Hullo, everybody ! I hope you're enjoying your weekend so far! For me, Saturday was the epitome of proactivity, which is very unlike me. I finished the research paper I need to graduate, which is due on Friday, in addition to finishing this chapter. *cue coy smile* I trust you won't be disappointed. Please review, and I hope you enjoy! -LR
"I would meet you in Soul Cairn, if that's what meeting you meant."
"Yours is like that because mine is near."
"There is nothing like you."
"You smell like summer. Like the sun. That's how I knew it was you."
"You know who I am. . ."
I open my eyes.
All is still in my bedroom, the dim light of the morning before dawn slipping through the forest green curtains, brightening squares in the floorboards. From my bed, I can see the long hallway, because my door is always open. I reach for the tankard of water that I keep beside my bedside table to find a handful of fur. Glancing over, I take in the careful, ever-watchful gaze of Na'el, my son's young wolf.
She's a pretty thing, all black, like a shadow's shadow. About three years ago, when my brothers were still finishing our house, she kept appearing at the work site, sitting at the edge of the woods, starring. Bjorn was going to scare him off, but Adjin stopped him, pointing out that she was young and alone. As the months wore on, summer became fall, and fall became winter. The wolf remained at the edge of my home, Windstad Manor, her golden eyes ever-watchful, until the moment she crossed beyond the treeline, through my yard and laid down at my feet.
She reminds me of myself, in that way: her eagerness for somewhere to be safe and accepted. She hasn't to build it up from nothing, as I had, and I was glad for it. Our home and family, became her home and family. She spends her days by my son's side and her nights by mine; she found peace when she was with me.
A mother.
I sigh and ruffle the black fur on the back of her neck, not yet a true mane, a reach back over for my horn of water. It's only after I drink my fill that I allow myself to think of my dream. To think of him.
"Marrick," I whisper, as I have so many mornings before. Unconsciously, my hand drifts up to my chest, where each beat of my heart brings a dull ache to my half of our soul.
The other he had taken with him, that rainy morning five years ago. The world turned, though, and I with it, coming into my own in Hjaalmarch and earning a wage as a huntress. As Marrick predicted, we have a few unwelcome visitors every now and then, but it is all good sport and keeps me on my toes. I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them, my brow furrowing as I dwell on this man I swore to hate for all of this life and the next.
"Marrick," I try again, but it still sounds like a plea.
No matter how deceitful, no matter how hurtful, no matter, no matter, no matter.
Without him, there was no sun, no stars and no moons. The days were long and the nights were cold and everything was void and silent. There was no life. No life. I smile absently.
That was before my baby.
That was before my Segen.
Just as I was thinking this, a small form entering the room catches my attention; I smile. My bed is tall enough so that I can only see the ink-black topknot of hair, plodding up and down as its owner comes around the side of the bed, and upon entering it, finally appears.
"Mi'kan," I say, my smile widening, "My little one. What are you doing awake?"
My son sighs dramatically and flops down onto the mattress beside me.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't sleep," I echo, in wonder. One of my habits after having a child. Everything about him amazes and astounds me. I always find myself wanting to turn to his father and gush about what we created together. Whenever I turn to my right side, however, he is never there.
I recall my first few moments with him, after I recovered from his delivery. . .
I was sitting at the desk in my room, writing one last letter, and something told me to put down my pen and go to my son, whose cradle was across from my window seat.
My window seat.
My windows, my walls, my floors, my rafters, my house, my land.
My eyes drifted back to the cradle; my son.
Segen.
A strong name for a strong boy. My boy, I tried to persuade myself, but I knew it wasn't true. He would never be all mine.
He favors me in his color, a pretty golden brown. He has my mouth, too, and my high cheekbones and my ears. But, none of the rest had any part of me. Those hands, they were Marrick's, as well as that aquiline nose. The stubborn chin I knew so well. The shock of soft, curly black hair; I stroked it absently.
"Azrael, Segen Azrael," I whispered. "For yours is the blood of kings."
My son reached up, catching my finger in his little fat paws. He smiled at me, waving his conquest around in the air while I watched him reverently.
Then, he opened his eyes, and that broke the spell, teasing me for my folly.
Split right down the middle, I swear to all the gods.
Because, rather than either Marrick's eyes, or my own, Segen has both. The gleaming black as his right eye, and for his left, the Zo'an white.
I shake myself from these thoughts, reminding myself that I can no longer think of him.
Marrick owns my dreams and my thoughts in the early morning hours.
Every other waking moment belongs to my son.
I peruse his comment and fight my urge to laugh. What about this easy life makes him think he's even capable of not sleeping?
I decide to humor him.
"Why can't you sleep?"
"Grandmother!" he exclaims, exasperatedly. "She talks my ear off all night long, telling me about Papa."
Without both Ghost Eyes, Segen cannot see the dead. But, he sure can hear them.
