A/N: Heya! I hope that everyone is doing alright! I'm super excited to get this chapter out and I hope to publish another sooner than not. Also, I am debating posting another story, this one likely about an OC in Rings of Power. Thoughts on that?

*Disclaimer*

*As always, I own only my OCs. The main plots and recognizable characters are from the brilliant minds of Bethesda's Elder Scrolls franchise writers.*

Chapter XI- Is that Emotional Vulnerability or Just Anxiety?

Lumi blinked, eyes burning a little as the sky gradually grew lighter. She had taken first watch for the night after having a brief breakdown in front of Martin. The memory of it left her burning with embarrassment. I'm the one ruining his life with dragonborn nonsense and he's promising to shoulder my burdens like I'm his thane? Self-loathing was a wonderful thing to experience, its sour needle poking deep into the chest and throat with every heartbeat. She was the Last Dragonborn, the lauded hero of Skyrim, defeater of the World Eater himself, and here she sat, unable to stomach the idea that her family was possibly lost to her. Bormahu had said they were on the right track, that they needed to stay the course. But what did that mean for those that she had left behind? The history books were clear: Martin Septim died saving Tamriel from Mehrunes Dagon. He mantled Akatosh and was unable to regain his mortal form, thus ending the line of the Septims and ushering in the start of the fourth era.

She was supposed to prevent his death; to teach him how to harness the innate power gifted to them by Bormahu so that he would have a better chance at defeating Dagon. That was her purpose. But if that happened, if Martin lived to truly take the throne, none of her knowledge of world events would matter. That world would be gone, permanently altered by her actions into something potentially unrecognizable. Martin surviving would mean no conflict between the members of the Elder Council, and no eventual Mede Dynasty to weaken through every successive generation. It would provide a basis for a strong Empire come the time when the Great War would have been fought. With a Septim on their side, would the Empire be able to dictate better terms? Would they even need to? Maybe the White-Gold Concordat would never be signed, and thus the civil war in Skyrim would not break out. That could be nothing but good for the Empire. Less people dying was always a good thing. But what if because of that, one of her ancestors never met their life partner? What if her parents, and thus, she and her siblings, were never born? How would that even work? She had to exist to go back in time and change things, but to go back in time and change things was to risk never existing.

As much as it hurt to admit, her family was lost to her until Bormahu made it otherwise; that much was undeniable, even to the surprisingly optimistic Martin. Still, Martin believed that Bormahu brought her there for a reason. They played a part in something larger than they could see, she would agree. And she would do them all no favors by wallowing in self-imposed misery. There was work to be done if they were to defeat Dagon and see Lumi return to her family eventually. She had traveled the length of Skyrim several times over, uncovering lost knowledge from the tombs of dragon priests, noblemen and women, doomed mages and cursed kings. She knew more shouts than the Greybeards could ever fathom mastering the understanding of. She would teach Martin all that she could and hope that things worked out in their favor.

Admittedly, Lumi had never tried to teach someone before. She had decided early on in her life that while her parents were gifted in the art of educating others, she herself was not. As she had mentioned to Martin the night before, she was aware of her tendency to talk well past the limits of her audience if the subject was one she enjoyed. It was well-known by her peers growing up, that she was a bit of a bookworm, with no idea of when to stop talking because no one wished to listen. They had been kind, in their own way, never outright telling her to shut up or stop talking. As she grew older though, the way they would look at one another as she waxed about the newest plant she'd researched, or the history of one of the pieces of art in Dragonsreach, became more and more obvious. So, she apologized until it had become as easy as breathing. Last night, Lumi had honestly forgotten herself as she spoke about Whiterun, enjoying talking about her home. It had made her feel, for just a moment, closer to those she had unwittingly left behind.

