Being blind didn't mean he couldn't feel. And at the moment, Aaron felt like he was going to be sick. As his senses came slowly back to him, he felt motion, and then confusion. It was like he was under some sort of anesthesia, and he couldn't remember where he was or what he'd been doing. He'd been in his house, making himself a sloppy breakfast, when he'd heard the door open. It was softly, like the person who had walked in was hesitant to do so, or a thief. He'd guessed it was probably the latter.

"Who's there?"

And then his old friend, his best friend, had walked in the door. He'd felt a surge of anger, confusion, and lashed out at her, telling her to leave. He wasn't ready, he'd decided, to face her just yet. Maybe later, but not yet. "Leave." He'd tried to remain as emotionless as he could as he said it. Maybe he'd been too quiet, because she didn't seem to hear him. Then...

Why was he having motion sickness? Why didn't his brain seem to work? Why did his arm ache, just below the elbow?

"You're awake." Her voice startled him, and he nearly growled at her. Where were they? Why were they moving? What, exactly, did she plan to do with him?

"You-" He found it hard to speak, but he had things he wanted to say to her. Things he wanted to yell at her, and things he wanted to remind her of. She'd promised they'd be friends forever and-

He felt jolted as she abruptly stopped whatever it was that they were moving on, and she helped him sit up. She seemed to have few words to say to him, no explanations as to what she was doing, or why. He needed to know everything, he felt the itch to interrogate her to no end. But he couldn't find his voice, and he felt a little meek.

"I uh..." Oh sure, he thought, go ahead and make excuses. I'll listen, but that doesn't mean I have to believe you... "Look, I know this is awkward, but I'd like the chance to explain. In the meantime, here." He felt a cup pressed into his hands, a cold, metal cup. Probably silver, he grumbled internally. It was probably worth more than everything he'd ever owned put together. "The antidote to the poison I used is in there, along with some ale. Please, drink it..." If he could see her eyes, he mused, she'd probably be pleading with him silently. Her striking blue eyes had always won him over in the past, but if he couldn't see them, he couldn't be persuaded.

"...Thanks." His tone was stressed, and he didn't think that he could speak more than a word at a time without feeling like he was about to pass out. He went to tip the cup over, slightly, but her hand caught his, for a moment, stopping him. In that instant, he remembered the times they'd spent together, all of the warm summer days they'd spent getting into trouble, and the promises they'd made with one another. He also remembered the thoughts he'd had of her when he got older, and tried to hide the blush that came to his cheeks. Maybe she wouldn't see, he pleaded, and if he drank the stupid thing she had handed him, she'd turn around and ignore him. Damn. I still have a school-boy crush on my ex-best friend...

"Look, I can understand that you're not in the best situation right now, but please try to be hospitable. I think I'll explain later, as I'd really rather get home, but we can chat on the way. And as you can't see, I'll inform you that right now, you're sitting on the back of my irritable mare Shadowmere. She likes to be home too, and doesn't like stopping for anything. So hold on." With that, he heard her turn around again, and snap the reigns. Now, he clutched the saddle, and held on for dear life. He briefly wondered why he hadn't held on to her. Then, he remembered that she was the whole reason he'd ended up in this mess. Oh, he wasn't afraid of her, far from it, but he was upset and irritated. That had to count for something. There was a long silence between them, as Aaron tried to find his voice. And when he did, he didn't even try to hide all of the anger he felt towards her.

"What's the idea here," he asked. "I didn't ask you to come "rescue" me from my house in Bravil." I didn't ask you for anything...

"You're stuck with me," she replied coldly and irritably. "I had my reasons for your... rescue and I plan to keep them to myself. Think of it as a rescue from a friend, or a kidnapping by a stranger. Whichever you like more." She sighed, and he rolled his eyes at her. Not that she could see me do so anyways, he chided himself, because she isn't looking at me.

"This is stupid. I didn't ask for any of this. I want to go home." He was pouting and being obnoxious, but he had also missed breakfast, and probably lunch too. And how he was riding horseback with his ex-best friend to the Gods knew where. "Where're we going?"

"To my home." Her voice had a hint of longing in it, but he had a feeling that it was more for her house than for him. What would he have given, long ago, to have her want him like that? When she didn't elaborate, he knew he was going to have to ask every question he wanted answered. Aedenrel had never offered any more information than what was absolutely necessary.

