Bishop carefully balanced himself on a floating slab of thick ice.
Fuck, this was annoying. And he was cold. He was never cold. He even had to take out his cloak.
Stupid mist and ice everywhere.
But at least he was pretty sure that he was close now. The mist made it harder, but he did finally notice a large iceberg with a crevice leading into it in the distance.
He was sure that this was it.
He knew where the Chill was – everyone in the Guild knew where the prisons for all the Holds were, in case someone needed to be broken out. This was definitely not that place. And how many more secluded caverns could have been floating around that area?
At least he was almost there.
It took him hours to scour the ice field. He even left Karnwyr at the bank – he'd have much more trouble balancing himself on the ice. So Bishop was spending his time trying to make sense of his surroundings and not falling into the freezing water.
This better be fucking worth it.
He jumped over to another chunk of ice, flailing his arms to keep himself steady. He repeated the process a few more times until he finally reached his destination. He could see some light coming from inside the crevice.
Good. This looked promising.
After this, he deserved a stiff drink and a night in a warm tavern.
After he left the College, he carefully made his way across the bridge back to the town. He was still kind of blind, but he was used to it enough to be able to maneuver without much issue. He returned the book to Enthir right away, a little worried that something went wrong, since he still couldn't check the book properly.
Luckily, Enthir was happy with what he got and the mission appeared to be a complete success.
As Brelyna had promised, Bishop's vision cleared fully, but not before the morning came. He decided to head out towards the ice field right away and locate the hermit. There was no use in delaying it and he was pretty curious about what he would find.
He entered the cavern carefully, sword in hand, just in case there was something there that he didn't expect.
He weaved through the narrow passage, following the light until a larger cavern opened before him.
He was standing on a tall ledge, overlooking a small campsite, fitted with a fireplace, a bedroll and a… large cabinet. There was an old Nord there, draped in dark robes, pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself.
"Dig, Dwemer, in the beyond. I'll know your lost unknown and rise to your depths."
Fuck, the man seemed as out of it as his book had suggested.
"When the top level was built, no more could be placed. It was and is the maximal apex. How long will it be sung? My feet were set upon the rock but it turned to mud and drew me down. It licks the panes and smokes the glass."
The incoherent mumbles echoed through the cavern as Bishop made his way down towards the man. He sheathed his sword, determined not to scare him. He really didn't want to be forced to kill him after all that shit that he just went through.
"Hey," Bishop interrupted him carefully.
The old man snapped to attention and he just stood there, staring at Bishop for a long while.
"Yes, yes. You are here, good," he nodded assuredly afterwards.
What?
"You are here to help me breach it. The ice entombs the heart. The bane of Kagrenac and Dagoth Ur. To harness it is to know. The fundaments. The Dwemer lockbox hides it from me. The Elder Scroll gives insight deeper than the deep ones, though. To bring about the opening. But there is one more hurdle."
Did he just say 'Elder Scroll'? That was a good sign, right?
"Look… I don't know anything about that. I came here to ask about the Elder Scrolls. I'm… looking for one," Bishop said uncertainly.
"Elder Scrolls. Indeed. The Empire. They absconded with them. Or so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they thought they saw. I know of one. Forgotten. Sequestered. But I cannot go to it, not poor Septimus, for I... I have arisen beyond its grasp," the man sighed while he continued looking thoughtfully at one of the icy walls of the cavern.
Bishop's eyes followed his. He hadn't even noticed it before – there was something behind the ice, a barrier or a door, made out of Dwemer metal for sure. The familiar gold-bronze glint refracted in the glittering ice clinging to it.
Wait… what did that hermit just say?
He 'knew of one'?!
"You know about a Scroll? Where is it?" Bishop asked instantly.
"Beneath. You see this masterwork of the Dwemer. Deep inside their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever among men, but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach? 'Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept."
Blackreach? Bishop has never heard of it. Was it one of the Dwemer cities? The name was definitely now Dwemer.
"I've never heard of it. Where is it?" he insisted. At least there seemed to be some answers hidden behind this man's inane prattle.
"Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock."
Fuck, was the fool rhyming now? And 'Alftand'? Bishop knew where that was! It was near Saarthal. It was one of the ruins that Thorn had considered having explored by his men in his quest for Dwemer metals.
But what was it about a 'key'?
"What key?" Bishop asked impatiently. It was a bit tiring to talk to this guy, but at least he was getting somewhere.
