Zuk Fein Zu'u Bargained Fah
Laure awoke before everyone else. She lay on her side with Vilkas wrapped protectively around her, his heavy arm draped over her hip. In the relatively hushed stillness of their little camp, she stared at the ceiling, trying to quell her rising eagerness to get moving.
The only sounds to be heard were the soft breathing of the others and the occasional pop of the coals in the brazier. She pulled his arm tighter about her and pushed back into his warmth, not quite ready to disturb their rest, enjoying the brief moment of peace. Her mind drifted lazily, unable to keep her thoughts from the conversation she'd had with her mate. She didn't know what to make of his rather sudden desire to marry. Perhaps it only felt sudden to her. Yet she could understand why, to an extent. She was rushing about the realm, running headlong to an undecided fate, and part of him was afraid she would be swept away by it. Somehow, marriage it would give him some reassurance in all of the turmoil.
Sometimes she felt as though she would be swept away herself, the storm of events that had picked her up from her old life making everything prior seem ever more distant and sharply missed to a woman who keenly felt that distance already. Laurelin felt herself a minute speck as chaos swirled around her, pulling her in every direction, spread thinner and thinner, everyone around her needing. Needing help, needing rescuing, needing vengeance or a bloody throne. Their faces swirled about her, all crying endlessly for her help, leaving her little rest, barring what she stole guiltily here and there. And out of that madness would come a sonorous voice, guiding her to sanity, his hand reaching out to steady her if she should falter.
He was her anchor, his lips an inspiration and their own delicious madness. Being parted from him was agony—she always felt a tug in her gut, in her very soul, when they were separated for long—and being with him was bliss. And the ways in which he tried to show her his support and love boggled her mind, even now.
Her eyes drifted closed as she thought, feeling the safety of him at her back, even as he twitched and huffed in his sleep. The wildness of his beast spirit had never frightened her; if anything, it had interested her, her affinity for wild things translating throughout her life. His intensity rarely fazed her; she valued it, as she did his wit, his loyalty.
Never let go . . .never doubt. His sharp gaze softened as he made himself vulnerable to her by asking her—no, pleading—to be a part of her life. He was still a proud man, yet he willingly followed her without question and offered up his heart to her, a gift she was certain he hadn't offered lightly, she thought as she drifted back to sleep.
The memory of them planting the sapling of the Eldergleam tree played in her mind as she relaxed into him even further. His enchanting eyes glinting in the blossom-scented sunbeams that pierced the canopy, lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile. Their hands working together to bring a little beauty back into the world. The feeling of peace and contentment that felt just like now, while a soft breeze fluttered. Impossible, no breeze can reach us down here . . .
Laure awoke again with a soft sob. She could almost remember a dream so sweet and lovely that it pierced her heart when it faded away, to be replaced by the driving need to hunt. The blood-red haze of dreams of the hunt stained the hopeful vision she had been given. If only she could remember what it was, but all that remained were fading sensations of bliss and warmth. Vilkas was just tucking the furs around her shoulders, and for some reason she wanted to pull him to her and weep into his shirt, though she couldn't honestly say why. Confused, she wiped away the moisture in her eyes and closed them again, trying to remember what the dream had been, trying to calm her pounding heart.
The soft thumps and whirs of Blackreach still resonated through the stone, thrumming in her bones, the ancient pulse of a lost wonder. Laure forced herself to open her eyes and finally pushed herself up, beginning her morning exercises, clearing her mind as she warmed her muscles. Once she was warmed up and clear-headed, they all armored up, ate a quick meal, and unbarred the doors, letting in the strangely scented air of the cavern outside.
Shea'a led the way, followed by Farkas. As Laure moved to follow Vilkas out, he suddenly stopped and turned about in the doorway, filling it, while he gazed intently down at her. He didn't say anything, just held her hands in his and leaned his forehead against hers. Finally he simply leaned in and kissed her and pulled her hard against his chest. She clung to him, lips melded for a long moment; and in her heart she made a promise to herself, and to him, that when things were more settled, she would think long and hard about his proposal.
In the meantime, she nibbled his firm lower lip and winked as she spun out of his arms, her low, musical laugh swallowed by the chiming of the enormous mushrooms overhead. A positive attitude was far more likely to see them all through this than a negative, and her instincts told her they were getting close.
