(AN: So the last chapter sort of ended inconclusively, with a lot of questions being raised. I felt like I had already dragged it out plenty and had to cut it VERY short [unfortunately]. This chapter, however, will see many things happening: as well as the two timelines FINALLY coming together [and likely another justification for this story being rated M]!)

(Just a thought, but it kind of bothers me in Dragonborn how the main threats of Skyrim [the Civil War, the dragons, the Thalmor] are laughably dismissed on Solstheim. I know most of you probably liked that, but I didn't. And, like in The Dragon and the Bear, that's been mercifully brushed over [though not without cursory mention] in this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter; it took me forever to get out!)

What Is And Must Never Be

They took cover wherever they could. Nikulas and Talvi behind several large stumps and Sigrun and Erik behind a boulder. As far as they could guess, the Thalmor hadn't seen them. Sigrun's heart was beating madly within her chest: now at last she was going to test her mettle against the real enemy, the great enemy. She turned to Erik and, half to calm herself, whispered: "Steady." She then peeked out from behind the rock.

"Four of them, four of us," she said. "A fair fight."

"Shouldn't she count for two?" Erik said, gesturing to Talvi. Sigrun smiled, but didn't laugh: they couldn't say a thing to alert their presence yet.

"Just the same," Sigrun replied. "We have surprise on our side: I suggest we use it. Erik, wait until I give the signal then attack." She then made a "psst!" sound towards Talvi and pointed to her bow. The large woman nodded, and then turned to Nikulas and said something in a hushed voice so low that none of them could hear. A moment later, Talvi looked back and nodded at them; Sigrun nodded back, then placed her hand upon the pommel of her sword and strode out from behind their walking place. Straightaway, one of the Thalmor noticed her and walked closer, a hand upon a moonstone blade of his own.

"You are interfering with Thalmor business, simpleton," he demanded. "Leave at once or we'll use force."

Sigrun said nothing, but clenched her jaw and glared at the towering elf.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" he asked. "Move aside or you will die!" Again she said nothing but kept him in her gaze. "What ever are you looking at, barbarian?"

"Some dead guy," Sigrun replied, then drew her sword. But the elf was quick, and drew his sword, blocking the blow. The ring of steel was heard, and suddenly an arrow came whistling over Sigrun's head and stuck fast into the eye of one of the Thalmor. Another was fired at one in the chest, but a flash of blue light materialized as the arrow fell harmlessly onto the ground. Erik now leaped into the fray and attacked one of the elves, while Sigrun was trading blows with the first one who she had attacked. To her left came Talvi, spear-in-hand, and charged at the other two: the one she had hit in the eye was skewered on her spear, while the other conjured a spell that made his skin as hard as the bark of an oak tree. Nikulas fired an arrow that skipped off his upper arm and fell to the ground.

Talvi now turned her spear onto the elf that was giving Nikulas a hard time. Meanwhile, Sigrun and Erik were holding their own against the two Thalmor. It was quite the challenge, for they were trained fencers and Sigrun had no shield. They exchanged blows upon blows for many long minutes, with neither side showing any advantage. Suddenly Talvi managed to overpower the oak-skin elf and smashed his face with a large rock. A pommel strike sent the elf staggering back, seeing double, and Sigrun drove her sword into his chest between the ribs. Erik, meanwhile, had hacked off the right arm of his Thalmor, and was now glowering over it, brandishing the blood-soaked axe in the elf's face.

He turned to Sigrun, and a chill went up his spine. She stood above her prey, one foot upon the dead elf's body, and a fire in her eyes that he had never before seen.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I am now," she replied. "Feels good to kill these: like we're finally doing something for Skyrim now."

"These were Thalmor, right?" Erik returned. "They said so themselves." He whistled, then looked back down at his prey.

"Kill him," Sigrun said. "If you won't do it, I will."

"He might have useful information about our man," Erik reasoned.

"Which he won't tell us," Sigrun replied. "It'll just be a waste of our time."

"She's right," the Thalmor groaned. "There's more of us here on this accursed island. I'll tell them where you are: you won't be able to fight them all."

"See?" Sigrun asked. "We have no reason to keep him alive. Now do it."

Erik shook his head, then sent his bloody axe-blade plunging into the elf's face. As he drew it out and cleaned off the blade, Talvi turned to Sigrun with a look of disgust on her face.

"You have little respect for life," she said. "This is not the way of the Skaal."

"I do respect life," Sigrun replied. "These Thalmor don't..."

At that moment, Sigrun collapsed to the ground. The world around her went blurry and out of focus. Her head was splitting open with a blinding pain from the bridge of her nose to the back of her skull. Strange images passed before her eyes: dead bodies lining the streets of cities she had never seen before, one of them was Jonna's body. Then she saw the face that was gold and gray, which then morphed into the face of the Argonian: then it changed once more into an old Colovian man's face with yellow eyes. The face was speaking but she couldn't see or hear what was being said: yet in her heart, she knew that something was very, very wrong.

"Skaal-friend, wake up!" Talvi's voice echoed from the mists of visions and images.

Sigrun awoke and found herself on all fours, face down, on the ground: the images were gone, but there was a sharp ache in her chest that did not go away. She got herself back up onto her feet and brushed the ash and dirt off her knees.

"Are you alright?" Talvi asked. "You just...collapsed. What happened?"

Sigrun said nothing, but made her way over to the hut that the Thalmor had been guarding. Talvi turned to Erik, who shrugged and shook his head. While she was away, he went over to Nikulas, who was searching the ground for his arrows.

"Chin up, kinsman," he said. "You'll see action again soon enough."

"This was my first battle," Nikulas glumly replied. "And I did nothing. How am I to prove myself capable of surviving in the world unless I test my mettle?"

"There's always bound to be another way," Erik said. "If you're interested, you could join the Thirsk mead hall. Maybe your thirst for adventure will give them a much-needed kick in the ass."

Nikulas chuckled. "Maybe. The stories say that Hrothmund the Red was a Skaal before he founded Thirsk. Seems like the best choice to make."