"There!" Septimus exclaimed and pointed towards the Dwemer barrier encrusted in ice.
What? The key was there? How was he supposed to get it?! It was blocked by ice and metal.
"The key is with the lockbox. The lockbox reveals the heart. The heart of a god. The heart of you. And me. But it was hidden away. Not by the Dwarves, you see. They were already gone. Someone else. Unseen. Unknown. Found the heart, and with a flair for the ironical, used dwarven trickery to lock it away," Septimus approached the ice and laid a hand on it as he began slowly, almost reverently, stroking over it. It was kind of disturbing.
"But Septimus found a way, you see! But he cannot leave, he cannot abandon the work of the Dwarves. Someone else might find it and trick it away from Septimus again," the man was almost seething as he said it. He still kept his hand on the ice, this time a little… possessively.
"I made a deal, you see. He asked for a price, a few lives, but for the secrets, we must comply," Septimus's voice went quiet and he quickly rushed away from the ice towards the conspicuous cabinet. How did this man even get an entire cabinet into this cave across the ice field? He reached out on one of the shelves and took out a strange… device.
It was made out of Dwemer metal and it was kind of large. It had a big metal box with strange glass tubes visible inside and a long needle at the end. Upon the box, there was a small bowl-like orifice with a black soul gem protruding from it.
This looked… disturbing. Did he say he needed a few 'lives'?
"Dwemer blood and Dwemer soul can loose the hooks, but none alive remain to bear them. A panoply of their brethren could gather to form a facsimile. A trick. Something they didn't anticipate, no, not even them. The lifeblood and the essence of the mer. The elves still living provide the key. All their kinds, one of each. Lifeblood. Alive. Only live blood has that power." Septimus approached Bishop and pressed the strange contraption into his hands, again with an odd reverence.
"You gather, Septimus guards and watches. The lock will be loose once you return and the lockbox will await. Along with the key," Septimus left the device in Bishop's hands and rushed back to the wall. He again laid a hand upon it and started running it over the ice.
Fuck… what? He needed to gather the blood and souls of all the elven races? That was what the device was for? And… they had to be alive through it?
Well… as disturbing as that sounded, there was no shortage of bandits that he could use for that particular task, but what about the souls? He couldn't soul trap people! He had no idea how!
Maybe an enchantment? He certainly had no illusions about learning a spell.
This was getting complicated.
Fuck, it was not like he had expected it to be easy.
Still… soul trapping was fucking creepy.
But… if it led to the Elder Scroll… there were worse things that the man could have asked for. Probably.
Bishop decided not to think too much about what Septimus had said about that 'heart of god'. It didn't sound too good.
Maybe there would be another way. There was still some hope that Esbern would come up with an alternative.
But for now, he had this.
Maybe as a last resort.
He should tell Aeyrin.
He got strangely excited about that. Even though she would likely not be too happy about the means to obtain this 'key', it was still progress. It could make her feel more hopeful about everything about this whole ordeal.
And besides, he could see her again. It was the perfect excuse.
He couldn't help but smile to himself briefly.
There was no time to waste on drinking. He needed to write to Aeyrin and meet up with her as soon as he could.
He considered pressing Septimus for more information on the Scrolls, but just the thought of prolonging that conversation gave him a headache.
He'd better go write to Aeyrin right away.
…
Bishop looked over the letter one last time.
.
Princess,
I found something interesting you need to know about. Can we meet? Maybe Morthal? Seems like it's the only place both of us can show our faces in lately. I'll be heading there first thing in the morning.
Bishop
.
He folded the letter and stuffed it into the small Imperial Courier Service mailbox by the Frozen Hearth.
With luck, the letter would reach her soon. And at least Morthal was practically in the middle of Skyrim. Wherever she was right now, she could get there relatively fast.
He hoped so anyway.
He wanted to see her again, no matter where they left off the last time.
Whatever happened, however uncomfortable their exchanges got, he couldn't help but to want to be around her, despite all that.
It hurt to know that she didn't feel the same.
But perhaps someday soon, she would again. If she needed time, so be it.
But it was getting harder and harder to give her any.
…
The familiar pleasant voice greeted Bishop the second he entered Moorside Inn.
She was already there. It made him strangely happy.
His eyes locked on her instantly when he was still at the threshold into the common room.
She was standing in front of a small crowd with her lute in hand. Her cheeks reddened the second she noticed him for some reason, but she continued her performance with determination.
