Erandur felt completely lost. He watched the dying flames of the fire he and Runa built in what seemed a different life, a life when he felt hopeful. He knew what he had to do, and it sickened him. He was a fool to think he could defy a daedric prince.
"I should never have offered to travel with you." He whispered, looking down at the Nord he was cradling in his arms. Sweat was pearling on her forehead, and her body was tense. He tried holding her closer, but it was obvious it would bring her no comfort – wherever her spirit was, he couldn't reach it.
The guilt he felt was crushing; knowing that he was the one who, albeit unknowing, let Vaermina claim the dragonborn, made him feel lower than when he left Thorek, Veren and the rest of the priests to die at Nightcaller Temple. The thought of abandoning the goddess he chose to serve willingly and found solace in was devastating, just as was the thought of never seeing the dragonborn again. The expectations Vaermina had of him made him choke on bile; to use what power he had to serve the whims of evil once more, to bring pain, was unbearable.
Runa cried out, a loud, anguished sound that carried far under indifferent stars.
"Lady Mara, forgive me." Whispered Erandur, and then looked down at the one who trusted him with her life, and received only pain in return. There was no running away from what he must do.
"I'll save you, I swear." He said quietly. "Even if I must lose what I am."
He got up with effort, wincing in pain when the robe pulled on the scabs marring his skin, and gathered the dragonborn in his arms.
"I hope you forgive me one day, though I don't deserve it." He said, walking down the hill, leaving their belongings behind. "I hope you'll forgive me, and put an end to me."
Erandur's strength lay mostly in magic, and though he wished it could be different, he couldn't carry Runa too far. He made it down the hill to the lonely farm they passed on the way to see the land she'd purchased, on a beautiful day when she shared her dream with him, a dream that now felt unattainable. Luckily, the farmer was merciful enough to offer to take Erandur and Runa back to Whiterun in his carriage.
Once in the city, Erandur directed the man to Jorrvaskr, and thanked him for assistance, all the time trying not to think of the inevitable moment when he'd have to leave Runa behind, never to see her again.
He carried Runa inside, and was immediately met with a chorus of anxious voices.
"It's Runa!"
"What happened?"
"Is she hurt?"
"Get the Harbinger!"
All he could hear was the hurried sound of footsteps, but Erandur didn't care anymore. He knelt down, still holding the motionless Runa close to him, until he felt a heavy hand settle on his shoulder.
"Erandur, what happened?" asked a familiar voice and when he looked up, he saw Farkas' concerned face. It held no grudge or anger, and it hurt even more.
"She… she is… a daedric prince did this. She won't wake up." Was all Erandur managed to say, and this time he saw anger.
"Aela, Vilkas, take Runa to her room." Directed the harbinger.
"You…" his hand tightened on Erandur's arm, "You are coming with me. We need to talk."
"Yes, harbinger." The priest bowed his head, relieved to finally be on the receiving end of his anger. He deserved it. What happened was all his fault.
"Tell me." Farkas wasted no time when they entered his solace and the door closed behind them. "Tell me everything, priest, I need to know."
And Erandur did, without omitting anything, expecting to be hated, struck, maybe even killed. He'd welcome it. Farkas was the first person who heard his story, first one since Runa. It poured of him, in long shattered sentences and bursts, in guilt and shame. When he was done, he looked up, unsure how much time has passed, and was stunned when instead of a look of hate, he saw one of compassion.
"You are braver than you think, Erandur." The harbinger's voice was quiet.
"Brave?!" Erandur's eyes widened in surprise. "I am the very definition of a coward."
"No." the harbinger walked towards him, his touch a reassuring heaviness on the dunmer's shoulders. "You are someone who recognised he was wrong, and dedicated his life to righting his wrongs. It's not something anyone can do."
"I'm…I'm not…"
"Do you love my sister?" Farkas didn't seem to pay attention to Erandur's hesitation.
"I…" at first he tried to be on the defensive, but soon Erandur found that under the honest gaze of the harbinger he could not lie. "Yes, I do. With all I am."
"Good." Farkas nodded. "Then you fight for her. Do not give into the whims of a deranged daedric prince. Fight. That's what my sister would want – she'd want you to fight for her. And since you still won't admit it, I'll finally say it for you: Runa loves you. Since you feel the same, don't you dare forsake her. And once we get her back, stand by her, and give her a chance, for Kyne's sake."