They jogged to catch up with the other two, who hadn't made it very far, as the Arch-Mage lagged behind, gazing up at the long, glowing tendrils that flowed from crevices in the ceiling. In a short time they had crossed the cavern, now more sure of their surroundings, and were skirting the walls of the city, trying to relocate the tower Laure had spied the day before.
A carved stone causeway led to the brass doors of the tower, which climbed all the way up to the very roof of the cave. From the right came the muffled roar of the waterfalls below, where several underground rivers and streams flowed together and plunged over a multitude of short falls, the arc of the falls reaching nearly wall to wall at this end of the cave. At the very bottom was a shallow lake, and where it drained to, they had not yet discovered.
They all bunched up at the end, then finally pushed open the doors, shivering slightly under the watchful gaze of a Dwemer king, wrought in tarnished brass, looming overhead. Just beyond the doorway was another lift, which they wasted no time gathering on and flipping the lever.
On the long ride up, Laure stared at the ceiling, bouncing on the balls of her feet, clearly anxious and excited. She didn't think Vilkas could feel it, but there was a strange quality to the air, as if everything was a tiny bit more tenuous, or uncertain. She had felt this once before, right before Alduin had appeared over Helgen. That brittleness, the vulnerability of time and the future.
Now that she thought about it, she had felt it in a more raw form, masked by the bone-chilling cold, at the Throat of the World. At the time, she had taken it for awe and the power exuded by her draconic mentor, but now she realized the Time Wound was an actual rend that had allowed something to happen. She couldn't answer for the why; she could only carry on as best she could and hope to make it through.
When the lift finally shuddered to a halt, they paused long enough to shoulder their packs, then cautiously moved down the short corridor and into a musty smelling chamber. They nosed about a bit, finding the dusty remnants of a camp, torn and charred books scattered about, a few lesser artifacts and little else, so they moved on quickly.
The next room brought them all to a halt. A large circular chamber was nearly completely filled by a huge brass sphere. Small discs of glass or something similar pierced the walls of the sphere like windows, dotted seemingly at random over its surface. A narrow ramp to the left curved up and around the sphere, leading to a second level that overlooked the top portion of the oversized ball. As they climbed the ramp, Laure trailed her fingers over the brass orb, wondering what its function was, feeling the crackling in the air around her but saying nothing about it.
They reached the second floor and walked the circular balcony around its circumference, noting the stepped appearance of the top portion of the sphere, concentric rings running in a band around the whole thing. An elaborate network of metal arms was arrayed overhead, each supporting another of the jewel-like discs. Another landing with several pedestals of varying heights was centered at the back of the chamber, overlooking the curved top of the sphere.
It wasn't long before they found the skeletal remains of a man near a little alcove adjoining the second level. His journal, while short, was enlightening. The man had apparently become obsessed with solving the puzzle of the sphere and lenses, dying down here before he managed. It did give them a few clues, though. A short passage led farther past his body, but the party was drawn to the fantastic machine overhead and underfoot. Something told them all that this was what they were looking for; nothing yet had compared.
"Dammit, I was afraid of that," muttered the Arch-Mage as she read the dead man's journal.
"What now?" asked Vilkas in irritation, his patience with the mage thin at the moment. The last thing any of them wanted to hear was bad news that would further delay them.
"Well, we were able to get this far without doing something, but I don't think we can proceed any further without backtracking a good bit."
"What?" asked Farkas. "Why would we need to do that?"
"Because to activate this contraption, I think we'll need to go back to the device that concealed the lift down to Blackreach from Alftand. The cube mentioned here is probably the lexicon I received from Septimus Signus. He was hoping to get it inscribed with lost Dwemer knowledge, and I was hoping to not need to create such a thing for a man unhinged like him. Anyway, I think we were supposed to use that machine to inscribe the cube-"
"Can't we just try the blank one before we go all the way back?" asked Farkas curiously.
Shea'a looked at the three Companions uncomfortably and started to object, but then thought better of it. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try. Here, let's all go up top; who knows what this thing might do if this does work?" They waited patiently while she consulted her notes and made a few more, swiftly diagramming the machinery.
Vilkas cleared his throat loudly, and the Altmer quickly set aside the journal and her notebook, then pulled a carved cube out of her pack. She hesitated a moment, then dropped it into the receptacle next to the four little pedestals topped with buttons.