Martin had been kind though, and for that, she was grateful. In truth, he had been kind at possibly every interaction between them, though he had every reason to mistrust and dislike her. Hell, he had mistrusted her when she revealed the truth, only to apologize for it shortly after. It was like there wasn't a truly mean or spiteful bone in his entire body. Part of her did not trust it, the part that had seen one too many traps catch unsuspecting passersby feared unseen lures. Yet more of her was simply surprised that of all the things historians had left out of the books about his part in the Oblivion Crisis, it was his capacity for kindness. And speaking of kindness, Martin stirred from his place across the smoldering embers of the fire. She had told him she would wake him halfway through the night to assume the rest of the watch. She did not. He had had little to no sleep following the battle for Kvatch, while she had been able to rest against a surprisingly comfortable wall for the night. While tiredness dogged her steps, he needed the rest far more than she did. Lumi would content herself to truly resting only once they had reached Weynon Priory.

"Morning! You look like you slept well," she greeted the groggy Imperial cheerfully. He blinked at her, confusion clear as day on his face. Oh, there's some stubble growing on his cheeks and chin. She wondered what Martin would look like if he grew it out into a beard. The Nord frowned, eyes narrow as she considered the image.

"Why are you tilting your head like a bird this early in the morning?" Martin asked, making her jump a little. To her brief annoyance, he was right. At some point while thinking, she had tilted her head to the side, though how he got reminded of a bird she couldn't say. She quickly adjusted herself, shaking her head and snorting.

"Why are you so snarky this early in the morning?" Lumi replied, enjoying the way he rolled his eyes, the grey still cloudy with tiredness. Banter always came easiest when she was tired enough to let some of her walls down. Of course, that was also when she was most likely to have a breakdown like the night before. Moderation. That was what she would use.

Lumi reached into her bag and tossed the tired looking Imperial another apple before going to check on the horses. Both mares were already awake and clearly ready to get moving once more. Quilt's ears were perked and swiveled to listen to her as she walked closer. The pretty pinto was in a good mood, and eagerly accepted her offer of scratches against her cheek. Queen Rhae, on the other hand, was not so forgiving. The ornery bay mare pinned back her ears and stamped a foot, demanding to be let loose to graze and run.

"Don't worry, clever girl, you'll get plenty of chances to stretch those legs," she promised her as she worked to get both ready to ride. It was a quiet morning and the light continued to get brighter as she moved, tightening the different straps and double-checking that the saddlebags were safely secured. It wouldn't do for supplies to fall off and be grabbed by opportunistic bandits, after all. As she worked, Lumi hummed to herself.

"Alduin's wings, they did darken the sky. His roar fury's fire, and his scales sharpened scythes…"

The Tale of Tongues was a popular song across Skyrim of late, and one Lumi found to be a personal favorite. Alduin was a fearsome foe, one worthy of respect and admiration from all who spoke of him. Hatred too, for what he had done to their ancestors and their friends alike. But even in his darkness, it could not be contested that the firstborn was mighty. Still, what drew her in was not the way they described the great black dragon. Lumi loved that the song was hopeful, in spite of the heavy fear and darkness that had been beating against the backs of Skyrim's people. There was always hope to be had, no matter the direness of their times. The lyrics left a lingering question, though, at least to her own mind. If Alduin is eternal, then eternity's done. Eternity was a strange notion. Time in Tamriel seemed more cyclical than not, given the admittance of the existence of Kalpa cycles by even the eldest and most revered scholarly groups. How could eternity exist in a space between two worlds, one made and one yet to be? It was for minds wiser than her own to discern, that much was certain.

"What do your bards sing of, Martin?" Lumi called, back turned from the Imperial.

"Uh, heartbreak, love, revenge, the usual dramatic fare. Why?" He sounded confused, and she did not have to have much of an imagination to picture his face scrunching up at the oddity of her sudden question.

"Just curious. Bards in Skyrim don't sing of those things as often anymore."

"Oh,' he said, and she heard him walk closer, 'well what do your bards sing of then?"

Lumi turned her head and saw the man standing about a foot away, eyes less tired and more curious. She smiled and nodded in greeting.

"The usual,' she replied, 'foolish warriors, great battles, fierce shield-maidens, war, destruction and perceived slights."

Martin's face turned a little green even as he laughed. Lumi joined in, happy to have something other than internal crisis to think about so early in the day. After a moment, their laughter settled down and Martin's expression turned mildly reproachful. She swallowed dryly, already knowing what he was about to say.

