A/N: Apologies for not updating the story since July; health sometimes gets in the way of best intentions. But I'm all better now and as I said before, I'm not abandoning this story again. I should be able to finish it quite soon and in fact, I'm entertaining the idea of writing another Elder Scrolls fic, this time focused around the adventures of Vestige told in Elder Scrolls Online. We'll see :) For now as always, I'd be grateful for your reviews of the new chapter, the longest one so far I believe - let me know what you think!


Erandur didn't know how much time has passed since Runa fell asleep; judging by his tiredness and the stiffness in his back it must have been several hours, a time he filled with meditation in silent prayers to Mara. His body felt heavy with exhaustion but he struggled to stay awake, a battle lost before he knew it.

When he awoke, groggy and disoriented, for the first few seconds he didn't know where he was, but a movement close to him sobered him up. Runa must have moved off his lap after he too succumbed to sleep, and he, no longer able to control his posture, slid down on the bed as well. He was on his side and Runa's body was firmly pressed against his, her hand clutching the amulet he gave her and her arm wound tightly around his waist. Her head was resting on his outstretched arm, and Erandur found it curious how in his unconscious state he must have embraced the Nord in return. Runa stirred again, and her movement caused panic in the priest of Mara. As they slept, Erandur's robe hiked up and Runa's knee slipped between his legs; now it slid further up as she moved in her slumber, making him understand fully just how compromising their position would seem if anybody were to walk into the room and see them entwined this way.

Erandur tried to move, determined to get up without waking her, but Runa clutched him tighter and hid her face in the crook of his neck. She mumbled something incoherent, her lips brushing his skin and making him shudder before his body tensed.

His eyes travelled down to where the oversized white shirt Runa chose to sleep in revealed a shapely leg, now wedged between his. The priest didn't notice when his own hand moved with no conscious thought on his part, fingers brushing the delicate, pale skin briefly before with horror he realised what he was doing and froze, afraid Runa would wake up and hate him. The dragonborn stirred and mumbled something against his neck again, and then lay her hand on top of his, sliding it further up, underneath the shirt she wore. Her breathing was deep and even; she was still asleep and not aware of her own actions.

"Mara, preserve me." He thought, acutely aware of the flimsy, linen barrier between them and how his body reacted to the intimacy of Runa's touch and the closeness of her pressed against him. He once thought that these feelings no longer applied to him after he left his past behind and, determined to live out the rest of his life in penance, he was no longer seeking such stimuli. Yet now he was fighting the temptation, for a brief moment wanting to drown in the warm body next to him, to lose himself and forget everything, quickly realizing it was not merely a matter of desire suppressed for so many years, but also a deep longing for the person this body belonged to, a feeling he has not experienced before.

It was this overwhelming feeling of caring that made Erandur pause, and as soon as he did, he felt disgusted with himself. Acting upon brief feeling of desire, especially when Runa was asleep, would not only be dishonorable, it was vile and would violate the trust she placed in him. Erandur felt bile rising in his throat, only adding to the ever-present feeling of self-hate. Farkas was wrong; she couldn't care for one such as him, especially knowing what he was, she couldn't care in this way. Nobody could.

"Forgive me." He whispered, and untangled himself from the warm embrace as slowly and delicately as he could.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Runa opened her eyes. She awoke before Erandur, and was grateful for an unexpected moment of bliss. When she woke, she basked in his closeness, thinking that was all she wanted – to wake up like this, for as many mornings as her uncertain future would allow. She inhaled his scent, enjoying the opportunity to be able to do so freely. He smelled of wood smoke and ash, making her wonder if it was because flames were his dominant kind of magic. There was a sharper note underneath, something resembling a strong, good whiskey she once had with jarl Balgruuf after she'd defeated the dragon threatening Whiterun. The scent was pleasant to her, dark and strong, unique but not overpowering, so much like Erandur himself. When she felt him wake, she pretended to be asleep, defiantly wanting to prolong the moment, and almost dropped her act in surprise when she felt his hesitant touch. She was disappointed when she felt him tense and then move away, quietly asking for forgiveness when all she wanted was for him to stay.