"Didn't you hear me?!" Erandur's eyes widened in surprise. "I used to be a cultist of a Vaermina. Even if I somehow succeeded… Do you know what it would do to the dragonborn's reputation? What you are suggesting is preposterous."
Farkas shrugged.
"And I used to be a werewolf, destined for Hircine's hunting grounds, as I'm sure you know by now." He replied. "You can be a tabby merchant from Elsweyr for all I care, as long as you make my sister happy."
"I don't." Erandur said bitterly. "Ever since we met, I've only brought her misery and pain. I lost myself and hurt her friend, your brother. I burned her. Now to add to that, I may have doomed her to eternity in Vaermina's clutches."
"Excuses, and more excuses to try to suppress how you really feel."
"You can't be serious." Erandur's brow furrowed angrily.
"You're as stubborn as she is." Sighed Farkas. "Listen to me, please. You can't leave now. Runa's power is great, impressive enough to face the World Eater, but even the dragonborn isn't invincible. She needs to know people who care about her will stand by her no matter what. We will, but none of us can do for her what you can. Even if I call her my sister, you are the one who's got closer to her than anyone else.
"Whether you acknowledge it or not, you are important to her. If you leave, it will break her." Continued Farkas quietly when Erandur remained silent. "Is this how you want her to face a danger that strikes fear in the most seasoned warriors? You promised you'd stay with her until this was over. Are you an oath breaker, Erandur? At least give her that.
"I can't say I agree with your reasons, but I am doing my best to understand them. If we all live through this and you still want to leave, I will not stop you. I will not let her stop you either. We will speak no more of this. That is my promise."
Having said that, Farkas held out his hand and after a moment of hesitation, Erandur took it and reciprocated the firm handshake in silent agreement to the harbinger's terms. He felt admonished by the man, but had to admit he deserved it. In horror lingering in the aftermath of Vaermina's actions, he became even more convinced Runa would be better off without him but Farkas was right. He gave his word to Runa and he wouldn't break it. He'd get her back from Vaermina's realm even if it killed him. If it didn't, he'd stay with her until the threat of Alduin was gone and then he'd leave, even if it meant pain. He wasn't as blind as Farkas thought him to be; that day in the Pale that seemed so long ago proved that Runa was harbouring some kind of feelings for him, but he refused to believe it was love. Trust, fascination maybe, but his past would catch up to them, always, and she would regret it, or it would pass with time; she was, after all, so very young. For him, it was a different matter entirely. He had been given to Vaermina's cult so early in his life and the nature of being her acolyte did not inspire love, then he was free of it and although he's dedicated his life to the goddess of love and compassion, he never felt love for another being, not until this moment. It terrified him, but it was a burden he deserved and he would bear it alone as part of his penance.
The inner circle of the Companions and the priest of Mara gathered in Runa's quarters an hour later.
"I'm willing to fight as you said, harbinger." Said Erandur, sitting at Runa's bedside and holding her sweaty, cold palm. "However, I admit I am lost as to where we should start."
"Ah…." Farkas looked uncomfortable, and judging by the gleam in his twin brother's eyes, Erandur thought he wouldn't like the response he'd be given. "There's something you may not be aware of, Erandur."
The dunmer's eyebrows arched, but he remained silent.
"Runa is not fond of the daedric princes, but she does hold the favour of one of them. It happened before she met you." Said the harbinger, and started talking even faster once he saw the horrified look on the priest's face. "She told me once… she didn't want to tell you, because she was afraid you wouldn't want to stay by her side anymore."
Erandur tried to come to terms with this new piece of information.
"This… is unexpected." he said eventually, "But I couldn't hate her, and wouldn't leave, even for something like this. I presume you want to use that daedric prince's influence to counter Vaermina's actions."
"Yes. I'm not sure if we even have other choices." Admitted the harbinger. "I feel we need to act fast. Aela, the staff."
The huntress walked towards Runa's bed, and placed a strange shaped staff in her grip, holding the dragonborn's fingers around it.
"Channel your magic into it, priest." She whispered. "None other can."