"You were supposed to wake me so that I could take over the watch, Lumi," he reminded her, not unkindly. The Nord pursed her lips, trying not to frown and ruin the light mood.

"I know you did not get much if any sleep the night after the battle. And we traveled the whole of the next evening and day. You needed sleep more than I. Don't-,' she held up a hand as he made to speak and he paused, frowning, '-don't deny that you were exhausted, more so than you would admit. I will sleep tonight, do not worry. I cannot do as much to teach you as I would wish until we reach Weynon Priory and Jauffre. Allow me this. It was a small thing to do, and I will be fine."

Martin sighed heavily but nodded, conceding to her for now. She smiled softly and turned back to where she had left her bag, the supplies already stored away. Instead of going back to find the road, Martin and Lumi headed northeast and further into the forest, horses in tow. The ground was too uneven to commit to riding their mounts. Instead, they led them by their reins, keeping watch for anything that could trip the large animals or attack them. It was a pleasant day, though much of the sky was hidden by the canopy of the trees. Their leaves were big and green, reveling in the late spring sunlight.

Luckily, little tried to bother their small party for much of the day. Occasionally, a fox or hare would startle and shoot out from the underbrush near the deer trail they followed, making the horses whinny and stamp their hooves. Quilt was faster to be soothed but much easier to frighten, whereas Queen Rhae was the opposite, harder to soothe but much steadier when exposed to stress. It made for a mostly smooth experience, but as the day wore on, it was clear that they would not be leaving the trees for some time. Martin seemed to accept this with the ease of a long-time traveler, whereas Lumi felt the growing weight of her tiredness creeping in. She did not regret letting Martin sleep through the night, but she was feeling the full effects of that decision as they continued to navigate through the thick stands of oak, elm, and ash wood. Her eyes were heavy and steps low, tripping occasionally against the bumpy surface of the forest floor. Each time, Martin's eyes would follow her knowingly, a faint crease on his forehead the only outward sign of his feelings on the matter.

Little was said as they walked, and neither felt overly upset by the gentle silence stretching between them. In the absence of their voices, both could hear the stirrings of the forest around them. The leaves were loudest, brushing against one another to make a sound like rushing water. Birds called to each other in the branches of the trees and on the ground, their cries and warbles bouncing through the air and leaving strange echoes that made Lumi's ears ring. Just under that, the rustle of their clothes and the huffs from the horses, the thuds of their steps as they were muffled by a layer of fallen leaves and leaf mold. It was peaceful, with the sun's light dappling their figures and the world around them, turning it into something like what Lumi imagined the inside of a citrine to be: warm and effusive.

They were deep into the woods, the light lowering into late afternoon when Lumi felt the first hint of trouble. It was subtle, like most things tended to be, just a lingering itch against her shoulder. She might even have thought it the feeling of healing, given her shoulder's delicate state, had she not felt the itch travel to her face when glanced down to check that her weapons were still in place. Someone was watching them. Her lack of armor was something she felt keenly in that moment, as both her and Martin were in day clothes that did little to defend their bodies from would-be attackers. Out of the corner of her eye, Lumi saw Martin stiffen a little when he went to grab his waterskin. So, he had noticed it too. His grey-blue eyes flickered to her brown, and she blinked, shaking her head. It was an unspoken agreement that neither would act like they had noticed anything of import as they continued to travel. Instead, they kept their eyes on the trail as they had been, and strained their ears for signs of their stalker.

In a forest like the one they traveled through, there were innumerable places that a person could hide as they followed after them. But there were also clues they left behind. It was just a light thud, easily mistaken for one of the horses but just a half-second late. Then from the corners of their eyes, they could see the flicker of quick movement, dancing in and out of sight between the trees. It was more than one being. The only thing Lumi could not tell, was what followed them. In such a place, it could be poachers, bandits, thugs, thieves, assassins, even trolls or goblins, though of the latter two, such creatures would not likely choose stealth for their approach. Lumi could still recall the frost troll up on High Hrothgar. It had fought with all the subtlety of a half-blind, geriatric badger and none of the grace.

