth; a skill Ysrae and her brother have always had a natural talent for.

Ysrae has become good friends with the two men. It took Mol awhile, but he eventually opened up to Ysrae and Scouts-Many-Marshes. Ysrae was surprised and appalled Mol was kicked out of his tribe at the young age of eighteen for taking an interest in magic and not being a "proper" orc. Mol had reassured her, saying he never would have fit in and he changed his name to leave that part of his life behind. This did little to reassure her. Never truly being accepted by family had to hurt. Ysrae and Scouts do their best to make sure Mol feels accepted in their odd, little group.

Scouts and Ysrae have found comfort in each other. On some levels, they can understand each other's pain. Both were held captive by a sadistic fuck and both lost people they care about.

Currently, Ysrae is enjoying a hot bath in the tub she had bought as soon as she had enough coin. She takes a deep breath, enjoying the light flowery scent of the oil she put in the water. The oil has the dual purpose of cleaning her and keeping her skin soft and blemish free.

"I still can't believe you can make that oil," Mol rumbles, examining his hands.

Ysrae chuckles, "When you live in a small, reclusive clan, everyone tends to learn a bit of everything." She closes her eyes, "Also, I made it a point to learn how to make the oil. Just because I am a warrior does not mean I cannot enjoy smelling good and having soft skin." She smirks at him, "Right?"

Mol laughs, "When you're right, you're right."

Scouts-Many-Marshes hums, "I don't think it does much for my scales, but I like the smell of the pine and juniper berry oil you made."

"I don't know, Marshes," Ysrae shoots him a flirtatious smile, "I think your scales have more of a shine now."

Mol groans, "Why don't you two bed each other already?" The mirth in his eyes gives away he is teasing.

Ysrae laughs. "I believe you have caught some of my sass."

Before he can reply, Ysrae takes a deep breath and submerges herself in the water. She gently rubs her face and neck. She breaks the surface with her face and breathes through her nose. She can hear the men talking, but her submerged ears makes it impossible to understand what they're saying. She lets them be. She massages her scalp and washes her dark locks.

When Ysrae is finished, she sighs in content, completely relaxed. She sits up and feels for the stopper on the bottom left of the tub. She finds it and pulls, the water draining outside. Ysrae stands, shakes the water off her limbs, and wrings out her hair. She is careful to keep her breasts covered or her back to the two men. They have gotten used to her casualness regarding nudity, but she tries not to make them uncomfortable. She goes to the unused third bed, now shoved in a corner, her back to the men. She grabs clean underwear she left on the bed, next to an oversized shirt.

Ysrae feels eyes boring into her. She glances over her shoulder and catches Scouts staring at her from his bed. His dark gray eyes are intense. Her eyes shift to Mol; he is sitting on his bed, his back to her, and appears to be preoccupied writing in his journal. She looks at Scouts and smiles. She looks back at the bed and bends over to pull on the underwear. She purposefully wiggles her ass a little. She shouldn't tease him so, but Gods she misses sex. She huffs and pulls on the shirt, which falls mid-thigh.

She crosses her arms and stares at the wall. She is tempted to go outside and cool off. Instead, she sits on the bed and crosses her legs. She angles her head to the side and detangles her hair with her fingers. She hates the way her hair feels when it's wet, but it will be harder to brush if she doesn't do this.

She can still feel Scouts watching her, but she ignores him and concentrates on her task.

"Rae," Mol's deep voice rumbles out, "I have a question for ya."

Ysrae looks up. Mol's cool blue eyes are on her. She stands and moves in-front of the hearth. The fire is burned down to coals now, but it is still giving off plenty of heat.

"What is it?"

Mol shifts so his body is facing her, "I know this was a while ago, but you remember how you and Scouts were talking about marriage and intimacy?"

Ysrae raises an eyebrow. "Yes."

"I was wondering, what would happen if there was an unwanted pregnancy with casual partners?"

