He had not even made a plan yet. He and Modyn had discussed his task the previous day but the particulars were left to him and he had not even spared a thought. There had been no room in his mind when he had spent his morning coming up with every possible reason to stay in bed with that soft, inviting, wicked little temptress. He tapped the back of his head against the wall as he waited for Vanya to return from taking their breakfast dishes to the kitchen. Time was running short and he could hardly believe he was thinking it, but- he didn't want to leave. No, that wasn't quite right. He had plenty of desire to strike out and see more of the world. He didn't want to leave her.

As she emerged from the kitchen, he stood up, deciding that he'd just have to make his plans on the way.


The tavern was completely empty except for Teldryn. Everyone else was out at the yard watching the procession of guar being moved out to Nathala's nearly restored farm and Vanya was struck with a sudden feeling of déjà vu as Teldryn hoisted his pack to his shoulder, his helmet tucked under his arm.

She wondered if he felt it, too. Like everything was different but at the same time as if nothing had changed. A small smile pulled at her lips as she realized she was even planning to continue the conversation from the night in question.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, causing her to laugh a little while she tugged the helmet out from under his arm, setting it on her head as she walked backward toward the stairs. He followed her with an amused look.

"Who is your Patron?" she asked as her foot hit the first step.

His expression twisted into confusion as he palmed the helmet, lifting it from her head. "I would think that was obvious," he said as he started up the stairs.

She rolled her eyes as she turned to join him. "Well, it's not."

"Boethiah," he drawled. "The Dark Warrior, The Goddess of Destruction..."

"And the Prince of Plots!" she interrupted as he pushed the door of the Netch open. "I suppose I see the whole fighting thing, but lying and backstabbing? treason?"

"Is everything so cut and dry to you?" He glanced down at her with an arched brow. "Let me ask you this, do you believe those in authority are always right? What is treason to some is liberation to others."

Her steps faltered for a moment as she considered. "I...guess it would depend on the circumstances." She caught up to him as he passed by the well. "Elder Othreloth has never quite put it that way, he kind of talks in circles."

"You've heard too much of his long-winded preaching. I'll put it to you this way..." He rounded on her with a solemn expression. "The strongest get to choose what they won't die for."

Now it was her turn to be confused. Was he really just saying he believed in survival of the fittest? Surely there was more to it than that.

He patted around on the pockets of his armor, his brow furrowing."Shit, I've forgotten that I meant to get some guar jerky from the barracks." He sighed as he peered up toward the ruckus around the Bulwark. "Do you want to come with me?"

She scrunched her nose up, shaking her head. "I'll wait here."

He smirked and gave a quick nod, then turned to head up the path. She watched him for a moment, her thoughts drifting along with her eyes until they landed on the old chair near Milore's alchemy table. She walked toward it.

The strongest get to choose what they won't die for. What did that mean exactly?

She sat down, picking up a dried blue mountain flower from a bundle that had been left on the table. She plucked one of the petals, crunching it a little between her fingers before placing it on her tongue.

Wasn't it a great virtue to be willing to sacrifice for others? In all the stories she knew, those that died in the pursuit of what was right were lauded as heros. To turn away and live, leaving others to knowingly suffer, that could not be what he meant. It sounded selfish and cruel and while she could not deny he could be those things, she knew he was not heartless- so very far from it.

She spun the flower, a shower of petals falling into her lap. She gathered them up, adding them to the one in her mouth as the pleasant wash of their healing properties warmed her.

She knew well, though, that she was given a side of him that others were not. Who was he out there, beyond the walls of Raven Rock, in this turbulent world which he seemed to walk into with complete confidence?

She pulled off the last petal, placing it between her lips to rub them against the delicate surface. What would he die for?

What would she die for?

The rapid pattering of feet got her attention and she turned to see a flash of black hair followed by a bouncing bronze ponytail.

"Give her back!"

Vanya stood up and leaned over the alchemy table, watching Llero sprint down the path toward the south, Beniel hot on his heels. The boy squealed in delight when she almost caught his shirt.

Don't go too far. The command was on her tongue but they were already out of ear-shot. She walked toward the well, craning her neck to see the crowd near the training yard, checking if their parents were following. Nobody else was coming her way and Teldryn was taking his sweet time, it seemed. With a huff, she started down the path to collect the children. Teldryn would be going this way when he left, so she knew she wouldn't miss him.