"It'd certainly make sense to me," Erik replied.

After several more minutes, Sigrun came out with the Skaal smith; Baldor Iron-Shaper. He was looking weary and wounded, but none the worse for wear. Despite having no clue that "the elves" as he called them were Thalmor, he told them that they were after the secrets of stalhrim: the enchanted ice used by the Skaal and Nords of old. He said that they had a camp on the coast to the northwest, where their leader Ancarion and a host of other "elves" like him held forth. Despite their offers to take him back to the village, Baldor refused, saying that he was capable of finding his way back. The three of them then turned to Sigrun.

"What?" she asked, a hint of shortness of temper in her voice.

"What's our next move?" Erik asked.

"We find the Thalmor and stop them," Sigrun retorted. "That's why we're here, isn't it? To help the Skaal."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Talvi asked.

"Lead us to the northwestern side of the island," Sigrun said to Talvi.

After taking their leave of Baldor, the four of them, led by Talvi and Nikulas, made their way towards the coast and the west. While they were walking, Erik noticed that Sigrun was wincing and often rubbing the bottom of her neck.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she returned. "I'll be fine."

"But you're not fine," he said. "You collapsed on us just a few moments ago; if that had happened during the battle, you'd be dead. And now you're clutching at your chest like something's hurting you. What's wrong? Tell me."

Sigrun groaned, and rubbed her right hand across her forehead. She barely knew what was happening to her: Bjorn had said something about realities bleeding into each other, though she didn't quite know what that meant or whether she believed it (or knew enough about what it was to believe it). The pain had subsided for the present when she came back to the past, but now it was coming again. What could it possibly mean? How could she give him an answer if even she didn't know what was wrong with her? And why would she trust him anyway? True, he was part of their conspiracy, but he was a man, after all. She would have felt more comfortable opening up to Jonna, but she was miles away in Skyrim.

"I..." Sigrun protested in vain.

"Don't say you'll be fine," Erik returned. "Because I'll hold you to that the next time I have to save your ass in battle."

"Hey, my ass is my own business!" Sigrun retorted. She then heaved a heavy sigh. "I...I can't explain it. Weeks ago, things started happening: I'd see things, and there'd be great pain."

Erik reached out and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Sigrun was about to brush his hand away, when all of a sudden something strange came over her. The ache subsided, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation from her shoulder half-way down her stomach. The images faded, as all thought of her agony were replaced once again by envisioning that hard, calloused farmer's hand on other places of her body.

"Is there pain now?" Erik asked.

Sigrun felt in a stupor right now, and mumbled a soft: "N...no. No! Not right now, I...I feel better."

"Good," Erik replied. "Those Thalmor were tough. We're gonna need you at full strength when we face them in the northwest, as well as if we run into them back home in Skyrim."

"Understood," Sigrun said. They then jogged to catch up with Talvi and Nikulas, but Sigrun kept herself behind Erik for the moment. Again it had happened, and it had lasted longer and more painfully than before. Besides that, she now had solid proof that being aroused by Erik's presence - especially physical contact with him - made the visions fade and any pain they brought her disappear. While there was likely enough proof for an educated guess, she now secretly hoped that there would be another incident: if only that she could be close to him.

No, she told herself. You can't use him to ease your own pain. That's wrong, and it's shameful for you too.

The next several hours found the little party winding their way around the mass of rock and coming at last to the salty tang of the sea-borne air. Gulls cried overhead, and the endless roar and sigh of the sea crashing against the pebbly shore filled their ears. For Sigrun, it was a soothing balm for her many aches, both the unexplained and those gained by traveling on foot. She was reminded of Lake Ilinalta, and how the waves of the lake were a soft, rippling giggle to the endless roaring and hissing of the ocean. She breathed a sigh of relief, and her mind drifted to other places. She had seen the Sea of Ghosts a time or two during their voyage - when she wasn't below deck with her monthly issue or discharging her stomach from sea sickness on deck - but hadn't quite drank in the magic of the sea.

Though she was of the sky and not the sea, she felt every burden being washed away by the seaside. It took Erik interrupting her standing meditation to remind her that the others were already getting ahead of her. She fell in after him, but now her thoughts were about Erik as well as the sea. She found herself wishing that they had a tent they could set up on the shores of the sea right here, with a bed of thick, warm furs, where they could lie in each other's arms and listen to the endless moaning song of the sea. But she shook her head and tried to focus; her mind was starting to go to other places while wandering in this bliss.

She still had her task ahead of her, and she had to focus. Now they were coming to the end of her task on Solstheim.

From here, they began to follow the coast northward. The land to their right rose higher and higher in great bluffs, barring any passage eastward. Sometimes their great flanks would come almost to the very shores of the sea. Thankfully, the tides were low enough that they could walk across the muddy, foul-smelling pools and were, for the moment, spared the danger of going out of their way on a long, desperate climb into the mountains, or wading through the frigid waters of the sea. They pressed on, going for many long miles. To their right, the sun now began to pass to the left of the snow-capped bluffs. Day was drawing near to a close. Unfortunately, they had no supplies with them for camping and there were no hollows or caves nearby to shelter them from the chilling sea-breeze and the onset of darkness.

The sun was starting to sink down into the ocean to the west, beyond the Velothi Mountains. Soon they would be benighted; both Talvi and Nikulas warned them that they had to find shelter soon, for night on Solstheim was even more dangerous than the day. They came to a place where the mountains on their right-hand weren't as sheer as before. Indeed, they opened up at one point into a gentler slope that could be easily scaled on foot. This went up apace until it leveled off into a rough plateau, peaked with dirt and large rocks, while it continued westward towards the sea. At the foot of this slope they halted and Talvi and Nikulas sounded out the land around them: Talvi turned to the left and explored the shoreline, while Nikulas went up the slope to explore the plateau.

