Author's Note:

Okay, surprise, surprise: this is an angsty chapter :D It is one of my favorite angsty chapters though so I really hope you'll enjoy it :)

In the middle of the chapter we get another flashback section just like at the end of the first book. In fact, this flashback directly follows the events of the previous one and sometimes it refers to them. If you want to refresh your memory, which I definitely recommend, it was in chapter 147 (CXLVII) 'A Lone Cabin' :) The flashback formatting is again the same as it was then.

Enjoy and thank you for reading :3

Chapter XXVI – A Good Place

Walking through the Rift's forests always used to make him feel better.

He could clear his head in the fresh air and the scent of aspen trees. In a month or two the crisp autumn air would make the experience even better. In the past, he could spend days there, alone with Karnwyr, lazing around the forests, hunting, away from people. Away from everything.

Somehow, now, the image just seemed… hollow.

There was something… someone prominently missing from it.

As Bishop walked around, wading through the fallen leaves, all he could think about was that just a year ago, he spent so much time here with her. It felt so carefree back then. Just the three of them with no looming prophecies, unconcerned about his haunted past, just enjoying each other's company.

That was over now.

Whatever happened, whatever was between them, he destroyed it with a few words.

He alternated between seething anger and deep regret. He needed to end that mockery of a relationship. It was killing him, seeing her so detached, always just leaving after she was satisfied with her 'distractions'.

But that didn't change anything about how he felt.

He still loved her, more than he ever loved anyone. He still needed her. He still wanted her back. He knew that she didn't try to hurt him out of spite. He knew that she didn't fully realize what she had been doing to him. Her confusion was plain enough. She didn't have it in her to fake that.

But he couldn't take more of that. Her intentions didn't change the effect it had on him. He couldn't just go on like that.

And now it was all over, leaving him alone again and… empty.

He wasn't even angry at her. Not really. He was angry back at Dragon Bridge, but that anger waned much quicker than it usually did. With every step, the weight of what was left unsaid subsided from him. And as he made his way through the thicket of the Haafingar forests, any remaining resentment got steadily replaced by sorrow and regret. He didn't regret the fight. He needed to tell her what she was doing to him. He needed to make her see that if she really didn't want to ruin them, like she always said, this wasn't the way. But he regretted leaving. He regretted giving up.

It was quite possible that if he had stayed, she would have just ended things instead of him. Maybe this was why she was that detached. Maybe she didn't feel the same way about him anymore. Maybe she didn't love him anymore.

But he still should have stayed and let her tell him if that was the case.

Fuck, he really hoped that it wasn't.

But did it even matter now? He didn't stay. He left. He ended things and he left.

He couldn't believe that he was the one who ended things. That was not what he wanted at all! He just wanted it to stop. He wanted her to stop leaving, to stop being miles away when they were together. He just wanted to move forward instead of stagnating in a state of constant uncertainty.

He didn't want her gone from his life. He couldn't stand the thought.

It had been over two days already and he still couldn't stop thinking about her.

If she came back to him, he would never turn her away. Fuck, at times he even felt like falling at her feet and begging her to forget that he had ever said that he was 'done', even if she was the one who hurt him. Maybe he deserved that. He did so many shitty things to her when he was trying to cover up his lies.

Fuck, maybe he should write to her. Maybe he should beg.

But if he did that, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything would go back to the way it was – the casual sex, the unpleasant feelings of losing her day by day.

No, he was not going back to that.

But he couldn't stand the thought of everything just… ending.

Fuck, this was so fucking frustrating. He didn't know what to do anymore.

Karnwyr nuzzled his leg with a low whine as they marched on aimlessly. The wolf did nothing but try to comfort him in the past couple of days, but none of it worked. As much as Bishop appreciated his attempts, nothing would help him fill that void after Aeyrin.

He just absentmindedly scratched Karnwyr behind his ear to acknowledge his attempt, but he still walked on with his head hung low. He didn't have it in him to pretend that his friend made him feel better.

He wouldn't have fooled him anyway.