Laurelin, Farkas, and Vilkas all stood back and let the Arch-Mage do her thing. Buttons lit up and Shea'a pressed one, then the other, testing their function. She nodded and smiled to herself, pleased. The entire sphere below had spun, lenses whirling in bright strips of color, and the rings had done a remarkable thing, standing up and pivoting in a complex fashion before settling down again. Shea repeated this a few times, then gave a triumphant, "Ha, as I hoped!" when the cube began glowing a brilliant blue, split open, and a smaller cube within spun mysteriously within the outer shell and another of the buttons lit up, inviting some curious soul to press it.
Shea'a pressed the third button, and they all cried out in surprise when the array of lenses suspended above pivoted down, unfolding like a vast metal flower. Laure's fists were tightly clenched in excitement as she leaned around to get a better view. The arms lifted and swirled about again, the colored panes focusing the light from above onto the top of the sphere, directly into corresponding lenses on the surface of the orb.
The final button lit up, and with a glance at the other three, Shea'a lightly pressed it with her forefinger, trembling with excitement herself. The upper lenses swung out of the way and quiet machinery lowered another marvel down; a huge, faceted gem of the same stuff as the lenses, bisected by bands of gold. It rotated down out of the ceiling, pivoted to a horizontal position in its shining metal armatures and split in two, the edges drawing away from each other to reveal a long, finely tooled scroll case that seemed to glow with its own particular sheen.
"Is that? That's it!" Laure whooped loudly and cried out, "You did it!" She leaped down the ramp, to stand in wonder before the gleaming machinery. Farkas and Vilkas stood at the edge of the little ramp leading over the sphere, while Laure gently lifted the surprisingly hefty scroll case free. She caressed it with shaking fingers, then brought it back over, where the other three clustered around, eager to get a closer look at the prize they had worked so hard for.
"Looks like we didn't need to go back after all!" exclaimed Farkas as he admired the scroll case. "Aren't you going to read it?"
Shea'a's head jerked up, her black eyes wide with horror. "It takes years to prepare for reading an Elder Scroll. If she or I tried, we would surely go mad, and be blinded for our insolence."
"Then why go to all this trouble? She has to read it anyway to learn the Shout she needs, right? She doesn't have years to train like that. Why not just get it over with right here?"
"I have to take it to the Time Wound at the top of the Throat, Farkas. It's what I was told by, ah the Greybeards. I can wait that long, I'm sure," replied Laure gently, being careful to not reveal Paarthurnax's nature to Shea'a. No sense spreading around that morsel of gossip. She trusted the Arch-Mage to not carelessly impart the knowledge, but a chance word in the wrong ears could have terrible repercussions.
"Guess I'll never see what the inside looks like then, huh? Ah well, probably just as well. And hey, I've seen an Elder Scroll with my own eyes; that's something!" He smiled his beautiful wide smile and folded his arms, satisfied.
"That is something, indeed," murmured the Arch-Mage, back to sketching furiously after pocketing the now glowing and collapsed cube.
Laure tucked the Elder Scroll into her pack, the long thing jutting out awkwardly, then turned her gaze to look about. Vilkas followed her quietly up to the hollow gem that had hidden the Kel, watched as she ran her fingers over the carved surface covetously.
"Somehow I don't think you'll be able to get that one out of here," he observed.
"You're probably right. It would be lovely though, put a light enchantment on it, hang it in the hall as a nightlight for Lydia."
"You'd think she would know the stairs by now," chuckled Vilkas. "It's too big for Breezehome, love. Leave it; there are other pretties to liberate out there."
"Ah, you're right, of course, but it's fun to fantasize. And it's huge. I can't help but just admire this all. The most remarkable lock box in the world, and someone else opened it for me. I feel shamed." She grinned while she said this, though, looking far from ashamed.
They spent a few moments inspecting the rest of the chamber and found yet another lift down the short corridor beyond the body of the dead man.
"Wagers on whether it goes up or down?" asked Laure, her hands on the lever.
"One hundred septims says down, deeper into this craziness," volunteered Vilkas.
"Up to surface and out of here!" said Farkas hopefully.
"Down, beneath Blackreach to the lost civilization of the Dwemer!" piped in Shea'a wistfully.