Ysrae's eyes widen in surprise. Not so much at the question, but the fact Mol had asked without madly blushing. "Oh, uh…" She clears her throat to get her bearings, "It did not happen very often, but it would depend on what the parents wanted. If they didn't want to get married, they could still raise the child together and have their other partners. If only one of them wanted the child, that parent would take care of the child. If neither of them wanted the child, the whole clan would raise them. Which also happens if a child is orphaned and has no other family."

"Your elders wouldn't be upset a kid was born out of wedlock?" Scouts asks, sounding surprised.

Ysrae snorts to hold back her laughter, "Oh no. Maybe once our culture may have frowned upon it, but since there are so few of us, I think the elders were too happy that we were reproducing."

"Huh," Scouts rests his chin on his hand, "I would have guessed they would be more uptight like the High Elves."

Mol nods his agreement.

Ysrae shakes her head. She frowns, "Although, they were disapproving of marriage with any of the other races." Mol's mouth drops open. Ysrae raises her hands in defense, "Not because they dislike the other races. They just wanted to keep the Snow Elf bloodlines strong."

"Ah." Mol crosses his arms, "So it wasn't necessarily forbidden?"

Ysrae shakes her head. "Depending on their love interest's race, the elders would ask that the clan member have a child with a fellow Snow Elf before or after they start a family."

"Would they usually agree?" Scouts looks conflicted.

Ysrae clears her throat. "Yes. In fact, my great-great-great grandmother agreed to it before she married my great-great-great grandfather."

"Why before she married?" Mol wonders.

"Because he was Dunmer. My grandmother would have been too old to have children if she out lived him."

"I see. Did you get your dark hair from him?"

Ysrae picks at her nails. "Yes," she mumbles. She sighs, "His dark hair and shorter stature has stayed in the family."

Scouts-Many-Marshes laughs. "You're short? I already feel short with you two giants around," he sweeps his hand in her and Mol's direction.

Ysrae laughs, "I am not much taller than you. Mol is the real giant here."

Mol snorts, "You are still above average height compared to most people."

Scouts hums his agreement, followed by a yawn. "Not that this isn't interesting, but it is getting pretty late."

A yawn escapes Ysrae's mouth and she nods. "We are still going to Kynesgrove around midday tomorrow?"

Mol grunts the affirmative, "It will be good to do a little traveling and get some mead." He smiles mischievously, "I am determined to see the two of you drunk before we leave here."

Ysrae shakes her head, smiling. "I do not know why you are so excited to see drunkenness, but it should be fun. Let's get to bed."

Both men grunt their agreement. Ysrae quickly runs her fingers through her mostly dry hair one more time. She silently blows out the candles. Ysrae allows her eyes to adjust to the dark then slips into bed with Scouts, who is no longer wearing a shirt.

Ysrae swallows hard, Mol's teasing words running through her head. It would be nice to bed Scouts… Ysrae gently shakes her head. As much as she misses having more intimacy than cuddling, she doesn't want to compromise her friendship with him.

"As much as I'm enjoying that," Scouts soft voice interrupts her thoughts, "it is making it hard to sleep."

Ysrae realizes she was absent-mindedly tracing patterns on Scouts' abdomen with her fingers. She jerks her hand back like she was burned. "S-sorry," she whispers, glad it's dark so he can't see her face turn red.

Scouts chuckles and pulls her closer so his chin is resting on her head. "Maybe the kid has a point."

Ysrae swallows hard again. "Yeah," she rasps out, "but would it change things between us?"

Scouts-Many-Marshes hums, "Maybe a little, but I don't see myself wanting to be anything more than friends."

Ysrae lets out a breath she was holding. "I feel the same."

"Good." He kisses the top of her head. "For tonight, let's get some sleep."

Ysrae nods and drapes her arm over his waist. She settles in and quickly falls asleep.

….

The morning comes too quickly and the three are unwilling to wake up. The two men are particularly reluctant. After prompting from Ysrae, they eventually wake up and get to work. They alternate between one person cutting down trees and the other two dragging the tree to the saw. The three work quickly and silently, except for occasional grunts from their efforts. By the time Gilfre comes out to start working, they have amassed a small stack of logs. She lets them know how impressed she is before she starts cutting the logs in half.