Not to mention that the wolf seemed just as depressed as he was.

They walked further for a while in complete silence, undisturbed, before the corner of Bishop's eye caught something familiar.

He didn't even realize that they were already so close to Riften, but there it was.

Bishop looked up, staring at the old moldered decrepit wooden cottage with an empty trampled garden in the front and a half-finished porch void of any furnishing.

That place.

He hadn't thought about it for a while now.

…

Bishop dragged Jules's half-limp body forward adamantly.

They were almost there. Just a few more paces. It was hard to move and Jules's weight was getting worse by the second. At first, he needed support, but he stayed on his feet. Then one of the feet began dragging, and now he was practically dead weight. But it didn't matter. They were almost there. Bishop would get him there even if he had to drag ten times this weight.

It was dumb luck that Jules got hurt so close to this place. Hopefully their luck would hold and the old hag wasn't out somewhere. Or dead.

Karnwyr bolted towards the door of the old cabin when they were almost there and he began barking and scratching on the wood like mad. Bishop and Jules didn't even manage to reach the door before the old witch swung it open and her eyes fell on the wolf.

Thank the fucking Gods that she was here.

"Would ya look at that? Old pups comin' back again," she chuckled lightly and outstretched her hand to greet the wolf. She could barely bend down anymore in her old age, but Karnwyr was more than eager to hoist himself up, outstretching his head into her hand to let her ruffle his fur affectionately.

The witch's eyes rested on Bishop at last as he dragged his bleeding brother to the woman's threshold.

"Shoulda known as much. Well, come, come, boy, get'im inside."

Fortunately, it didn't take long then before Bishop managed to get Jules inside the cabin and down the witch's basement, although the steps did force him to carry Jules in his arms instead of supporting him. It was easier and he would have killed himself on those steps otherwise. When they made it downstairs, Bishop laid Jules down carefully on the cot there while the old woman approached. He pointed to Jules's shoulder, previously pierced by the bandit's arrow, and the witch started to unfasten his armor to uncover the wound with surprising deftness and speed in her old shaky fingers. No matter her age, she was still the most skilled healer Bishop had ever met. Nobody else could have ever kept Jules alive after they arrived in Skyrim, after they had spent so long living in the forest, filthy and barely scraping by.

She could help him. He was sure of it.

True, Jules's disease had progressed considerably after Thorn had kept him in that fucking corpse pit. And he was older. They always knew that it would get worse with age regardless of other circumstances.

But… she COULD still save him, right? It was too soon. Bishop wasn't ready to lose him. Not like this. Not for such fucking stupid reasons. Not for some fucking stubbornness and pettiness.

Bishop retreated a little bit away from the cot to give the witch some space and he leaned on one of the walls nearby. He still made sure to be close enough to see everything though. She would help him. She always did. She had to. She had to…

"Will he be alright?" he couldn't stop himself and asked before she even managed to uncover the wound completely.

"Don't ya nag me, boy! I'll do what I can, you know that," the witch snapped at him.

Of course, he should have expected that scolding answer. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head incredulously. Why did Jules have to go with him? He knew how dangerous this was! It was EXACTLY why Bishop kept him out of these things! He KNEW that something like this would have happened. As if Jules didn't have it hard enough already, why the fuck did he insist on making his condition worse by stunts like this?

Bishop closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head against the wall, huffing out in anger. All of this for nothing. His seething only got interrupted when Karnwyr nuzzled against his leg comfortingly before he let out an encouraging bark.

Bishop couldn't help but smile a little at that.

The wolf was right. It would be fine. The witch would heal Jules, like she always did, and then he could take care of those fucking bandits alone before he could get Jules back to his healer.

Safe and sound.

…

Jules sat up groggily on the cot, rubbing his sore shoulder.

He looked around his surroundings in confusion and scratched his stubbly jaw vigorously as he tried to make sense of things. He always did that. He always scratched his face in such a strange exaggerated manner when he was confused. He kind of looked like an animal trying to get rid of its fleas.

