Hullo, everybody ! Back to Marrick's POV. It was hard to get through this one; I've been so busy ! I just graduated high school ! XD So, that's been the hold-up, sorry ! Please review, and I hope you enjoy ! -LR

Adjin pitches my body forward, onto the rocky shores of Solitude, as I gasp for air. My lungs are shot; just overflowing with seawater. My eyes burn from the sting of the salt. At his prodding, I crawl up the beach, hand over hand; my right fist still grasping Aventus' Contract tight and my left clutching the frayed end of that fucking rope.

Just don't puke, I keep telling myself, Don't puke.

I'm soaked to the skin, on that beach, and it takes everything in me to get to where the sand is softer, less gravelly. Only then, do I lie on my back, eyes closed, shivering.

I need to get back out there, I keep telling myself. I need to get back.

That in mind, I roll over from my back to my stomach, and rotate my body until I'm staring the sea in the face.

"Marrick, stop," comes Adjin's quiet order, breaking my trance. "We're done for the day." I ignore him, and just focus on finding my feet, breathing right, and not vomiting. "You've been at this for long enough," he says. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

I stand upright, wavering some, but I've made it all the way up.

I'm so fucking tired. My body wants to lay down somewhere, anywhere, but my mind knows that I have to continue in order to become strong again.

One of my strongest points when I was in my prime, was the absolute control I had over my flesh. When it was injured, I could still push it on to escape. When it was tired it still ran just as fast. If I were to give my body then benefit of the doubt now, it would be a step backward.

A step that I can't afford to take.

"Let's keep going," I tell him. "Adjin let's keep going."

"No, Marrick," he says firmly. "You'll kill yourself, if we do." I shut my eyes again. Don't you fucking puke. "Your body can't take much more of this," he points out. "What do expect to accomplish?"

"Control," I reply shortly. As if he doesn't already know. "I expect to take control."

"Marrick. . ." He has this tone that informs me that he's going to say something I don't want to hear. "Control will come with time. Practice. You let your flesh rule for too long. It will not bow to you in a day."

I shake my head, dropping to my knees, and I vomit into the sand.

Well, that was a lost cause.

It's mostly dry-heave; I haven't eaten much. When I'm done, I roll over onto my back, my skin twitching as I start to shiver again..

"I need to do this," I rasp. "Adjin, please. I have to k- keep doing th-this."

He sighs.

For about a week, we have been in Hell.

Always the sentimental fellow, Adjin started me off with something all-too-familiar: a little task he calls "Catching Cats". This didn't suit well with me. It was a task he had me doing when I was seventeen; I'm a twenty-nine year old man. Ignoring his orders, I decided to try another task, "Beat the Current", something that I had mastered in my prime, at twenty-three.

In essence, he cuts the bottom out of a barrel, ditches its top, ties it around your waist and carries it behind you as you wade out into the sea. Once you're up to your chest, he lets go. You swim against the current as best you can, with the barrel holding you back. You swim against the current as best as you can, for as long as you can.

In my prime, I did this with three barrels for one hour and twenty-two minutes. Today, I barely made it to twenty-six minutes before the waves became much too much, and I began to drown. At the start, I could hear Adjin calling, telling me to stop and cut the barrel loose. I didn't listen until I went under, and by then, it was too late. I was drowning.

So, he came in after me.

As usual, he came in after me.

With my eyes shut, I can better hear Adjin's movements above me; some cloth or material is rustling. I'm opening my mouth to beg him again, and close it when I feel something warm and soft cover me.

I squint my eyes open to find his heavy, pearl-grey cloak over my bare torso; the shivering practically evaporates. I angle my head to see him sitting on this rock just above me, knees drawn up and his arms draped over them, his ringed hands clasped in thought. No hood today; his hair and beard billow in the wind, brown eyes just as calm as the sea is stormy.

We sit there for a while, and I realize, he's letting me rest. So, I try to, but I can't. I'm just lying here, watching the sky turn from night colors to day colors while the strength returns to my limbs. The sun isn't up yet. It's the black of true morning, the darkness between dusk and dawn. No stars, but both moons.

"The scars," he says quietly, "the ones on your back. Whose lash are they from?"

I blink unsteadily, trying to focus myself on his sudden words.

"Galmar Stone-Fist."

Adjin's silent for a while.

"I figured as much," he muses, more to himself than to me. "The price for having her desert Ulfric's army. And, you had to pay it."

I shut my eyes, "That, I did."

"Why?" he asks. "Did you know then? Did you love her then?"

"Long before," I tell the stars, "long before."

Adjin thinks on this for a while, as I focus on the sky, thinking about what he's maybe thinking about. Maybe about how much time and effort truly have to be put in, for me to even start to approach what I was. Back when every action was muscle memory, and every thought pure instinct. Back when my experience damn near radiated off me. Maybe he's considering the difference between who I was and who I am.

But, whatever he's thinking about, he doesn't think about it for long.

"Marrick."

"Hmm?"