Ahead, a figure stepped out of the trees. It was a man, perhaps a Breton. His face was fair, with sharp cheekbones and a proud brow, under which sat two, bright hazel eyes. Blond hair, kept just long enough to show off a gentle wave, caught the sun's light and shone like beaten gold. He smiled, a caricature of warmth, as Lumi and Martin drew to a stop a few feet from him. The horses stamped their feet, feeling the wariness from their humans. From out of the trees on either side came another two people. They looked to the blond man as he nodded, and trained their weapons, bows with gleaming iron arrows, at the two travelers. Lumi saw the way they stood, and noted that the arrows were aimed not to hurt the horses, but to incapacitate those leading them. From behind them, another figure stepped out, calling out to the blond man.

"Looks a bit different than deer, don't they Orren?"

The blond, Orren, smiled, shaking his head. Lumi forced away her feelings of unease and smiled herself, calling out a greeting.

"Certainly not deer, though I apologize if we have intruded on a hunt. I am Lumi, and my friend and I are merely traveling to get to kin in Chorrol. We wished to avoid the traffic on the main roads, as it has been horrendous of late. How fare you and yours?"

She dearly hoped that they would not question them further. For once, let them actually be regular hunters and not idiots with a death wish. Martin was the only one of the two of them in physical condition to truly fight, and he was a destruction mage. That type of combat needed open space, not the tight conditions of an overgrown deer trail. Lumi's shoulder was getting better, but any sudden strenuous movement would surely reopen the stitches, pushing back healing another week. Using her bow or swords was out unless she could reach one of her blades without getting shot. With arrows pointed on them, that was unlikely. The Nord's tiredness was quickly becoming frustration at the situation.

"Well met, Lumi and friend. Me and mine are quite well. We find the woods to be a generous place for those willing to listen to its warnings. Though-,' he paused, tilting his head, 'you're rather close to the shrine of Sanguine, did you know? Rather odd spot, that, full of debauchery and plots that would make your hair straighten from shock," Orren spoke lightly, humor dripping from his lips like honey. Beside her, Martin somehow grew stiffer, if it were possible. She chanced a glance at her companion, shocked to see how cold his eyes had grown. It was like a sheet of ice had covered his normally warm face, making him near unrecognizable. Orren and his men noticed it too, as the blond turned to look at him, brow raised.

"I see you've heard of the Cult of Sanguine then, traveler. Rest easy, you won't have to meet them."

"What direction would you recommend going, to avoid the cult, sir?" She asked, fighting to maintain her mask of pleasantry. Should she shout? Which would work best for this situation? She could not risk giving away Jauffre's plan but what would it matter if they were dead? Orren laughed, big and mirthful, his men chuckling all around them.

"Oh, I think we all know that you won't be needing directions. These are our forests, traveler. And we do not abide by trespassers here, no matter their politeness," He said, before gesturing at the space above them.

"Take the horses, we'll search the corpses for goods after they're down."

Lumi blinked, breathed, and shouted.

"TIID KLO UL!"

Time slowed around her, Orren 's company of bandits moving like they were stuck in a tar pit. Sighing, she withdrew a sword from one of her sheathes, the one for her uninjured side, and started with the archers. They fell easily, the steel sliding through their light armor like butter as she dispatched them quickly. Lumi felt her gut clench with each successive strike. Her heart pounded unpleasantly loud, the sound echoing like a drum in her ears. Eyes moved slowly as she worked through the bandits, not even having time to widen at her approach before they were dead men walking. Lumi strode behind the horses, finding the person who had initially called to the bandit leader. It was a woman with a wide smirk and two daggers held in hand. Lumi shoved her sword through the woman's throat and walked away, back to the front. In doing so, she had to pass by Martin, his hands moving slowly, a pale glow beginning to emanate from the palms. His fingers were still burnt, the skin healing fast but not that fast. She'd need to check on them once this was finished. He had said that his magicka was responding volatilely to outside influence two days ago, but maybe healing hands would be useful now. Lumi set her eyes on Orren, who stood in the front, a lazy smile on his face and his pretty hazel eyes focused on where their horses stood.