After looking around for a while, around the various cabinets and cupboards laden with potions and poultices, finally he seemed to remember what happened and his eyes fell on Bishop. He instantly fixed him with a wry and rather unapologetic smile.

Asshole.

Bishop let out a deep sigh of relief. He kind of wanted to punch him, but instead he approached the cot and ruffled Jules's thick black mane with a disapproving shake of his head.

"See, boy? Told ya he'd be fine," the old witch scoffed and approached Jules again. She promptly took some concoction from the table by the cot and offered it to Jules.

"Noo," Jules whined with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Don't you get fussy with me, ya little rascal!" She practically shoved the bottle into Jules's hand and threw him a threatening stare. That would definitely do it. It was a good thing that the woman knew how to deal with Jules's manipulations – he always knew how to get what he wanted and to get out of whatever he wanted to avoid. But the witch never let those looks stop her. Fortunately. Jules needed all the help he could get managing his condition, whether he wanted it or not.

Jules sighed in defeat and started to drink slowly while his face twisted into a disgusted grimace. He stopped half-way through with a resounding 'BLEH', but the witch still stared at him threateningly until he downed the potion to the last drop.

"Good boy," she patted his head when he teasingly opened his mouth and rolled out his tongue to show her that he drank everything diligently. "So, what brings you two to my neck o' the woods again?" she smirked a second later.

"Thorn," Bishop nodded with palpable disgust in his voice.

"You boys back to chasin' your tails under'is thumb? Aye, aye. Everyone's back sooner or later," the witch shook her head somewhat regretfully. She would know. She had been in the forest forever, even before Thorn. Or at least she claimed as much. But she did always know what was happening in the area – who was coming and going, who was robbing and killing who. And she knew a lot about Thorn's gangs.

"Yeah… well… we had a way out for a while. Didn't pan out," Bishop growled back bitterly. It would have all worked back in the Thieves Guild were it not for fucking Raven. Bishop couldn't fathom how Jules could still make excuses for that two-faced traitor. That little shit deserved his tongue cut out and a blade in his spine for always blabbing his secrets and backstabbing people.

"With the sticky fingers? Ne'er does. That's how it goes," the witch nodded knowingly. Easy for her to talk… she got out of that shitstorm right before Thorn took over the clans. Bishop still had no idea just how she knew so much about Thorn and his gangs, or his connections to the Guild, for that matter. He also had no idea how she still survived on Thorn's turf for so long without being a part of all this. But while she did always claim to know everything going on in Falkreath, the witch was surprisingly stingy with her secrets. Bishop really wished that she would enlighten him. Maybe then he could use the same tactics to get away from all that shit.

"It was his fault, granny," Jules's face twisted into a mock pout before he grinned playfully and pointed at Bishop. He was still acting like a fucking child in front of the hag. He always put on the face that suited him the best.

Bishop smiled weakly at his teasing, but it was more hurtful than amusing. Especially since… he wasn't exactly wrong about that.

"It's the fault of youth, boy, so don't pout. Bein' stupid comes with age," the witch swatted at the hand pointing at Bishop and Jules quickly clasped it to his chest, letting out a feigned cry of pain.

Bishop already knew that excusing his mistakes with the 'stupidity of youth' may have been tempting, but it wasn't comforting at all. They were still there to reap the fallout of those mistakes. And how would youth help with that?

The witch retreated from the cot to rummage in one of her cabinets before she located a poultice and another concoction. She returned back to Jules momentarily, eliciting another whine from him, but she fixed him with another stern glance and handed him the potion. Yet again, Jules wrinkled his nose, but this time he drank it all in one go. When he was done, the old hag prompty started to rub the poultice into his sore shoulder, massaging it into the skin.

"You two still in the old tower?" she asked wistfully as she rubbed the substance over the squirming half-Khajiit.