Living in the harsh land of Skyrim where lives could be cut short when least expected, Nords gave in to affection and desires freely and with no condemnation from society, and Runa was no different; there were times in her life she thought she was in love and explored all facets of the feeling with eagerness and curiosity, but now she was very aware of how shallow her feelings used to be. What she thought she felt in the past for several young men of her own race paled in comparison to how fiercely she loved the rugged dunmer priest with a scarred soul.

During her travels with her adoptive father she met peoples of all races and always thought the dark elves looked interesting yet the most dangerous of all mer with the sharpness of their angular faces, their ash-grey skin and blood-red eyes; now, on one priest of Mara, Runa found the same features exotic, beautiful and alluring, but at the same time thought she'd likely love Erandur no matter if he were human, mer or one of the beast-folk. She closed her eyes and imagined what could happen if he stayed, how exciting and amazing it would feel to be so connected to the one she cared for deeply and when she opened her eyes again, her face was set in a determined frown. She wouldn't give up on him and if she learned how to express her feelings better, maybe in time he'd return her feelings.


As he walked back to Jorrvaskr from the Bannered Mare, Erandur was grateful nobody saw him leave Runa's room; apparently after the feast he was the one who woke first. In the inn he managed to acquire a rare treat from a Redguard working there: coffee. Back in the great hall, he boiled water over the hearth and prepared the bitter, hot liquid. He was pouring himself a mug when he heard heavy footsteps behind him and then a loud yawn.

"What is it? Smells nice." The harbinger joined Erandur, stretching in attempt to get rid of the sleepiness. Erandur filled a mug for him and Farkas sniffed at the steam rising from it. Then he gave it a taste and almost immediately grimaced. Erandur sighed.

"I suppose it's an acquired taste." He said, "But try to drink all of it. It helps with tiredness and hangover."

Farkas nodded and drank half of his mug without wincing too much.

"I saw you leave Runa's room this morning." He mentioned in a casual tone making the elf curse quietly. "I'm glad you heeded my advice and decided to live a little."

Erandur almost dropped his own mug, feeling his face heat up as memories filled his head, unbidden.

"I… nothing happened." He replied, regaining his composure quickly. "She had another nightmare, and I stayed until she fell asleep."

"Huh." Farkas' brow furrowed, a pensive look on his face.

"Do priests of Mara take a vow of chastity?" he asked curiously.

Erandur turned towards the harbinger, wide eyed, surprised with how easy the burly Nord threw him off balance.

"Not many. It's not obligatory."

"Did you take it?" prodded Farkas, smiling innocently and sipping his coffee. It looked like he adapted fast.

Erandur sighed, sensing where the conversation was going and briefly wondering if lying would put an end to the awkwardness, but eventually decided against it. Lies belonged to his past life.

"No, I did not."

"Huh." Farkas took another sip. "Interesting."

"What is it you want, harbinger?" hissed the elf, losing his patience.

"Oh, nothing important. Just thinking how many men would kill for the chance to spend a night in the same room as her. Women too, I'm sure." He mused, "Looks like I was wrong again. You are a good friend, Erandur. One day my sister will find someone who she will not only want to share a room with. I know you'll support her."

Erandur felt a sudden stab of jealousy hearing Farkas' words, unable to control it even though he knew the man was merely testing how far he could push him. The idea of another sharing moments with Runa like he did, the idea of being replaced, made him furious and then angry with himself. He was a priest of Mara now, and would not fall so low as to give in to baser instincts. He didn't notice Farkas hiding a small smile behind the mug, distracted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Runa emerged from the Jorrvaskr sleeping quarters chatting with Athis. Soon after, a thin man dressed in grey travel clothes entered the hall with a document pouch in his hand and Runa ran towards him, as though she was expecting a courier.

"Excuse me." Erandur poured another mug of coffee and walked towards Runa.

"Hey, thanks for the drink! It was disgusting, but helped a lot! And remember, live like there's no tomorrow!" Farkas' voice, and then his booming laughter was loud for everyone to hear and once again that morning the priest found himself sighing.