He searched the floor for her pack until he noticed it by an empty table with only a tankard on it. He made his way there and slumped his own pack on the ground while motioning for the Redguard innkeeper to bring him some mead.
He then looked back at Aeyrin right away and began watching her as she sang for the excited crowd. No wonder they were excited – any reprieve from the Orc 'bard' must have been welcome in Morthal, especially if it involved her singing.
A few seconds later he realized why she got so bashful when she saw him.
She sang some sad song about a lost love. It spoke of regret and longing.
He wondered if she chose to sing that because she felt that way too.
He kind of hoped that she did.
It was a strange feeling, hearing her sing those words, watching her like that. He suddenly felt like he was intruding on something private. He noticed her turn her eyes to him several times during the song, but when she always found him watching, she averted them instantly with a fierce blush on her cheeks.
Fuck, how he loved that sight.
It was much more comforting than if she weren't affected by those lyrics at all. It made him… hopeful.
He watched her intently until she finished her song, never taking his eyes off her. She was so beautiful when she was singing. And even more so when she got flustered every time their eyes met.
The fact that this sight was a rare occurrence lately left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The crowd started to clap in excitement and she bowed slightly with a wry smile. She didn't linger among them for long though. She grabbed her lute and slowly approached the table with her cheeks still bright red.
"Hey, princess," Bishop gave her a warm smile.
She returned the smile and sat herself down opposite him while she laid her lute down by her pack again.
She hadn't sung anywhere in ages. She wasn't even sure what had made her do it that night. Maybe she was trying to distract herself from thinking too much – she'd already spent one entire day in that inn, waiting for Bishop. It wasn't really a good place to keep her head cleared, especially without anything else occupying her mind. The song that popped into her head only served to assure her that her efforts at distraction were unsuccessful.
It was kind of embarrassing to have Bishop walk in on that. But then again, in a strange way, it made her happy that he heard.
She never wanted him to think that she was trying to forget him, or dismiss her feelings for him. There was no denying them after all, even if her anger at times suggested otherwise.
The way he was looking at her during the performance… it made her stomach all aflutter, like it always used to. She missed that feeling.
There was a bit of awkward silence between them for a while and it certainly didn't help to ease the blushing.
But after quite some time, Bishop mercifully broke the silence.
"You'll never believe what happened to me," he smirked while he shook his head in his own disbelief.
"Oh really? You'll never believe what happened to me!" she laughed at him. Even back in the Reach, she kind of hoped to have someone to talk about everything that had transpired. Bishop came to her mind instantly back then.
"Yeah? You first then. My story's really not for the public ears," Bishop winked at her conspiratorially. It was undoubtedly about his heist in Winterhold.
She grabbed a hold of her tankard with a wry smile and started to weave her tale.
…
"I still don't get why they would kidnap the Forsworn," Bishop scowled before he took another swig from his tankard.
They've been spending the evening there with plenty of drinks and food, discussing what Aeyrin had witnessed in the Reach. It was surprisingly comfortable – no awkward moments, no sudden bouts of fighting based on any wrong word. Maybe they needed something else to concentrate on and talk about besides their uncertain relationship.
"Robin said that the noble kidnapped them because she thought that they were Briarhearts. But I don't get why she would keep experimenting on them when she found out that they weren't. Maybe she hoped to force them to divulge some secrets, I don't know," Aeyrin shrugged with a disturbed frown on her face.
"'Briarhearts'?" Bishop raised his brow at her. It sounded vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure that he'd heard that word in regards to the Forsworn before, but he had no idea what it was referring to.
"Oh, it's some kind of magic. Necromancy I think. Cael mentioned them to me back when I was at their camp. He said that they use some magical briars to replace the hearts of their fallen to have them fight for them again," she explained. She didn't really understand it herself and it sounded somewhat… odd. She never really liked the idea of necromancy altogether, but if the souls had already moved on to Aetherius, there was probably not that much harm in it.
"Briars for hearts? That sounds fucking creepy. Why would the noble want to study it? If she needs zombies can't she just study regular necromancy? Maybe avoid having a fucking Forsworn tribe target her?" Bishop rolled his eyes. He wasn't exactly fond of the Forsworn, but provoking them like that was just stupid. The noble deserved whatever she got for that kind of idiocy.