Midday finds the three of them drenched in sweat and wore out. Ysrae is lying on her back on the ground in-between Gilfre's house and the worker house. She's breathing heavily and trying to slow her thundering heart. Scouts-Many-Marshes and Mol are sitting across from her. Mol has his head between his knees; he is taking huge, uneven breaths. Scouts is leaning back on his palms, face tipped to the sky and breathing heavy as well.

Ysrae hears footsteps over the sound of their breathing. She can't be bothered to lift her head to look. Gilfre stands over Ysrae, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"Did you all push yourselves too hard?"

They groan in response.

Gilfre chuckles, "Wait here." Ysrae hears her walk away and the sound of a door opening then closing.

"Like we are going anywhere," Mol pants out.

Ysrae sits up with a groan. "I would get up and run for the right reason."

Mol laughs, "Oh please. Let's see it then."

"Just because is a terrible reason," Ysrae smiles, "but good try."

"How about for ten septims?" Scouts gives her a toothy grin.

Ysrae stares at Scouts, "You to? Why all the interest in making me run?"

He shrugs, "I am more interested in what would get you to run."

"It is not ten septims," she grumbles.

Ysrae hears Gilfre exit her home. She glances over her shoulder and sees Gilfre has a basket. Gilfre approaches Ysrae and hands her a piece of dried meat.

"Thank you," Ysrae gratefully takes the food and digs in.

Gilfre gives the men some meat to. "I thought you could use a good meal after your hard work today." The men thank her. "And I wanted to thank you for doing a full day's work before you go to Kynesgrove."

Ysrae waves her hand, "It is the least we could do since all of your workers are leaving to be irresponsible for a night." Ysrae gives her a playful smile.

Gilfre laughs, "I remember being way more irresponsible when I was in my late teens, early twenties."

Ysrae stiffens. Gilfre says something, but Ysrae is too lost in her thoughts to hear. Am I too old to be doing things like this? NO. No. I keep forgetting humans do not live as long as mer. As Mol put it 'life in Skyrim is hard and short.' Gilfre bids them good-day. Ysrae manages to mumble a farewell.

"Ok Ysrae?" Scouts is watching her.

She nods and finishes her last bit of meat. "I was just thinking….how old are you? I know Mol is a young eighteen." She smirks at said Orsimer, who grunts in response.

"Hmm. I am twenty-five. Why?"

Ysrae snorts, "Gilfre's comment about being irresponsible in her early twenties. All of you are making me feel old."

"Ysrae, are you an old maid?" Mol is smirking at her.

She laughs, "No more than you are. Although," she rubs her chin, "humans may consider me one."

"How old are you, then?" Scouts wonders.

"I am an ancient thirty-one."

Mol's eyes widen, "I wouldn't have guessed you were that old."

Scouts chuckles, "Honestly, I am surprised you aren't older. I have met mer much older than you who still looked just as young as you."

"At least I am young to someone here," she laughs.

Mol mumbles something. Ysrae stands and dusts herself off, "It's ok, Mol. When I was your age, I thought thirty was old as well." She walks to the two men, careful not to step on Scouts' tail, and holds her hands out. They grab her hands and haul themselves up. Ysrae stumbles forward from their combined weight, laughing. "Now, I do not know about you two, but I could do with a wash."

….

The trio make it to Kynesgrove well before the sun will begin to set. All three are wearing casual shirts with leather pants and each have a weapon; Mol has his battleaxe, Scouts-Many-Marshes his sword, and Ysrae her bow. All three agreed they wanted to wear at least some armor without being armed to the teeth. The pants seemed like the best choice so they wouldn't have to deal with all the buckles that comes with upper armor.

The town wasn't as far as Ysrae thought it would be. She is grateful it was a short journey. Her muscles are a bit sore from the hard, frantic work they did. Ysrae stares at the inn, Braidwood Inn according to the sign. She nervously tugs up on the black cloth she tied around her face to use as a mask.

Mol pats her back, "Relax Rae." He lowers his voice, "You used so much black and gray warpaint people will assume you're High Elf."