"What was that about?" asked Runa curiously, accepting the mug from Erandur, her smile widening when she smelled coffee.

"Nothing."

Noticing a scowl on the dunmer's face, Runa decided not to prod. Instead, she concentrated on the documents delivered by the courier and enjoyed her coffee. It was a drink she was not familiar with until she met Erandur and she quickly grew fond of it.

Erandur watched her face as she read; the longer she did, the happier she looked, making him curious about the letter's contents. Eventually, she raised her head and looked at him with a smile.

"Would you care for a short trip out of the city?" she asked.

"Where are we going?" he asked in return, not really caring; he simply wanted to get away from Jorrvaskr and more potential conversations with the new harbinger that were making him increasingly uneasy.

"You'll see when we get there." Said Runa. "I want to show you something."


They left Whiterun with full backpacks since Runa mentioned they might need to camp overnight. Once they passed the nearby farms, Runa led Erandur north east of the city. They traveled at a leisurely pace for several hours; they didn't speak much, both of them deep in thought, but Erandur grew even more curious, seeing Runa check a small map from time to time.

They passed a lonely farm with a windmill and then left the main road to walk up a mountain on a less traveled path; the yellowish tundra surrounding Whiterun gradually gave way to the snowy and rocky terrain of the southern Pale. Runa stopped at a relatively flat patch of land high up the mountain slope and sighed in content.

"Isn't it beautiful up here, Erandur?" she asked.

As he looked around, he had to admit she was right. To the south, he could see the outline of Whiterun and Dragonsreach against the bright sky, and the tall, jagged slopes of the Throat of the World. To the east and north he saw snowy plains and wild forests of the Pale and all around them, a majestic view of the mountains. A small smile graced his usually stoic face; the view reminded him why he loved the Pale.

"It is beautiful indeed." He replied after a while, "But why are we here?"

Runa laughed happily, spinning around, her arms stretched wide.

"It is mine!" she exclaimed.

"Yours?" Erandur's brows arched in surprise.

"Yes! From where you're standing," she gestured, "up to the end of that slope, and up the mountain! This patch of land is now mine!"

"The courier?" he asked to confirm his suspicions.

Runa nodded.

"Indeed." The smile didn't leave her face. "The last time we visited Dawnstar, you went to check on the citizens in the inn, remember? I went to see the old mudcrab."

Erandur had to smile, hearing Runa's nickname for the old jarl of Dawnstar.

"Anyway," Runa continued, "I heard some rumors and decided to verify them – so I asked the old mudcrab if there was any house or land for sale in the Pale. He said there wasn't a house, but if I paid, they might find some land available. And I finally got the deed today, look!"

She handed him the parchment, and indeed, the document confirmed her ownership of the land they now stood upon.

"I didn't know this was your clan name." Erandur said, a little surprised. "You never told me."

Runa waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I know. Gray-Wave… One of my ancestors was a great sailor. But what use do I have of this name when I've never set foot on a ship?"

"It still suits you, I think. You should use it."

Runa's head tilted to the right and she was waiting for him to elaborate.

"Your eyes." Explained Erandur. "They're the colour of the sea in winter, and of the storm clouds that run above the waves."

"Thank you." Replied Runa, a slight blush dusting her pale cheeks, and only then did Erandur realise what he's just said and berated himself for sharing thoughts he shouldn't have.

"I feel there is a catch you're not telling me about." He said quickly, trying to change the subject.

"Ah… you know me well." Runa said with a nod. "Yes, there is one, though it's not so bad. The old mudcrab is quite cunning and made sure to gain something in return for the land, other than money. He's made me Thane of the Pale."

Erandur looked at her, greatly surprised; from what he knew about Nord culture, becoming a Thane was considered a high honour, but also a great responsibility. He wasn't sure this was what Runa really wanted.