"Well, I say up it is; shall we see?" Laure flipped the lever and the lift began climbing. Laure and Farkas made the other two pay up then and there, and by the time the last septim had been counted out, the lift shuddered to a halt, sunlight streaming through the bars of the gate. They exited the small stone chamber that surrounded the lift and found themselves in the remains of what looked to be a mining expedition. Eager to be on their way, they took their bearings as best they could and struck out for home.
"Well, Dragonborn, it was an honor to travel with you. That is, it was momentous and thrilling to have a part in locating such a prize! I will have months of further work, notes to organize and annotate, a whole book of observations! And those samples of the giant fungi will be of great help." Shea'a seemed well pleased by the amount of work still ahead of her.
"Arch-Mage, thank you for all your assistance. We probably would have been looking for a year before we found the ah, artifact," said Laure with a smile, careful not to reveal too much in front of the carriage driver. Fortunately, he was busy talking with the stablemaster and paying them little mind.
Vilkas gave her a hand up into the back of the carriage, and Farkas handed over her bags. "You sure you want to take the carriage, Arch-Mage?" asked the older of the brothers, seeing her folding her long limbs awkwardly on the rough boards.
"I'll be fine, and it will allow me to get started." The serious Altmer looked at Vilkas thoughtfully, then Farkas, and finally smiled briefly. "Thank you for letting me join you. I've learned and seen much that I never thought to see. Take care of yourselves, Companions, and most especially, Laurelin."
"You have our gratitude as well. Safe travels, Arch-Mage." The brothers leaned into the wagon and clasped her wrist in farewell with easy half-smiles on their faces. After all, she wasn't half bad for a mage.
"I expect a full update when you get back from defeating the World-Eater, Laurelin."
"Let's hope I'm able to do that," scoffed Laure, tugging the tip of her earlobe.
"I hope so. I've got money down that says you win. Until then, Auri-El bless you, Dragonborn." Shea'a turned and spoke briefly to the driver, and moments later the carriage was rattling off down the road. Laure and the twins watched until it passed out of sight, waving one last time, then turned as one to hike up to the city.
The three of them had intended to rest in Whiterun for a day or two after obtaining the Elder Scroll. However, once they said good-bye to the Arch-Mage, seeing her off in the carriage to Winterhold, each felt the need to hasten.
They made their way into town and marched straight to Jorrvaskr. They entered the mead hall and found everything as it normally was, relatively quiet. Out back they found everyone drilling and practicing away.
"So good to see you again, dears. How was your adventure?" said Tilma from behind her broom as she swept the porch clean.
"It went quite well, thank you," Laure replied.
"I'll go right down and warm up your rooms, make sure the linens are-"
"Please don't trouble yourself. I'm afraid we won't be able to stay long, Tilma. We are checking in, and then we need to make haste to High Hrothgar." They would really be going much higher than the monastery, but the dear little old lady didn't need to know that. Laure gave her wrinkled cheek a light kiss, then turned to speak with Aela.
Everything appeared to be rolling along smoothly in their prolonged absences, which was a relief to everyone. Aela wanted to see the Elder Scroll, so they went inside and closed the doors of the Harbinger's quarters behind them before Laure pulled it out. As she unrolled the buckskin wrapped around it, she could feel her anxiety mounting again. She didn't begrudge her shield-sister a glimpse of the scroll, only the time she felt ticking away around her ever since she'd obtained it. Time seemed to be racing past her, and she was powerless to stop it from rushing on toward the eye of the storm centered around this very artifact.
Aela whistled when she finally laid eyes on the finely worked case. Her fingers hovered over it a moment, not quite brushing the surface. "You can feel the power! These things are not meant for the likes of mortals, I think. Have you read it yet?"
"Do I look blind or insane to you?" snorted Laure.
"Well, now that you mention it . . . yes, both," quipped the tall redhead. "So what next?"
"We head for the Throat as soon as we can gather a few things. After that, your guess is as good as mine. I'll read the scroll and, with luck, find the answers we seek."
As always, Aela was unfazed and said simply, "I'll keep things running here until you get back. Good hunting, shield-siblings." Laure bit back the immediate reply that she felt like a mouse hunting a sabre-cat. It went without saying, and Aela's confidence was reassuring.
With that, they wrapped the Elder Scroll back up and found a better satchel for it before leaving the Harbinger's quarters. Laure was grateful for her shield-sister's easy acceptance of what was happening, and her willingness to fill in while they were all gone. She never once complained that the twins would disappear into the wilds or crypts for weeks with the Harbinger. It made it simpler for her to leave and not worry that the whelps were running amok, knowing Aela was experienced, level-headed—now that her grief over Skjor had faded—and not easily taken advantage of.