As she walked she looked over the houses in various states of construction, smiling when she saw the large pots set out on Dreyla's porch awaiting their imported flowers. When she reached the edge of town, she slowed, straining her ears, eyes scanning for any sign of the little ones. They knew better than to go further than this. Perhaps they'd gone around to the dock without her seeing them?

Just as she turned to check, she caught movement in the corner of her eye, whipping her head back to see Beniel stumbling out from the edge of the mass of dead trees that marked the beginning of the Hirstaang forest. Gods, what are they doing over there?

"Beni!" Vanya started toward the girl, her heart dropping when she saw the doll clutched in the girl's hand. "Where is Llero?" she cried as they neared each other.

Beniel looked around frantically. "He was with me! He was right behind me!" She began to sob. "The- the- the wolves got him!"

No. Vanya grabbed the girl's face, turning it upward to pull her from her panic. "Beni, run and get help. Go!"

The girl took off up the path without hesitation, screaming for her mother. Vanya's legs were already carrying her toward the woods. No, no, no.

She skidded to a stop at the perimeter of the gnarled trees that were the first thing she had seen in this world. What was she doing? She couldn't-

A faint cry reached her ears from somewhere within the tangle of dead forest and her feet moved of their own accord. There was no time. "Llero!" she called, ignoring the downed branches that clawed at her pants, scraping her ankles. She tripped over a sharp rock as she climbed the steep incline deeper into the trees, pulling herself back up with a whimper as her knee pulsed with pain. Reaching the top of the hill, she took a breath to call for him again, her throat clamping shut as her insides turned to liquid.

A massive, white wolf stood over the boy's limp body, its jaws dug into his shoulder with a large paw across his back. Her hand fell to her dagger, its hilt bringing her a measure of comfort despite that fact her mind had gone completely blank. The red around the beast's mouth snapped her from her daze, the sight of Llero's mop of hair slicked with blood unveiling the truth of the decision before her. It was either him or the wolf.

With a wordless cry, she pulled her dagger as she rushed the wolf whose eyes flicked to her as its teeth bared, though it did not release its prey. Her legs were swept out from under her, a sharp pain shooting up from her right calf and she twisted on the ground to see another wolf, its teeth dug deep into her flesh. She raised her hand, only then noticing she'd dropped her dagger and she twisted back to her stomach to find it. The wolf's mouth clamped harder and it shook its head. Her vision went white as she cried out, feeling each tear as her leg was shred, reaching out blindly on the ground for her dagger. She gasped when she felt it, closing her fingers on the hilt and throwing herself back toward the wolf on her leg, screaming with each hit as she plunged the dagger anywhere she could reach. The animal whined, the pressure on her leg loosening. Finally, it released her and she didn't even look to see if it was dying, quickly turning back to the larger beast who would soon regret its choice of a meal.

Her injured leg gave out as she pushed to her feet but she felt nothing, nothing but white-hot desperation as she limped closer. Gripping her dagger tightly, she launched herself onto the wolf before it could turn, the edge of the blade scraping against bone until it found a soft place and she used her weight to drive it in. The animal howled, its blood-soaked maw lashed out at her, catching her left arm in the vice of its jaws as she raised it reflexively. Its head jerked, trying to yank her off and she screamed at the fresh pain, panting as she pulled the dagger from the wolf's back. She had to end this. She punched the tip of the dagger into its neck, gritting her teeth as she tore savagely with all her remaining strength to open its throat.

Her arm was free, the wolf staggering away, blood spattering heavily as it shook its head before collapsing.

Llero. Her hands slipped clumsily on the red forest floor as she crawled toward the small boy, lying face down, his shoulder chewed to pulp. She reached out with her injured arm, a stream of blood dripping from the tips of her fingers. "Llero?"

She felt more than heard a low growl, tingling up her spine as she raised her eyes to see another wolf, glistening white teeth bared and hair bristling as it inched closer. Her breath left her as she stared into its hungry eyes and she lowered her hand over the boy protectively, grasping at his unharmed shoulder. The smell of blood overwhelmed her senses, and she tried to lift the dagger that suddenly seemed to be made of lead. This was it. She had no more. "I tried," she breathed.