"In his letter, Skald weaved a tale of honour and reward," continued Runa, "but the truth is he wants someone capable to guard the southern Pale, someone he can get help from if Dawnstar is in need. I don't mind much. If the people of Dawnstar needed help, I'd do my best to help anyway."

"Next time we're in Dawnstar, I am to be bestowed with a sword to serve as my badge of office, and, well, there's also this." She handed him another letter.

Erandur went through the letter quickly; it was from a housecarl assigned to Runa as thane and judging by the beautiful and even handwriting, it was likely dictated to the jarl's steward. The letter was full of deep admiration; the man, Gregor, made sure to let the dragonborn know how honoured he felt to be her housecarl and how he would guard her and everything she owned, but the last sentence made Erandur's hand ball in a fist.

My place is by your side, Thane.

For all the effort Erandur put in suppressing his growing feelings for the young Nord, he couldn't help the sudden stab of anger and immediate dislike of the man who sent the letter; how dare he say that? He knew nothing about Runa, what she needed or what drove her. He couldn't help a small, dark voice in the back of his mind.

No, it is not your place. It's only mine.

"Will you take him up on this offer?" he asked, raising his head and hoping his voice didn't sound strained.

Runa took a few steps towards him until they stood face to face.

"No." she replied, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I already travel with someone I trust. I don't need another."

Erandur felt warmth spreading inside him at her words and the anger he felt barely minutes before dissipated. How interesting; although Runa couldn't use magic, her words often seemed to have an effect similar to a spell.

"I guess I might use his services when the house is built." Mused Runa. "I will not always be here, and someone needs to guard it. I'll probably also need a person to manage the homestead while I'm away…"

"A house?" Erandur asked, no longer paying attention to another mention of a star-struck housecarl.

"Of course!" Runa's smile was infectious, as always, but then her face grew more serious. "I thought… I'd give myself a dream, something to keep me going, something I can go back to… if I succeed. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes." He said solemnly. "I do. And it's "once", not "if". I believe in you."

All of a sudden, Runa hugged him and hesitantly, he returned the embrace.

"I know you do." She said quietly. "It means so much to me. I just… I wish I had your confidence."

"But I will not worry today," Runa added, taking a step back. "For now, I'll tell you about the house. Come."

He followed her, transfixed by the happiness that seemed to flow out of her in waves.

"Here," Runa gestured, "I'll build a great hall, with a huge fireplace, and a big table that can fit all my friends, so we can feast, and sing, and talk until late. I received a potential build plan along with the deed, but I'm going to change things. I'll build a kitchen near the mountain side – every good house needs a kitchen! I can't understand why they'd suggest building it on the other side of the house – I will want a bedroom there, with a flat roof that would serve as a terrace – can you imagine being there and watching this stunning view, especially with northern lights?"

He could. He could, and for some reason it was making his heart ache. Used to his silence, Runa continued, getting more and more wrapped up in her project.

"I'll have some more bedrooms upstairs, so that whoever sleeps there is comfortable, but far enough from me so I maintain privacy. Probably the housecarl, maybe a person I'd find to manage the household and… I thought it could be a place for anyone to find comfort, to get back on their feet, if I happen to encounter someone in need. It would feel right, don't you think?"

Erandur only nodded, unsurprised with the generosity of the dragonborn's spirit, but always affected by it.

"I want there to be enough space for bookshelves," continued Runa, not waiting for a verbal confirmation. "I've never had books growing up, but now I can't get enough of them! Reading by the fire or at the terrace would be wonderful.

"And maybe a tower in the back? It would give an excellent view of the Pale, and maybe it could serve as a laboratory for a h-healer." Suddenly she stammered a bit and fell silent.

"Outside," she regained her voice, hoping Erandur didn't notice her slip up. "I'll build a stable, and a pen for animals. Maybe a grain mill and a vegetable garden so the household can be self-sufficient."

Runa stood closer to Erandur now, and he was still admiring how beautiful she looked when she was happy. She had a faraway look on her face, almost as if she could already see the house she was dreaming of right in front of her. He looked towards the frozen ground, trying to shake off the strange mood.