The arm of the plateau that extended seaward was broken in parts, likely beaten by the tides, and there was a lane that they could cross through the cleft in the rocks. After several long yards of pebbly sand and sea-washed mud, the strand ended abruptly in a wide sound. To the left, the cliffs were sheer again, with no path or foot-hold up or around them: they continued unbroken until they came to the midst of the sound, where a waterfall spilled over its edge and poured noisily into the ocean through the sound. The sound itself was wide, and deep enough that they could not cross it without swimming: moreover, several large netches floated around a small island in the midst of the sound before it opened out into the main ocean.

"Do you think you could carry us across?" Sigrun asked.

"No," Talvi replied, shaking her head. "It's too deep, even for me. We'd all be swimming before long: and you don't want to be wet on the north side of the island."

Nikulas' report was equally bleak. The plateau was long and narrow, and to the right the cliffs were shallower as well, leading up into the snowy heights of the highlands of the island. At the end of the plateau, a path led across to a river than ran down swiftly from the snowy uplands and came careening down over the cliffs into the ocean. There was no bridge over that river, but on the opposite side of the river another path snaked its way along the cliffs and down back towards a beach on the opposite side.

"The bad news, though," he said. "Is that there's no way over that except by crossing the swift-flowing river. And the eastern slope leaves us exposed to whatever other dangers could come at us from the island."

"What dangers are there?" Erik asked.

"There's rieklings, for one thing," Sigrun stated. "And bears."

"Aye," Talvi said. "And the farther north you go, the dangers get worse. Troll-folk are said to be in these parts, though rare from the hunting by the Thirsk warriors. They say the dreaded Udyrfrkyte was of troll-kind, but there hasn't been seen one on Solstheim in two hundred years."

"What else?" asked Erik and Sigrun together.

"Most things disappeared after the Big Mountain exploded," Talvi stated. "But up here, on the northern side, the most dangerous creatures can still be found. There are wolves, of course, and bears: some have even said that, in some dark places on the island, there are creatures half-man and half-bear."

"Werebears?" Sigrun asked.

"Bears? Where?" Erik asked.

"No, men that are bears," Nikulas clarified.

"There are even legends of worse things farther in the north than wolves and werebears," said Talvi, with a hint of worry in her voice. "Strange things, things I've never seen before and hope to never see in my life."

"Why's that?" Sigrun asked. "I mean, you're a giant. You could crush anything with your bare hands."

"Half-giant," Talvi returned. "Proper giants are four feet taller than me, at least. And there are other creatures, of giant-type, with great strength: perhaps strength enough to best me."

Sigrun nodded, but said nothing. It was more than a little disturbing, the thought that there could be something that would even fill a half-giant with fear. But her thoughts were interrupted by Erik, who took one look at the westering sun and spoke up.

"Well, it's getting dark soon," he said. "And we need to find a place to sleep, monsters or no monsters. Nikulas, alvi; any ideas?"

"It's too open down at the shore," the giantess said. "We'll be frozen by the wind before the tide comes in."

"There are some trees up there," Nikulas added. "And...something else. I think it's one of the Stones."

"Stones?" Sigrun asked.

"The All-Maker Stones," Nikulas clarified. "I've only seen the Wind Stone; it's only a little way northeast of the village. They're said to be imbued with the All-Maker's power and blessing: the six great gifts. We might be safe if we camped near the Stones."

"Good," Sigrun said. "Then we'll camp up there."

The four of them made the hike up the slope and came to the uneven plateau. In the center of the plateau was a shallow dell filled with water: in the midst of the water there rose a tall standing stone, smooth and narrow, that reached up to twice the height of Talvi. In the pool were pieces of rubble; large blocks of stone that seemed to have been broken off and discarded here, though there were no marks upon them to show how they were broken. The stone itself was mostly bare, though some recent scribbles had been carved around the middle portion: about four feet off the ground, there were three very deep cuts, old and weather-worn, that showed what appeared to be ripples.

Rather than setting up camp near the Stone, the group made their way a little east and south, into a clump of trees on the edge of the snow. Here they pushed away handfuls of snow until they found the hard, frozen ground. With twigs and dead wood they made a small fire - Nikulas knew how to start a fire in any condition, especially here on Solstheim - and its warm glow was now casting lights upon the branches around them.

Darkness was falling. They ate from their supplies, and then set up watch. Nikulas chose to take the first watch: Talvi was exhausted from hunting all of the previous night. Before going to sleep, she instructed them to keep the fire lit: in the cold, it was their best defense against anything they might encounter. Despite the warmth of the small blaze, the cold winds bit through their clothing. Erik fell asleep with his face towards the fire, but Sigrun, who was still not feeling very sleepy, slid closer to him, pressing her hips against his lap and her back against his chest. There had been no further visions or pain today, but Sigrun felt a strong desire to be close to him. The warm, tingling sensation she felt when she was close to him was intoxicating, and she wanted to feel it again. After all, she was far away from Skyrim, her Father, Jonna, her mother, and anyone else who might care. Even her grand mission seemed faint and far away: all that was real for her right now was Erik.

She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

It was dark. There was no light anywhere, except for two figures standing solitary in the void. As she came closer, the two figures began to take shape and definition. One was an old man in a gaudy Colovian doublet, with a staff in his hand and a queer gleam in his yellow eyes. The other, however, appeared to be a woman with two long horns upon her head, dressed in rags, and with deep-set eyes that were so brown they looked black. The face, however, was so horribly twisted and leprous that it looked more dead than alive: like the stories of the draugr or the Corprus plague that swept across Vvardenfell in the Third Era.

"You're not doing your job," the Colovian said, gesturing to the ragged one.

"And you are not my master," the woman replied; her voice was harsh, distorted, and painful to the ears. "Nor are the petty concerns of mortals any business of mine. I can reach them one way or another, no matter who - or what - they are."

"Don't forget, you still owe me for that incident with Darius," said the Colovian.

"I've already pressed her over and over," the woman said. "She's as dense as her father in these matters."

"So press harder!" the old man demanded.

"I've already pulled back the curtain," the woman retorted. "Letting her see a glimpse of what we're doing."

"Is she listening in now?" asked the old man. "Should I be concerned about spoiling things?" He then let out a loud laugh. "Why am I asking you, any way? You don't know!"