"Where is it, and what's it called?" He had half hoped that she lived in the Imperial City again. He wanted to visit his old home-town again, to see... But he couldn't see, he told himself ruthlessly, and wishing it didn't make it happen.

"It's in the wilderness. It's name is FrostSpire Crag." She would offer no more information unless he wanted it. Damn, she was as irritating as ever.

"And how did you acquire such a place?"

"Hard work, and determination." He'd touched a nerve, he sensed, just by the way she'd said it. Like there was more to the story than she wanted to say, or that it wasn't any of his business. He thought about just "falling" off the back of the horse, but knew he'd never get back to Bravil alive. He'd opened his mouth to say something more, but she cut him off. "We're almost halfway there. You've been out for a few hours."

That's interesting, he thought. No wonder I'm starving. Not that it was anything new, he often went without food simply because he couldn't afford it. "I'm hungry," he said bluntly. If he had to beg for food from her, he would, because the way he saw it, she owed him. For the kidnapping and for every time she'd ever gotten him into trouble. And to his surprise, he heard her start rummaging through her pack to extract some food. She sighed, and handed him a sandwich.

"Bread, cheese, tomato, and ham. It's wrapped in paper. Don't eat that." She slapped the reigns, and Shadowmere took off at an alarming pace. He unwrapped the sandwich, and sniffed it. It smelled okay to eat, he decided. How long had it been since he could afford bread, cheese, tomatoes and ham? A long time, and he made a face. Why was Aedenrel so much more blessed than him?

"Do you want half?" He was perfectly willing to tear the sandwich and share with her, but she mumbled "no." He frowned at her, but took a bite of the sandwich anyway. He was really trying not to act like a slob and eat the entire thing in less than five minutes, but his hunger got the better of him. After living a long time on stale bread, he couldn't help but wolf down the food.

"Disgusting," he heard her mumble, and he frowned in response. So what if she doesn't like the way I eat? I don't care! Then again, he thought, I didn't exactly exhibit exquisite table manners...

"Sorry," he heard himself say without thinking. "It's been a long time since-..."

"I understand," she snapped at him, and handed him a piece of cloth. Their fingers touched for an instant, and he was surprised that he didn't feel anything. Her short attitude was grinding on his nerves, and he found himself clenching his teeth in response.

"Look, it isn't my fault-" He snapped, but she wasn't going to have any of his attitude or his foul language.

"How did you end up blind?" Aedenrel asked, cutting him off. He bit his lip, and frowned again, trying to come up with some sort of excuse. He didn't really think she wanted to hear the story. And he wasn't ready to tell it yet. It was something he still had to come to terms with.

"None of your business." They might have been friends when they were younger, but the years had put distance between their friendship, and there was no way he was going to go into detail about how he'd ended up sightless. It wasn't any of her business anyways, he told himself.

"Where did you go, when you left the Imperial City. Why did you leave, Aedenrel?" Oh, he winced as he heard the words come out of his own mouth. How did she not hear the hurt in his voice, how could she ignore the deep emptiness he had within him after she had found out that she had up-and-left him without any warning, without any sort of good-bye?

"None of your business." She remarked, and he sensed the smile in her voice. It was one of her games, to repeat something he had said, just to annoy him. And she was so very good at it.

"You're being stupid," he found himself saying. You're being so stupid, because you can't see...

"Interesting," she remarked. And then silence was all around them again. The clip-clop of Shadowmere's hooves made a sort of lullaby, and Aaron felt himself slump forward. She might have said something, but he didn't hear it, as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

It was a bright, sunny day in the Imperial City. A nice, summer day, when kids want to be outside playing in Lake Rumare and practicing their magic with their friends. But Aaron wasn't doing either of those things. Aaron was following around his nobleman-father to his new school, where he'd be cooped up in a building for nine out of twenty-four hours a day. He heard himself sigh as he took in his surroundings.

The white buildings of the Imperial City bored him, but the people were interesting. The sun was shining in the clear and cloudless sky, and people were walking around minding their own business. Beggars spoke to the guards asking for coins and other things. Nobles walked briskly, attending to their private affairs. Mages walked distinctly down the streets, heads held high and robes flowing behind them. Inside, shopkeepers were standing behind their counters, making deals and chatting with their customers. But Aaron was outside, following his father to school.

