Chapter Summary: Miranja wraps up her trip to Skyrim and heads back to Raven Rock for some contemplation time.

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Miranja and Gwilin luxuriated in one another's arms for a long while, talking in hushed voices about their families, the things that made them happy, the things they hoped for the future. Gwilin told her that his father was a prosperous kollopi farmer in a region of Valenwood called Reaper's March. His mother was an artist who saw beauty and enchantment in everything and made paintings and sculptures for a modest income.

"That reminds me," Gwilin said, gently releasing himself from Miranja's grasp and sitting up to reach for his pack. "I've been working on this ever since your last visit. I made it for you."

Miranja sat up, too, curious and anxious to see what he had up his sleeve – well, in his pack. To Miranja's amazement, Gwilin withdrew a rather large, somewhat blocky wooden sculpture of a painted white dragon that more-or-less resembled Paarthurnax. Having never seen Paarthurnax himself, he couldn't know that Paarthurnax's wings were slightly tattered and that he had a broken-off fang, but the general build was pretty accurate. She herself certainly couldn't have created anything like this. She smiled at him with shining eyes, pressing her fingertips to her heart.

"This is amazing," she told him sincerely. "Considering you've never been up close to a dragon, you've done a remarkable job. I think I know just where I want to put this when I get home."

"You told me once that Paarthurnax was a wise old white dragon. I've never seen him, obviously, but ever since you defeated Alduin, there's been a red and purple dragon flying around the mountain a lot, and I've drawn sketches of it whenever I've seen it. I carved the wooden dragon based on the sketches."

"I do a little painting, myself, but really just sporadically and for fun. I doubt I'll ever have this much skill at my painting. You're very talented, my sweet." A silly idea struck her, and she had to say it out loud, if only for a laugh.

"Maybe you could find a ruined tree or stump that can't be used for lumber, and carve a nice big bear for Miss Temba to take out her frustrations on. Can't you just see her slashing at a big wooden bear and yelling at it?"

Gwilin smiled, but his eyes were looking off to the side as if at a distant object, and he seemed to be thinking. "You may be onto something there, Miss Miranja. Maybe she needs an outlet."

"Glad I could inspire your next project," she teased. She kissed her wooden Paarthurnax on the nose and stowed him carefully in her own pack.

"The lovely Dragonborn inspires a lot of things – and probably a lot of people," Gwilin said with an admiring smile, and she was very flattered. "Maybe even people you're not fully aware of, people who are just part of the scenery."

Miranja squinted at him curiously. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"Just that there's a guard here who draws pictures of you. He's shared a poem or two with me. He'd eat his heart out if he knew you were here with me tonight."

Miranja wasn't sure what to say about this secret admirer. She was flattered, of course, but if they never came out and spoke to her and expressed an interest, there wasn't much she could do about it. She turned her attention back to Gwilin, scooting closer and clasping his shoulder. She looked him deeply in the eyes with a loving smile.

"Yes, I'm here with you tonight. And I'm enjoying myself immensely. How about you?"

Gwilin gave her a wry, scolding smile. "Do you really have to ask?" He reached out and stroked her breast lightly, giving her gooseflesh. "Can we make love again?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Miranja leaned in and kissed his mouth, a feather touch.

Gwilin groaned and put his arm around her, lowering her back to the ground. He kissed her, not roughly but insistently, and she thrilled at his mindful aggression. Soon they were once again lost in their place between worlds.

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Miranja felt warmth on her face and smelled warm snowberries. She breathed deeply through her nostrils without opening her eyes.

"That got your attention, did it?" Tel's gravelly purr sounded like it was about a foot from her head and coming from above.

She opened one eye and saw his boots in front of her face. The cup of snowberry tea Tel held under her nose was so close she couldn't focus on it, and it blocked part of her already limited view. She started to sit up, and Tel moved the hot tea away.

"What time is it?" she asked with a thick tongue.

"Why don't you look at your new pocketwatch?" Tel ribbed, handing the tea to her now that she was erect. "Or did you forget to wind it yesterday?"

Still groggy, Miranja cast about for her pack, forgetting that she'd laid the watch on the dresser before going to bed.

"I'm giving you a hard time," Tel said. "It's around nine. Figured I'd let you sleep in, since you had such a late night."

Now Miranja looked toward Lynly's bed, but it was empty and made up neatly.

"Don't worry, she's already doing laundry at the riverbank. And your poor boy is already at the mill. He's an odd one; didn't seem any the worse for wear when he left. If anything, he seemed quite energetic. Wonder how long that'll last. The brick wall surely awaits him."

"Aww, sweet guy," Miranja murmured, finally sipping her tea. "I pray that Mara sends love to him before he starts regretting last night."

"So, next stop: Windhelm?" The distaste was dripping so heavily in Tel's voice that Miranja had to look to make sure it wasn't soaking through his scarf.

"You must be forgetting that it's an Imperial city now."

"There are some people who won't accept that or change their ways."

"And there are many people there who were never like that in the first place. Don't let a handful of people sour you on the whole place. Brunwulf means to change things for everyone's benefit, and I mean to help him however I can. But to answer your question, not just yet. I want to visit Paarthurnax first."

Miranja finished her tea a sip at a time while she bathed, dressed, and Breton-braided her hair for the road. In the meantime, Tel bought some food suitable to take on the road and a warm breakfast for Miranja, then sat at a table to wait for her.

