Morthal was a town of two worlds, built upon land and water. Jetties and floating boardwalks formed a network upon a lake, offering pathways to the wooden shacks that squatted above the water on stilts, whilst larger buildings of stone huddled on the available land. Not many people walked the darkening streets, and Nora couldn't help but think how strangely quiet the town seemed for its size.

"Don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to sleeping in a bed and getting some real food." Nathaniel sighed and rolled his shoulders with a wince. "Can't remember the last time I had either."

"Do you think we'll be safe here?" Nora asked, hugging herself beneath her cloak. Haren's words lingered in her mind, as did Thorald's speech about the spies in Solitude.

"It'll be safer than the swamp," Nathaniel frowned, glancing back to her. "Unless you fancy finding another haunted cottage for us?"

"It's just… how badly do I stick out? What if there's more of those gold elves down there?"

"They're called Thalmor," Nathaniel corrected. "And trust me, they'd never dirty their boots stepping in this place. As for you sticking out…" he looked at her thoughtfully. "You could pass as an Imperial swamp witch."

"I - what."

Nathaniel's grin lit up his face. "No! I'm being serious! You've got mud on your clothes, leaves in your hair, a frog on your shoulder…"

"Wha-"

"And people say we Nords are slow!" Nathaniel crowed, striding away as Nora turned back to pout at him. "Just stick close and let me do all the talking, alright?"

"Not if you're gonna call me a swamp witch," Nora replied indignantly.

"By Kyne! I'll have to come up with a whole new backstory!" Nathaniel gasped.

Nora's lips twitched, and she followed him towards the town.

They passed through a logging site, and the lumber mill that had felled the trees. A group of large, burly men were winding their operations down for the night, putting equipment away and removing the harnesses from sweating draught horses. The animals were skittish, ears flattened and feathered hooves pawing the earth.

The men seemed equally uneasy, and when the first of them noticed Nora and Nathaniel's approach, he nudged his fellow workers until they were all still and silent, watching the pair with baleful eyes. One of them spat as they passed.

All in all, they reminded Nora of most wastelanders - only these men didn't have guns. They were bigger than most wasters, though.

Nora quickened her pace to walk level with Nathaniel as he stepped onto a stone bridge, leading from the lumber mill into the town proper. A lone guard stood at the bridge's centre, but he paid them no mind, instead staring fixedly at one of the shacks on the water.

Ahead of them a wooden sign creaked on its post, announcing 'Moorside Inn' above a portrait of stars and a moon that was half eclipsed in shadow. The moon had a face, though only the pale side was visible, watching their approach with a vacant stare.

They walked onto a sheltered porch, Nathaniel leading the way to the door. He crossed the threshold into the warm, smoky gloom beyond, and Nora followed him inside.

A blazing fire pit dominated the room's centre, warming empty seats and trestle tables. Reeds covered the stone flag floor and the walls were decorated sparingly with crab claws, hides and the mounted heads of strange beasts.

There were only a few other people inside; a woman sweeping behind a bar at the end, two men conferring softly at a table who fell silent upon their entry, and a…

Goblin? Alien?

A large, burly figure was sitting alone in the far corner, humming loudly as he polished a lute. His skin was toad-green,and an impressive pair of tusks jutted from his lower lip, giving him a distinct underbite. In the light, his eyes glowed a deep orange - which was when she realised she was staring at him. And that he was staring back.

"Nora!"

Nathaniel's voice rang loud in the quiet, breaking the spell.

Nora offered the goblin-man a weak smile before hurrying to where Nathaniel was leaning against the bar, the woman stood behind it ready to serve. Nora felt her cheeks burn as she drew closer, painfully aware of the woman's assessing gaze.

"If I had any other customers, I'd be afraid you'd scare them off," the woman drawled, leaning on the counter with a smile. "Lucky for you that business is slow, huh?"

"Lucky us," Nathaniel replied with a weary smile of his own. "I guess that means you have plenty of rooms and mead?"

"Also baths, if you've got some septims to spare."

Nathaniel held his hand to Nora for the coin pouch, which he deftly counted through before dropping a small pile of coins on the counter. "That enough?"

The gold disappeared with a swipe of the woman's hand. "Plenty. Now, will you be sharing a room or sleeping alone?"

"Alone," Nathaniel replied smoothly.

Nora exhaled in relief.