"That's what I wondered too. Azshan wouldn't tell me anything afterwards. He said that he didn't know anything about the experiments, just that the noble wanted to study the Forsworn. He said that he was just asked for help and so he helped," Aeyrin sighed. After what happened though, she wasn't exactly sure whether he wasn't privy to more than he let on.
"How does the dragon fit in?" Bishop pondered after a while.
"Coincidence, I think. I doubt that Azshan wanted me to know about the Forsworn at all. They were just there at the exact same time when he took me to that place to get rid of the dragon."
"Why did he call you like that? Couldn't he have just told the Order and have them move it or something? Don't they always do that? Not like he had to fess up about the Forsworn to them either," Bishop kept pondering about the strange circumstances while he idly twirled his tankard in his hand.
"I don't know, it really seemed like he was trying to keep the Order out of it at all costs. I don't know why. Probably because of the kidnappings. Besides, they couldn't have just moved it. It was one of those colorful ones. It probably reawakened too fast for that," Aeyrin shook her head somberly. It all still seemed a little strange. How did the noble garner such loyalty from Azshan that he would go to such lengths to protect her holdings? Was it really just about appeasing the malcontents after the attacks near Solitude? If so, why keep it a secret? That was what the Order wanted, wasn't it?
Bishop's brows rose at that. She almost forgot with all those thoughts about Azshan that they had been talking about the dragon before. "Really? Were you… alright?" he studied her carefully with a concerned look, as if he wanted to determine the answer like that even after all this time.
"Yeah. I mean… it was… bad. But I managed in the end," she gave him a weak smile. Even if having Azshan there didn't make it miraculously easier, it was comforting. And it could have been much worse. She could have passed out again.
Or died.
Well there was no reason to think about that.
There was a moment of silence as Bishop stared into his tankard for a while with a deep scowl. She knew what he was thinking – about her running around after the dragons. But she had no desire to discuss this again. It made her feel bad enough the last time.
"So, that was it, I guess. Azshan went back to Solitude and I got your letter a day later," she smiled in an adamant attempt to get the conversation back to the subject of their adventures. "Honestly, I didn't expect to beat you here," she grinned.
"You didn't. But you weren't here yet and I was not gonna spend days here alone suffering through that Orc's squawking," Bishop smirked. "Besides, Karnwyr would have been lonely."
It wasn't the only reason why he had camped out in the wilderness for the last two days. If he was spending all his time sitting at the tavern and waiting for her, unsure whether she would even come, he would inevitably spend the entire time drowning in spirits.
He was not gonna be drunk out of his mind when she finally showed up.
Out there in the wilderness, he could at least spend time hunting with Karnwyr.
Aeyrin chuckled a bit at that. She had barely even registered the Orc bard at the inn. It almost became an integral part of her trips to Morthal. It wouldn't feel the same without him and without Bishop's constant complaints about him.
"So, what about you? What is this 'something' you found?" she looked at him curiously.
"I'll get to that. But… probably best not to discuss all that here," he looked around the tavern. It was unusually full, likely in part because of Aeyrin's earlier performance. He would certainly prefer not to talk about the heist there. And talking there about the Elder Scrolls and all that Dragonborn business was probably not the best idea either. They were still keeping most of it a secret to avoid needless panic.
"Come on, then. I already paid for a room." Aeyrin got up from her seat eagerly.
She was getting really curious.
…
"I can't believe you did that!" Aeyrin laughed heartily, clutching her stomach as she lay on the bed. It took some effort for her to calm down enough before she managed to look up at Bishop with another barely subdued snicker. "You of all people, let Brelyna experiment on you?! After what happened last time?"
"Hey! You let her experiment on you too!" Bishop chuckled back at her. He lodged the heels of his boots to the edge of the bed and started to rock on the small rickety chair that he had been lounging on. "You're not one to talk."
"But I didn't know what I was getting into! You did! And you still went through with it!" she laughed loudly again. She could only imagine the angry outbursts when the spell went wrong.
"It actually sounded like a good idea," he grumbled defensively, but her giddiness was too contagious. He couldn't help but laugh again along with her.
"How did you even manage to steal that book like that?" Aeyrin shook her head at him in amusement. And he called her stubborn! Who in their right mind would go through an elaborate heist while practically blind?
"I'm just that good, sweetness," Bishop smirked at her smugly and folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of pride.
She only giggled at him and rolled her eyes mockingly. It was somewhat impressive though. And his relentlessness in face of adversity had always been endearing to her.