"Not that often anymore," Bishop sighed. He would have even preferred it. As decrepit as Nilheim was, at least he felt at ease there. Lost Knife was far from a comfortable place. Especially with every bandit scum always nagging him to tell them about the 'legendary feats of the Thrice-Banished'. Ugh. He fucking hated that. He fucking hated that the bandits knew who he and Jules were. If they didn't, they would leave them alone with this shit. And so would Thorn.

Then again, Thorn would have just killed them a long time ago if it weren't for their clan-name.

Anything about Thorn was just shitty, no matter what.

"You boys get cold there, huh?" The witch continued to make idle talk about the tower.

If only that was the reason. Thorn mostly wanted them in the caverns – he was not going to be traipsing towards Nilheim every time he needed Bishop for another shitty job. And it was better for Jules to be in a more comfortable bed with that healer of his around. What did he say her name was again?

"Pfft, we can handle cold," Bishop scoffed at her.

"Speak for yourself!" Jules scowled at him. "It's SO cold, granny! And Thorn makes me stay there some nights even!" he pouted again in an exaggerated manner.

"You're still the same little spoiled brat," the witch chuckled affectionately at Jules. "How can you be cold with all that fur on you?" To accentuate her point, she grabbed a handful of the poultice and slapped it onto Jules's chest, right into the thick patch of hairs there.

Jules wrinkled his nose and dipped his fingers into the substance with palpable disgust, trying his hardest to clean himself from it.

"Lucky for you, I can't resist those big eyes of yours," she reached out for the wet cloth that she had used previously to clean Jules's wound and she started to clean the mess she made on his chest herself. When that was done, she grabbed Jules's hand and cleaned his fingers off the substance too. He gave her a bright grateful smile in turn, but it disappeared into his regular pout the second she dipped her hand in the poultice again reached towards his shoulder.

"Ya know what, boys?" She mused after a while, with an absentminded look in her eyes, as she continued to coat Jules's shoulder. "Feck it. I ain't leavin' this hovel. Too much shit out there if ya ask me," she scowled bitterly before continuing. "Tell ya what, you boys are resourceful. You ever need a place to hide in, there's this ol' place by Riften. It's a feckin' wreck, but it's mine. Needs a lot of fixin' and taxes are a pain. You take it off my old hands," she nodded resolutely.

"Seriously?!" Jules perked up instantly. If he had a tail, Bishop was pretty sure it would start to wiggle excitedly just then. What the fuck was he so excited about? Some old ruined house? They barely had enough money to keep Jules alive with the remedies he needed – not to mention food and antidotes after Thorn's creative punishments. Nothing was free under that asshole's thumb. They couldn't afford shit like fixing up houses and paying taxes. And this was all pointless anyway. They couldn't keep shit.

"We don't need your charity," Bishop growled. Even if they COULD actually have it, what were they gonna do with some old hovel?

"Bishop!" Jules chastised him. Fuck, he was all too eager to accept anything anyone offered him.

"Now, now, don't be stupid, boy. It's smart not to agree to suspect gift, but have I ever steered ya wrong?" the witch smirked. "Tell'im, pup!"

Karnwyr barked excitedly in accord. He seemed so giddy to be addressed by her. That wolf got attached too easily – he still seemed to carry a torch for the old woman, even after all this time. But that shouldn't have been that surprising. She raised and took care of the pup after all. Before he got attached to Bishop.

And… she had a point. She's been nothing but helpful to Bishop and Jules through all the time they knew her. He still didn't see the fucking point in this. But she was old, she likely wanted her property to pass on to someone she knew. Otherwise the city would just sell it off. Unless they already did. She DID say that she wasn't paying the taxes on that shit.

Ah well… whatever. They could sell it off if they wanted. It was not like HE cared. But there was no reason not to indulge her just now.

"Fine. Whatever," Bishop groaned in annoyance. It still wasn't as simple as she had imagined it though. "Not like we can use it unless we want Thorn to take it from us anyway," he scoffed derisively. As if Thorn would ever let them have any actual property. They were lucky they got to keep their armor and weapons.

"Someday then, boy. Told ya, you're resourceful," the witch smiled at him with a shake of her head. She never minded his complaining much. She would always go on about whatever she wanted anyway. "And when ya decide to finally be clever too, you'll have a place to put down roots."

