"Mother, please! I can fight better than Sapphire and I can aim almost as well as Karliah!" Hroar begged, following her around as she stormed through the house. Karliah chuckled from where she was perched on the stairs, sharing a bemused glance with Ren. Hroar's point was true-he had better aim than almost anyone in Skyrim. But he was nowhere near as good a shot as Karliah. The Dunmer woman just went easy on him.
"No, Hroar. If anything suspicious happens here, take him to the Dawnguard-I don't want to put the Guild in any danger. If one of these followers or cultists or whatever they are finds the Guild, Jarl Laila could be right behind them. I owe you, Karliah, and I have no idea how to repay you."
"You've already repaid me, Ren." Karliah said softly. She looked up at the Dunmer woman, posture so relaxed and…content. It was so different from when they had first met, Ren nearly dead and Karliah thirsting for revenge. They'd gone so far. Now Ren was Guildmaster of Skyrim's notorious Thieves Guild, and Karliah back in the favor of the Daedric Prince they both served, the Nightingale Trinity restored, siblings in all but blood.
Ren shook off her nostalgia and continued cramming as many potions of healing as she could into her pack.
Two days had passed since the events at Dragonsreach. The city of Whiterun was back to normal, and thanks to a combination of luck and magic, Ren was fit to stare death in the face once again. She'd spend her time recuperating pouring over every scrap of paper mentioning Raven Rock she could find. It hadn't been much, but she had a map and a general knowledge of what it was.
Raven Rock was a small settlement on the island of Solstheim and under the control of Morrowind and one of its ruling houses. The map had Raven Rock marked in, but not much else. She was excited.
She hadn't had a chance to truly explore anything new or exciting in…ages. In the seven years she'd spent in Skyrim, she had spent a lot of it wandering around, finding new places to explore. While she rarely went into such places, she'd marked all of them on the map of Skyrim she had.
Hroar was throwing his dagger at a target, a pointed reminder of his worth and how determined he was to convince her to go.
"Hroar, I'm sorry, but if they decide to attack you-"
"I'll kill them! I've done it before!"
"That changes nothing." She said firmly. He glared at her.
"After I take care of this, I promise you I'll come back and take you there, alright? This 'Miraak' is probably just trying to stir up trouble for no good reason. I'll send you letters and souvenirs when I can." As she spoke she approached him. He glared at the wall instead of her. Gently, she touched his cheek and tilted his head until he faced her.
"I promised you I'd take care of you. I promised you you'd never have to go back to that orphanage and that you'd never have to be alone again. Have I ever broken those promises?"
"…No."
"Then trust in this one. I will come back, and I will bring you there when this is all done and over with. There will be plenty of things to kill and explore when we get there."
Some would consider her a terrible parent for saying that. She didn't really care. It worked. Hroar relented, nodding and hugging her tightly.
"I love you." She whispered.
"I love you too, Mom." He murmured back. When they pulled apart, he bolted for his bedroom. She sighed and returned to packing. She had everything she needed. Her favorite sword, a Daedric blade enchanted with a vampire-like ability, lay beside a pouch filled to the brim with soul gems. Her favorite bow, a Nightingale bow that Karliah had actually gifted to her a few years ago, lay beside a veritable mountain of arrows. Other odds-and-ends lay in her knapsacks. Her Nightingale armor laid spread out on the table.
"Ren." She turned to face Karliah. The woman stood directly before her, expression serious and calm.
"You are a Nightingale, a member of the Trinity of Nocturnal. You have sworn your soul to her service. She won't forget that. You have upheld your vows, and I know how dedicated you are to her. I think you are the only Nightingale she's had for a very long time to do so. You bear her blessings with you." Karliah seemed finished with her inspirational speech and Ren drew in a breath to thank her, to say goodbye, but Karliah continued.
"We are bound in that Trinity. If anything were to happen to you, sister, I'll know."
"Is this an offer of back-up?" Ren asked, raising an eyebrow. Karliah offered a slight smile.
"We are sworn to protect one another. I'll be on the first ship to Solstheim." Karliah promised. They hugged, and Ren blinked back tears. A sudden terror swept over her.
What if she never returned?
Karliah released her and Ren focused on putting her armor into one of her packs-it was too conspicuous, and bore the markings of Nocturnal plainly. She had sworn to keep the Nightingales a secret.
