Frozen Skyrim II

The door echoes as I kick it down. Abandoned as it may have been, this shack's door always remains closed for some strange reason. Whether it be the winds or the temporary tenants that closes it, such mystery shall remain as such since there is something far more dire for me to put my attention to.

"H-Hurts…"

She speaks with an agonizing tone as she states the obvious. I don't need a vocal announcement since I have the visuals to tell me. The bleeding has stained the magical thread that adorns her body some time ago. It trickles down to her long skirt, trailing to her bare leg, and leaving a path of blood behind us. For the most part, we may be safe from any hunter thanks to the body of water I have carried her over, but it won't be long until we are found. I have pondered on the idea of taking her to my last place of solace, but she needs to be tended to now. Elsa may have the power to control anything that is frozen, but she is still mortal apparently, and the arrow that punctured her naval proves just that.

"Onyx… it… it…"

"There are two reasons why you shouldn't speak right now," I walk over to the dirty bedroll and carefully ease her down from my arms. Of course she lets out a few painful grunts and screams as every movement agitated the fatal wound. "The first is that you'll attract attention with whatever beast is around us; that is if they didn't smell your blood already. Second, any energy you may have left, you'll need it, so please, silence will probably be best for the two of us."

I can tell she attempts to shoot a glare at me but really couldn't muster any sort of anger since the pain is dominating her senses. Arrows would do its damage when someone doesn't wear the proper armor but the fact that a daedric arrow is the one the sticking out of her body makes things far more complicating than it already is. The last potion I forced her to drink during this less than promising trek is wearing off so suffice to say, she is in dire need of a restoration soon.

A sound from the distance, hooves hitting the snow and the sound of armor clattering with every movement. Acting on instinct, my hand reaches for the hilt of my blade and my stance shifts so that I am more than ready to face the coming danger. With my state of mind focusing on another inevitable battle, perhaps I would've just left her so I would tend to what I am truly meant for: bloodshed. Though the sound she makes that is laced with dreadful pain gets me to turn to her direction once more and I catch a glimpse of her agony. She will die… and perhaps that shall end this debacle… that sigil stone will not have a purpose other than be an open door for aesthetics… her death will not be on my hands… the fate of Skyrim is finally out of my hands… though that path doesn't sit well with me for some reason…

"P-Please…."

I study her face again as her blue eyes are now running low of enchantment, despite the fact that the bed she is lying down on is now starting to feel the true essence of her power. Even in such a dying situation, her powers react to her duress…. And perhaps the only reason why it's not the storm surrounding us is that she is in excruciating and fatal pain. I look towards her wound as she clutches it with her hands that are also covered in blood… her breathing echoing irregularly. She needs restoration. Now.

"Asinine girl," I sigh as my hand slides away from the comfort of the hilt of my red katana. "I told you that talking only detriments you and I."

"W-Wha…what?"

"Bite this." Elsa's eyes widens as I ease a cloth between her teeth with some minor force. Mewling between the cloth, she looks at me with baffled eyes, trying to see some kind of answer through my stoic helmet. "I can't have you scream. I cannot heal you if I am fending off whatever else is after us."

She understood what I meant long before I finished my sentence. Her teeth clamping on the cloth, while her lips quiver at the thought of what I was about to do. Without any warning, I grab the arrow firmly.

"UUuuummm!"

With her teeth clenching tightly on the cloth, Elsa squeals from the pain, letting out a muffled echo. Her fingers digging into the ground and omitting some of her ice powers. Painful as this process is, I know it has to be done this way; I used to do it this way…. I am no mage of restoration, though I do know about it. I have used it on myself when I was the weakling that I was back then… Now I rarely use restoration, and to apply it on another person… that is an even more of a foreign task. One that I seemed to be forced to do since the situation would mean her death; a death that I am apparently unable to walk away from for some accursed reason. Closing my eyes within the confines of my helmet, I open my right palm and call forth the healing glow of a restoration spell. The sight of an ebony clad man with horns using restoration spells never quite fits the picture in my mind. I can tell from her reaction, it's not entirely something she is used to as well considering the reputation she has seen and heard of me.

"This will hurt before it will feel better."

"Uh... uuhmhfuhnh...!"

I hover my hand with the healing glow over her wound while the other hand slowly starts to pull on the arrow, trying to extract it so that she may truly heal. Normally this wouldn't be the best solution since an arrow being pulled out would do far more damage than actually do some good; that's what the restoration spell is for. Of course she still feels pain… far more pain than she deserves. While she feels that, I on the other hand experience a myriad of things such as emotions… I see memories that aren't my own…

'Let it go…'

'Your sister is dead! Because of you!'

'What are you so afraid of?!'

I hear her voice somewhere there as well as others. One I recognize, the other, I do not. The images doesn't concur with these voices…

'You built me, remember that?'

'Conceal it. Don't feel it. Don't let it show.'

Faces of an unknown lifetime. Perhaps it is true about what they say when using restoration. Sometimes the memories leak from one person to another. They say that significant thoughts and experiences help knit the damage that has been done.

'Monster! MONSTER!'

'We'll reverse the storm you made.'

'... Here I stand…'

I see more of them: Fragments of memories, significant lessons, and a dozen other things that I do not comprehend. I feel heavy… compassionate… and empathetic.