"The build plan mentioned I can have a basement constructed. It would be spacious enough for storage, to fit a smithy… and a shrine."

Erandur's head snapped up, both because of her words, and because Runa laced her fingers with his, the faraway look still present. She slowly turned in his direction, her face unguarded and vulnerable. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet he could barely hear it over the wind.

"I hope… I'll have someone to share this dream with."

Upon hearing this, Erandur felt as though the moment they now shared was stretched in time. The wind intensified and his hood fell back; long strands tangled, black and copper flowing together in the cold air under the bright skies of the Pale. He didn't notice when the snow started falling, the big snowflakes dancing slowly as if they also fell under the spell and he could feel his heart hammering against his chest as they stood in silence, gazing at each other. He remembered Runa telling him the jarl of Whiterun offered her a house in his city, but she declined, preferring to be housed in Jorrvaskr anytime she visited. Now, she planned building a house in the Pale. Was it for him? Was it possible that… he was the one she wanted to share her dream with?

The moment passed but Erandur was so deep in thought he didn't notice disappointment flashing on Runa's face. It was when she withdrew her hand from his that he understood that once again, he'd made her sad.

"I'm sorry, Erandur." She muttered quietly. "I didn't notice when I did that. I… I get carried away when I talk sometimes… I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

She turned towards the direction in which her dream house would one day be, and Erandur thought the mighty dragonborn, the hero of the land of Skyrim, looked as if she was trying to bite back tears. He felt his resolve cracking and without thinking, reached out to Runa and closed her in a strong embrace. Her arms immediately encircled him as she hid her face in his robe.

"It's a beautiful dream." He said. "It will make me happy to see it come true."

Erandur felt Runa's hands tighten on his robe. Then she raised her head to look at him, and before he could decipher the strange look on her face, she tiptoed and kissed him. At first he froze, too stunned to think, but then slowly reciprocated, all the time trying to ignore the alarm bells ringing in his head. It wasn't a passionate kiss; in fact, it remained relatively chaste, but its tenderness shook him more than any other kiss he'd experienced in the past. He closed his eyes and for the first time in years, just let himself feel. When Runa eventually backed away, her face looked just as happy as he loved seeing it.

"Shall we camp here tonight?" she asked, and he nodded, his ability of speech temporarily absent.

Still silent, Erandur went to gather firewood as Runa worked on setting up camp. For the first time since her destiny was revealed to her, she felt truly happy. She was finally moving in the right direction but was determined to be mindful of Erandur's insecurities and take a slow pace.

In the darkening air of the evening, they used long pine branches to build a shelter by the fire and when the hour grew late, both went inside. When Runa covered them both with furs and snuggled against him, Erandur didn't move away. She fell asleep fast, her head tucked under his chin, and his hand tangled in the long, coppery locks. He stayed awake much longer, plagued by the memories of his past and by concerns he'd shared with Farkas. Could it really be that Runa cared about him so much, or was it a fleeting fascination, a need for comfort? He tried to convince himself it would be better if that was the case, but deep down he knew that was not what he wanted. He wanted her feelings to be true. But could she… love one such as him, knowing what he did? Could he give this a try, knowing what the future eventually held for him if they survived – loneliness, and missing the one who could never live as long as he would? On the other hand, he never expected for any of this to happen in the life of penance he chose. When he met Runa, he expected to act as her companion, maybe a mentor, he didn't expect to feel… this. Could she truly… love him? If this… feeling wouldn't have happened otherwise, with anyone else, then why not cherish the days they would have together, and then, on the dreaded day when she was gone, be grateful they shared them? Could he… do that?

As if in answer to Erandur's thoughts, Runa stirred against him, and his arms automatically tightened around her.

Maybe he could, he thought as he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.


Erandur didn't know where he was. It was dark and cold, and he couldn't see a thing. Was he still in the shelter by the fire? If so, why couldn't he see the stars? He reached out, but couldn't feel Runa's presence anywhere near. All of a sudden, he heard footsteps of someone approaching. It was cold, so cold; his robe was gone and there was nothing to separate him from the elements; he was naked in the darkness.