She had dressed in a set of worn leather armor. It was nothing special, entirely un-enchanted, and almost entirely valueless. She had found it shoved beneath her bed, and, unwilling to trek all the way to Windhelm without any form of protection at all, she had decided to use it until she got to the boat, the Northern Maiden.
It wasn't an ideal situation, but it would work.
"I played with your armor while you were sleeping last night. It should hold up considerably more than it had before." Karliah murmured, resting her fingertips on the Nightingale insignia on the gloves. A small smirk quirked Karliah's lips. Ren smiled and shook her head, taking the gloves and shoving them to the bottom of her pack.
"Thank you, sister."
"Mom." Ren turned, tilting her head to the side at Hroar's voice. He stood uncertainly behind her, his hands clasped so closely together she knew he was holding something there. He held it tightly, yet carefully, as if it were the most fragile thing in all of existence. Carefully, he unfurled his fingers, revealing the object.
It was a small band of silver metal decorated only by a small fleck of a sapphire. She recognized it instantly, before Hroar even spoke.
"When you made your first promise you gave this to me. I…I had Nelkir help me, but I enchanted it. To protect you. I want you to take this with you."
Ren couldn't hold back her tears. She embraced him tightly.
"Thank you, Hroar. I'll come back as soon as I can." She murmured. Ren released him and turned to Karliah.
"Watch over him for me. Shadows guide you."
"And you." Karliah replied. Ren wiped her tears away and gathered her belongings.
She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the gates of Whiterun, sorrow welling up within her. She hated to leave so soon after returning. But it was necessary.
She had been the target of a number of assassination attempts. None of them had come close to finishing her in the same way none of them had every tried to kill her in a city. All of the previous attempts had been executed by the Dark Brotherhood, however. Not these…followers.
Frost was waiting for her at the stables. He was a beautiful horse-Ren knew absolutely nothing about the animals, but even she could tell that-and had, actually, been the first thing she'd stolen in Riften. Shortly afterwards Brynjolf had found her and taken her under his wing, and introduced her to the Thieves Guild.
And then she'd met Mercer.
She tore herself out of those thoughts, shuddering violently, and led Frost out of the stables. He whined softly and nuzzled her shoulder as she saddled him and strapped her bags to the saddle. By the time they set out it was mid-morning. She'd hoped to be gone earlier, but it didn't really matter to her. She cared little whether she slept outdoors or at an inn.
Still, reaching Kynesgrove before dusk would be wonderful.
The trip was long, boring, and uneventful. She cut across wilderness only when she knew it would save her time. She stuck to the road and passed no one save a patrol of Imperial soldiers, and a few miles later, a pile of dead Stormcloaks that had served as lunch to some sort of creature. A troll, probably.
Night bled across the sky slowly that evening. Stars glimmered through the thick curtains of pink and orange, but it wasn't until the sun entirely vanished that she reached Kynesgrove.
Like most Skyrim nights, it was cold. Ren had little trouble finding a spot for Frost in the stables as there was only one other horse. She stretched after taking care of him, and walked into the Inn. A warm hearth swept the lingering chill from her bones as soon as she closed the door behind her. A tall woman stopped sweeping and looked up at her as she entered. The only other person in the room was a figure cloaked in black, boots propped against the hearth and chin resting on chest in a chair. Ren mostly ignored the figure.
"Can I help you?" The woman asked.
"Do you have a room available?" She asked, shifting from foot to foot. The woman eyed her, and then slowly nodded.
"If you've got the gold. Don't expect a warm meal this late, though."
"I don't. I'll eat whatever you have. How much?"
"Twenty gold for food and drink with the room." The woman said bluntly. Ren found herself liking this woman. She liked people who were abrupt, who didn't dither around a subject. It was one of the reasons she liked Nocturnal so much. The Daedric Prince was quite possibly the most candid being in all of existence. Being lied to as many times as Ren had, she appreciated that. She handed the woman the gold without much thought.
"I've a horse out there…"
"It's fine. I'll bring the food to your room. First door on the left. The name's Iddra, if you need anything." The woman said, gesturing to a door.
"Ren." She said, heading towards the room Iddra had gestured too. It wasn't anything special, but it was enough. Ren dropped her belongings in a mound between the wardrobe and the wall, and stripped her armor off. She dressed in a plain tunic and leggings that were wrinkled and patched multiple times by her unskilled fingers, and dropped onto the bed. It was more comfortable than she had expected, which brightened her day immensely. A knock sounded at the door. She pushed herself up.