"Does it still scare you?" I want to know. "Talking to your grandmother?"
He shakes his head, "No, but I can't sleep." He rubs his Ghost Eye with his small fist; it's glowing a faint violet. "She's always talking."
I take a moment to study him, how vigorously he's rubbing his eye. I know how badly it can itch and hurt when overused. The next time I see Ileana, I'm knocking her into Soul Cairn.
"Let me know now if she's really bothering you."
"Why?" he asks, his face full of suspicion. "What will you do?"
I give a small but serious smile.
"I will make her stop."
"Don't," he says, "I don't want her to go away forever." I start laughing. "It's not funny! I don't!"
"You're stuck with her as much as I," I grin. "Did she tell you she'd leave if you told her to stop talking for a while?" He nods guiltily, and I laugh again, tugging on the braided mohawk of his black hair. "That's not true, baby. You see, she has no sense of time; it's different for them, where they are."
"Oh." Segen's brow furrows in thought. "Does she talk to Papa, too?"
I don't miss a beat.
"He doesn't have the Sight, like you and me," I reply, "but, I like to think she can."
"Oh," he mutters again, staring up at the rafters.
It's been four years since I had any word about Marrick. The world is fallen into chaos and anarchy, making me ever grateful that Morthal is supposedly "cursed". Here, we're safe from the outside world. Everyone in this town has something to hide. I thought I was hiding my son, but I wasn't. There are so many rumors surrounding the disappearance of the Dragonborn. Some say that he abandoned his quest, some say he never existed, and some say that he is dead.
The second option I know to be untrue. But, if I ever learn of either the first or the last being true, I don't know what I would do with myself. I look at my son out of the corner of my eye. I should have told him, I want to sob. I should have told him about you.
Segen's hand finds mine, and I grasp it tight, watching the beams of wood with him. "Happy birthday, Mama," he says quietly. I squeeze his hand, and smile. I'd almost forgotten.
I'm twenty-eight today, the seventeenth of Sun's Dawn.
Today, I will see many people who I love. It kills me that none of them will be him.
"Bjorn! You put my child down, NOW!"
The mammoth-sized Nord does not listen, as Segen fastens to his uncle's head while his twin cousins, Bjorn's own sons, each wrap themselves around a shoulder.
"What giant do you know will put down his meal?" he booms, a terrible scowl on his face. "RAAAAAH!"
The children on his back and neck scream laughingly as he grabs at them, tucking Gaelen under one arm and Faelen and Segen under the other. Once they're secure, he trots back to the house to meet me.
"There ya are," he laughs, setting them down. "Go give your aunt and mother a kiss. But, make it quick, cos I'm coming to get mine in a moment."
I give each boy a kiss, and can't contain my grin as Bjorn approaches me for his.
"Oh, but I've missed you!" he thunders, drawing me up into a backbreaking hug.
"Oh, no you don't!" I laugh, pushing at his shoulders. "I've known you to kill men, with hugs like that."
"Fuck that, woman, I'll hug you any way I please!"
I kiss his face, and he finally sets me down.
"Where's that wife of yours?"
He nods over his shoulder, towards where my stables are.
"We came with Ralof. He's helping her off that blasted wagon."
"Pregnant again, then?" I smirk.
"Whenever I can get her to lay down."
Bjorn and Paia live in Windhelm with their sons, making a home out of the Butcher's old headquarters, Hjerim. Nolan and Wendell share an apartment nearby, Ralof has a place in the Palace of Kings. Keiran now runs Bear Claw Squad, and Wendell has taken my place in it.
All of them are on their way here.
"I've forgotten how crude you Nords can be," I laugh, landing a solid punch on his arm. "I am happy for you, Bjorn. Thank you, for taking care of my sister."
"Thank you for letting me."
Paia walks up the road to where we stand, a slow smile spreading across her dark brown face. She wears flat boots and a dark green travelling dress that compliments her coming child. She draws back the hood of her midnight blue hood, revealing her deep black hair, pulled back into a ponytail.
I pull her into my arms, burying my face in the crook of my neck.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi," she whispers back.
I have missed my sister dearly, as has Segen. Before marrying Born, she lived with us, playing house for me when I was away earning.
"Alright, alright, out of my way," grunted Ralof, shoving between them. "RONNY!" he croons, sweeping me up in his arms. "We've missed you, in the barracks."
"And, I've missed you at my table."
"Where's my godschild?"
"Hiding, if he's smart," chuckles Bjorn. "Who the fuck would ever call you godsfather?"
"Shut the fuck up, Agatha."
Bjorn holds Ralof's stare for a moment before lunging after him, ducking into the house.
"Watch my doors, damn it!"
Paia laughs, throwing an arm over my shoulders, as we gaze out over my world.