"Rushing into this will kill you," he says. "But, you already knew this." I wipe my mouth. "Why did you continue?" I can't answer. "I would guess either Rontu or Alduin. But, neither of these is your true impetus, no. Love and destiny. Neither of these are what motivates you."

"What does?" I venture. "Enlighten me, please."

"Fear."

As cold as I already am, the entire world seems to freeze over.

In my mind, I return that night in Whiterun. The dream I had, of me, and Rontu and-

"I not- I dun- I en't afr- I wou-" I am literally trembling. "I am not afraid!"

"You can do many things, Marrick," Adjin thunders, "but, never forget that lying to me is not one of them. Now, tell me, boy, what threatens you?!"

"Miraak!" I manage to choke out, "His name is- is Miraak." Adjin grows ominously silent. I take it as a sign to continue. "He's Dragonborn, too, of ages past. And, he has plans to return to this world, commanding legions. Legions," I echo, bitterly, "I can barely command my own fucking body!" Still nothing from Adjin. "He's haunted me, most every night since we first came to Riften, five years ago."

"Five years-"

"Aye, this is why I left," I confirm. "He knows about Rontu; he knows everything about fucking everything. And, I know nothing. If I rise up to challenge him- me, a drunken shadow of the man I used to be- then, I'm sentencing her to something worse than death." I shake my head, tears pooling in my eyes as I stare up into the sky. "Maybe, I already have."

Adjin still hasn't spoken, and my true worst fears begin to settle in the bottom of my stomach: the fear that I have made a terrible mess, and that he can't show me how to clean it up.

When he does finally speak, it's not what I so desperately need to hear from him.

"Let's head back," he says simply.

I swivel my head to look up at him.

"Adjin?"

"We know your personal best now. Later, we can work your time back up to what it was." He stands up, and steps off the giant rock, landing lightly on his feet.

I scramble to my knees, "Adjin?"

"Your shirt's too wet to put back on; keep my cloak for now."

"ADJIN!" I holler. He stops, his back to me as he faces the city. "Say something. Anything. Please." He sighs. And, as the breath leaves his body, the faith I had in him leaves mine. "So," I whisper seethingly. "You're nothing but a man, after all."

Adjin turns around slow, his eyes betraying the cool mask of his face with their burning anger.

He crosses back to me purposefully, and snatches me by my throat, slamming me against the boulder as he yokes me up. My mouth goes dry and my chest is heaving, the heart inside it beating like it's housing a stampede.

"Do you feel that, boy?" he seethes. "Your fear?" He tightens his grip on me, and I lean my head as far away from him as I can, breathing hard. "I can smell it. I can see it in your eyes; you fear me." He gives me a rough shake. "Say it."

"I fear you," I sputter.

"Louder."

"I fear you!"

He tightens his grip again, pulling me closer to him, searching my soul through my eyes.

"Let this be a lesson to you, boy: your every fear is a choice. Do you hear me?" I nod, my brows pulling in. "Anyone you fear, it is a choice. With Alduin, it is a choice. With Miraak it is a choice. With me, it is a choice; do you hear me?" I nod again, and suddenly, his stern face crumples; he looks anguished. "You're like a son to me, Marrick."

"Adjin-"

"Like a son," he repeats, and his hands aren't choking me now, they're framing my face. "I've known you since you were seventeen years old, and I've taught you many things. But, let the most important of them be, that your every fear is a choice."

"Don't you- I thought-" I mumble dumbly, "Don't you want me to fear you?"

He shakes his head, letting me go, "You're not a boy, anymore, and I would've told you this earlier, if your fear of me didn't make training you so simple. All a man is, Marrick, is what he's earned. Have Alduin or Miraak earned your fear?"

"No."

"Louder," he bellows.

"No!"

His face crumples again, "I haven't either, Marrick. I haven't. Because, you're right: I'm nothing but a man, after all." I start to counter this, but he cuts me off. "I make mistakes, Marrick, I get sick, and one day, I will die. All men are mortals, Marrick; in famine, Jarls starve in their palaces, just as the lowborn in their shacks. In this way, all men are equal. We," he stresses, "are equal." I'm feeling the ridiculous urge to cry. But, I refuse to let him see me that way. "You have a choice in fear, Marrick. Never forget that."

This said, he turns away from me, heading back towards Solitude.

With little else to do, or think, or say, I follow.

I take my sweet time, plodding through the gray banks, as the sea rages stormily beyond me.

If she were here, she'd have called it beautiful; she'd have called it a painting. I'm suddenly remembering a late afternoon in Ivarstead, when we first arrived to the small city. She said, "Everything has beauty, when you look at it the right way".

She was fucking wrong.

My current situation is quite the ugly issue.

The man I saw as my father just admitted to me he was mortal, something I wouldn't have believed unless I'd heard it from Adjin himself. It was like a high priest learning that Akatosh and all of those other puppeteers in Sovngarde are just something Ysgramor smoked into existence with a pound of kush.

On top of that, the future of Mundos rested in the hands of a just-turned-sober scrub who's having an early mid-life crisis- and he just so happens to be me.