Pfft, as if they would ever get a chance at something like that.

...

Bishop entered the old decrepit cottage a little uncertainly, leaving the open door creaking in the wind loudly behind him. The noise was jarring though and he quickly closed it, right after Karnwyr moved inside as well, before he finally looked around the place.

There was not much to see inside – old moldered cabinets, a few rusty pots by the empty fireplace and a myriad of cobwebs. There was a bedframe, waiting for a mattress, if only it hadn't been cracked in several places too.

This shithole had definitely seen better days.

Bishop moved towards one of the wooden walls in the room, right by the stone fireplace, and he slid down alongside it to sit on the ground. He leaned his back to the wall and waited for Karnwyr rush over to him. The wolf curled next to him on the floor, laying his head onto his thigh with a calm huff, as he let Bishop rub him behind his ear.

For some weird reason, this creepy old place actually felt pretty… soothing and comforting.

It had apparently passed onto him when the old witch died. He even got an official letter from the Jarl – with the deed and everything. Especially with the rather threatening note urging him to pay off the debts on this place. Bishop wasn't sure where that deed had ended up though. He wasn't all too concerned with keeping it at that point in his life. If he ever wanted to own this place officially now, he would likely have to ask the Jarl for the copy and the key. And he would have to pay back the taxes that he technically owed.

After Jules died, Elisie told Bishop that the two of them planned to settle down in this place with their kid. Once the deal with the paladins panned out, they were to come here and start their family for the little time they had left before Jules's illness caught up to him.

But with Jules dead, Elisie was too afraid to stay in the Rift. With everything that happened, she feared that Thorn would find her and exact his revenge. It was understandable. He definitely would. Elisie and the kid needed to be as far away from that freak as possible. They needed to be kept safe and protected.

They were the only family that Bishop was even interested in knowing. Why wouldn't he? The kid – his niece, she reminded him of Jules from the moment she was born. And Elisie was a nice girl. A good and caring mother to the little one and she was always so determined to make their lives better. If only Jules was there to see them. To be with them.

But since he wasn't, Bishop was going to do whatever he could to keep them safe from Thorn and any other shit like that. He owed it to Jules.

Bishop ended up finding a place for them near the border between Hjaalmarch and Haafingar. For some reason, Elisie wanted to be close to Solitude. He knew why now – she still hoped that Casavir would keep his promise and help support her and the kid.

Well… she was right, kind of.

Now, when Elisie was gone, this place belonged only to Bishop.

He would have preferred it if it belonged to Jules, or at least to his family – he would have gladly given it to them. But… it was not like he had a choice in that.

But since it was still his, he… may have thought about it from time to time.

'A place to put down roots.'

For some reason, he had always liked the idea. When he would be ready to stop roaming the wilderness. When he would have the money to fix up the place. When he would need some peace and quiet.

This place was always here, waiting for him to return, to make it his own.

Right now, all that sounded better than ever.

Except the fact that he had no one to put down those roots with.

He never minded that fact before, but now he did. Now that he actually had someone that he wanted that life with. But he lost her. Just like he had lost everything else.

It would have been a good place… if he had her by his side.

He looked at the old broken bed wistfully. He imagined it all fixed with plenty of furs and blankets on the mattress to keep her warm. He could almost see her huddled in those blankets, opening her eyes lazily in the morning light.

His gaze moved to the old moldered cabinets on the other side of the room – there could be a table there where he would prepare the food he made for her while she was still asleep, waking her up with the scent of some of the sweet treats that she loved so much.

They could store all their trinkets and treasures from their adventures down in the basement. There was so much space there, they could be traveling and gathering shit for years and it would still fit all their loot and treasures. She could even put up a small shrine in there, if she wanted.

It would have been a good life… with her, here.

A safe space for them to retreat to to escape from all their worries, all their enemies one day. Their own house without housecarls or titles and shit like that. Just theirs.

Their home.

It would have been a good place.