"Are you sure we can't stay in Skyrim a little longer?" Tel asked when she sat down perpendicular to him with neatly braided hair, fresh eye liner and lip stain, and clad in all her leather scout armor except her hood.

"Thanks for getting me breakfast, Tel," she said before answering his question. Tel nodded, and she continued. "No one says you have to go back to Solstheim. I'm sure I've paid you enough and split enough loot with you that you'll be comfortable for a while. You could stay in one of my houses and keep my housecarl company, or have Vlindrel Hall all to yourself. You could buy or build your own house, or maybe Faendal would even sell or rent his old house in Riverwood to you. Riverwood's mostly Nords with one Imperial, but with the exception of one guy and his mother, they're all really nice, accepting people. You might like it."

Tel shrugged noncommittally as Miranja tucked into her breakfast. Nothing really sounded too enticing, but he supposed at least he was comfortable in and familiar with Raven Rock. He could regroup there and decide at his leisure what he wanted to do with himself next. The last few weeks had felt like a lifetime and he was ready for a little break, anyway.

"Personally," Miranja said, "This whole trip to Skyrim and getting involved in the Civil War has left me feeling stained and drained. I think spending some time alone in Raven Rock would actually be a good thing now. I feel like a much different person than the woman who left there in Evening Star. I need to reevaluate myself."

After breakfast, they headed toward the northern bridge. Since they passed the mill on the way, Miranja took a moment to stop and give goodbye hugs to Temba and Gwilin. She had to be careful not to show any more affection to Gwilin than she had to Temba, but the look that passed between them as she squeezed his hands one last time was sweet and intimate, and she had to restrain her urge to kiss him as the memory of him entering her body flashed through her mind.

"Remember," Miranja said, raising her voice so that Temba could hear her as well, "if you need ANYTHING, you know how to get hold of me, my friends. I love you both."

Temba tipped her a brief salute with her index finger to her brow and went back to work.

Gwilin asked, "When will you be back?"

"I'll be getting back on my normal schedule, so I'll come back to Skyrim the last week of Sun's Dawn. I'd be happy to check in on you then, see how you're faring, how Temba's treated you. I'm really hoping my talk with her makes a difference."

"Me, too," Gwilin agreed. "Not so much for myself, but because I just want to see Miss Temba happier."

"Agreed. And I'd love to see you two having a more peaceful relationship."

"Maybe I'll see you again when you come back down the mountain. If not, safe travels, Miss Miranja."

"Thanks, love. Divines watch over you. Y'ffre, too."

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The remainder of the trip went mostly as expected.

Miranja collected some ice wraith teeth for her larder in Raven Rock on the way up the mountain. She had a good catch-up talk with Paarthurnax. Odahviing dropped in, too, and Miranja hugged both of their great scaly necks.

Odahviing surprised her by generously offering to fly them to Windhelm, and there was no way Miranja would say no to that. Flying was possibly even better than sex. Teldryn was definitely up for such a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and once they were in the air, he even took off his helmet to feel the wind in his face and hair. He laughed and hooted and hugged Miranja from behind, kissing her neck as she grinned widely. It was an exhilarating flight; Miranja was thrilled to share the experience with Tel, though a big part of her wished she could have shared it with Talvas, and they were both rather sad it was over so quickly when they touched down on the open ground near the Windhelm stable. Miranja bowed deeply to Odahviing and thanked him sincerely, daring to kiss his snout. Odahviing grumbled, but she suspected he was touched and gratified that she appreciated him permitting her and her friend to use him like a horse.

Miranja had raided her safe while at Lakeview and brought the funds with her to have the rest of Hjerim furnished, and she was very pleased to take Silda into her employ. While she was at the palace, she also donated five thousand septims to help with the Grey Quarter revitalization project.

They stopped in at the White Phial and Miranja was not surprised to find that Nilsine was there. In fact, she was behind the counter helping a customer as Quintus worked at the alchemy lab making new potions. If Quintus and Nilsine weren't already lovers, it certainly wouldn't be long. She looked forward to the day she received a wedding invitation from them. They certainly looked like an old married couple as they worked together.

After dinner at the New Gnisis, taken at Ambarys' upstairs table where Teldryn felt it safe to remove his helmet, Miranja and Revyn chose to let Tel have Miranja's big, comfy bed at Hjerim for the night, and they squeezed together into Revyn's little bed as had been their custom for months. As always, Revyn asked about her adventures since her last visit and listened attentively as she recounted them. She showed him the pocketwatch, and he examined it with great interest, not so much the miraculously small clock as the little painting of her parents – "You look most like your father, but you have your mother's warm, open smile," he told her, stroking her face. He checked her cuts, washed them, and rebandaged them. Miranja loved him and showed him her appreciation of him with her words, body, and actions, repaying his care with a long, sensuous, hot oil massage after satisfying him carnally.

Teldryn picked up Miranja at the shop in the morning, and Revyn accompanied them to the docks to see them off. Miranja promised to see him in three weeks when she came back over, and he kissed her goodbye right there on the dock, even surprising and delighting her by dipping her.

An older, wiser Miranja stood at the bow on the voyage back to Solstheim, looking toward the horizon but seeing only her inner thoughts and visions. The salty moisture on her somber cheeks could have been sea spray, or it could have been tears.

Tel let her be, lying on his back on the deck and watching the clouds overhead, sorting out his own self. This journey with Miranja had changed him, too. For better or worse, he wasn't sure, but he was leaning toward better.