One of the times Laure had sat down with her forebear recently, she had apologized over tankards of mead for keeping the twins from their duties.
"Nonsense, Harbinger. Their duties, while important, can be learned from other teachers, and nothing teaches like hands-on experience, which they've been getting a lot of lately. Athis is a capable teacher as well, so we aren't completely shorthanded. What Farkas and Vilkas bring to the Companions in honor and fortune while they are out protecting you more than makes up for their absences. You three spread the glory and fame of the Companions while saving the realm, and everyone else tries to be worthy and live up to your example."
"Some example I set, drinking and carousing all the time," remarked Laure dryly.
"Ha! Two favorite pastimes of any true Nord. Add in hitting something and I think you have it covered."
"Really, now? Where does fornicating fall?"
"That's covered under carousing. Really, sister, we've got it all well in hand here. Jobs are getting done, we get paid, people begin to take the Companions more seriously again. You don't need to fret."
"Honestly I try not to. I trust you all completely, but I have to check in at least occasionally. Some Harbinger I've turned out to be, never here for long, too soft on the whelps," said Laure lightly, but her expression was still troubled.
"We all knew you wouldn't be able to spend much time in Jorrvaskr. No one would expect you to, not with everything else. It's a small price to pay."
"Doesn't stop me feeling like I could do more. I suppose getting through this crisis will have to come first."
"Aye, but I have faith in you; so many of us do."
"I'll try not to disappoint." Being an elf meant she would never see Sovngarde, but she liked to think that Kodlak would be able to look on and be pleased with how things were going. Deep in her heart she truly wanted to live up to the old man's hopes for her. It had been he who had reminded her of what was important. If not for him, she might have simply headed back to Riften after Helgen fell, and ignored the dragons until it was too late.
They found themselves coerced into sitting down for a meal with everyone who wasn't out on a job. Over several mugs of mead and plates of steaming-hot food, they filled the warm, comfortable great room of Jorrvaskr with tales of deadly Dwemer ruins, immeasurably huge caverns filled with mushrooms taller than the tallest trees in Skyrim, illuminated with eldritch light. Laure pulled out the crimson nirnroot sample she had taken and passed the curious plant around, and everyone admired the reddish glow it still emitted. Farkas and Vilkas told of the many beasts they had encountered and battled far below the surface, at the very roots of the mountains.
Before long, the tales degenerated into various anecdotes by a multitude of tellers, becoming a raucous backdrop, punctuated by occasional shouts and oaths, the clashing of mugs in toasts and bits and pieces of song.
Laure sat back and listened to the jesting of the whelps and Circle all together, their boisterous, loud, sometimes inane chatter, and closed her eyes a moment. It was almost overwhelming to look at them eating, drinking, and arguing agreeably and think that her time amongst them might be very limited indeed. She loved her adopted family intensely and knew they loved her in return. Honor and glory, fame and fortune are sweet, but knowing I have sworn brothers and sisters at my back, that is sweeter yet, more valuable, worth fighting for. Them and so many others. It is an honor to know each and every one of my shield-siblings, to have learned with them and been allowed to guide them when they need me. Now stop being so moody, or they'll notice. She shook off the melancholy and finished her mead, smiling brightly around the cozy, firelit room that had become home. She had every intention of coming back and seeing everyone again, and no dragon was going to stop her.
They finished their meal and said quick good-byes to everyone before heading out, with the well wishes of their shield-siblings resounding even through the thick walls of the mead hall, regretting the necessity of leaving so soon. They hoisted their heavy packs and jogged quickly down the stairs.
Lucia was sitting on her hands in the shade of the Gildergreen tree, occasionally asking passersby for spare septims. The little girl gave Laurelin and the twins a sunny smile and said brightly, "Miss Dragonborn, do you have any chores I could do to earn a few coins? Or something to eat?" She gazed hopefully up at the Bosmer and her companions.
"Sure sweetie, come down to the house and talk to Lydia. I have to leave right away, but I'll let her know you can help her around the house while I'm gone. If you need a place to sleep, tell her I said you can sleep in my bed."
"I don't know if I could do that, Dragonborn. That's your bed."