"How about that?" I ask, disbelievingly. "You and me: mothers." I shake my head, "I still can't fathom how any of this is possible."
"You did it," she smiles. "You made the world safe for us again." I start to deny it, but she stops me. "You did, Rontu."
I sigh, my mind racing through everything I've lost and gained.
I give her a sly smile, "I did, didn't I?"
She punches me in the arm; I punch her back.
"Come on, let's go inside," she laughs.
"Where're the others?"
"Kieran and Wendell and Nolan are coming later tonight. I'm not supposed to tell you, but they're bringing you a present." She bit her lower lip. "From Ulfric."
The breath left my lungs.
"Ulfric?"
"Just so."
"That's all I am to him, now: meaningless gifts? Whatever happened to friendship? Jewels mean nothing; Ulfric knows that."
"He's fighting a war."
"A war that matters, yes I know, I was a part of it," I remind her. "I'm not asking for Ulfric, but I do want something. Words. Letters. Information." I sigh, shaking my head. "You'd think he'd want to tell me something for his life now."
"Oh, but he does," she smiles. "Maybe a little more than you know." My brow furrows at that, but Paia doesn't let me dwell on it. "Will Adjin be making an appearance tonight?"
"I honestly have no clue. He disappeared last week and said he'd be back for my birthday, but," I make a show of looking all around, "clearly, he is not." Paia looks as if she wants to say something, but doesn't. "Out with it," I sigh.
"I'm sorry," she says guiltily, probably remembering our pact to hold back nothing. "I was just thinking what if he- what if Adjin -" she looks around and lowers her voice. "What if he's been looking for him? What if he's "
"You must be drunk."
"I'm not drunk; I'm pregnant!"
"Then it's the baby talking."
"No it's not-"
"Then, the baby's drunk and talking and it's making you talk drunk." It's almost an order. "Adjin would NOT. Do that to me. He wouldn't. He knows I'm not ready."
"As much as you miss Marrick?" he pushes. "As much as you want to see-"
"He knows I'm not ready!" I repeat, more forcefully. "Enough of this, Paia. It's my birthday."
She seems to remember that and starts to apologize.
"I'm sorry," she says earnestly, "Rontu, I- I won't mention it again."
"Don't worry about it," I sigh, and try to smile as best I can. "It's my birthday. Let's celebrate."
We decided to move the party outside on the lawn.
The bards that came with the College of Winterhold's new Master of Illusion, Jarsha Kemet O'Naharis, play very well.
They're all dancing out in my lawn, Bjorn, Ralof, Jarsha, Ri'saad, Paia, Idgrod, Niruin, Vex, Cynric. Members of the Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild and Stormcloaks and Khajiit caravan alike. Na'el travels aimlessly between legs, hoping to catch some fallen food. Wine and ale flow like water, and sweet and sourleaf kush like air. The sky weaves colors through the aurora borealis, reddening and purpling madly as the stars emerge to play, torchbugs lighting the world as they mimicked them.
A good night to turn twenty-eight.
Colored banners, streamers and lanterns hang from the trees around the manor, and several tables are strewn about, laden with food. There's red meat, sweet meat, stew, fresh fruit, sweets and delicacies from around the world. People from around the world, too, all to see and celebrate me, my smile never far from my face.
Adjin arrives a little after the ninth hour, and he does indeed bring a friend.
"Kematu!" I scream, as the tall Redguard embraced me, several Alik'r warriors whose names I'd almost forgotten smiling behind him. "I didn't know you were even alive, you sneaky son of a bitch!"
When we escaped the city, it was hard to come into contact with any others. Kematu was a student of my father's, and a close friend of Adjin's. Having him in my home, with so many faces of my childhood is unreal.
"I could say the same to you," Kematu laughs. "There are plenty of us left, if you know where to look." His visage is suddenly serious, and just as I'm about to ask him about it, he shakes his head, his smile returning. "No, we'll speak of that later. Tonight is about you."
Me, and all my friends.
And, more still coming.
In addition to the thirty people in my yard, who should trudge up its road but Kieran, Nolan, Wendell, and behind them. . .
"ULFRIC!" He sweeps me up, just about squeezing the life out of me as my feet leave the ground. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be fighting a war!"
"One I expect to be winning soon," he smiles. "Besides. How could I go into battle next week without having seen your face."
"Ulfric," I laugh, embarrassed.
"Never mind that," he says, "How's my little liar?"
"Absolutely wonderful."
"Absolutely wonderful, eh?" His merry blue eyes peruse me, as he laughs to himself. "Aye, it would appear so. And, how is your little liar?"
As if on cue, my son runs into the back of our king's knees.
He looks up at the rebel king, and his face turns serious.
"My lord Ulfric," he says, but rather than bow his head, he holds eye-contact with him. I don't need to think long about who it reminds me of, and I know Ulfric sees it, too.