"I may dwell in the shadows," the woman replied. "But I exist outside the world of mortals, the same as you. I saw her arrival, the same as you did."

"Then give her another nudge!" the old man insisted. "She needs to be..."

But the rest of the words were lost. Sigrun woke up amid loud roaring, and realized that Erik wasn't at her back. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she saw Erik and Nikulas on their feet: one with an axe, and the other with a bow in hand, unbent, but with an arrow on the string. With them also was Talvi, holding her spear in one hand and a burning brand in the other. In the light of the brand, Sigrun saw a large creature, unlike anything she had ever seen in Skyrim in all of her days. It looked roughly troll-like, as far as she knew what trolls looked like, but was of immense size: it stood head and shoulders above Talvi. Its girth was stout, and its arms were long and there were long claws on each of its eight fingers. The head was difficult to discern rightly, for it seemed in the darkness to be like a mammoth's head with no snout; and from the creature's hairy back there came long spikes.

"What in Oblivion is..." Sigrun exclaimed.

"Shh!" Erik shushed. "Don't yell! It might get spooked and attack us."

Sigrun took her sword in her hand and kept her eyes focused on the massive beast. It let out a low growling noise, but seemed to be sparing Talvi down with its tiny red eyes. In return, she merely kept her brand aloft and clutched her spear in the other hand; making no move at all. Sigrun guessed from her battles with the rieklings that this thing's massive tusks could do even more damage than a charging boar: unfortunately, that meant that Talvi - frozen with inaction as she was - was their best defense against this thing.

"Tal," she whispered. "You okay?" The giantess said nothing, but remained in place, staring down the massive creature.

"Nikulas," Sigrun hissed. "Ready with your arrow." She then turned to Erik. "Not sure what we can do with our weapons."

"Beats me," he replied. "The giantess is our best bet, but she froze the moment she saw that thing."

Sigrun turned back to Talvi. "Hey, just stay calm, alright? You can do this."

"I...I don't know..." Talvi replied. "It's..."

"What is it?"

"I think it might be..."

But the giantess had no chance to speak. The beast let out a hideous bellow that rang in the hills around them; Sigrun dropped her sword and stopped her ears. Talvi swung her brand and roared back, more in terror than in bravery. But now the beast made its slow, lumbering way towards them, its massive head swinging back and forth.

"Now!" Erik shouted.

An arrow went whizzing over Sigrun's head and struck the beast in its shoulder. It let out another fiercesome roar and swatted vainly at the air in the direction of the arrow. Talvi advanced slowly, brandishing her spear and brand. The beast seemed to realize the danger from the large woman's spear and kept its distance as she made her approach. Erik turned to Sigrun and gestured towards the beast's left, while he edged his way towards its right, his axe in hand. Taking the hint, Sigrun retrieved her sword and began to make her way around to its left.

To their great advantage, the beast's widely set eyes meant that Talvi's frontal assault drove it into a lumbering frenzy. Without front-facing eyes, her spear thrusts kept it on its toes, fighting an opponent it could feel but not see. Under this attack, Sigrun was the first to charge through, driving her sword with a two-handed thrust towards one of the beast's thighs. The blow went home, but then the beast's arm came down upon Sigrun, sending her violently down onto the cold, hard ground. Erik dove his axe into the knee of the beast: the blow was shallow, for the axe-blade skipped on the bone. The beast swung at Erik, who barely ducked in time to miss the blow. By now Sigrun was back on her feet, her sword in hand, and drove her blade into the creature's substantial gut. The monster let out a massive bellow, and turned its mighty tusked face towards Sigrun. It lumbered towards her, its mighty head swinging this way and that, eager to strike the one that had so injured it.

But their Skaal allies hadn't been idle during this. Another arrow came from Nikulas and struck it in the shoulder. Talvi drove her spear into the creature's chest with all of her might. Blood was now gushing from the wound and spilling onto the snow. The beast was roaring madly and turning about towards the giant, thrashing its tusked head about this way and that: one of the lethal teeth struck Talvi in the gut, adding her wound to the snow as well. Another arrow went flying overhead and struck one of the beast's tiny eyes, blinding it on the left-hand side. By now, Sigrun was back onto her feet and saw her opening with the strike of the beast's left eye. Taking up her sword, she advanced and thrust the blade upwards into the throat of the beast.

It was all over for the monster at that point. Every attempt to breathe sent more blood out of its throat, and it collapsed onto the frozen ground with a sickening rattle. Erik and Sigrun came to the aid of Talvi, who was bent over and clutching her stomach. There was blood all over her gloves and on the ground before her. Nikulas lowered his bow and ran over to see what damage had been caused.

"It's nothing," Talvi said, shaking her head. "I'll be fine. We should have camped closer to the Water Stone, that's all."

"What was that thing?" Erik asked. "I've never heard of any such thing back home."

"Grahl," Talvi replied. "No one knows what it is." She let out a loud cry of pain. "By the All-Maker, it hits hard!"

"Are you sure you're alright?" Sigrun asked. "That blow's pretty deep."

Talvi said nothing, but tried to look around in the darkness for the stone. The fire was still burning, but she had lost her brand when the beast had gored her. Nikulas ran back to the fire and pulled forth a burning branch and went a few paces south to the Water Stone. Talvi staggered after him, but barely made it two steps before she fell to her knees, gasping and panting heavily. Sigrun and Erik each took one of her arms on their shoulders and began dragging her in the direction of Nikulas' light.

"Come on!" Sigrun groaned. "We're taking you there."

"No!" gasped Talvi, as though half-asleep. "No, leave me. It's what I deserve...for running...when I did..."

"Don't you die on us!" Erik said.

"Why...do you care?" the giantess gasped. "You...hate...life..."

"I don't hate life," Sigrun replied. "I saved you from that bear, didn't I? And now...oh, gods, you're heavy! And now, I'm saving you again. Just because I have no love for the Thalmor doesn't mean I hate life."