"Come in."
Iddra entered with a plate full of vegetables, fruit, and bread, a tankard dangling from her finger.
"What do you want to drink?"
"Do you have any water?" A bemused expression touched Iddra's face.
"An odd request from a Nord. Yeah, just hold on." Ren accepted the plate from her and began eating, curiously watching as Iddra vanished.
The door was left open, so she could stare out at the wall opposite the main hall of the Inn. She was staring at it for no reason other than the sheer lack of anything else to stare at when the black-clad figure appeared in her doorway.
"What's your business here in Kynesgrove?" They asked. Their voice was distinctly male-and distinctly High Elven, by the tone of voice. Probably a Thalmor, she figured. He braced his arms against the sides of the entryway and leaned there, a position more relaxed than she'd ever seen any Thalmor act before. Granted, the only Thalmor she'd ever seen had been trying to kill her or she them.
"I'm passing through on my way to Windhelm, not that it's any of your business." She said guardedly, frowning at him.
"Joining the Stormcloaks like all the other farmers who travel through here?" He asked, the contempt in his voice obvious. She laughed.
"No. I stopped interfering with the Civil War a long time ago." The High Elf tilted his head in response.
"Interfering?"
"You really are a Thalmor, aren't you?" She asked, amused.
"The reports of Elven abuse in Windhelm are legendary. I am going to solve the problem." He snapped tersely. Ren laughed aloud.
"The Thalmor are considered worse than the dirt beneath a Nord's boot in Windhelm. Even the other elves think as much. You'll have no power there, no matter what your station elsewhere is. If you're lucky, they'll use you as a hostage instead of torturing you to death. And that's assuming they don't beat you as soon as they see you and drag you through the streets naked."
"I know how to defend myself."
"That's wonderful. Kill a couple of their own. That'll be sure to make them like you." She rolled her eyes at him as she spoke.
"The only way to get into Windhelm without being murdered or worse is for the Dominion itself to allow free worship of Talos, which they've already declared they're against. And even that won't stop you from being spit on or stolen from or smacked, because that's only half of what the Stormcloaks want."
"You are an irritating woman, Nord." He hissed. She could practically feel his anger, radiating from him as it was. He had stopped leaning and now stood straight as a pole, arms folded across his chest.
"I prefer the title Dragonborn from those who annoy me." She said dryly. Now the Thalmor really did stiffen.
"Excuse me." Iddra's voice surprised both of them. The Nord woman put a hand on the Thalmor's shoulder and shoved, sending him crashing out of the way. Without even acknowledging his shout of surprise, she walked forward and handed Ren a tankard of water.
"There's your water. Do you want to wake up early in the morning? My husband gets up before dawn to go to the mines-he can get you up if you wish." Iddra asked, entirely at ease with the spluttering Thalmor behind her. His hood had fallen off, revealing himself to be extremely young-Barely out of childhood, to the elves. He had ice-clear blue eyes and a shock of extremely messy silver hair, both of which stood out in sharp contrast to his tan Altmer skin.
"Yeah, that'll be great. Thank you, Iddra."
"It's no problem." Iddra replied, vanishing. Ren turned her attention to the Altmer.
"Why would the Thalmor send someone so young to right a problem in Windhelm so huge? You can't be any older than my son, in Elvish years." She asked. His jaw clenched, although a blush lifted his cheeks. She was embarrassing him. He said nothing in response, so she sat and mulled it over.
The Thalmor were far from stupid. They wouldn't send someone so inexperienced-or someone so easily intimidated-to a city that no Thalmor had set foot inside in centuries. Not unless-
Ren's eyes went wide.
"You're not Thalmor. Who'd you steal the robes from? Your mother? Father?" He snarled at her, suddenly furious.
"Don't speak of what you don't understand, Nord." He hissed, slamming the door shut. She frowned, but didn't let the encounter bother her for long. She finished eating and set the plate on the chest at the foot of her bed.
She slept all night with her sword resting beside her, which in itself wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that she wasn't wearing armor and she was in a bed. When the knock finally came at her door, she was already up and dressed, wearing the same leather armor she had been wearing yesterday. She opened the door and lugged her stuff to the stables. The other horse was gone-as was Iddra's husband, now that she thought about it.