"You know, that's not the only thing that I did there," Bishop smirked again as he let his feet fall from the bed, setting the chair back firmly on the ground. He leaned forward in it with a much more serious expression.
Aeyrin flopped onto her side while folding her arm under her head and she gave him a curious look. The mood switch certainly caught her attention.
"Well, I was supposed to pretend to be reading something there anyway, so I thought that I might as well make the best of it. I was looking into what they had on the Elder Scrolls."
"You did? And did you… wait… how in Oblivion did you read anything?" She peered at him in disbelief.
"Very slowly," Bishop chuckled. "It was a pain in the ass, but I had a lot of time to kill there. Better than doing nothing."
That was a fair point. If he didn't at least try to decipher any books, he would just spend hours staring into nothing.
"Anyway… I found… something," he scoffed a bit. He wasn't sure what to even call it. It was progress but… it still felt a bit unsettling. "First of all, if by some fucking miracle we actually have an Elder Scroll, you can't read it. At all," he gave her a surprisingly stern expression, as if he suspected right away that she would volunteer to read it. Not that she would expect herself to even comprehend something like an Elder Scroll. "I'm serious. At best, you wouldn't understand anything. But from what I gathered, if you did, you go blind like that," he snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Trust me, it's no fun," he smirked again.
Damn. She thought that the Moth Priests have only gone blind in their old age. Maybe they had a trick to it. Maybe they could ask them! Or she could just get one of them to read the Scroll, if that would be possible.
This was all, however, completely moot without actually having an Elder Scroll at a disposal. And did they need a specific one? Paarthurnax had never mentioned that.
"Alright… that's… good to know. But we don't actually have a Scroll," she smirked back at him.
"Right… that's the other thing. I might know where one is," Bishop watched her expression turn into shock and he quickly elaborated: "Well… kinda. There was this book… it didn't make any sense, so I asked the Orc about it. He said that the guy who wrote it was some expert on the Scrolls or some shit but that he wasn't exactly all there. He was living in an iceberg cave in the middle of the ice fields north of Winterhold," Bishop rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"I went to see him, in case he had something useful to say and he actually knew of a Scroll. He said that it was in some… Dwemer place, I think. Blackreach. Doesn't really sound that dwarven, but I guess that doesn't matter. He did imply that the place is reachable through one of the ruins – Alftand. But that it's… locked."
"'Locked'? So?" Aeyrin gave him a confused look. When did a lock ever stop him? Not that she expected him to delve into the ruins like that, but it baffled her why he even mentioned a lock. It all sounded strangely vague and… unfounded.
"I… I don't know, princess," Bishop sighed heavily. "The guy was really out of it. It was all vague shit. But… I mean, if the old man doesn't find any alternative on Alduin's wall, it… could be a lead, I guess," he shrugged uncertainly. It all sounded way more convincing and impressive in his head.
"That crazy guy said that he knew how to unlock the access to that Blackreach, but that the key was… locked too." Great, now he sounded crazy. "Well… there was this Dwemer wall or barrier and… fuck… just… I swear I'm not insane. Let me start over."
It took him some time to get through what he had gathered from the hermit's ramblings. He told Aeyrin that there was not much talking to him and that he couldn't really reasonably press for details. That hopefully gave his oddly vague report some credible excuse.
After he was done explaining, he fished around in his pack and pulled out the strange contraption. He sat beside Aeyrin on the bed and presented her with the odd large chunk of metal with an embedded black soul gem.
"Hmm…" She took it into her hands and looked it over curiously. "This seems… I don't know… dubious. I mean, I'm glad that we have a lead, but… I don't know," she sighed. Why did it feel so strange? It was still too vague. They had no idea what to even do with the Elder Scroll, or if it was really the one they needed. And harvesting blood… as unpleasant of an idea as it was, would it really matter? They killed bandits and other attackers all the time. Why not use it to help defeat the dragons?
The soul trapping was another matter.
In Cyrodiil, using black soul gems was very frowned upon. It may have even been illegal, she wasn't exactly sure. She'd never even seen one.
What did happen to people who got soul trapped? No one ever gave her a clear answer on that.
Maybe nobody knew.
"I don't know about using the soul gem," she sighed. She slowly ran her fingers over the hard edge of the glinting crystal. "I don't even know what happens to the souls that are trapped."
"It's creepy to think about, I guess," Bishop nodded in understanding. "But we use soul gems all the time anyways. What's the difference?"