His father didn't trust him alone in the City. Everywhere Aaron went a guard or one of his father's men had to keep a watchful eye on him. Not that he ever got into any trouble but...

"I'm hungry," he heard himself say, and his father looked back over his shoulder with a scornful look. It told him two things at once, that his father was in a bad mood, and that he wasn't to say anything more until they got to the school. Aaron followed obediently, with only a small sigh escaping his lips.

Finally, his father stopped in front of a white building, and looked it over as if summing it up. He took a step forward and opened the door, to allow Aaron through. Inside, it was dusty, and filled with the smell of books and learning. Desks sat in rows, and Aaron did a quick head-count. There were eleven other children sitting in the classroom, listening to some sort of lecture by the teacher. A gray-haired woman who looked to be about two-hundred stood in the front, with a stick and a piece of chalk. She was writing on the wall, and the children were writing in books, taking notes.

"Sit down somewhere, Aaron." His father had told him, and he looked around for an open spot. The only empty desk was next to a girl, and Aaron briefly thought of sitting on the ground. Then, though, the girl turned to look at him. Her sapphire eyes met his own, and she smiled at him, a grin with a few teeth missing. He felt his heart skip, and a blush crept over his cheeks. His father pushed him encouragingly towards her, and Aaron sat down shyly.

"Hi," the girl whispered to him. "I'm Aedenrel. What's your name?"

Aaron looked up. The teacher was speaking to his father, paying them no attention at all. "Aaron," he said quietly. She smiled, and nodded. Then, she turned back to her book, and pushed it half-way between them, as if to share.

"We're working on reading. I'll share today." She smiled again, and then added, "Recess and lunch are soon."

Ten minutes later, Aaron heard the teacher announce it was time to eat and play. With a shyness he hadn't known he'd possessed, he sat where he was. He was going to remain there, except the blue-eyed girl stood next to him, and glanced at him knowingly.

"C'mon, I'll share my lunch with you." Then, she took his hand and led him outside, to one of the picnic-like tables in the schoolyard. She handed him half a sandwich, and even cut her orange in half to share with him. "Wanna be friends?" She finally asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

"...I guess," he heard himself answer.

"Aaron, we're here," Aedenrel's voice was loud in his ear. She brushed her hand over his forehead, but he slapped it away. He wondered if she'd look hurt, but he found that he didn't care. She snatched his hand a moment later, and yanked him off of the horses' back. Miraculously, he'd landed on his feet. "Hold this," she ordered, and handed him a bag. He did as he was told, but he was uncertain about her sudden anger.

"What-" He asked before he could stop himself. She cut him off, though.

"Look, I'm sore, tired, and hungry. So shut up, and I'll give you a tour, and then I'm going to sleep. Oh," she turned to face him, he sensed, and exhaled loudly, "and thanks for falling asleep on my shoulder. It's a little hard to steer like that, you know?" She grabbed something heavy from Shadowmere and told the horse to go to the stables. Aaron wondered if the horse even knew what the stables were, but a moment later, he took off, and Aaron found himself shocked.

Aedenrel took his wrist and dragged him towards the house, and he found himself wishing he could see again. She flung the door open, but it wasn't before he heard someone step away from it. He was going to ask if she had some sort of guards, but found he couldn't. It was cold outside, but when he stepped into the house, his teeth started to chatter. "Why iss it sssso c-c-cold?"

"This is the Entrance Hall," she explained, as if she were a tour-guide. "This room is magicked by an old and powerful Wizard, who wished that only those he chose could enter the hall." He wondered if she was going to go on and on, letting him freeze to death, but she stopped, and pulled something out of her pack. With a quiet "woosh" he felt something pulled over his head. It smelled like her, he thought briefly. Then she took his arms, and forced them through the holes. "That's a shirt, Aaron. It'll keep you warm. We're in the Jerall mountains, you know?" Then, her voice changed again, and she went into tour-guide mode, taking his wrist and leading him around.

"In this room are nine Frost Circles. Four on the left side, and four on the right."

"That's only eight."

