Even though I split this chapter into two sections, it still got longer than intended (and took a bit longer to write than anticipated). I hope that this chapter was worth the wait!


Chapter Eight: Most Days He Is Tolerable (Part Two)
Brand

I rein my horse in on the plain outside Whiterun, far enough from the city gates not to be recognized yet. My stomach twists and my mouth feels suddenly dry. I really, really don't want to face whatever I did in my own home city.

Borgakh stops beside me. "What are you doing?"

I sigh. "Well, if Rorikstead is any indication, then I might not get a warm welcome here."

"Let me guess, you do not remember what you did here either."

"Maybe you…?"

Borgakh shakes her head. "All I know is that I left you drinking with a stranger in the Bannered Mare and when I got back, you were gone. Adrianne was the one who told me she saw you leave Whiterun."

"Right. Then it might be more advantageous to s -"

"Oh, no," she interrupts. "I am not going in and taking responsibility for whatever you did that night."

I stare at her with my mouth open for a second. She thinks I was going to send her in my place? While it is a tempting proposition, Borgakh would never let me get away with it without threatening to separate my head from my shoulders.

"I was going to say 'sneak in,'" I finish wryly.

Borgakh glares at me.

I hold my hands up.

She looks back up at the city. "That is fair," she says.

My mouth drops open for the second time. "You agree?"

She grins and it's terrifying, her tusks accentuating the expression. "I agree that you should sneak in. I am going to ride up to the gate and walk inside like a respectable citizen."

I wave a hand at her. "Fine, fine."

She reaches over and tugs the reins out of my grasp.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I left with your horse. It would be strange if I returned without him, yes?"

I sigh.

"You do want to keep up the illusion that you are not here, do you not?"

I nod.

"So, I need your horse." She says all of this way too gleefully.

With a scowl, I slide off the horse, but Borgakh is right, as usual. If she rides up to the stable with my empty horse in tow, she can claim she didn't find me. Or, at the very least, didn't return with me. If she rides up without my horse, she has to fabricate a bigger lie about finding me and not bringing me home, or losing my horse somewhere in the wilderness. And for all of Borgakh's good qualities, lying isn't one of them. Which is a good thing, normally.

Borgakh smiles down at me and nudges her horse forward, leading mine in tow. "See you back at Breezehome, Dragonborn!" she calls over her shoulder.

I start walking.

It's not difficult to sneak into Whiterun. I suppose that should say something about the state of security in my home city, but, then again, I highly doubt most sneaks employ whirlwind sprint to get in. A quick whisper as I jump throws me to the top of the wall and I drop lightly down on the other side, behind Warmaiden's. If there's anybody I can trust to be discreet about my sudden appearance after a night of...whatever the heck I did here...it's Adrianne. Plus, she's the one who saw me leave, so maybe she knows a little something about what went down.

I slip up to the smelter and lean against the back of it, out of sight of the road. I can hear Adrianne at her forge, hammering away. I lean around the edge of the smelter and call out to her, imbuing my voice with a little of the Thu'um so that it will carry over the sound of her hammer without me having to yell.

"Adrianne!"

She looks up sharply, one eyebrow raised. Then her mouth turns down, not quite a scowl, but definitely a frown. I swallow. She takes her time hammering out her piece and then thrusts it back into the coals and walks over to me.

"I see you finally made it back, Dragonborn," she says.

I clear my throat. "Yes."

She stares at me, waiting.

"Can you...did I…how bad was it?"

"How bad?"

I rub the back of my neck. "Did I do anything...strange...here in the last few days? Like steal someone's cow? Or set fire to the Eldergleam or anything?"

Adrianne puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head. "No." She looks amused. "No, nothing like that. Why?"

I feel relief flood me like a cool river. "Thank the Eight," I murmur.

"You did have a pretty rowdy time a few nights ago, though," Adrianne says in a knowing tone.

I feel my stomach clench up again.

"Oh, no. I didn't...make anybody mad at me, did I?"

Adrianne smirks. "You don't remember?"

I shake my head, not sure at all that I want Adrianne to remind me.

"You were galavanting through the city with some guy called Sam, announcing how you were going to get married soon."

I feel my ears flush red. "Married?" my voice goes much higher than I intend. I clear my throat. I dread the answer, but I have to ask. "To Sam?"

Adrianne laughs. "No, to some woman. You wouldn't say her name, but you bought a wedding ring from Ysolda on credit. She's frustrated that you haven't paid her back for it yet. Seeing as how you are the Dragonborn and normally have such deep pockets."