The two of them dragged the giantess the rest of the way over to the Stone. Once they arrived, Talvi dipped her hands into the pool around the Water Stone and bathed her wounds in its frigid waters. There she lay and did not move. The three of them sat down beside her, fearing the worst: a lot of blood had been lost, but her body was still warm. They sat down and huddled together for warmth against the chill wind up from the sea. Sleep evaded them for the rest of the night, and they kept on the lookout for any more of those grahl creatures. Periodically Erik and Nikulas would talk among themselves; the young Skaal was pleased with himself for the part he had played in the battle and was feeling quite confident. Sigrun said nothing, for her attention was on the water.

Talvi's body was still warm to the touch, and it baffled Sigrun. She had feared that she was dead, on account of the grievous wound. Ever and anon she would look at the shadow of the standing stone, black against the moons-light sky. Was there some healing power within this Stone? Something that Talvi hoped would heal her of her wounds? Sigrun reached over and caressed the giantess' forehead: there was still warmth upon her flesh, though it was faint. A wild thought entered her head: what if this could help with my painful visions? Granted, Sigrun wasn't a Skaal, and feared that the All-Maker - whoever He, She, or It was - wouldn't answer her request; furthermore, Talvi had applied the water to her wound, but her pain came from within and not from without. How could she apply it?

As sleep began to overtake her, Sigrun crawled over to the pool's edge, dipped her hand in the icy-cold waters, and brought it to her lips. She let out a rather unladylike rasp as the frigid water caused her throat to constrict. Then she rested her head on Erik's shoulders and prayed to everyone she could think of - Kyne, Stuhn, Jhunal, Tsun, Mara, Dibella, Shor, Talos, Akatosh, and even the All-Maker - that this remedy might work; her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Morning of the fourth day of Sun's Dawn came dull and dreary: storm clouds and the mighty girth of Mount Moesring blotted out the rising sun. Sigrun was the first one awake. To her amazement, there had been no visions at all that night, no pain at all. She felt as though she could walk the breadth of Skyrim in one day: maybe two. As she roused herself from sleep, a thought entered her mind about staying here on Solstheim for the rest of her life. What if the war ended with a Stormcloak victory and she was still alive? Or what if she forgot the war altogether and remained here, living on Solstheim and perpetually healed by the waters of the Stone?

No, she reprimanded herself. I can't be selfish. I set out to save Skyrim, and that's what I'm going to do.

One by one, she roused the others. To the surprise of Erik and Sigrun, Talvi roused from her sleep: she was still alive. The waters had worked for her, but she had lost so much blood that she was still light-headed: and unlike the rest of them, her body had to pump what little blood remained in her twice as far and then some. She told them that she would be fine after a little rest, and that they should go on ahead without her.

"We need you against whatever the Thalmor are planning," Sigrun replied. "Besides, how will we know the way without you?"

"I can lead you," Nikulas suggested. "There's a path on the other side of the stream. We can follow that down to the coast and continue until we find them."

"You'll be fine," Talvi said to Sigrun. "Me, I must stay here and heal. I'll only get in your way."

"I highly doubt that," Erik said.

"Just go!" Talvi firmly insisted. "Trust me, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

"You rested plenty last night."

"It's my wound, that's all."

"Didn't the water heal your wound?"

"Yes, it did. Otherwise I'd be dead. But I need to rest: the water healed my wound, but it didn't restore my lost blood. That will have to come naturally."

"We need you!"

"You'll be fine without me," Talvi replied. "I've seen you fight; you've fought battles before and won before you met me. You'll be fine. Just promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"When your business is done, take me with you...to Skyrim."

"Why? Isn't this your home?"

"Aye, and it always will be. But...I was wrong about you. You do love life. Forgive me, and let me journey with you. I promise I won't fail you again."

"You never failed me to begin with," Sigrun returned. "You fought the grahl bravely. Not everyone would have stood up to that beast."

"I was afraid...as with Miraak. I shouldn't have been. Let me go with you, and prove to you and the All-Maker, that I am not a coward."

Sigrun nodded silently, then patted Talvi's shoulder. The three of them then shared a bit of their dried meat among themselves, then left the Water Stone and made their way northward. At the end of the plateau, they came to the noisy brook that tumbled over the side of the cliff and into the sea. Nikulas began walking along the southern bank of the brook, looking for the best way for them to cross. After much searching, they found several large rocks jutting out of the river where they could, with some difficulty, walk across the flowing river.

"Be careful not to fall in," he reminded them. "Freezing to death from getting wet is a very real danger this far up north."

Nikulas began stepping on the largest and most stable stones in the stream, slowly making his way across the water. One by one, the others followed suit and made their way across the rocks. It wasn't as easy as Nikulas made it look, and they almost fell in a time or two; but they made it to the other side successfully.

From there, the three of them left the river and returned once again to the sea-shore on the opposite side of the sound. They carried on as they had done yesterday, following the coast northward. The farther they went, the colder the weather became: not merely from the sea-side winds, but the land itself was turning to ice before their eyes. Massive ice-flows spilled over from the main part of the island, swallowing up the rocky cliffs. Sigrun licked her lips and rubbed her hands together; she liked the cold, but this was even harsher than she had expected. She would periodically look at Nikulas' coat, boots, and gloves: made of thick animal hides with the fur-sides turned inward. She wished that she had asked the Skaal if they had a pair or two to give her and Erik before they left. She wouldn't have anything to worry about the cold with such vestments. Unfortunately, she hadn't prepared and there was no point in complaining.

Instead, her mind turned to Erik. Even though there had been no visions, no pains that night, she felt the desire for closeness with him. She couldn't quite get him out of her head, having once gotten the idea of him in there. The wild thoughts, spurred on by her closeness last night, were now only stronger. But now, under the morning sky with no threat upon them, her rational mind was more in control. She knew the result of intimacy, and knew also - from her mother's stories from this time - that she wouldn't be of any use on the battlefield ere long if that took place. Another thought also floated into her head: what would become of her if, as she considered that night, she survived the war? What if she made it out alive? Would she be allowed to grow old with her younger self growing up alongside her? Would there be two Sigruns wandering around Skyrim, and potentially a child the same age as her other self?