And, on top of that, saving the world has become a race between myself and not only Alduin, but also Miraak. And, both of those fuckers has a head start.

I turn back to face the rock, and she's sitting there, staring thoughtfully at the ocean, the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Where is it, then, Princess," I ask hoarsely. "Where's the beauty in all of this?"

Her white stare flicks from the sea to me, and she holds my gaze, her expression serious. She breaks into a teasing smile, and shrugs; she doesn't fucking know.

It starts to rain, and I don't really mind except that I'm wearing Adjin's cloak.

If there's anything worse than a mentor who's renounced his authority, it's a mentor who's renounced his authority, and also has a ruined cloak.

So, I start up the beach, over the gray dunes and towards Solitude.

"A second chance," she calls, over her shoulder. I stop in my tracks, but I don't turn around. I'm getting real tired of her shit. "There's always beauty, in redemption."

I can't help myself, and I turn to look at Rontu, but she's gone. Again.

"Redemption, huh?"

I sigh, and continue walking until I reach the Winking Skeever. I'm sure I get some stares, coming into the place wearing nothing but trousers and a fine, pearl-grey cloak, boots in my hands. Then again, I've done stranger things in this tavern.

As if things couldn't get any worse, the bards start playing the song they knew not to play back in the Bannered Mare.

Sing, sing of a maiden so bold

Who bested the Thieves Guild

And Charm'd the Stormcloak

She charged on the Thalmor

and drank Dragon's blood.

Slayed Movarth in Morthal

She was quick to the sword.

vOv

O sing, sing now of Rontu the Red

With eyes white as moonstone

And hair like sunset

vOv

Sing of her stealth and the change of her face

Her foes never knew her

Till it was too late.

vOv

Sing of her courage her strength and her zeal.

As Na'el Prince of Death

The Elves shrank from her steel.

vOv

Sing of the heiress to old Barak-dur.

She shouldered the weight

Of our failed Dragonborn.

vOv

Sing of Red Rontu, though Redguard she be

She fought like a Nord and

We drink to her deeds.

vOv

I find myself silently mouthing along to words I've only heard once before.

She shouldered the weight of our failed Dragonborn.

In the Bannered Mare, I flipped my shit, throwing over tables and launching apples at the bards. I booed them drunkenly-

I tear my gaze away. Sighing to myself again, I take to the stairs two at a time, and push open the door to our room.

"Adjin, I-" My words desert me, as my brain makes the connection with my eyes about what they're seeing: All of my things. Packed. "Wha-"

"You're leaving, Marrick," comes Adjin's voice. I whip my head around to see him lounging in the window, watching the downpour as he smokes. "The training I want you to do is too simple; the training you want to run is too hard. Well, I've found a happy medium."

I step further into room, cautiously, "How happy?"

"You will be challenged, no doubt," he says, taking another drag. "My aim is to put you in a position where it is your choice how much training you think you will need, and how much time."

"The suspense is killing me."

Adjin cracks a smile, "You're telling me?" He taps out his pipe on the windowsill. "How many Shouts do you know, Marrick?"

I count off on my finger, "Seven."

"Which are they?"

"Mnnn. . ." I shut my eyes, thinking. "Clear Skies, Fire Breath. . .uh. . .Throw Voice, Become Ethereal, Whirlwind Sprint. . .Unrelenting Force, obviously, and. . . Frost Breath." He nods approvingly. "You still haven't said what your 'happy medium is'."

"Ah," he smiles, sardonically, "Must've slipped my mind." His eyes, slightly pinkened from the sourleaf, meet mine. "You're going to go," he says, voice deadpan, "and you're going to steal one item from one noble house in every capital city in Skyrim."

"I'm sorry, what?" I laugh once, mirthlessly, "Adjin, you're just high right now, I can't-"

"Why?" His head cocks. "Because you are afraid?" My mouth shuts up tight, and he relents a little. "When you are finished, I will be certain that you are ready to continue this quest. You'll find me in Ivarstead, waiting for you." I'm speechless. "Until then," Adjin says, rising from the window ledge, "this is farewell." He comes to a stop before me.

The reality of the situation dawns on me, and I suddenly know what to say.

"Adjin, you said- in your latest lesson, Adjin, you said that fear is a choice. And, you pointed out the way I fear you," I shake my head, "Adjin, I don't fear you; I fear for you. My fear is losing you. Whether it's because I've been an asshole, and I've disappointed you, or if it's that I've gotten myself into deep shit, and something happens to you, because you go to bail me out." His face's calm is broken; his brows and knitted tight, his jaw working. "You see me as a son, and I see you as a father. You haven't done anything to make me fear you; you've taught me to obey you. And, that's a big difference. Just like Miraak and- and Alduin, you never earned my fear." I stretch out my hand to him, "You've earned my respect, my faith and my trust, things I could ever show to any other man alive. So, thank you, Adjin. And, farewell."

Adjin takes one look at my hand, and knocks it out of the way, as he closes the space between us, and embraces me.

"Until Ivarstead," he says. "Until then, Segen."

(A/N) Please review ! I love hearing your feedback and thoughts! -LR