"Wow, we have a genius on our hands! There's also one in the center. Coming out of the center Circle is the hand of a Frost Atronach. In his open hand sits a book. The Wizard who designed this Tower was very powerful. He enchanted this book with the names of people who were allowed in and out of the house. If someone besides himself, or the new owner of the house were to pick up and read the book, it would appear blank." He heard her take out a quill, and scratch something in the book. Probably his name, he thought.

If you could see...

A voice hung in the air, as if it had been spoken, but he knew it hadn't. It was Aedenrels' thought, and somehow he'd picked up on it. He was slightly frightened by the way it had happened, and he wished he hadn't heard it. It was an echo of his own thought, one he'd wished over and over again. Before he'd thought of it, he'd taken her hands in his.

"WHAT-" Her voice was panicked, and he heard the sound of the quill hit the floor like she had dropped it in sudden... In sudden what, he wondered. She doesn't feel the same way about you.

"Checking for rings," he'd made up the excuse on the spot, but it was a good excuse.

"Why?!" Maybe he'd imagined it, but she seemed rather shocked about it. He smiled.

"I don't want to get murdered by your boyfriend, husband or fiancé."

"You won't" she hissed, taking her hand back hastily. "Because I don't have any of those. You could have just ASKED." She was angry, tired, and hungry. Aaron was helping her solve none of those problems. "THIS way." She snatched his wrist, and half-dragged him towards the portals. "This room is round. It has bookcases all around the sides, with lots of books on them. Don't touch them," she instructed him. "The wall in front of us has a sort of platform jutting out of it, with an altar for summoning Elemental Daedra, an altar for spellmaking, and an altar for enchanting. Don't touch those either. On the floor, one on the left, and one on the right, are portals. One of them leads into the vaults, where I keep all of my treasure and artifacts. Don't touch them. The other one leads to my room. In the center of this room are three circles, used to summon the Elemental Daedra. One of them is for the Fire, the other two for Storm and Frost. And on the right wall is a door, that leads to the kitchen. Don't-"

"Touch anything. I get it." He was upset with her. Did she really think he was going to break everything he touched?

"It's not because I don't want you breaking anything," she suddenly said, as if she'd read his mind. Again. "Some of them are cursed. Especially the books on Necromancy-"

"WHY do you have books on Necromancy?" He sounded angry, suddenly, as if she'd touched a nerve. But she didn't care. Already her eyes were drooping, and she was so very tired from a long day of magical exertion and riding.

"Safe-keeping," she seemed a little upset that he would think she'd become a Necromancer. "The Mages' Guild asked me to keep them here. They're very powerful and manipulative. I'd appreciate not having to rescue you from some evil spirit that wants revenge. Do you get that?"

"Yes." He answered. "I'm tired," he spoke without thinking. He'd been doing that all day. He'd been doing that all of his life, he reasoned.

"So am I." She took his wrist, and led him onto one of the platform-portals. It was pretty narrow, and round-shaped, along with being slightly raised off of the floor. He fought the urge to hug her then. He could make an excuse, he reasoned. But it didn't mean she would buy it.

"This is my room," she told him. His stomach settled, and he sensed they had teleported quickly. "I've got sleeping rolls and cots, but I'm too tired to get them out tonight. So scoot over." She tossed her pack on the floor, took his pack and set it on the shelf, and yawned, loudly.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he answered meekly. With his luck, it was a single bed, and he would wake up more close to her than he'd ever dreamed of being. And she would freak out, and probably leave him to freeze to death outside. But at least I would die happy, the insistent voice nagged.

"SHUT the hell up," she growled at him. He heard her settle into the bed, and he thought she was asleep. He sat on the floor, and had just about gotten comfortable when she grabbed his ear and dragged him to his feet. Without so much as an "I'm sorry for hurting you," she'd dragged him around the other side of the bed, and then let go.

Apparently "shut the hell up" means "do what I tell you to."

"Now," she grumbled, "go to sleep."

He edged as far away from her as he could, nearly to the edge of the double-bed. He prayed silently to whatever God he could think of; he prayed he didn't end up embarrassing himself and her. His eyes closed, and he felt himself spiraling into a dream again. As an after-thought, he hoped he woke up on the floor.