"If I'm not there to sleep in it myself, then you should, and that's all I'll hear about it."
"Well, thanks! I'll come down in a little bit and talk to your housecarl. Kynareth's blessings on you!" Laure and the twins walked through the marketplace, edging through the light crowds. Once through, they made haste down to the Drunken Huntsman, then to Warmaiden's, buying every ebony and glass arrow they had. That errand done, they stopped in quickly at Breezehome.
Lydia greeted her thane from the stairs and clattered the rest of the way down to wait and see if she needed anything at all.
"Well, Lydia," Laure began immediately, "I am off again. Hopefully I will be back soon. If not, then you know what to do. Oh, before I forget, I told the little orphan girl, Lucia, that she could help you around the house and stay here if she needed to. She can sleep in my bed if she does. You can pay her out of the coffers; a few gold per day plus meals and a bed should keep her comfortable. Questions?"
"Aye, why wouldn't you be coming back? And where are you going? For how long? How will I know if something has happened? Are you going to adopt that little girl?"
"Lydia I can't take the time to answer all of those; I wish I could. I'm heading to High Hrothgar to read an Elder Scroll. I anticipate returning, but I can't say for sure I will. At any rate, Vilkas or Farkas should be able to fill you in if I don't come back. And yes, I've actually been thinking about adopting Lucia. It breaks my heart to see her drifting around begging. We'll talk more about that when I get back, I think."
Lydia scowled with displeasure but simply nodded. "As you will, my Thane. Be safe and may the gods watch over your battles."
"Thank you, Lydia. We'll be back soon." She closed the door behind her and jogged through the gates and down to the stables with the twins at her side. Half an hour later they were mounted up and trotting rapidly along the banks of the White River, following the road to Ivarstead, where they would leave the horses and hike the rest of the way up on foot.
Laure was unusually quiet as they wound their way through the river valleys that studded the foothills around the Throat of the World. Her eyes, as always, traveled steadily about, taking note of everything and filing it away while she kept an ear out for danger. Still, she had plenty of time to think, and to worry. Her assurances to everyone else and herself aside, nothing was given to her that assured her survival.
Vilkas sensed her mood and wanted to encourage her, but he knew that at this point false platitudes would be hollow assurance. Instead he rode right behind her, ready to offer a smile if she should turn and glance his way, which she often did. She would give a radiant smile of her own in return, which lasted as long as it took her eyes to roam back to the looming mountain above them. Then a shadow of worry crept back into her expression and she would hunch forward on herself again. He watched it again and again, the cycle of her steeling herself for what was to come, then the doubt. He ached to take her worries from her and give her the confidence that he had in her.
She was Dragonborn, Companion, Ysmir reborn, and in his eyes, she could not fail. She had been a competent fighter when she had first arrived in Jorrvaskr. Now, after over a year of training, fighting and adventuring, she had surpassed even him in her skills with one-handed weapons, and was a true menace with her ebony greatsword. Where once she had simply picked everyone off from a distance with her bow, now she picked off those who offered convenient targets first, then snuck in as close as possible and trusted her armor and Thu'um to augment her wicked skills with blade and shield, often wiping entire encampments of bandits out before they even realized there was only her.
She never turned away from a challenge, even those that seemed beyond her power to overcome, often with a curse and a smirk on her strangely beautiful face. Her determination to see whatever all of this was through to its end was every bit as powerful as her more obvious abilities. She was one of the most adept hunters and fighters he had ever heard of, even without her Thu'um. With it, all fell before her, even the strongest of dragons. Alduin would be no different, once she learned Dragonrend.
Dragonrend, he thought to himself. She worries about the effects of the Scroll, as she should. Yet Akatosh himself has blessed her; surely that must offer some shield against its powers. It would be a cruel jest for her to go this far and learn the Shout, then be unable to use it. Mad or blind, no! The gods would not be so cruel. She has taken her gifts and used them to do so much good; surely they must see that she is a champion who brings light to the world. They will protect her and allow her to fulfill her destiny. And after that, maybe we can forge a life together. One dragon to battle at a time, Vilkas.
They stopped for a break and to rest the horses near a little stone bridge that spanned a narrow gorge full of rushing whitewater. Farkas was lying in the sun on a warm boulder, forearm over his eyes, contently napping within moments of their halt. He had been taking every opportunity he could to nap, enjoying the rest he now received. Laure and Vilkas left him to his basking and walked hand in hand to wash in the icy stream, then leaned on mossy boulders to eat a bite or two. Laure's thoughts kept drifting away, lulled by Vilkas' voice and small talk, the soothing sound of running water.