Sigrun's head ached as she tried in vain to wrap her mind around this, then she dismissed it and continued focusing on the journey ahead.

The farther north they went, the pebbly ground was replaced by large, dense sheets of ice. The sea itself was choked with icebergs of various size floating loosely together; some were smooth and flat, while others were like small mountains. The sun was still hidden behind the bulk of the island, and there was a deep chill in the air; the breath passing from their lips as a faint steam. All the rocky cliffs to their right vanished, and massive pale white glacial ice jutted out towards the sea to meet them. The shoreline also began, ever so slowly by degrees, to turn steadily eastward. By and by, it turned until it came to a sheltered cove in the midst of the glacier. Here there was a small shore of pebbly sand, broken by a small stream pouring down from the glacier many yards inland. In that cove was a pier made of wood, and a few hastily-erected shacks here and there. A ship sat moored at the pier: a ship with black sails.

No sooner had they seen the black sails but they halted. Several figures were approaching them from the pier: some were in golden moonstone armor, and others wore the same black robes as those they had encountered at the shack. No hope for catching them by surprise this time. One by one, they rested their hands upon their weapons, ready to fight when it came to blows: no ifs, only when.

"You have no business here, mongrels," a black-robed Altmer sneered. "Leave at once, if you value your wretched white hides."

"The only one's who will be leaving," Sigrun returned. "Are you and your kind."

"And where would we go, hmm?" he retorted. "All of Tamriel belongs to the Thalmor, you stupid human b*tch. I won't ask again: leave or I will personally flay your pale flesh from your worthless bones."

"Enough talk!" Sigrun shouted. "Fight!"

Erik, Nikulas, and Sigrun threw themselves upon the Thalmor. Axe and sword, they engaged those nearest them. Erik kept himself close to Nikulas, watching his back and complementing his skill. The young Skaal was holding his own admirably against the Thalmor yet again. Sigrun, however, was going for the leader. With a cry, he turned tail and ran to the boats, calling out for his soldiers to defend him. Sigrun ran after him, heedless of those who rose up around her. Their moonstone armor offered little protection against her sword; for she aimed for the places least protected by their armor.

Suddenly arrows went whizzing at them from the ship. Some fell harmlessly to the ground; one struck Sigrun in the left shoulder, with its blood-soaked head coming out through the backside. She let out a loud cry and sank to one knee, but did not collapse. A chill wind blew from the west, onto the place where Sigrun stood: a wind from Skyrim. With her teeth set and her face set in wrath, Sigrun rose to her feet and charged once more into the fray in a berserker rage. Heedless of arrows or blades, she drove her hungry sword into each Altmer that came across her path. One after another she made her way, coming now to the pier.

The leader of the expedition was looking quite fearful now, backed up as he was on the ship with half of his company dead and the other half engaging with this mad-woman's companions. He raised his hands and sent fire-balls soaring through the air at the fiery Nord; but she heeded them as little as she heeded those she had hacked down before. With the swiftness of the wind, she ran down the pier toward him, sword in her right hand and her bleeding left shoulder hanging limp at her side. She came within ten feet of him and halted; already the fire of her battle-rage was dying and her shoulder felt cold. Every inch of her body was feeling pain now: pain from the wound, pain from the bruises and cuts of the soldiers she had thrown herself into, the aches of sleeping on the ground, and the inner unknown agony. Her opponent noticed this, for he ceased to throw fire-balls, hoping for a way to escape out of this seemingly hopeless situation with his life.

"Stand down," he said. "You're wounded, you won't last long like this. I'm a civilized mer, yes? I'm sure we can come to some sort of an arrangement, yes?"

But his words only compounded the rage Sigrun felt from her pain. With the last bit of her strength, she threw her sword into his chest and sent him collapsing onto the deck of his ship, dead.

"Arrange that," she retorted. With that, she slumped onto the ground, as her vision darkened.

In her mind, all she could see were faces, images, leering at her from the darkness. Some were angry, haughty, taunting - the Argonian, the elf of two colors, the bald Imperial - but there were many other faces as well; sad faces and grim. One by one they began to whisper to her, faintly and indistinct, but then the voices began to overlap and grow more intense, until the soft whisper sent shivers down her spine and erupted into a shout that overwhelmed her.

You let us die. Why did you let us die?

"Why?!" she retorted. "What are you saying? I didn't do anything!"

And the voices answered back.

You chose yourself and you let us die. Was your life really worth more than all of us? All of our lives?

"No, I didn't! I didn't!"

Sigrun heard herself shouting back as the voices rose up in a dissonant, maddening chorus. But then the salty tang of sea-air touched her lips and she found herself being dragged back onto the beach, muttering what she had thought she had been shouting. Looking up, she saw Erik and Nikulas on either side, holding each of her arms. With a loud cry, she felt the pain in her left shoulder.

"Ahh! What's happened?"

"It's alright, it's okay!" Erik assured her. "You were wounded. You passed out on the pier. We dragged you back to land."

"Wha...what about the Thalmor?"

"We dealt with the elves," Nikulas said.

"You should have seen him!" Erik added. "He'll make a fine warrior yet."

Sigrun let out a weak groan. "It's so cold...I can't move my arm."

"Don't try, okay?" he replied. "We'll get the arrow out, don't worry."

"Am I...going to die?" Sigrun muttered.

"What's wrong with her?" Nikulas asked. "I saw her tear through those elves with that arrow in her and she didn't seem bothered by it."

"I don't know, I don't know!" Erik replied hastily. "We have to get the arrow out fast."

"Hold me!" Sigrun begged. Erik took Sigrun and pressed her body against his; her right hand reached over and caressed his back, and for a while some of the pain was gone.

Meanwhile, Erik told Nikulas to inspect Sigrun's shoulder. The arrow had pierced through and its bloody head was just about visible outside of her shoulder. Nikulas set down his axe, took the arrow-head with both hands, and snapped it off as quickly as he could. Sigrun let out a blood-curdling cry and struck Erik's back with her hand, now curled into a fist. Erik then took the shaft and drew it out of Sigrun's shoulder. Blood started pouring from the wound, and Erik tore off a piece of his cloak to bind her shoulder with it.