"Those aren't people in there," Aeyrin scowled again at the pitch black gem while she tilted the device from side to side to study it. She wasn't sure why. There was not much to see. It was an empty black soul gem, nothing more.
"Yeah, it's animals and shit. You don't know what happens to them either. And truth be told, if anything I would feel guilty about stuffing animals in there first," Bishop grinned at her.
She snorted in amusement. He was right about them using other soul gems without a second thought. And she'd always been convinced that once the soul gem is depleted again, the soul passes onto the beyond. It made sense, right? And she knew that people in Skyrim weren't that concerned with these gems as those in Cyrodiil. Maybe the Empire just sowed the hatred of that particular magic practice to prevent people getting slaughtered only for their souls.
"Yeah… well… it's an option for now. Always good to have those," she smiled at Bishop gratefully. Honestly, she had never expected him to take such initiative in the search for those Scrolls. More often than not, he seemed much more eager to try and convince her to abandon her Dragonborn duties, or to just pretend that none of it was happening. She understood. She would have preferred those options too.
But that was unfair of her again. He may have complained and tried to urge her away from all that danger, but he always knew that she would never be able to leave the people of Skyrim to die by the dragons. He always supported her through the whole situation, always stood by her side and tried to make the best of things. She should have expected this from him.
"Thank you for looking into this," she smiled again. "We should probably wait for Esbern's findings, but at least we have one lead now."
'We'. Bishop had noticed her saying that ever since he started to talk about all this dragon business. He wasn't sure if she even realized it. Maybe it was just natural for her to assume that he would be there with her along for the ride when it came to this.
It made him really happy. He wanted nothing more.
It was hard enough not being there with her throughout all the dragon battles, not knowing if she survived them. There was no chance in Oblivion that he would let her go through all this shit, go against the fucking World-Eater without him to watch her back through all of it.
Aeyrin looked down on the device in her hands again.
Should she… keep it?
Or should she give it back to him?
A few months ago, it wouldn't have even been anything to question. It wouldn't have mattered at all. They were together all the time.
Things seemed easier somehow back then. Whatever was happening, there was always something good in her life. He was something good in her life.
She missed it so much.
Why did she have to feel like this? Why couldn't things just go back to the way they were?
Bishop's hands suddenly wrapped around hers and he took the device from her gently. The touch left her all too soon and he grabbed his pack from the bed and stashed the item back inside. But his eyes still remained on her.
It all felt so pleasantly familiar right then. The odd tension in the air, the burn in her cheeks when he looked at her that intently.
She wasn't sure what to do anymore.
She knew that this wouldn't last. It never did. It was never like it used to be, not for long anyway. Sooner or later, everything would come crashing down upon her. The hurt, the anger, all of it always came back.
But she wanted to leave it forgotten so much. At least for now.
Bishop seemed to notice her strange fluster instantly. She averted her eyes down onto the bed, but she could still feel his gaze upon her, studying her.
Instinctively, she brushed her hair behind her ear, only to have her fingers brush against the distorted tip yet again. She hated when she did that. It always gave her a strange lump in her throat for some reason.
Her hand fidgeted to push her hair back over her ear, but before she could finish, Bishop interrupted her. His own hand quickly darted towards her and he cupped her cheek. She looked up at him in surprise and her hand dropped from her hair as his thumb briefly rubbed over her skin. He moved his palm further away, letting his fingers brush against her ear – first very gently and carefully, but after a second, he started to stroke up and down its length.
He kept his eyes fastened on hers the entire time and his lips quirked up slightly.
She feared that she would see the familiar look of pity on his face, like everyone seemed to give her lately, but there was none.
There was only affection and longing.
It was so comforting.
She just wanted to feel like this longer.
Without a second thought she leaned forward briskly and pressed her lips against his.
Bishop didn't react at first, caught off guard. The movement of his hand on her ear stopped, but he didn't withdraw.
She slowly parted her lips and placed her hand on his neck, stroking over his unkempt stubble.
Gods, he still didn't move! Did he not want to…?
Just as the brief bout of panic threatened to set in, his own lips pressed firmly against hers and his hand clutched quite firmly at her ear while his other hand snaked around her waist eagerly.
Oh, thank the Divines.
She was worried that she had messed everything up, that she did something that would make everything between them even worse.
But she was so glad for this just then.
It was like finding something she didn't even know she needed.
But she needed this.
Right then, she needed him.