At first, Erandur wanted to protest, but eventually he just nodded. They didn't have much choice anyway. He concentrated, and sent a burst of magicka into the staff in Runa's hand. The air seemed to shift, and then it became heavier as the summon materialised – a tall, armored daedra, looking angry and impatient.
"What is the meaning of this?" it hissed, looking towards the motionless dragonborn. "Only this impudent mortal is allowed to summon me. What have you done to her? My master is not going to be happy."
"Quiet, creature." Farkas seemed unperturbed by the daedra's display. "Go summon your master. His champion is in need of help."
The daedra huffed, but to Erandur's surprise, it simply disappeared without a word. Barely a second later, the air condensed to the point of almost crushing pressure, and an even taller figure appeared. It was wearing a black, daedric armor, its face a mixture of red and black, two horns protruding from dark hair. The newcomer's hand went toward the hilt of a huge sword on his back as if on instinct, and then it fell limply against his side as he swayed. He looked around with distaste before he spoke.
"Who do I have to kill to get a drink in here?" he asked in a hoarse voice. "Or do I have to fuck someone? What is this?"
Disregarding Erandur's obvious shock, Farkas motioned towards Vilkas. The harbinger's brother was quick to hand a bottle of mead to the newcomer.
"Mhmmm…" the Daedra drank the mead in an impressively short time, and surprisingly, looked around with a more sober gaze that seemed mildly bored until it reached the bed. Within seconds, the air in the room grew unbearably heavy, forcing most of the present on their knees.
"Who did this?" the daedra motioned towards the bed angrily.
Farkas managed to get back on his feet, though with considerable difficulty.
"It was Vaermina, lord Sanguine." Said the harbinger, and Erandur's eyebrows arched in surprise. Of all the daedric princes that Runa could be on good terms with, this was the one he least expected.
"Vaermina… never liked that deranged bitch." Mumbled Sanguine as he neared the bed. His gloved hand reached out to brush the strands of hair from Runa's sweaty forehead in a surprisingly tender manner.
"I told her." He said to nobody in particular. "I told her to just disregard all this Alduin nonsense and come with me. Such a fun mortal she is... But no… the sense of duty was too crushing, wasn't it, my pet?" Sanguine took off his glove and his fingers lightly caressed the dragonborn's cheek.
"Don't touch her." Erandur was surprised by how quick he reacted, and how little did he care about antagonising another daedric prince.
"Ah…" Sanguine seemed mildly interested. "So you're the one, huh?"
When Erandur didn't comment, the daedric prince continued.
"She said she wouldn't go with me… Not only because of Alduin. She said she wanted to find someone to fully live her mortal life with. Is that you?"
Erandur was stunned into silence, but Farkas spoke when he couldn't.
"Yes, lord Sanguine. He is."
"Hmmm." Mused the daedric prince, "What a curious choice. You were the one that brought this trouble upon her."
"Yes." One word was all Erandur could manage.
"And now you want to defy the one that used to possess you, for the sake of my Champion." Said Sanguine. "Don't think I wouldn't know… But hey, who am I to judge?" his mouth widened in a smile that looked slightly deranged.
"Tormented, strong, with pent up energy… I'd say you're a good choice." Sanguine chuckled, oblivious to the stunned glances he received. "Very well. If you want to get into Vaermina's realm, you'll need to try where the veil is at its thinnest, and where ones skilled at magic are. The College of Winterhold.
"You will need a daedric artifact to cross over." He added, a resigned look on his dark face. His hand reached upwards and locked on one of his horns that soon cracked with a sickening sound. "Mhmmm. That didn't feel nice."
Sanguine handed his horn to the surprised Erandur.
"I cannot fully save her from suffering, priest." He said, "But I can keep her relatively unharmed, and I will do just that."
"Why?" Erandur couldn't stop himself from asking.
"Why?" Sanguine's smile was wide and unsettling. "Do I need a reason?"
"Go!" he added. "I can oppose Vaermina, but I don't know for how long."
Erandur nodded, trying not to pay attention to what he witnessed next, and trying to subdue the jealousy that roared through him.
"Shhhh, my pet." Sanguine's voice sounded surprisingly tender as he settled on the bed and pulled Runa in his lap, placing her head on his shoulder. "I'm here, with you. We've had so much fun together, remember?"
The daedric prince's fingers threaded through coppery locks in a soothing manner.