"Um, right, yes, well, I guess I should go take care of that. But nothing else? Nothing crazy? I didn't make anybody want to kill me?"

"Not that I know of."

I put my hands on Adrianne's shoulders and look her in the eye. "Thank you. "

She looks a little confused, but she nods. "Anytime, Brand."

I slip into the backstreets of Whiterun and work my way toward the market as Adrianne resumes her hammering.

I don't get very far before I run into Borgakh. She leans up against the side of our house, arms crossed. Although she has her helm off, she's still in the rest of her armor and she looks intimidating and stern. Her eyes sparkle as she catches sight of me and she grins.

I pause. I'm trapped. There's no way I can get to the market, where Ysolda is usually found, without passing Borgakh, or very obviously turning around and going a different direction. I walk up to her.

"Well, I don't think you managed to make off with a goat this time," Borgakh says.

"That's a relief." I'm halfway serious.

"I did a brief walkthrough and no one ran up to me asking where you were so they could ring your neck, so I think you might be safe."

"Good, good." I nod. "I talked to Adrianne and she said I bought a...wedding ring...off of Ysolda but didn't pay her for it yet."

Borgakh's eyebrows go up and there's something odd in her expression that I can't quite place. Jealousy?

"A wedding ring?" Her tone is carefully neutral.

"Apparently."

"And just who were you planning on giving the ring to, Brand?"

I hold up my hands. "Look, this is just like the goat thing! I have no idea!"

Borgakh sighs and shakes her head. "This is why you shouldn't drink with strangers."

I glare at her, but I don't answer.


"You mean you can't even remember!?" Ysolda asks incredulously. She sits on the edge of the well in the middle of Whiterun.

A few passerby give us some odd looks. I hold my hands up. "Not so loud. But no, I don't remember."

Ysolda gives me an annoyed look, but she lowers her voice. "You came to me a few nights ago drunk as a loon and told me that you were getting married and needed a ring, but you didn't have the money on you right then. So I gave you one of my best pieces with the promise that you'd pay me back."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is only getting worse. Who was I supposed to marry? Did they know we were getting married? Did they even exist, or had I made the whole thing up? But, if I made it up, where was the ring Ysolda gave me? I certainly didn't have it on my person now. "Did I mention who I was going to marry?" I ask.

Ysolda shakes her head. "No, but you did say that you met at Witchmist Grove. It sounded really romantic. You said something about fireflies and true love and how you were really excited."

I fight the urge to pull a face. Ysolda sounds like she really believed I'd been about to get married. In Witchmist Grove? I don't even know where that is.

"Ysolda, I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm not actually getting married."

Ysolda's eyes go wide. "But it sounded so real!"

"You said it yourself, I was drunk as a loon."

"Have you let your bride to be know this?" Ysolda crosses her arms.

"I'm not even sure who the bride to be is!"

"You forgot your own fiance? Brand, you're a horrible human being!"

More people stare. I grit my teeth. "Technically, I'm an elf," I say.

Ysolda glares at me.

I sigh. "Look, I get it. It's a mess. Trust me, I know. I've been trying to sort it all out for the last few days. So, anyway, how much do I owe you for the ring?"

Ysolda crosses her arms. "Well, if you're not actually getting married, I'd rather have the ring back than the septims. Seeing as how that was one of my best items. And besides, you have no use for it anymore."

"Ysolda, I don't have the ring anymore!"

"I suggest you start looking then. Maybe in Witchmist Grove. Start with the heartbroken young lady."

I sigh again. But there'll be no convincing Ysolda otherwise. Once she's made up her mind, you can't change it.

"Alright. I'll bring you the ring."

"You'd better, Dragonborn, or I'll charge you double the price."


"I know that I probably have a very different idea of romantic than a wood elf," Borgakh says with a straight face. "But even I have to pass on this one."

"I hate to agree with you, but I'm afraid I have to." I grimace. We're standing outside of Witchmist Grove, about a day's ride out of Windhelm and it looks like the last place to find a marriageable girl. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I told Ysolda a story about true love and fireflies. The only thing in the grove is a cabin, a shoddy thing with missing boards. There's a fence made of spikes sticking out of the ground. Severed animal heads decorate the fence, some of them still dripping blood. Which means they're fresh. Which means that whoever lives here chops animals and impales them on spikes in their free time.

Probably to keep people away. And fuel their dark magic rituals.

Borgakh looks over at me, a wry smile tugging the corner of her mouth. "Very romantic, Brand. Who do you think you picked up here, a necromancer?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Even drunk I wouldn't go for one of those crazy mages."

Borgakh snickers. "You did steal a goat, if you'll remember."