"There we go," he said, as he tightened the makeshift bandage. "You're going to be fine." Sigrun punched him again with her right hand. "What was that for?"

"For not preparing me!" she whined. "That hurt like nothing I've ever felt before!"

"Can you stand?" Erik asked. "We've got to get moving."

"Soon, soon," Sigrun sighed. "Check the leader. See if he has anything on him related to...stalhrim or whatever." Her head lolled about, still light from the blood-loss.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Erik asked.

"I'm fine!" Sigrun protested. "We should never have left Talvi behind. Just...just get me back to the Water Stone. Wash my wound in the waters. I'll be fine then."

Nikulas rifled the body of the leader of the Thalmor while Erik stayed at Sigrun's side. He was still concerned for her well-being: the bleeding had stopped, but Sigrun seemed quite done in by that arrow. Despite hitting him twice, Sigrun kept leaning against his shoulder; to his surprise, she seemed significantly calmer when she was next to him. After a while, Nikulas returned with a map that he had found on the head elf. With this being done, the two of them hoisted Sigrun up off the ground and held each of her arms upon their shoulders, and helped her walk back from the landing.

The pain in her shoulder was still there, but the pain inside was even worse; she hadn't the heart to object.

They made good time of the return journey, though every bump pained Sigrun, no matter how slight. The climb back onto the plateau around midday was the hardest part for Sigrun; the pain of her shoulder increased and the makeshift bandage was bleeding. They came at last to the Water Stone and found Talvi alive and well, sitting beside it: upon her back were strapped the tusks of the grahl that they had slain the night before. When she saw Sigrun looking weakened, she took her from their hands and helped her over to the pool. Sigrun drank from the water and splashed it onto her wound. The blood ceased to flow, and already she seemed to look significantly better. It was then decided that they would head east as fast as they could and return the map to the Skaal.

"And then what?" Erik asked.

"Then," Sigrun said as she pulled her pierced jerkin and hauberk back over her left shoulder. "We find a way to return to Skyrim."

"How?" Erik asked. "They're not going to just let us walk back into town and take the next ship out of here."

"We could build a small boat," Talvi said. "And then I'd pull you to the mainland."

"I think it's a little too deep, even for you," Sigrun said.

"So, what will you do?" Nikulas asked.

Sigrun sighed; her head was still aching, despite the water. "We'll...we'll just have to figure something out."

"What could we 'figure out?'" Erik asked.

"Pray."

"Pray?" Erik asked. "That's your solution?"

"Why not?" Sigrun asked. "It's in the gods' hands now..." She turned to Talvi. "...or the All-Maker's hands, whichever you wish."

"Aye, we'll pray," Talvi nodded.

"So we pray, and then what?" Erik asked.

"We deliver the map to the Skaal," was Sigrun's answer, as she winced through the pain.

"That we can do," Talvi said.

For the rest of that day, the four of them made their way eastward, skirting along the northernmost border of the ash-fields. Talvi was in much better shape than she had been from the assault of last night, and led the way on their return. Sigrun clung onto Erik's shoulders as they walked. The water did its work for her, for the ache in her shoulder had subsided. As they walked, the numbing effect of her closeness to Erik became less and less. Now she was once again seeing visions fading in and out of waking vision: like mirages in the sands of Hammerfell, or the hafgerdingars upon the Sea of Ghosts. Faces she saw, fading in and out; the dark-haired woman's face appeared again, and now Sigrun realized that she knew to whom the face belonged. It was Lydia.

Then her face changed and she saw other things as well; a battle upon the frozen fields of the Pale, where mages in red fought with massive giants. Then a ship appeared at distant shore, resting under the wings of a giant black raven. Now the visions changed and she saw a shaggy old man with long hair and a scraggly beard speaking with an Imperial, clean shaven with short hair, divulging all of his story to him. Then the two humans faded and she saw an Altmer with a high-domed head, thin, squinting yellow-orange eyes, and a sour expression. Things were going amiss; agents were disappearing before they could destroy their records. Solitude was now under martial law, the Imperial Legion were powerless; the Thalmor had begun their occupation.

As for the others, they were not in such dire straits. Though Erik's attention was wholly upon Sigrun, Talvi and Nikulas were able to enjoy the world around them. Cold winds were coming down from the north, while in the south, the gray ash-fields were dotted with a haze of greenery. It may be that years would have to pass, and many things change in the world, particularly in Vvardenfell, before Solstheim at last could be reclaimed and the damage of the Red Year undone; but it had begun at last. Life had returned to Solstheim. It filled their hearts with gladness; especially Erik, who had grown up on a farm and was accustomed to the welcomed sight of new growth.

About late afternoon, they arrived at the gates of Thirsk. None of the warriors dared oppose the half-giant, nor were they in the mood to try anything against Sigrun with Talvi as her backup. Despite the warriors' lackadaisical behavior, Nikulas was in awe of their old hall, and chatted endlessly with Sigrun about all the stories he had heard about Thirsk. Sigrun, who was more of her own mind now, was pleased to discover that her advice hadn't gone unheeded: the warriors had managed to band together and capture a fully-grown blood horker. Its meat, they claimed, was the juiciest of all horker meats, and Erik at last got his wish to sample horker stew: it was very thick, but he enjoyed it thoroughly. Talvi ate many helpings of both soup and seared loaves of horker meat; she was very tall, and needed the sustenance. Nikulas was more enthralled by the Thirsk, and eagerly asked them questions about themselves, their exploits, and how he might join them, than by any food.

Sigrun, on the other hand, was keeping her eyes on Erik as she sipped from her own bowl of horker stew. She was surprised that physical contact with him had ceased to be beneficial to preventing her problem. Her first thought was to forget about the whole thing and focus on the big problem of tomorrow: how to return to Skyrim without a ship. But then another thought entered her head; she had been touching him quite a bit, and therefore had become familiar with it. There was no spark of excitement inside her when she touched him, and that, she reasoned, was why it had faded.