"You should've gone with me when I asked..." he whispered, "But I won't be petty. Concentrate on my voice, little one. Don't give in."
Runa seemed to breathe easier, and Sanguine looked up, fixing Erandur with an intense stare.
"Go, you fool." He mouthed. "I don't know how long I can keep this up."
Winterhold was cold, colder than anything Erandur's witnessed in the Pale.
"We need to go." He said to his companion. There had been much quarrelling regarding who would go on the quest to save Runa, but the one who won had the backing of the harbinger himself. "Runa needs us."
"Priest." Came a strangely accented voice from behind Erandur and as he turned around, he saw a tall Khajiit wearing a heavy steel armor; with his white and brown fur and golden eyes, he resembled a lynx. "This one has heard you mention the dragonborn, has he not?"
Athis and Erandur exchanged a surprised glance.
"Do you know the dragonborn?" asked the priest.
"Runa, the dragonborn. Yes, this one knows her. May she walk on warm sands." Replied the Khajiit warrior with a bow. "Both of you dark-folk look worried. It makes this one think the dragonborn is in trouble. And he doesn't like it."
"This doesn't concern you." Replied Athis, angered by the delay the cat-warrior was causing.
"Please." Implored the Khajiit. "This one has not known the dragonborn for long, but she is a precious friend. She has helped this one a lot. This one would have you tell him what is wrong."
Athis snarled angrily, but Erandur put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. His years of priesthood taught him to believe in providence and the Khajiit looked sincerely worried.
"The dragonborn is plagued by nightmares caused by a daedric prince. We are on our way to the Winterhold College to find our way into the realm of Oblivion to free her."
"Dark Moons!" exclaimed the Khajiit. He looked shocked, his ears flat against his head much like a mountain lion's when facing a bear but he calmed down surprisingly fast. "Please wait here, dark-folk. This one will return shortly."
Not waiting for them to acknowledge his request, the warrior moved with haste, running towards a nearby caravan of merchants, his brethren. Erandur and Athis watched him talk to one that was apparently their leader, gesturing animatedly. After a few minutes, the leader of the caravan nodded and the warrior retrieved a longsword and hurried back to the two dunmer.
"This one thanks you for waiting. We can go now."
Erandur's eyes widened in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"This one is going with you to help the dragonborn. This one protects the caravan and is a good warrior. Not as good as the dragonborn. But good."
"Did you not understand what he said barely a few minutes ago?" asked Athis disbelievingly. "We are going into Oblivion. It's extremely dangerous."
"This one understood." Replied the Khajiit. "The thought of Oblivion makes his fur grow white. But this one is still going."
"You are brave, I'll give you that much." Said Athis. "But you are not obliged to go."
"No, no, no!" the Khajiit started gesturing wildly to make a point, his accent getting heavier in his emotional plea. "This one will not be talked out of that. The folk of Skyrim don't trust us. They think us thieves. They think us dirty. Many of them chase us away. But not Runa, the dragonborn. She always treats us with respect. She buys our wares and tells others to do it. She retrieved a treasured heirloom for this one, only because he needed help. She smiles at us, and her smile is sincere. The dragonborn deserves help and this one is going to give it."
Now that he thought about it, Erandur could recall Runa's fondness for the cat-folk. Though he hasn't met this particular Khajiit before, it happened many a time during his travels with the dragonborn that she'd stop to sell some items she found to the Khajiit merchants, often staying a bit longer to talk and exchange news. The determined Khajiit warrior added another facet to the story and the priest's heart clenched painfully. One as good at heart as Runa did not deserve such fate and he wouldn't turn this warrior away when his generous offer stemmed from the same source.
"Very well." He agreed, ignoring Athis' surprised look. "We accept your help with gratitude. I am Erandur, priest of Mara, and this is Athis of the Companions of Whiterun. How shall we call you?"
The Khajiit looked visibly relieved.
"This one is called Kharjo." He replied, his ears twitching in what Erandur judged to be happiness.
"Glad to make your acquaintance, Kharjo." Said the priest and bowed his head slightly. "Let us make haste now."
With that he turned around and walked towards the College, the Khajiit on his heels. Athis sighed, but after a second he shrugged and followed. Whatever they'd need to face ahead would likely require all the help they could get.