When Nora stepped from the large iron tub, she felt like a person again. She had scoured the grime from her skin, and washed the filth and grease from her hair with the floral scented soap Jonna, the innkeeper, had provided at extra cost. She had even sourced clean clothes for the pair of them, which Nora considered a godsend.

Donning her ragged, travel-soiled dress would have completely defeated the purpose of bathing.

She took her time getting ready, enjoying the peace and solitude of her room. It felt like she hadn't had a moment to breathe since arriving. She worked the tangles from her hair with a comb and brush Jonna had loaned her, and then set about getting dressed.

As she did, she found herself studying every scar, old and new.

Most she had acquired shortly after waking up from Vault 111, and in the early days of her Brotherhood career. Being equipped with her own power armour had saved her from receiving many more.

Life in the Commonwealth had been a steep learning curve, even with Danse and Gladius' intervention. Now she felt like she was going to have an even steeper one in Skyrim.

How can I survive in a world where elves can conjure fire and frost, and dragons burn down fortresses?

Once upon a time, she couldn't have imagined a place more dangerous and miserable than the Commonwealth. Now, she had to wonder. At least Skyrim was beautiful to look at.

Donning a blue roughspun dress and corset, Nora ignored the lure of her bed in favour of seeking food.

She emerged to find the common room busier than when she and Nathaniel had entered, workers from the mill and docks nursing tankards of mead and ale, or wolfing down bowls of stew with bread. But the air was still subdued. Several of the locals turned to watch as she made her way to the counter, and she could feel their eyes boring into her back.

Jonna turned away briefly, filling a bowl from a steaming cauldron before grabbing a small, round loaf of bread.

"Slaughterfish stew," she announced cheerfully, setting the food on a tray. "A Morthal specialty!"

"Looks great," Nora smiled, and she meant it. Her stomach growled with a newly returned appetite.

"Trust me, it is. So, whatcha want with it? Mead? Ale?"

Nora braced herself for another dramatic reaction. "Actually, do you have any water?"

"Water?" Jonna blinked. "If you want water, the well's in the centre of town - but I wouldn't recommend going to it now. It's just not safe to be wandering town at night."

"Well, is there anything nonalcoholic?"

"I mean there's milk, but…"

"Milk sounds good to me."

Jonna arched a brow. "You haven't been in Skyrim long, huh?"

"Nope, but it sure feels like it," Nora sighed.

With her laden tray, Nora turned to face the room. There was no sign of Nathaniel, so she made her way to an empty table in a corner and settled down to eat. She was halfway through wolfing down the stew when she felt the bench sink beside her and looked up - only to find the goblin-man there.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, his voice deep and guttural.

The bread she'd soaked in the stew suddenly felt hard and dry, but after a moment she pasted on a friendly smile, thinking of the friendly ghouls she'd encountered in the Commonwealth. At first they'd terrified her, especially after Danse and Rhys' lectures about them turning feral, but she'd learned over time to see them the same as other people.

And the goblin-man seemed friendly enough. Far friendlier than the other human customers, that was for sure.

"Please do."

The goblin's lips curved, baring more of his teeth. "The name's Lurbuk."

"Nora."

"And what brings you to Morthal? Don't see too many new faces in these parts."

"Travelling," Nora shrugged. "Me and a friend got lost in the swamps, and found our way here."

"Then the gods showed you mercy," Lurbuk raised his brows. "Not many come back from the swamps. Especially if they get lost in them."

"I guess I've always been lucky in that regard," Nora shrugged, soaking another chunk of bread in her stew. "What're you doing here anyway? You a local?"

"Heh. Very funny," Lurbuk snorted. "I'm a bard, actually, trained at the Bard's College in Solitude!"

He puffed up with pride at the announcement, so Nora nodded along and tried to look impressed, presuming it must be something like an ivy league.

Movement past Lurbuk's shoulder caught her eye, and she glanced up as Nathaniel circled the table to sit on the opposite side.

Her expression fell. Suddenly her appetite was gone, her stomach clenching so tightly she thought she might throw up.

"What do you want, orc?" Nathaniel frowned, contempt written all over his features.

Nora lowered her eyes to her bowl, knuckles bone white as her fingers twisted the wool of her dress. Their conversation was little more than a buzz in her ears, and she barely noticed when Nathaniel sent Lurbuk away with a gesture and scowl.