"My dear lord Segen," Ulfric grins back, placing a fist over his heart. "It has been far too long."
"Are you dancing with my mother?"
"No," Ulfric says, laughing at the directness of his question. "Well, not presently."
"Good," nods my son, and takes my hand, leading me towards the mass of bodies.
I draw my five-year-old into my arms, rocking him back in forth as we dance cheek to cheek, my brothers of all organizations all around us, clapping and hooting and throwing colored confetti.
"Speeeech!" crows Jarsha, pumping his fist. "Let's hear a speech, little sister!"
I try to kill that at the root, but root is exactly what it takes, as my Stormcloak brothers take up his call.
"Speech!" they bellow, "Give us a speech!"
Bjorn hoists me up onto his shoulder and sets me on top of my table.
I cover my face with my hands, but they're having none of that, and, seeing no way out. I sigh and ask someone to pass me a horn of mead and my son. Once the drink is in my hand, and Segen is on my hip, I smile, feeling very full, looking out at the many faces of people I have touched and who have touched back.
"Hey," I grin, and they greet me back with thunderous applause. "They say that the Divines smile upon those who deserve it," I start, and shake my head, "and if you know me, then you know I never did." The buzz in the room falls silent, all their attention focused on me. "I came from Hegathe," I continue, and can't help but laugh, "searching for these two bastards." Everyone laughs, slapping my brothers on the back as they laugh along, trying to hold back their tears. "Who would have thought," I sputter laughingly, "that I'd start out seeking only two men, and that I'd come away with all of you?" The weight of my heart falls on them, changing the mood of the entire room. "There are many things I've had to sacrifice. But, I never lost sight of my dream: building a house that I could make a home. A place where I could feed the people I love. A safe haven for those who lost their own." My eyes are swimming. "That's you," I smile, through tear-stained eyes. I bounced my son on my hip, "That's him. I have loved and lost. I've been left broken and deceived, left crying, left wounded, left alone, left for dead, left angry, left dazed and confused; I have been left! Abandoned so many times, I've lost count." I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut, smiling, "None of that matters. What matters is that I'm still here, and that you're still here with me." I bounce Segen again, and look him in his perfect, mismatched eyes, my smile trembling. I kiss his face. "With us."
"With us," he echoes, and I sputter another laugh in wonderment.
I kiss his face.
"Who am I to argue?" I ask them; they chuckle tearfully. "Five years, to come to this point, and I realize that no, the Divines never did smile upon me. They laughed on me. They walked with me. They favored me, in spite of everything. I didn't always deserve it, but I know that I do now. They give with one hand; take away with the other," I add quietly. "But, in spite of that, I know I'm walking away with the better deal." I look back at my son, grinning. "Do you agree, baby?" He nods, and we all laugh again. "He agrees!" I shout, and they applaud the fact. "That's the end of my speech! Bjorn, get me off this table!"
"Just a moment, darling," he croons. "You en't done up there."
As he says this, everyone near a lamp light or torch snuffs it out, leaving only the moonlight lighting the darkened yard. My brows pull in with confusion, but all is clarified when Paia exits the house with a large, be-candled cake. The bards start up again, and I'm laughing, stunned, as hand held sparklers explode to life, fizzing off light like stars all around my son and I.
We're dancing again, rocking back and forth on the table, laughing hard together, cheek to cheek.
It's at this moment that my own parents choose to appear to me.
"Mana," I breathe, stepping out of myself. "Baba."
I still hold Segen in my arms, though he can only hear, and he's learned by now to pretend otherwise.
"My daughter," smiles Baba, touching my face. "My little Segen." He's choking up on tears, which is very unlike my father. My mother steps in, laughing lightly, her eyes swimming.
"We cannot stay long," she explains, stroking my son's face. "We just came to say happy birthday, precious." She finds my brothers and Paia, and covers her mouth, her brows turning up at the ends. "You have done so well, Rontu. We are so proud of you. You," she chuckles, and turns me around. "Can't you see all that you've made?"
My mother has turned me to face myself, Segen in my arms.
I am wearing blue quilted fine clothes, a brown belt cinches my waist. My face is my own, reconstructed by the sculptor, using the painting Adjin's locket to bring me back. The series of black dots along my cheekbones, and the black paint on my mouth also return me to myself, alongside all my piercings. My red-brown hair now reaches my waist, and makes up a rope-thick braid that falls down my back. I look elegant and above all else, I look happy, my son's face pressed to mine, and our family all around us.
"Yes," I whisper, my parents having left, the dancing bodies of those I love all seeming to move the night. "Yes, I see it all."
Still, I cannot stop my ache.
The Divines are smiling on us, now, and don't get me wrong, it's a nice smile.
I just know of one way it could be truly beautiful.
(A/N): I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you have any soundtrack ideas please share. Thanks for reading, and please review ! -LR