The air seemed to pull tighter as the wolf reared back to pounce, her ears deaf to anything but her final ragged breaths. She blinked as an arrow slammed into the wolf's eye with such force that it was thrown to the ground, twitching as its growl became a death rattle.

She felt as if she were suspended in water as she turned her head, meeting sharp turquoise eyes. Gael crouched over Llero, saying something but Vanya only stared, uncomprehending. Finally, Gael pried her fingers from the boy, bringing her back to her body. She looked down at the dagger in her trembling hand, letting it fall to the ground as the last few moments registered in her mind.

"Llero!" the panicked voice of a woman pierced the air. "Julekil'yi! Julekil'yi!" the dunmer wailed, healing rushing from her hands to the boy as Gael lifted him from the ground. At the sight of his wounds responding to the healing, someone cried, "He yet lives!"

"Quickly, to Milore!" said another.

He yet lives. Tears streamed down her face, red even as they fell to mix with the blood on the ground. He yet lives.

A rough hand slid around the side of her head, tilting her face up and she looked into crimson eyes as she felt herself being laid back on the ground. He looked worried. The corner of her mouth curled up. "He yet lives," she assured him as the red faded to black.


Blood. He couldn't tell what was hers and she was so pale. Teldryn pulled his dagger and sliced open her tunic, feeling slight relief that only her arm was the source. He pressed the skin together best that he could and tried to heal enough to slow the bleeding until they could fully assess the extent of the damage. He paused when he heard a sharp gasp, looking over to see Bralsa had opened Vanya's breeches, revealing the mangled state of her leg. The hairs on his neck stood as he scooted down to examine closer. Bits of white peeked out between the ribbons of flesh, the even flow of blood from the wound sparking panic.

"We have to stop the bleeding," he said hoarsely.

"The bones are broken, they will need to be set first," Bralsa said, her voice trembling.

"You can do it?"

She nodded curtly.

He removed his cowl and twisted it up, clenching his jaw as he turned back to Vanya's head. She may be passed out now, but not for much longer. He tucked the fabric between her teeth then pressed his arms against her shoulders, the edges of the cowl pulled taut between his fingers.

"Do it."

Her eyes snapped open, her teeth gnashing against the cowl that did nothing to muffle her scream. She struggled against him, her cries turning to sobs and he leaned down, soothing in her ear. "It will be over soon, Khes'yi. It will be over soon." Her movements began to slow, her breaths becoming quick and short, punctuated with pained whimpers that made him weak.

"Help me," Bralsa pleaded and he let go of the cowl, the weight of his own body seemed enormous as he pushed himself up. Bralsa was sitting on Vanya's leg to hold it still, her hands glowing as she pieced the flesh back together somewhat uncertainly. "I can hardly tell what's what," she breathed.

"It's not going to be exact," he said as he pressed a deep gash together, pouring everything he had into her. "Just do what you can." This kind of healing would scar badly but it was not worth her life to risk a more delicate process. With how pale she was, he was just glad she was healing so steadily. The few harrowing minutes felt like hours by the time they stopped, her crudely mended wounds still raw and seeping but no longer threatening to bleed her out.

Bralsa slid off Vanya's leg and sat on the ground, leaning back on her arms for support. "I'm out," she huffed.

He still had some magicka left but Vanya was out of danger for the moment and he didn't want to heal any more before Milore's more practiced eye could look her over. She had spit the cowl from her mouth, her breath shallow and eyes glazed over from the overdose of healing. He leaned over her, picking up the cowl to wipe away the blood and grime that marred her face.

"Teldryn," Bralsa interrupted with a hand on his wrist. "We should move her now, before the soothe wears off."

He nodded, setting aside the cowl and lifting her into his arms as gently as he could, Bralsa helping to stabilize her injured limbs. Her head rested against his pauldron as he stood up and he watched Bralsa peel away a lock of hair that was sticking to the drying blood on her neck.

"She'll be alright," she said.

"Thank you." His voice was weak and unfamiliar to his ears.

Her face pinched as if in pain as she caressed Vanya's cheek, her eyes sliding up to his. "I love her, too."

He watched, dumbstruck, as she turned away. He began to follow her in a daze, inattentive to the world around him, fixated on her admission that had identified something he had not known was there. Now that it was revealed he was helpless to deny it.

I love her.