"Not to marry it!"

"How do we know?"

I shudder. Technically, we don't. By the Eight, if I live this down, I'm never going drinking again.

"Well, might as well go break your blushing bride's heart, Dragonborn," Borgakh says. "Get it over with." She nudges me in the ribcage with her elbow.

"You shut up," I growl. But I stalk through the grass toward the cabin anyway.

I only get halfway there before I see movement in the doorway. A hunched figure shuffles forward and I feel my stomach drop into my boots. That's not what I think it is, I hope. Oh, Oblivion...it is.

A hagraven appears in the doorway, shoulders bowed, head tilted like a bird's, beady eyes staring me down. Then her lips part in what I think is supposed to be a smile, but it looks sickly and strange in her pinched face. Her breathing is loud and ragged, grating on my nerves.

"Darling!" she cries. "I've been waiting on you to return, to consummate our love!"

I hear a snicker behind me and then Borgakh bursts into loud laughter. I very pointedly do not turn around to look at her. My ears burn and I clench my hands into fists at my side.

"Who is that!?" The hagraven's face twists in rage and she points angrily at Borgakh.

"Uh…" I can't think of a single thing to say. My mind is completely blank and I feel like the world is turning around me in slow-motion while I'm frozen in this awful tableau. I was going to marry a hagraven?! How drunk was I?

Borgakh walks up to stand beside me, holding her warhammer casually in front of her. She rests the hammer against the ground and leans on it, one hand on her hip. "My name is Borgakh the Steel-Heart. I'm his girlfriend," she says.

I glare daggers at Borgakh.

"Girlfriend!" The hagraven puffs up, the feathers along her arms standing on end. Then her venomous gaze turns on me. "You lied!" she hisses.

"I didn't-"

"You said there was no other!"

"Hang on, I-"

"You said Moira was the only one!" she shrieks. "You said you loved Moira!" She launches herself off the porch at me.

I'm so stunned by the whole turn of events that I barely have my hand on my sword before she's right in my face. Or would have been had she not run smack into Borgakh's warhammer. The hagraven screams as the hammer smashes bone, but her unnatural endurance and reflexes save her life. She reverses her lunge at the last second and while she takes a hit, it's not mortal.

She flies back and skids in the dirt, her eyes burning angry holes into me. Blood drips from her now-shattered nose and she holds one arm in close, as if it might be broken. "You die!" She raises her hand, fingers crooked and curled. A jet of flame flies out of her fingertips.

"Fo Krah!" I Shout, meeting the fire with ice. The two elements dissipate in a cloud of steam. I draw my enchanted glass blade as Borgakh and I instinctively split up to flank the hagraven. This also makes us harder targets because the hagraven either has to choose one of us and put her back to the other or try to split her attention between us.

She chooses me.

Of course she does.

"Liar!" she screams and races toward me. Even with my own heightened reflexes, I'm still surprised at how fast she can move when she wants to.

"Maybe we can talk this out?" I suggest as I throw up my sword and block a swing from her claws. By the Eight, but she's strong. Her swing rattles my sword arm. I push her back.

"No talking. Only fighting now."

"So, it would be a bad time to ask for that ring back, huh?"

She shrieks and flies at me, hand curled, a spell glowing in her palm. Fire washes over me.

"Mul Qah Diiv!" I Shout again. Ethereal dragon scales rise up over my torso and deflect the flame, although I still feel it singe some of my clothing and skin. I wince.

"Cheat!" the hagraven shouts. "Liar! You die!"

I see Borgakh rise up behind her.

The hagraven must sense something, because she leaps to the side, barely rolling out of the way of the heavy swing of Borgakh's hammer. The hagraven comes to her feet beside me, hissing and spitting. She lashes out with her claws again. This time, I throw up my forearm and block her swing. Claws clash with scales and she looks surprised when she can't cut through me. She looks even more surprised when my enchanted blade sinks into her stomach and lightning pulses through her body. She convulses once, twice, then collapses. I pull my sword out of her twitching corpse.

Borgakh lowers her warhammer.

"Well -" she begins.

"Don't say it," I snarl.

The ring doesn't take long to find.


Borgakh stands in front of a glowing portal in the bottom of Morvunskar, a grin splitting her features. Dead necromancers and mages lie at her feet. I shuck the last corpse off my blade and look over at her.

She gestures at the portal, bloody warhammer and all.

I sigh. "Might as well. Let's get this over with."

After returning the ring to Ysolda, she explained that I'd told her I was getting married in Morvunskar, which, as it turns out, is a Nordic tomb. A freaking tomb. Nobody gets married in a tomb. Ok, I take that back, necromancers probably do...I shudder and abandon that line of thought and follow Borgakh through the portal.