"Who's there?" he asked, but received no reply other than an uneasy feeling that was quickly morphing into dread.

He couldn't hear the footsteps anymore, but the feeling didn't subside. When he felt an ice cold touch on his shoulders, Erandur almost jumped out of his skin. He tried to get away, but the hands locked on him in a vice grip and a body as naked as his was pressed against his back. A woman. He could feel the air around him grow heavier until it was hard to breathe.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Let go of me!"

"Ohhhh… do you not recognize me?" asked a low, velvety voice right next to his ear and Erandur froze. This voice… he'd recognize it anywhere.

"I am so, so disappointed, Casimir. I thought we shared something real."

"Vaermina…" he whispered. "Lady Mara, protect me."

"Don't you dare say that name!" hissed the voice as one cold hand moved towards his throat. "Do you think she can reach you here? No, Casimir… it's just you and I."

The hand on his throat tightened until he could barely breathe.

"Oh Casimir…" chided the daedric prince, "You didn't think that I was gone when the dragonborn and you destroyed the Skull, did you? My poor, naïve Casimir…"

"No." Erandur choked out. "I didn't think you were gone."

"Well, it's good to hear you had at least some faith left in me!" Vaermina's laughter filled the cold darkness and seeking solace, Erandur's mind recalled the sound of Runa's laughter; when the Nord's laugh reminded him of the sound of small, silver chimes in the wind, Vaermina's resembled clacking of bare bones.

"Ah, you're thinking about her… It's no good, Casimir." A long, sharp nail dug into his cheek. It hurt, but at least he could breathe easier again. "In my presence, you're only allowed to think of me."

The next moment, he was blinded by a sudden outburst of flames around the two of them. As his eyes were getting used to the light, he felt a long, clawed hand move across his chest in what in other situation could be considered a loving caress. When he finally regained his sight, Erandur faced his own reflection in a huge mirror and his eyes widened as he saw Vaermina behind him. Daedric princes had no real gender, but the lady of nightmares always seemed to prefer her feminine side and chose to appear as a striking woman, but her beauty was borne of sheer terror. Her hair was long, silky and as white as snow, her pale features sculpted perfectly with elegant, high cheekbones, long, straight nose, tall forehead and full, plump lips that shone brightly in her face with ruby red. Her eyes were big, delicately slanted and terrifying – an endless black with no whites, irises or pupils, bleeding red down the pure white of her cheeks.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"What do I want?" the daedric prince wondered aloud as one of her hands kept caressing the dunmer's chest and the other locked on his hip. "It is truly simple, my Casimir. I want you back."

Erandur's eyes opened wide in horror.

"You've lost your mind." He whispered.

"Oh, have I?" Vaermina licked her lips and the priest noticed her tongue was forked and unnaturally long. The next second she licked along his ear, making him shudder in disgust. "Is that what you think, Casimir? Don't you know you've alwayssss been my favourite?"

She kept saying his old name, the name he wanted to forget, throwing it back at him as if on purpose, taunting him.

"I doubt you cared or recognized any of us." He said, not liking the strained tone of his own voice.

"Really? Then why did your betrayal sting me so?

"Face it, Casimir… you and I are so much alike. You spend so many years lying to yourself, trying to convince yourself you care about other pitiful mortals, in the name of a pathetic god.

"I know who you are deep down, Casimir…" Vaermina's voice sounded hypnotic. "You care not for others, do you? You only care about yourself… Like when you left the ones you called friends in my temple to die, and fled. You've only ever cared about yourself. You miss me, don't you? You miss the sense of belonging and the power I was giving you."

"No." he choked out. "I don't. Never again."

"So quick to deal in absolutes… Never say never, my pet." Vaermina's lips moved on the side of his neck in an unhurried, lazy kiss that made him tense and try to get out of her grip, but she held him firmly in place.

"I'll give that power back to you, Casimir…" Vaermina whispered, "even though you betrayed me. I'll take you back. Come back home, to me. You know you want to."