She nods, "You are right." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It has been so long since I have interacted with anyone but you guys and Gilfre. That is making me nervous as well."

"It will be ok," Scouts murmurs from her other side. "Not that you need us to do it for you, but Mol and I will chase off anyone who harasses you."

Ysrae chuckles. "I appreciate the thought." She takes one more deep breath, "Shall we?"

The three enter the mostly empty tavern. There is a young man leaning on a counter at the back, talking to a woman behind the counter. There are three tables with benches in the inn. Two are directly in-front of a large firepit. The third is across from the door. It's the farthest from the counter, but there is less chance of getting too hot.

Ysrae goes for the third. Her companions follow her.

"This one ok?" she asks in a low voice.

Scouts-Many-Marshes nods, "I always prefer to be close to the door when I'm in a tavern. Just in case things go south."

"Fair enough," Mol grunts. "I will go up and get us started."

"Oh, hold on." Ysrae glances to the boy and woman. Once she's satisfied they aren't paying attention, she discreetly reaches down her shirt and pulls out a small coin pouch from the depths of her chest wrap. "Here." She opens the bag and drops fifteen septims into Mol's hand.

"Uh- I'll be back." Mol retreats to the counter.

Ysrae slides on the side of the bench against the wall. She carefully ties her coin purse and places it back between her breasts.

"Interesting place to keep your coin," Scouts murmurs, sliding in next to her.

She smiles wide, "I thought so."

"Doesn't it move around too much? Or rub uncomfortably?"

Ysrae shakes her head. "I figured out how to wrap my chest just right so the coins do not move much. Although, I can only carry around fifty septims."

"Follow up question," Scouts says, just as Mol returns with three bottles in his hands. "Why do you wrap your chest? Why not just wear the standard undergarments?"

Mol snorts, "How is it you two manage to get into conversations like this when I'm only gone for a moment?"

Ysrae shrugs and grabs a bottle, pulling the cork out. She is careful to slip the bottle under her mask without displacing it. She starts to take a drink.

Scouts smirks, "I like to think I ask the right questions."

Ysrae chokes on the ale. She coughs and laughs. Scouts hits her back, also laughing.

Mol groans and sits across from them, "And you wonder why I thought you were younger than you are."

Ysrae manages to mostly compose herself, but she is still giggling. "You just did not get the chance to be around the serious me." Ysrae grabs her bottle, ready to actually try the drink. She points at Scouts, "Make me choke again and I will take it as an attempt on my life." She smiles before taking a large swig. The men follow suit.

The drink is different from any alcohol Ysrae has tried before. It's a little bitter, but not overly so. It somehow tastes earthy and a little spicy.

Mol hums his satisfaction, "That is a good ale."

Ysrae nods. "Does it have a name or anything?"

Mol shakes his head, "Iddra, the woman at the bar, just called it a dark ale."

"Hm, well I quite like it." Ysrae takes another drink. She sets the bottle down and frowns slightly. "What exactly is the plan here? Are we just going to drink ourselves stupid and attempt to walk home?"

"Uhhh…" Mol pauses. "I figure it depends on how drunk we get. If we don't end up drinking too much, we will go home whenever we are ready. If we do drink a lot, we can stay here. Iddra said they have a room for rent. It would be cramped for the three of us, but it will work."

"Good," Scouts mumbles. "I would rather not travel if the three of us are incapacitated." He takes a drink as Ysrae nods in agreement. "Back to the question I asked earlier," he looks at Ysrae.

She stares back, "You mean the wrap question?"

"Mhmm."

Ysrae scoffs, "Have you seen women's underclothes? They are fine for casual wear. Other than that, all the top is good for is keeping things covered up. Wrapping my chest helps keep everything in place, and I am careful not to wrap it too tight. It is actually less painful for me to use the wrap than to not."

"In battle and things like that?" Mol questions, a slight flush to his face.

"Exactly." Ysrae holds her bottle in front of her mouth, "I can concentrate on the battle and not be distracted by chest pain." She takes a large drink and sets the bottle down. "So, you guys have any interesting stories to tell you have not shared yet?"

