I never would have thought the Niben could be beautiful.
The pondscum of Cyrodiil, more sewer than city and more mud than water had become unmarred glass, that night. A perfect reflection of the night sky was cast over the water, stars glittering like they'd fallen into the lake, jewels hidden under the water's surface. What little sound came – the trot of Shadowmere and the dog, the rustle of leaves – seemed to be swallowed by the great silence resting on our shoulders. The air was chill, even the crickets so quiet that the world seemed breathless.
"I want to stop."
Though Lucien said nothing, I could almost hear his brow raise. My voice softened, the horse slowing.
"Just for a minute. Please."
We pulled aside of the road there, in the dewy grass. The mutt whined at my side. I rubbed his head for a moment of comfort – perhaps mine, perhaps his – and made my way to the water's edge. The hair on my neck prickled as Lucien joined me, inhaling the night air. My gaze strayed to him, the shadows cast on his face, the small glint of light in his eyes. I thought of that night at the spring, after the traitor had taken his eyes.
Somehow, he seemed more solemn now than then. Or was it only my perspective of him that had changed?
Lucien drew me out of my thoughts by pulling something from his bag. The air, smelling only of lush grass and stale water before, now carried the faded scent of blood and mint. I stiffened. In his hands lay a long, silken sheaf of fabric, spattered with dried patches of black. He smoothed it between his palms, gaze flickering from it to me and back.
"She never took it back that night, before we fled to the farm." He turned to face the water, and I followed his gaze. "We were on contract here together, once, in Bravil." An exhale through his nares as memory surfaced, drawing him away from the moment. "It ended poorly. The deed was completed, but we were injured."
I listened, unsure why he would tell me this, but only wanting to hear more.
"She told me…" His eyes closed, a rueful smile turning his lips. "That if she were to die here, I should burn her body and scatter the ashes over the Niben, so the Night Mother could watch over her here even then." Something between a laugh and a scoff, head shaking, head tilting to watch the sky above us. "I had always thought the insufferable old hag would be eternal."
Some part of me spat bile in anger. Even now, she held her Family closer than her family. Not to be buried alongside her children or her husband, but them. But this was years before I was born, before she met papa.
The person she was before me, and the person she was when she died. More than mother, more than mine.
Her dying wish.
I took the end of the scarf and slid it into my own hands. Lucien didn't protest as I cradled it, inhaled the bittersweetness the scent of it left behind. My chest rose and fell quicker, heaving, pinpricks in my eyes. Then magicka on my lips and tongue, on my fingertips. I slipped out of my shoes and stepped onto the water's surface, the rippling waves kissing my feet as I began to walk.
It was like walking into the void. The water was black as the sky, and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. With my spell I could travel it, skimming across like a water spider towards the distance.
I was afraid of them, as a girl. The creepy-crawlies and the many-legged, until maman taught me they were just little, silly things, more afraid of me than I of them. I was afraid of so many things. Afraid of shadows she embraced. Afraid of nightmares that she tried to teach me showed truth.
These past few days I'd been unable to hold onto her memory, like a cupful of water in my palms slipping away, but now it was crisp and clear. Dark, knowing eyes that I could never tell if they were laughing at me or not. A thin, elegant smile, controlled even while genuine. Her hands, slender and pale like mine, the hands of a noblewoman. Brushing my hair or raising a finger to scold, squeezing breath from innocent throats, bringing a blade to my neck.
My toes were numb by now, the shore a distant, jagged line in the distance. I held the scarf to my chest and shuddered, breath escaping me as a sob. Grief was hollow, devouring, raw and bitter, howling anger and weeping sadness all at once. I wanted her to come find me, to scold me for risking a chill, to wipe away my tears. I wanted her back, so badly.
Had she ever been mine? Had I ever truly known her?
The rush of memories was warm, making her absence all the colder. I lost myself in them, imagining her, deep enough that when I heard someone approach I half expected it to be her. Lucien came from behind me, tingling with magicka as I did, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"You're going to freeze out here."
I turned from him, the scarf bundled in my hands. Another spell, what little flicker of fire I knew. It took hold of the edge of the scarf as I unwound it into the breeze, devouring along the silk and consuming it, leaving flakes of burnt cloth and ash that fell into the endless water below.
We stood in silence, almost reverent until my hands were empty and any sparks were swallowed by the yawning blackness under our feet. My tears had dried by the time we reached the shore, though memories lingered. I scoured through them, simultaneously wanting to never forget and to push them away. Searching for signs of her love, or of mistakes, something that could have changed along the way.
Wondering if I could have made her choose her daughter, instead of her mother.
We sat astride once more and moved to leave the shore behind, towards the road and rolling hills that would lead us to the Heartlands. I couldn't be sure over Shadowmere's trot, but I thought I heard Lucien murmur.
"Goodbye, Abelle."