"I'll never go back to you." Erandur said firmly. "I serve lady Mara now and nothing you say will change it."

Vaermina's face contorted in anger and her nails drove deep in the skin on his chest, drawing blood.

"I told you not to utter that name again!" she spat, but calmed down in an instant. "You will come back to me. You will… I've watched you for years, I've watched you drown in self-contempt and care not for your own life while should have been glorious in my service… but now… now finally you have something you're afraid to lose."

Erandur froze in absolute fear, knowing exactly what the daedric prince was alluding at.

"Ah, as always you're quick to understand…" purred Vaermina. "Your little Nord… I will break her."

"You can't." he tried. "She's a dragonborn, she's the only one that can defeat the World Eater. Do you really want the world to end?"

Vaermina pouted.

"And what if the world ends?" she asked, "I care not, my pet. This world might die, but another one will eventually be born. And like fear itself, I am eternal… when the universe gives birth to its next creation, I will be there, waiting for my new prey. And you could be by my side, Casimir…"

"She's too strong for you. I believe in her." He said defiantly. "And don't call me by that name. I am Erandur now."

Clack, clack, clack, bones upon bones.

"You're funny, Casimir." After her laughter died down, Vaermina's mouth stretched in a wide smile, uncovering a set of sharp, pearly teeth. "That's part of why I like you so."

"I am in a surprisingly merciful mood tonight." The daedric prince assured him, resuming her lazy caress of Erandur's chest. "Renounce the false god you now serve. Come back to me. Rebuild my presence in Skyrim. Never see that pesky Nord again. And in return, I'll leave her be."

Erandur's shoulders slumped as he was trying to fight back the despair. The forked tongue slithered along his ear again and his knees almost buckled.

"Did you really think that little amulet you gave her would keep me away?" asked Vaermina with mock worry in her voice, but then her tone hardened. "You are mine, and I know how to slip through the chinks in the armour you've tried so hard to build… Just as I slipped in when you were working on that pathetic trinket, when you were thinking you were weaving Mara's power into it. See how selfish you truly are, my pet? You've doomed the one you profess to love the moment you gave her that amulet.

"I have now taken seat deep within her, and don't need the amulet anymore. I am the only master you'll ever serve, Casimir, and you'll never doubt me again. It takes a lot to break a soul of a dragon… but I have been around for too many centuries to count… and I've broken ones stronger than her before.

"I'll put her through torment the likes of which you've never imagined, until all that's left is a hollow shell. But you can stop it, Casimir, the moment you understand you're only allowed to love and worship me. You cannot go back to Nightcaller temple, but I found a remote cave north of Winterhold, where you will rebuild my cult.

"See?" she brushed her fingertips against his temple. "Now you know where to go. Once you get there and renounce your false god in front of my altar, only then will I set your dragonborn free."

Erandur could feel tears flowing down his cheeks, unable to stop himself and no longer caring to maintain a façade of false bravery.

"I'll assume these are tears of joy, my Casimir…" purred Vaermina. "You've said many times how you loved Mara's embrace… but I'm glad you know now mine is infinitely superior."

"It's only a dream." He whispered, clinging to his last shred of hope. A fool's hope. "It's only a nightmare."

The cold darkness filled with a sound of a rain of bones.

"Ah, but you're smarter than that, aren't you?" asked Vaermina. "But go, see for yourself… wake up."

"Wake up!" she screamed, claws digging deep into his skin, and he screamed as well.

Erandur kept screaming when he woke, immediately feeling sharp pain and warm liquid trickling down his chest. Blood. The next thing he was aware of was a pained moan by his side and when he turned towards the source of the sound, his eyes widened in horror.

"No, no, no…." he kept saying as if this was the only remaining word he knew. He could see tears marring Runa's face, her mouth set in a thin line, a testament to the pain she must feel.

"Wake up!" he pleaded, trying to shake her into consciousness, although he already knew it was for naught. "Wake up!"

"Please, wake up…" he whispered, but another moan was the only response he got. She wasn't waking up, and he knew she wouldn't. Not until he did what was asked of him.