"May you and your friends find rest in whatever awaits you," she whispered before slitting his throat and turning away. The shout would be wearing off soon enough, she might as well double check that there were no unwelcome watchers in the shadows.

"Laas Yah Nir!" Lumi whispered, watching as the auras of all the living beings around her blinked into view. It was disconcerting, how the men and women she had slain flickered precariously, her previous shout still in effect. She did not look at Martin, instead focusing on the areas around them. Human, Mer, and Beastfolk auras all looked similar, in size and color. None stood in the forest around them, only the small shades of squirrels, rabbits, and foxes. Something like relief welled in her chest at that information.

Their safety assured for the brief future, Lumi went back to where she had stood and grabbed ahold of Quilt's reins. A few moments passed and the shouts finally wore off. It was odd, using the Slow Time shout. Every sound that she had been accustomed to before using it returned with a fury, making her ears tremble with pain. The horses snorted with alarm as four bodies hit the ground near simultaneously, their eyes wide with sightless panic. Martin cried out in shock as Orren fell to his knees and slumped over, face buried in the ground and blood pooling around him. The Imperial turned to face her, perhaps to make sure that she herself was still alive. The moment he saw her, Lumi could tell he knew. His eyes became guarded and the glow in his hands did not go away, the cool air of an ice spell tickling her cheeks. No blood covered her, but the blade at her side dripped it and her eyes said everything she could not. Martin backed away, not breaking eye contact.

"What did you do?"

Lumi winced at the fear and shock in his voice. She did not want his fear. Never his fear. The Nord felt her throat opening and closing painfully, desperate to say something, anything. I protected us. I didn't want to do it. I may joke about bandits when I'm annoyed but I never want to do it. Killing daedra was different than killing people. Daedra were hurting everyone. Killing them was justifiable, even necessary in this day and age. But to kill a person? Even if they were trying to kill you? It was horrible, plain and simple. She would never grow accustomed to it, the way that they looked at you. It made her sick to even think of it. But there was no other choice. They needed to reach Weynon Priory as soon as possible; her moral high ground did not matter when measured against the rapidly looming threat of Oblivion.

"A shout. It slows down time enough to use in only the most important situations. I-,' she broke off, 'I didn't see another way to get us both out of this without further injury."

Martin did not respond, instead staring at her silently. It was tense, and she could see the conflict in his eyes, the disgust and understanding warring with one another. Selfishly, she prayed for his understanding. They could continue their journey without friendship, but she did not wish for that to be so. Martin had been so excited as they spoke of dragon shouts and language yesterday. She did not like showing him the grim realities of what such a tongue was used for. He will have to get used to it eventually, a voice whispered darkly in her mind. No, she hissed back, He will only have to use the tongue for this in the worst cases. I will make sure of it! There was a reason that the Slow Time shout in particular was seldom used by the Nord. It was always shocking from both perspectives.

To Martin, she had barely moved, yet in the space that it took him to blink, all the bandits were dead, killed in the most efficient ways. It was a horrendously cold and callous act, something that the Dark Brotherhood would salivate over the use of. Lumi's stomach continued to twist and clench as Martin's eyes went back and forth between the body of Orren and the woman standing beside him. After an unknowable amount of time, he sighed and the ice magic faded from his hands, leaving behind raw, blistered red skin.

"I know why you did this, and I won't judge you. Akatosh knows I have spilt enough blood to protect those around me. But please,' he breathed raggedly, 'never do so in this manner again. It is…off-putting."

Lumi's eyes practically bulged from her head. Off-putting? All of that to simply say that it is off-putting?! It was her turn to be shocked by his forgiving attitude and nonchalance. There was more to this man than meets the eye, that was for sure. Lumi shook her head, looking back Martin, who was pointedly avoiding looking at the bodies of the bandits.

"Come on, we still have a long way to go before nightfall and a shrine of Sanguine to avoid."