I hardly expect what I find on the other side.

Instead of exiting in a dungeon or another tomb or some nasty, monster-infested place, we walk into a pleasant grove full of trees. A rippling stream runs through the grove, sending up puffs of mist here and there. A wooden path leads across the water to an open space with a long table running down the center. Laughing people fill the table, eating and drinking and having a good time. Magical lights strung up along the edges of the grove provide soft, warm light.

A man in a black robe stands beside the table, talking to one of the party-goers.

As soon as I see him, I remember him.

I stride forward. "Sam!" I grab him by his shoulder and spin him around. "Sam Guevenne!"

He looks only mildly surprised to be accosted by an elf in bloodied armor and his equally bloodied orc companion, then his eyes light up and he offers me a warm smile.

"Brand! I was wondering when you'd finally show up to your own wedding!"

"What?"

"I see you found a better candidate than that hagraven!" he laughs and raises the tankard in his hand toward Borgakh.

"This is not a wedding!" I shout. "No one is getting married. What is this place? Who are you? And why in Oblivion did you drag me across half of Skyrim making a mess out of everything?"

Sam takes my tirade with a lazy smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Now, now, there's no need to get angry, Dragonborn," he says. His form blurs and stretches, growing taller, broader. His skin darkens and becomes red and his eyes glow crimson as his clothes turn into a suit of daedric armor. Long horns curl out of his dark hair. He bows. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Sanguine, daedric prince of debauchery, parties, and drunken adventures."

I don't answer.

"Surprised, Dragonborn?"

I hear something behind me that sounds like Borgakh suppressing a snicker. Sanguine gives her a smile over the top of my head. It's times like these that I sincerely wish I was taller. Sanguine looks back at me.

"I must admit, you've been the most fun drinking partner in a long time. Most people don't have the stomach to stand up to my wine, much less to run around Skyrim with me."

"I don't appreciate your pranks, Sanguine."

"Pranks?" Sanguine puts a hand to his chest, as if offended. "Never. I don't pull pranks, Dragonborn. I breathe life into the dull humdrum of the mundane."

Borgakh holds in another laugh.

I cross my arms. "I'm hardly mundane, though. Why me?"

"Because I knew you'd be up to the task." Sanguine winks at me.

I scowl.

"Don't take it so hard, Brand," he smiles. "After all, you were good for some laughs and in the end, no harm done."

"That hagraven tried to kill me! I got punched in the face by a farmer, and chewed out by the priestess of Dibella, and ended up running all over the place trying to fix your mistakes!"

Sanguine shakes his head. "Ah, ah, ah, Dragonborn. They weren't my mistakes. After all, you played along quite nicely. In the future, you'd do well to listen to the advice of your friend here and not drink with strangers."

"How do you-?" Borgakh begins.

"Nevermind that. Look, it wasn't all for a loss. Here." He holds out his hand and a carved wooden staff materializes in it. The top of the staff looks like an intricate rose and there are thorns springing out from the wood on either side. He hands the staff to me.

I eye it doubtfully.

"Take it. No strings attached. But you might find it helpful, in a pinch, to summon one of my...rowdier friends...to help you dispatch your enemies." Sanguine winks again.

Despite the tiny voice in the back of my head (that sounds a lot like Borgakh, come to think of it) telling me not to accept a gift from a Daedra, I reach out and take the staff. A surge of power flows through my hand when I do and it feels...amazing. I sway slightly. Sanguine grins. Borgakh puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. And then the moment passes and we're all just normal again.

"Thank you, Dragonborn, for a night of fun I know I won't soon forget!" Sanguine says. "Now, let me transport you somewhere more convenient. After all, it's the least I can do!" He waves his hand and the grove disappears. I feel a lurch in my stomach as the world blurs and then suddenly we're standing in front of the gates of Whiterun again and dusk is falling on the plains. A wide-eyed gate guard stares at us through the eye slits in his helmet.

I wave. He clears his throat and looks away.

Borgakh stretches, exaggerating a yawn. "Well, I for one, think I am going to call it a day after all that excitement." She starts walking through the gates.

"Hey, Borgakh!" I call out.

She stops and turns, looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Back there, in the grove, when you called yourself my girlfriend…?" I trail off.

She smiles and her eyes are dancing. "Don't read too much into it, Brand," she says. "I just wanted to make the hagraven mad." Then she turns and starts walking again.

Behind her, I smile and follow her through the gate.

Sure, you did Borgakh. Sure you did.