Nathaniel had cleaned himself up. His beard was shaved back to his jaw, his hair cut shorter and combed - and now, where certain similarities had been concealed, she could see them. Could see him, her husband, starved and battered and sickly, but-

Something nudged her leg, and Nora realised she'd covered her face with her hands. She looked up sharply to see Nathaniel watching her, his expression guarded and wary. "You alright?"

Nora scrambled for composure, each smile breaking before she gave up and just shook her head, dropping her eyes. Something scraped across the table, and when she looked it was to see a bottle in front of her.

"Drink that and you'll feel better," Nathaniel grunted. "At the very least it won't make you a total milk-drinker."

Nora swallowed hard, but her throat felt the phantom chill of Vault 111's air. She could imagine the ice crystals spreading inside her, tearing her apart from within.

He's not Nate. He's not Nate.

Nathaniel for his part was silent. He wolfed down his own meal as she continued to stare at the table, petrified of seeing him. After a time, she reached blindly, the glass of the bottle cool and solid in her palm.

She drank. She didn't register the taste or the texture. She just drank, trying to wash away everything she felt. Things were better when you were drunk, right? Everything was easier to bear, or so Nate - her Nate - had claimed whenever he stumbled through their door, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes.

The bottle emptied quickly, and clouds soon rolled into Nora's head. Her emotions were there, but dulled. Distant, and growing yet more distant as her thoughts became less cohesive. But they didn't fade. Not completely.

And Nathaniel was sitting across the table, like the sun on the horizon. She couldn't stop herself from stealing glances at him, but each time she did it hurt, the cracks in her heart webbing further. God, there'd be nothing left of it but dust, soon.

She sniffed, resting her forehead on her palm and closing her eyes.

Wood creaked as Nathaniel shifted on his seat, but he didn't say anything. The tavern was strangely hushed with its many whispers; even the roar of the fire seemed muted, too quiet to drown out her memories.

She sighed and dropped her hand to the table. Nathaniel was watching her, his eyes flashing autumnal gold when they caught the light of a candle. He was so achingly familiar, she could read him perfectly.

He was guarded. Uncertain, shoulders tensed beneath his jerkin, lips pressed together and a faint pucker in his brow.

"Why?" She finally asked. "Why do you look like… like my husband?"

He stilled. He could have been a statue, his expression vacant, eyes staring through her. Nora ran a hand through her hair, anguish rising from where it had festered so long.

"He's dead," Nora croaked, her voice a breaking whisper. "Nate's supposed to be dead, and yet you're here. You look like him, talk like him… You have his name? Why? What the fuck is this?"

Nathaniel sat up straighter, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He visibly steeled himself, hand gripping his tankard tightly.

"You look like my Arnora," he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. "My wife, who should have been carried by Kyne's wind to Sovngarde, or to Aetherius. Not here, sitting across from me in some tavern."

His eyes grew bright with tears, but he wiped them away on his arm.

"Tell me. Tell me, in this world you come from… did you have a son?"

Nora felt the breath leave her, and whatever Nathaniel saw had him leaning forwards, desperate and hopeful. "Shorn? Does Shorn still…"

His voice faded into a distant buzzing, and for a moment she saw nothing, felt nothing but the cold, fathomless dark of oblivion.

"NO! I'm not letting you take Shaun!"

"Shaun he… he's alive but…"

In what felt like another lifetime, she had seen the man her baby had become. The words stuck in her throat, coating it like ash.

Only two people beyond the Institute knew of her son's true nature, the miserable tale slurred in drunken anguish atop Kingsport Lighthouse. She couldn't say them again. She couldn't.

But Nathaniel didn't seem to notice there was more to say. His head was in his hands as he gasped, entire body shaking with the strength of his emotions.

Nora braced her hands against the tabletop and rose, her head spinning. Nathaniel looked up at her, his cheeks wet, his expression raw…

Nora weaved her way towards her room, the quiet suddenly too loud. She didn't let herself fully break down until the door locked at her back.

A/N: Apologies for weird formatting/if I've missed any italics etc, FFNet doesn't play nice when I copy and paste so I have to jump through several hoops and it undoes everything bar the paragraphs basically. On the bright side it's readable unlike when I had to fix the last chapter! Anyway, thanks so much for reading and a big thanks to everyone who's left reviews/follows/favs etc I really appreciate it! ;)