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Thorokyne
#2. Family
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\\ Whiterun, Temple of Kynareth /
"Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures..."
Danica Pure-Spring was distracted from the apprentices' daily readings at the sound of the temple's main door opening, eyes going wide when she saw two guards enter with the familiar, though non-moving, form of Whiterun's newest Thane; a dark elf whom was whispered to be Dragonborn amongst the guard and townsfolk.
There was no hesitation as she stood, ordering the men to place him upon the stone alters so she may have a look at him. "What happened," she demanded, removing the crude bandage from the elf's eye to see the ugly, jagged gash beneath it.
"Found him on the road a few miles from the gate," one answered. "Slavers, by the look of it. From Morrowind would be my guess. Wasn't much left of them."
No more explanations were needed or wanted as she carefully began tending to her new patient, mindful of the eye but more concerned for his ruined leg. The muscle was in ribbons, the bones splintered and sticking up through the skin and was bleeding far more.
Thank Kynareth the mer was unconscious, she thought as she began the tedious process that came with healing.
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Hours later found Danica slowly cleaning up the various herbs and tools she'd used on the Thane, having long sent her apprentices to bed and banished the guardsmen though they remained at the doors outside. The hour was long past late and the weariness in her very bones had the strong, Nordic woman feeling all her years as she moved sluggishly through the temple, checking in on the few other patients who'd been neglected in their rush to aide the elf.
As she looked, however, she was thankful to note that none seemed to have suffered for the lack of attention.
Taking the items towards the second door, she stacked them beside it to be removed and cleaned on the morrow when the Temple came to life again.
As she slowly removed the cowl around her head, she sighed deeply and began readying herself for sleep only to pause in her motions when she suddenly became aware of a sound...a scraping?...against the stone floor of the temple. With a huff, she grabbed a nearby broom and set about looking for the source.
If one of those damned skeevers had gotten in again...
She froze.
There, mostly hidden behind one of the large planters that held various herbs and flowers that supplied the temple's needs, was a tail. A small one, yes, but a tail nonetheless. Every so often, it twitched and the small spikes all along it scraped against the ancient urn.
Raising the broom, she crept as quietly as possibly towards it and hefted it even higher when she rounded the pot; ready to smack whatever was hiding behind it.
Only to freeze again...terrified red eyes meeting confused brown ones as she stared down at the child.
For it was a child.
An Argonian child.
He was no higher than her hip, if that, and was skin and bones...his skin was a pale white in color, an unhealthy tinge to it and deep bruising all along his frame. The red of his eyes bled into what was normally the white, and small spikes lined his tail, back, arms and head before ending with two small horns that promised to grow with age. Colorless claws lined his hands and feet, his youth showing for they had no strength and several were broken off.
When he curled further in on himself, lowering his head and eyes to the ground, Danica snapped back to the moment and immediately lowered the broom to lean it against the wall once more. "You gave me a start, child. I didn't hear you enter."
The small boy retreated a step at her words, using his hands and feet to move before his eyes quickly glanced to the side before snapping back to her. That small glance garnered a swift understanding and she smiled softly, now kneeling in front of the child in hopes of not frightening him further.
"He'll be all right, young one. He only sleeps."
The boy didn't retreat any further, though neither did he come to her.
"You could go to him if you wish," she prompted, her smile widening when at the surprise on his face. "Go on now, the night is nearly over and we should all have been asleep hours ago."
And thus, Danica Pure-Spring was treated to a most unusual sight...an Argonian child clambering up with all the grace of a mudcrab to cuddle against a Dunmer whom even she could see was no youth. The boy shoved his way under the mer's arm and gripped the plain linen shirt he wore with enough force to rip it should either of them move and rested his head above the elf's heart. Within moments, he was asleep.
Danica was just ready to turn and follow his example when she saw the Dunmer's arm grip the child, her eyes meeting his tired gaze. His right eye was bandaged, Danica knowing the elf would never regain his sight in it but the mer didn't seem concerned with that as he glanced down at the child on his side before his eye slipped close and he drifted off once more.
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And so, life went on in Whiterun in the months that followed and the city flourished under the care of its Jarl and new Thane, the now infamous Dunmer Dovahkiin whom had somehow won their hearts.
Danica had grown to know Thorokyne rather well, glad for the Dunmer's friendship for he was an excellent and refreshingly different point of view when it came to matters of the world or simple neighborhood politics between the townsfolk. As a mer, he viewed time differently than Nords did and was able to put many things into a perspective that would otherwise be lacking. She could see now why Balgruuf valued his counsel, and was given new insight as to how Irileth had earned the right to be a Jarl's housecarl.
After that night, when he was able, Thorokyne had visited her to offer his gratitude for her services though all she could focus on in the moment was the quiet, pale Argonian whom had been hiding behind the mer's legs and peeking out at her warily every so often.
When the Ashlander had healed enough to begin walking with a cane, it quickly became a common sight within the walls to see him walking with the pale Argonian at his hip while his ever-loyal housecarl, Lydia, hovered around her Thane and his charge should something threaten either of them.
Thorokyne made daily visits to Dragonsreach during this time, helping Balgruuf often in matters regarding the city and hold as well as giving his input in regards to the civil war that was beginning to darken their doorstep.
Inevitably, a few months down the line, it was deemed the mer was healthy enough to travel once again and Balgruuf asked his Thane to venture to Windhelm and deliver a message to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself. The mer, as per his usual self, agreed.
"I could watch after him if you like," she offered after hearing of this. "I could continue his lessons in reading and restoration magic. He seems to have developed a talent for it."
Thorokyne nodded, his eye focused entirely on his sleeping son whom was none the wiser. "I would greatly appreciate that. He has become," the mer paused a moment, his voice harsh as always but with far more emotion than Danica had ever heard, "very dear to me. I would not part from him if I had a choice."
"Well, he will be proud to show you what he has learned in your absence when you return," she offered.
"Yes," he agreed, a small half-smile resting on his face. "I would take him with me, but the city is biased enough against my own kin...I would not expose him to such hatred after all that's happened."
"Have you thought of a name yet?" Danica asked, smiling as she not so subtly changed the topic. "You have been very...particular...about it."
Thorokyne leveled a mock glare at her. "Nords do not look upon names as my kind do. Few races do. But to answer your question, I have. His name shall be Anant."
She nodded. "It suits him, and I believe he will agree if only because you've given it to him."
And, for just a moment, the world faded away as Danica watched Thorokyne watch his son, Anant, sleep. She felt like something of an outsider as she observed them but made no move to stop. Family, it seemed, was not dictated by blood like the Gray-Manes or Battle-Borns so believed, but simply by love.
And never had she seen more a loving family than right here before her.
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Thorokyne
End of #2. Family
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