"At least this way we'll both be in the Hunting Grounds together, aye?" said Vilkas in idle jest, intending to startle her out of her funk, even though as soon as he said it the possibilities began racing through his mind.
Laurelin's thoughts skidded to a halt and she frantically reviewed what he had been saying, lost as she'd been. "How do you mean?" she asked with concern. "I'm sorry I don't follow, love. Are you saying you're not going to get cured now?"
"Not until you have defeated the World-Eater. I would follow you even to the Hunting Grounds, Laurelin—" he began to say slowly, but she cut him off before he could finish.
"Vilkas, no!" she said furiously, taken aback that he would suggest a thing like that. "That's sweet, but wrong! You have to get cured so you and Farkas can go to Sovngarde. Why would you even think of giving that up? Are you daft?"
His nostrils flared wide and his eyes blazed that she would suggest he was daft. "No, but I—it might not be so bad with you there. Skjor and Aela plan to find each other there and hunt side by side—"
"Side by side for all eternity, driven on mercilessly by Hircine. Vilkas, that isn't what you want and not really what I want, either. I love to hunt, but I'm not sure even I want that. And your brother would miss you, as would Kodlak, perhaps your birth parents. I can't deprive you of that. Don't even ask me to, not that!"
"I just thought since, well, it hasn't been bad; in some ways hunting with you is the most gratifying part of my life. We've hunted together so long now, you can see and enjoy the beauty of the hunt, and maybe I would live longer, have more time with you that way—if I can't have a wife and family with me in Sovngarde, then having my mate in the Hunting Grounds . . ." He trailed off, seeing her shaking her head, blue eyes sad and angry at the same time. How can I tell her that being with her somehow soothes the worst part of the fury, makes everything so much sweeter?
"No, Vilkas. You need the cure. You deserve to go to your ancestors and enjoy the fruits of Sovngarde. The hunt is not for you, nor me."
"It isn't for you to decide! If I wish to go where my mate goes, if it's in my power at all, there I will go!" he roared, fists clenched tightly at his side.
Laurelin blinked slowly, her anger evaporating as swiftly as it always did with him, to be replaced with a deep sadness. She couldn't stay mad at him for long. He meant well, and the enormity of his offer was enough to shake her deeply. He had desperately wanted a cure before, to see Shor's Hall and meet the honored dead who went before. It was the Nord dream, to sup with heroes of old and drink toast after toast, while heavenly bards sang the epic songs and verse. For him to say that he would forgo all of that to hunt with her forever, well it infuriated and flattered her, but she could see he was actually quite serious. At least for now; she was sure he would come to his senses.
Vilkas nodded and drifted to a stop by an out cropping of rock. "Where do mer go?" he asked finally.
"Does it matter?" Laure asked sadly as she acknowledged that she needed to tell him her last true secret. She had hoped she would never need to, had danced away from any mention or hint of her being a Nightingale, but it wasn't fair, he told her anything she wanted to know. And if she was really even contemplating accepting his marriage proposal, she couldn't have any more secrets, nothing more between them.
Knowing he would be angry but needing to say it, she hesitated then began, "Vilkas, when I die I will most likely serve . . . as a spectral agent for Nocturnal. We have a contract; you see, she is the Mistress of Luck, and most all thieves and more than a few hunters and gamblers pray to her for it. She was shut out of this realm; for years there was no good luck because of it, and I helped bring her influence back to the world. But to do it, I had to become her agent. I never realized I might wake up one day and be some Nordic legend as the Dragonborn, and I'm so sorry, but I'm bound to my mistress in this life and the next. I—I doubt very much I'll be going to the Hunting Grounds when my time comes."
The warmth fled his expression and his gaze hardened. He clenched his jaw against the sudden jab of pain and anger that nearly took his breath away. Pledged to yet another Daedra. His eyes closed tightly against the tears that he was too angry to let her see fall. Not now. Why wait so fucking long? Laurelin, don't you know how it hurts when I find you've deceived me? How many more secrets will you keep from me until you can't hide them any longer?