They did not speak as they left the bandits behind, and no longer was the silence peaceful. It was undefinably heavy, both Martin and Lumi stuck in their own minds and unwilling to speak with anyone. As they traveled, they were not bothered by anymore bandits or passerby. It was easy enough to avoid the shrine to Sanguine, their noises making both Imperial and Nord blush brightly as they moved through the brush. Night came quickly, and with it, the need to make camp. A nearby Ayleid ruin poked out from the woods where they settled, leaving Lumi more than a little on edge. Despite this, they ran through the motions, Martin caring for the horses and Lumi building a fire and fishing out food from her pack. Neither spoke as they ate and drank, watching the fire twist and turn in its dance. It was as they were staring at the fire, long after finishing their meals, that Martin broke the silence.

"Come here," he said quietly, startling the Nord woman who stared at him in surprise.

"We need to clean your wound again, remember?" Martin reminded her gently. Lumi had forgotten, too wrapped up in the memories of what had occurred earlier to think about something as mundane as tending to her shoulder. She looked at his hands.

"Only if you let me try to heal your hands with my magicka," she bargained, earning a look of surprise from Martin. He rolled his eyes and nodded, gesturing for her to sit by him. Lumi stood and grabbed the necessary supplies. She recognized the act for what it was: a gesture of peace. Lumi sat down and did not give herself time to overthink it as she removed her tunic, exposing her bandaged shoulder to inspection. The wrappings appeared to be fine, just a little sweaty, but when Martin made to remove them, she tapped his hand pointedly. The Imperial sighed, rolling his eyes and held out his hands. Lumi smirked, relishing in her small victory, as she took his hands in her own. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of her magicka. Thoughts of healing filled her mind and she felt the way her magicka responded, growing golden and warm. Her hands began to heat up and she focused all of her thought on the image of Martin's hands in hers. In her mind, she watched as the angry pink and red of his fingers faded and became invisible, the warm olive of his natural skin tone overtaking the burns.

Lumi could also feel the way his magicka reacted to her own. It pushed, almost curious, against the constraints of the flesh, but did not try to attack hers. Opening her eyes, Lumi cut off the spell, feeling the warmth fade from her hands until only the heat of her blood and Martin's remained. His hands were healed, the skin unbroken and smooth. Satisfaction bloomed in her gut even as another wave of tiredness crashed against her. Martin noticed, and quickly set to work undoing the bandage around her shoulder. He examined the stitches, nodding at the lack of tears, before gently slathering it in healing salve and dressing it with fresh bandages. Lumi slipped her tunic back on, grateful for the additional warmth as the cool night air prickled her skin.

"Thank you for helping me," she murmured to Martin, who smiled back.

"Thank you for helping me," he replied, wiggling his fingers with a laugh. More warmth filled her at the sound, and she rolled her eyes.

They sat for a moment, enjoying the lack of tension between them. It was exhausting, going through so many different emotions in the span of one day. Hopefully we will be able to rest in Weynon Priory for a bit, and not have a heart-to-heart for what feels like every night. It was happening often enough to feel like the start of a habit that Lumi did not particularly want.

"Do all shouts work like that?" Martin asked suddenly, surprising her. Lumi shook her head.

"Like that? No, most shouts do not," she said, brows furrowed as she thought of how to explain.

"All shouts are capable of inflicting harm, even if that is not their design. They are from dragons after all. In their world, there is no difference between a debate and a fight. Fighting and its different facets make up the very bedrock of dovahzul. Wa lahney los wa krif. To live is to fight."

Martin was thoughtful as she spoke, eyes staring deeply into the fire.

"You have given me much to think on,' he admitted, 'But the hour grows late, and I have kept you from sleep. I'll wake you for second watch," the Imperial shooed her away, watching with amusement as she scowled.

As Lumi laid down, her back to the Imperial and the fire, her mind struggled to find rest, still eager to over examine everything that had occurred and figure out what it could mean for the future. Fortunately, her body took over, making her eyelids so heavy that she could not find it in herself to try and keep them open as sleep overtook her.