But what if it could be reignited?

Late that night, the hall was well on its way into sleep. Bujold and Kuvar were in their beds, and the other warriors slept in theirs or on the floor where they had passed out from drinking. As there was no bed long enough for her, Talvi lay on the floor against the central hearth. Nikulas slumped against one of the stave pillars of the hall and was sleeping soundly. Erik was starting to nod off when Sigrun crawled over to him on all fours. He turned and noticed her approach.

"So?" he asked. "Are we still going forward with tomorrow's plan? You sure you want to do this based solely on prayers?"

"Look," Sigrun sighed. "I didn't have an answer. I still don't. I mean, aside from building a ship, I don't know how we could do. Let's not talk about tomorrow, alright?"

"Fine by me," he replied. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"You," she said. "Tell me, what do you see yourself doing, once the civil war is over?"

"Me?" he asked, somewhat taken aback. "Gods, I'd never given it any thought. Always thought I'd be slaving away at my father's farm for the rest of my life. Now...now I don't know. Maybe I'd travel across Tamriel; there's always new places to explore. Maybe come back here and earn my place into Sovngarde fighting monsters and earning glory for myself. How about you?"

Sigrun sighed. "To tell you the truth, I...I never really considered the fact that I'd survive this war. In some ways, Erik, I..."

"Huh? Go on, then."

She gasped. "I never really thought about it. Mostly, my mind has been on trying to win the war, not if we actually win it or what will happen afterward. In some ways, I feel like I might not survive at all."

"Why do you say that?"

"This isn't my time, Erik. I don't belong here. There's already another me growing inside Mjoll's belly. I know that's hard to wrap your mind around, but...well, I only came back here to prevent the future from being fucked. I have no way of getting back to my own time; I don't even know if I can even get back to my own time. What would happen then? Two of me growing up together?" She sighed and, slumping down next to Erik, rubbed her temples. Erik placed his arm around her shoulders and brought her head against his shoulders.

"Don't say that," he said. "You'll be fine, I promise."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I saw you go into a rampage on those elves," he replied. "It's going to take a lot to take you down, and they'd have to get through me first."

"You?" she asked. "Why?"

"Well, I mean, you're a fair fighter. More than fair, even. You know what you want, and you pursue it without hesitation. You've had my back in battle, as I've had yours. It also helps that you're easy on the eyes." Sigrun chuckled softly, then let out a soft moan as he kissed the top of her head.

"It's nice having you around," he concluded. "I'd hate to lose you."

Sigrun smiled. "You know, you're the first person I've opened up to besides Jonna. I really appreciate that...more than you know. I want to make a deal with you, Erik."

"Hmm?"

"If anything should happen to me during this war," she began. "I want you to come back here and fight, hunt, and train to your heart's desire. In about seventeen years, you'll see me again. Just as I am now, I feel. Continue as you are now, and you'll have no problem winning me over again."

"Won you?" Erik asked.

"Well, yeah," Sigrun replied. "I don't let just anybody touch me, you know. Especially a man."

"Sigrun, nothing's going to happen to you," he replied. "Like I said, I wouldn't let it."

Sigrun's heart was racing. The fingers of her right hand twitched uncomfortably, eager to grasp something. She brought her hand up and placed it upon Erik's thigh.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Sigrun leaned her head up from his shoulder, pressed her left finger against his lips, and their eyes met. She said nothing, but instead pulled herself up into a seated position and placed his hands upon her sides as her hands wrapped around his waist, searching for his belt.

Within minutes, they had torn off each other's clothing. Sigrun was now lost in a world of warmth and ecstasy, as she pressed her body against Erik's, even as she had dreamed about for what seemed like an eternity. When at last she mounted his sitting form, she tore her maidenhead forcing herself down upon him: but the memory of the arrow-wound and her endless agony were much greater, and she gritted her teeth and pressed herself harder against him. How long it lasted, neither of them knew: they were too busy enjoying themselves.

When it all was over, they lay together in each other's arms, wrapped in a thick bear's pelt before the still burning hearth. Sigrun lay closest to the fire, with Erik behind her. She had been so wrapped up with the vigor and warmth of their carrying on that little else had occupied her mind during that time. It was her first time enjoying such pleasures: it was painful, yet oddly intoxicating, and she found herself wanting more. For the present, however, the pain from her visions was gone and that was enough for her. She enjoyed laying against Erik's chest and feeling his arms wrapped around her within the blanket.

"Erik?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"How was it?"

"Well," he sighed. "It was...different. Not like anything I've ever done before."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I enjoyed it. How about you?"

"Mmm," she nodded. "Hurt a little at first. It was my first time."

"I'll let you in on a secret," Erik whispered, kissing her neck. "It was my first time too."

She squirmed beneath his kiss and smiled. At last, however, the weariness from her sexual exertions finally caught up with her. She closed her eyes and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep; before her the warmth of the fire, beneath her the warmth of the furs, and behind her the warmth of Erik. For the first time in a long count of days, Sigrun had no dreams or visions.

(AN: So, this story finally bit the big one and went all out on its M-rating. I had hoped to stay away from going into "smut territory" [especially because I had planned on releasing a short-story based on Cait's threesome with Sole Survivor and Piper from Fallout 4 as my "last great smutty hurrah"], but then I started coming up with "character" moments where Sigrun does morally questionable things. Not necessarily to turn her into a corrupt anti-hero, but to demonstrate her own personal struggle and how she fails [and hopefully succeeds].)

(I've already got an end in sight for this story [don't worry, I won't end it too soon]. But once I do, I'm thinking about what to do next. Part of me doesn't want to work on my older material and just do new stuff: maybe a full series of Fallout fics, maybe tell Valeria's story from Oblivion, or Llevas' from Morrowind [most of you wouldn't like that, I fear], or a short story about the first few "quests" from Eirik's story [a prequel to The Dragonborn and the Lioness], or maybe even do some version of the Kingmaker AU. What do you all think?)