She cared little. She saddled Frost, strapped her belongings to him, and headed down the road. She waved to the miners as she left, but they mostly ignored her. She dug through one of her bags and pulled out a loaf of bread. She ate it as Windhelm began to loom on the horizon. There were only a few other people headed towards the great stone city, and none of them followed her as she dismounted and gathered her things from Frost. He nickered softly at her, pressing his nose into her cheek before turning and wandering off. She'd no doubt he would make it back to Whiterun without trouble, but she stared after him for another long moment before turning around.
As long as she didn't run into Ulfric she would be fine.
She slipped unnoticed past the guards and headed immediately for the Grey Quarter. It wasn't the nicest part of Windhelm, but it was the most direct route to the docks. Windhelm had two gates, one of which served as the main entrance and the other of which led to the docks. Only the main entrance was guarded-a fool move on Ulfric's part, motivated solely by the very racism that kept Ren from joining their number.
A handful of Dark Elves greeted her as she passed them, but no one tried stopped her, even for a small chat. She'd spent as little time in Windhelm as possible, but on the few occasions that she had visited the city, she had harbored no reservations about helping the Dunmer community.
Some of Ulfric's thanes had not bothered to hide their snide remarks about it when they saw her.
The dock gates loomed ahead of her suddenly-her memory of the city was by far rustier than she'd thought-and she shifted her bags around as she shoved her weight against one, forcing it open. It flew open without warning beneath her body and she cried out as she fell to the ground. Ren found herself staring up into the surprised eyes of a guard.
"Damn." Ren finally breathed. The guard held out a hand, laughing. She accepted it and stood, glancing at the ground to make sure nothing had fallen. She couldn't see anything of hers lying among the grimy stone.
"I'll be sure to knock next time." The guard said, patting her shoulder roughly as he left. She scowled after him, but her harsh expression was broken by the infuriating smile that worked its way across her lips. Shaking her head, she continued down a flight of stairs to the docks.
Unlike most docks in Skyrim, this one did not smell of fish. It was the only good thing about Windhelm, in Ren's opinion. As the docks were the base of the East Empire Company's Skyrim wing, second only to their warehouse in Solitude, it was considered strictly a mercantile location. She headed up to the first dock she saw, with a boat on either side of it. A weathered old Nord looked up at her from his work repairing something on the boat to her right, so she decided it would be best to speak with him.
"I'm looking for the boat the Northern Maiden. Do you know where I could find it?" She asked, shifting her bags again. The man's eyes narrowed.
"Aye. This is her. I am her captain, Gjalund Salt-Sage. What is it you need?" He asked, laboriously pushing himself to his feet. He dusted his hands off, setting a hammer down on the dock by her foot. There was no mistaking the suspicion in his voice or eyes.
"Passage to Solstheim."
His face drained of color.
"Too bad. I'm not going back there anymore." He barked, turning on his heel abruptly.
"Hey! I'm not done with you!" Ren snapped, anger welling up within her as he went to move away from her. She dropped down onto his ship, following him. He spun around to face her quickly.
"Get off my ship." He hissed.
"No! You're taking me to Solstheim." She snapped, propping her hands on her hips as she glared at him.
"And why would I do that?" He retorted.
"If you don't take me I'll get off your ship, head right over there-" She pointed to an empty patch of dock right in front of his ship, "-And I'll Shout as loud as I can at your boat. You know what that'll do? Turn your bundle of sticks into a couple of splinters and a sail sinking into the Sea of Ghosts faster than a Spriggan on a lumberjack. Now get what you have to get. I want to be gone within an hour." She added sweetly, offering Gjalund a smile that was as frigid as the snow capping the Throat of the World itself. The Nord stared at her in something akin to disbelief for a long moment. She noticed two other Nords staring at the two of them as if she had suddenly grown two heads and he wings and a tail.
"….You're paying double the usual fee, little Nord." Gjalund Salt-Sage growled. There was a degree of respect underlying his voice, however cold it was.
"That's understandable. How much would that be?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
"…Five hundred septims." Ren glared at him, but fished out a bag of coin and tossed it to him. He turned and began barking orders at the other two Nords she'd seen. She dropped her belongings beside the mast and settled down to watch them work until Salt-Sage set out.
A sense of relief filled her. She was finally on her way to Solstheim.