After Lydia went to sleep, Volund spent most of the night reading. He rarely felt any need to sleep anymore, and he had found some interesting tomes in the library when he had asked Urag if there was any progress on locating an Elder Scroll. The old orc had handed him a book entitled Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls, and Volund had read it over the course of hours. He couldn't tell if its author was a genius or utterly insane. Eventually, exhausted mentally by trying to understand the incomprehensible book and the even more incomprehensible Elder Scrolls, he dropped off into a short sleep.

The Hall of Attainment was deserted when he awoke. Lydia had left during the time he had slept, and he all but cursed his luck at missing her. He hoped she was just finding breakfast, as apparently everyone else was.

When he left the small room he had slept in, he saw quickly that not quite everyone was eating. A high elf in Thalmor robes was either trying very hard to examine his own nose, or was staring condescendingly at Volund – it was difficult to tell which. The elf spoke first.

"You there. I have questions for you. You were in Saarthal, were you not?"

Volund restrained himself from punching the elf in his too-large nose. "I am Volund. Who might you be, and what brings a Thalmor to the College of Winterhold?"

"I care little who you are or why you are here. I am here as an advisor to the Archmage. Now answer my questions before I become impatient."

"I am already impatient," Volund answered. "And you should probably care who I am. It's my understanding you Thalmor don't care much for dragonborn. I am Volund, Dragonborn and Ysmir, and I think I'm done talking to you."

The elf nearly laughed, but he stopped and his eyes narrowed suddenly. "Dragonborn… it would explain why Aren sought out some Nordic savage and summoned him to an archeological. Why wasn't I told? I shall have to have words with the Archmage. But first… you are clearly delusional. Ordinarily I would ignore you, but the others of your kind are rather prone to delusions themselves. We have nearly finished stamping out the worship of one false dragonborn 'god' – how much easier it would have been if we could have simply snuffed out the pretender Talos first?"

As he spoke, lightning began to crackle between his fingers. Volund uneasily realized that he himself was unarmed and unarmored. He had a shout on his lips when two things happened at once. The Thalmor raised his hands to attack, and the end of a steel blade appeared from a hole through the elf's chest. He stared down past his nose at this new disruption, then slumped to the ground, dead. Lydia stood behind him. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were a bit red. She held a sweetroll in one hand, and her bloody sword in the other. No one spoke for a moment.

When the silence was broken, it was not by the Nords, but by the spectral mage who had appeared to them in Saarthal. His image showed up once more, staring down at the dead Thalmor.

"What have… Ah. Most unusual. The future has changed suddenly, and drastically, in a way that none had foreseen. This was not a possible outcome. And yet…" he trailed off.

"We have some experience in defying expectations," Volund replied. "But what do you mean by 'the future has changed?'"

"The danger I warned you of, and the perilous tasks to gain legendary artifacts and powers, will no longer come to pass. The College will invite no more Thalmor representatives after the mysterious circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Ancano, and the Eye of Magnus will now be safe here. Of course, we will continue to keep watch." The mage's image paused, then continued. "We will also be more vigilant in the future. It appears the Dragonborn is not subject to fate's decrees."

"'Mysterious circumstances?'" Lydia chimed in, not as calmly as she usually spoke. "It's fairly obvious…" Even as she spoke, however, the mage's image faded away – and took with it the body of the Thalmor, and even the blood on the floor and blade. After a moment, Lydia shook her head, and sheathed her blade slowly. Her eyes widened then, and her focus snapped to Volund.

"My thane, are you alright? I shouldn't have left you – but who could have thought…"

Volund cut her off, chuckling. "It's been a strange day so far, and I've only been awake for a few minutes, but yes, I'm fine. Don't beat yourself up, Lydia. You were here when it counted. I could have taken him, of course, but you've never failed me…" He trailed off.

Lydia shifted nervously, forgotten sweetroll still clutched in her hand. "My thane?"

"That's what it is, isn't it? You think you disappointed me in Saarthal, that you failed or were unworthy somehow, don't you!"

Her eyes dropped. "A housecarl must always be ready to serve. A housecarl must face all circumstances, even death, with chin high and heart calm. I did fail you, my thane. My state yesterday was shameful…"

She squeaked as Volund grabbed her by the shoulders. He turned her around toward the door and began to march, forcing her along ahead of him.

"My thane, what are…"

"We're going someplace we can talk." Volund's stomach rumbled as they walked. Sheepishly, he added, "And we might get some breakfast on the way."

Half an hour later, the pair sat dangling their legs over the edge of the College's roof, looking out over the Sea of Ghosts. Volund was finishing up a large plate of eggs and potatoes, and he had poured glasses of Alto wine for both of them despite his housecarl's objections that it was far too early in the day for drinking. When it became clear that Volund intended to have a lengthy chat, however, she seemed to accept the drink more willingly. They both sat in silence until Volund put his now-empty plate aside.

He sighed. "Lydia, you're amazing at a lot of things, but apparently self-awareness isn't one of them. Even if it were true that you had to somehow be perfect and earn my acceptance by doing so, you're doing a pretty good job of it. I couldn't have come this far without you. You've handled everything so flawlessly up until now – from killing undead abominations in your first real combat, to breezing through spy work in an embassy, to dealing with all the social interactions I've been too frustrated or ignorant to deal with… I couldn't ask for a better housecarl."

Drink forgotten, Lydia looked at him, eyes moist. He reached over and rested his hand on her cheek, and she didn't flinch away this time.

"That's all irrelevant, though," he said quietly. "Even if you were the worst housecarl in the history of Skyrim, I wouldn't care. You seem to have this idea that housecarls can't be people – they need to be this perfect servant and just have all their horkers in a row at all times. If I had to choose between the housecarl and the person, Lydia, I'd choose the person. You're human, you're going to make mistakes and have a few issues – we all do! The good news is that I don't love what you do for me, or how good you are as a housecarl. I love you – you, pure and simple. The person. Lydia."

The tears were no longer hanging in her eyes but falling freely. Volund wiped one away with his thumb while he waited for her to respond.

"You lo- you love me?" she stammered.

"Of course I do. Claustrophobia and all."

She hit him, then, hard. "It's not claustrophobia! I'm fine in tunnels and caves, I just can't stand the thought of being trapped and having nothing I can do about it and you always do this, you say something totally unrelated and distract me from the main point which is –" and she threw her arms around him, kissing him, as they both fell back, safely moving away from the edge of the College roof even as they fell over the edge of something so much bigger.