The three pass the evening drinking and telling stories. Scouts-Many-Marshes tells stories of his time in the swampy hold of Hjaalmarch. Ysrae voices her interest in visiting someday as she has never seen swampland before. Mol tells them happier stories from his time growing up in an Orc tribe. Once she has had enough drink, Ysrae tells them about her and her brother's shenanigans.

The tavern becomes more crowded and at some point, a Nord man joins them. He drinks with them and doesn't seem to care the other three aren't human. He tells them stories; some true, others more mythos. Either way, the man is a good story-teller and good company.

His latest story has Ysrae laughing so hard she's gasping for breath. Mol is roaring with laughter, whereas Scouts is covering his face with a hand, silently laughing and shaking.

Ysrae gets her laughter under control and wipes tears from her eyes. She exhales and fans herself with her hand; she feels warm and she can tell her face is flushed.

"You will have to scuse me a minute," Ysrae shoves off the table, swaying as she stands. "Seems I need some air."

She stumbles out the door, not hearing what one of the men calls after her. The cool night air feels good on what little of her skin is exposed. She leans on the railing to steady herself; her head feels fuzzy, but not in an unpleasant way. She looks around. She sees no one around. Thank Auri-El. She pulls her mask down, sighing in relief. The mask was starting to feel stifling.

She tips her head back and blearily looks at the night sky. Once she cools off, Ysrae switches her attention to her hands. She carefully looks at her palm. The dried smeared black and gray war paint on her hands has started flaking off. She snorts and twists her hand, examining her nails. She picks at the cracking paint on her nails. She hears the door open behind her.

She keeps her back to whomever comes out and fumbles with her mask. The door slams closed, making her jump.

"Oops," a low voice chuckles.

Ysrae finally secures her mask and turns around. "Oh, it is just you," she pulls her mask back down and smiles at Mol.

He snickers, "Sorry to disappoint." He holds a bottle out to her.

Ysrae gladly accepts it and moves to sit on the side steps so she isn't blocking the door. Mol sits next to her, taking a swig of his own drink. Ysrae takes a gulp of the cool ale. She sighs happily and leans forward so her arms are resting on her legs.

"Thanks for this," Ysrae swirls the bottle, more forcefully than she meant to.

Mol grunts. "So how do ya like gettin drunk witha bunch of non-Snow Elves?"

" 'S fun so far." She giggles, "This is the most I have ever drank. It was against the rules to drink too much." Ysrae stands and holds out her hand to him. "C'mon. It would be mean to leave Scouts allll alone."

"Don' worry. Roggi was with him." Mol takes her hand and pulls himself up, nearly pulling her down.

She stumbles into his chest, giggling. "I forgot how big you are." She gently pushes off of him and twirls around, "Let's go!"

"Hold on," Mol grabs her arm and pulls her back forcefully, dropping his drink which loudly thunks on the wooden porch. Ale slops out of the bottle in Ysrae's hand and her face collides with his solid chest. The two have ale on them and there is a growing puddle on the porch.

"Shit!" She rubs her aching nose.

"S-sorry. Pulled harder than I meant to," he looks down at her and gently grabs her face. "Ya forgot this," he slides her mask over her nose and makes sure it's secure.

"Hmmm. In that case, I suppose I forgive you." Ysrae grabs his shoulder, stands on tip-toes, and gives him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispers in his ear. She giggles and pats his shoulder, "Sorry I tease you as much as I do."

Mol snorts, "I know you don't mean anything by it. Besides," he laughs and slaps Ysrae on the back, making her grunt, "it's part of what makes you…well, you."

"Thanks, big guy. Come on," she hits his chest with the back of her hand, "lets get back to drinking with Scouts and our new friend."

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and copious amounts of drink. Mol eventually falls asleep at the table, leaving Scouts and Ysrae to drag him to the room they rented. They somehow get Mol into the single bed. Ysrae struggles to get his boots off while Scouts removes the battleaxe from his back. Once they have tucked Mol in as best as they can, they drunkenly prepare a bedroll on the floor to share. They soon follow Mol into blessedly dreamless sleep.