"I had no way of knowing, Vilkas. You have to understand, I never thought my life would end up where it is now; I thought it wouldn't matter. That no one would care where I went in the afterlife." Gods, she wished he could understand how different her life had been then.
"Fuck me, Laurelin! Are there any others I should know about while you're feeling loose-tongued?" he shouted in frustration, his arms flung overhead as he stormed around her. Unbelievable, why had he ever thought she had told him the full story? Agent of Nocturnal, indeed; the mer hid more of herself in the shadows than she revealed! What was truth and what was mummery? "Fuck!" he yelled into the wind once more, then made an effort to calm himself. He paced in tight circles around a stone-still Laurelin, taking long breaths through his nose and exhaling slowly.
"So if you are killed, then what, you'll go where, if not the Hunting Grounds?" he finally asked in a resigned, tightly controlled tone, coming up behind Laure where she had frozen once he exploded. Once it felt like his heart wasn't going to rip free of his chest.
"I'll serve Nocturnal until she releases me from my contract, and then I'll look after those who keep to the shadows and pray for her luck. I'll guide them and aid them through the shadows."
Vilkas snorted in derision, still hurt and angry. "Sounds charming."
"Not as much now as it once did. I was still in a pretty dark place when I said my oath." Her lips quirked up into a reluctant, ironic half-smile. "You might even say I wasn't the woman I am today, and if I had it to do again, I would probably choose differently. Well maybe. At the time, I felt I had no choice; it was the only way we could overcome the odds stacked against us. And who am I to say? Maybe I made the only choice that would eventually lead me to you. Lady Luck works in mysterious ways."
Vilkas grunted but remained quiet, thinking her words over. Upon reflecting, he realized he was as angry with himself as her. She wasn't a fortuneteller; she was Dragonborn, and somehow he doubted Nocturnal would be able to keep her grasp on his beloved. And now that he thought back, the signs had always been there: her uncanny stealth, the way she could disappear in plain sight, as if your eyes skidded right over her, even though she was right there; her fortune and skill with cards . . . he was a fool to not see it before. He was a bigger fool for even entertaining the notion of denying the cure, regardless of the devious ways his wolf spirit tried to convince him otherwise. She had seen that right away and he had stupidly let his emotions be influenced by his wolf spirit while he wasn't paying attention.
"Vilkas, if I thought I was destined for the Hunting Grounds and I could be with you forever somehow, I would happily hunt for eternity at your side. But I know it isn't what you want deep in your heart. You deserve to find rest in Sovngarde, there with your brother and family, at least. You weren't meant for the eternal hunt. I mean that. Others might be content with that fate, but you would be wasted there. Not when you could be telling tales of glory with your loved ones there with you."
"All of them but you," he said bitterly, not looking her in the eye. She wouldn't be avoided, though, and moved into his arms and stared into his lovely silver eyes.
So serious, my wolf. My love. "Sovngarde is for Nords. I wouldn't be going there even if I weren't bound to Nocturnal. But we can enjoy every breath we have here together, love. We can try to make a family, adopt Lucia, and we'll fuck like bunnies until some Dragonborn magic happens and we have a dozen babies, all right? But you need to be cured first. And I need to get a few things sorted out first." Aye, sorted out. Watch out, Alduin! I am Dovahkiin, and I am coming to sort you out!
Laure and Vilkas chuckled together, since it was the only thing they could both do at the moment. It was that or weep and rage, let despair and fear carry them down. When they were done with this seemingly never-ending trial, they would sit down for a long heart-to-heart and try to plan for the future, once Alduin no longer cast his dark shadow over their lives. He brushed his warm lips over her brow, always thrilling in the trembling that shook her body when he did.
"I find myself drawn to that suggestion for some odd reason. Care to get on with the bunnies part? I am especially fond of that notion," he murmured as he kissed down her temple and jaw to nuzzle under her ear. She had to giggle and stifle a moan, playfully slapping his hard chest until he drew away; then they went to wake Farkas before his snores started an avalanche. The bunnies part would have to wait, because the end of the world wouldn't.
And another one! Huzzah for me and you! Because I posted chapter twenty-five over on DeviantArt this morning, I am trying to get a bit more caught up over here. Why? Because I'm excited and I want you lovely people to have something that I feel is exciting to read over as an alternative to the Superbowl! And so, here is another. Try not to get too worked up! Heh. Thanks for the favorites, following and as always I love your feedback! Cheers, ~Pyreiris