Chapter 15: The Breakdown

To my Jarl

The day you helped me with my quest to defeat Alduin is still vivid in my memory. I remember you making the hard choice to risk the safety of your people for the sake of saving the world. And yet I failed you, for Alduin was not truly defeated and the threat still lies in the air like a dark omen of death. It is he who set the citizens of Skyrim to fight among themselves, it is he who sent the Thalmor to conquer our home. He stands in their lead and is trying to take over the land. I have not been able to devour his soul and now he is back.

I have been hunted for the past few weeks and therefore haven't been able to contact you myself and sent a Thieves Guild representative to act in my stead. I am aware you must be suspicious of her, especially when a great part of your men have been annihilated by a dragon who most obviously attacked them on purpose, and the supplies she was supposed to provide did not arrive. She is not to blame, though. I am for I have failed you again. It was I who started this rebellion and decided to rush things on my own. You have the right to punish me accordingly when this is all over, but I humbly ask you to not punish Farkhali. She is no enemy of yours, nor will she harm any of your people.

I am going to search for a way to defeat Alduin once and for all but I will need a clear passage once the time has come. Please, lead Skyrim to victory. I will join you once I have found what I seek. I feel ashamed to ask for your help while leaving the Skyrim people to themselves in the time of need, but you have my word that I will return in time to save our land.

I apologize for always burdening you with my problems and forcing you into making hard decisions. I will pray for your safety and the safety of your people.

Yours Truly

Aislinn, the Thane of Whiterun

Ignoring the black-furred Khajiit woman standing before him and waiting for his reply, Balgruuf kept staring at the letter in silence. A part of his men had died. His city was running out of supplies and the supplies for the army had not come at all. And now he was supposed to believe it was all the World-Eater's doing. That the dragon who was supposed to be dead by now was alive and threatening his land again. He commanded dragons to conquer it and made the Thalmor attack the cities and hunt down the Dragonborn. Just how much more ridiculous could this story get?

And yet, he had to believe it. If he turned a blind eye to this and did not take a precaution, just what would happen were the Dragonborn's words true?

Then there was the matter of the Khajiit agent. Could he trust her? The Dragonborn advised him so, but could he really? But if she was a traitor, why would she bother coming back when his men had almost been defeated by a dragon? His mind was warning him of her but his heart was telling him to believe her.

"You used a spell on me the first time you were here," he commented, his brows furrowed slightly, piercing the woman with his marble eyes.

"You noticed," she said with a trace of surprise in her voice.

"Why would you do that?"

"I wasn't sure you would trust me if I just came to you like that and requested you to send an army," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"You still don't know that, though," he pointed.

"I don't. But you are sharp, even sharper when you feel disturbed and act cautiously. I don't think the same spell would work twice on you, my Jarl," she smiled shyly. "I did all I could. I sought your help, tried to provide everything necessary and delivered you the message. You don't have to trust me but I vow for the Dragonborn, her words are the truth."

He sighed. There was a momentary silence before he spoke again, his voice calm and reserved.

"What can you do?"

"What do you want, my Jarl?"

"Information," he said simply. "Lots of information."

"I believe that… could be arranged," she said quietly, fairly aware of the irony of her words as she had said them before to the same person. He sensed her uneasiness which, oddly enough, felt reassuring to him.

"Then I think I have just the job for you," he smiled at her gently, raising his right hand to tuck a loose lock of his golden hair behind his ear. This time, it was she who shivered as he looked into her eyes.

Sinawen knew one thing for sure. She hated traveling, the wilderness, the dirt and everything that came with it. She also hated fighting openly and sometimes she asked herself if she had been born into the right world. And among all the tasks she had gotten so far, she hated this one the most. It smelled and reeked of danger. Literally.

"That's the third," she sighed as she pulled her gilded elven sword out of a sabre cat she had just slain. She jabbed the tip of her blade into the ground and leaned to its hilt as she looked up to admire the shrine of Meridia she was just passing. Not too long ago the shrine had seemed desolate, dark and abandoned, but recently it had gained a life on its own. There were bright balls on top of the stone pillars around it which closely resembled beacons, shooting beams of light as though they were creating a path through the shrine. Sinawen suspected it had something to do with the Dragonborn. So many things had changed since she had appeared. The woman was unstoppable, and once she set her mind on something, she would see it through to the end. Sinawen had no doubts that the Dragonborn would obtain the Elder Scroll and get the power to defeat Alduin. The thing she was really curious about, however, was how her mysterious companion would deal with her afterwards.

"Don't you take me lightly," he had said to her. "I am much more than a simple Dragon Priest. I have devoted all my life to defeating her, all those years I've spent preparing just for this, and Akatosh knows that I have lived long enough. I will not fail."

And what will you do then? she asked in her thoughts. But he would not respond if she posed him the question, she was sure of it.

With another sigh, she sheathed her sword and continued down the path from Solitude to Dragon Bridge. She walked slowly, keeping her face hidden in the shadow of her hood. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pines and truces which grew along the road, and the sky was clear save for a few tiny clouds which kept chasing after the sun. How unpredictable the Skyrim weather was, and if Sinawen did not feel the shiver from yesterday's snowstorm still running down her spine and sending chills through her limbs, she would have never guessed there had been one.

The road descended in a gentle slope along the ridge the shrine of Meridia stood on and then further, slowly getting closer to the river on Sinawen's left. Apart from two Vigilants of Stendarr there were no other people around. But that was no surprise since there were barely any people traveling ever since the Dominion had made their move.

As she reached Dragon Bridge, she noticed several Thalmor officials, some of them hooded while the others exhibited their gilded armors, shimmering in the sunlight. She raised her hand in a greeting, touching her thumb and her middle finger, indicating she was one of them. The secret gesture changed every once in a while but she kept herself updated on it as it was essential to maintain her act. A few of them nodded and returned the greeting. Then, one of them, a man of sharp features with piercing black eyes and brown hair which was rather short for an Altmer, stepped in her way.

"Greetings," he said brusquely, examining her cautiously. "There is a new regulation in effect now. You are not to wander the land alone, as the Dragonborn poses a threat to all of us. Lady Elenwen assigned special guards to all the people who would have business out of the cities. May I ask you what your purpose is and why you are traveling alone?"

"Good afternoon, err…" she looked at him hesitantly. He raised a brow at her reaction.

"Arethil," he pointed. "I have recently been appointed as a Squire." He raised his hand to show a ring which looked like two slender snakes made of gold and silver twisted around each other, their heads meeting at the top of his middle finger. Their eyes were tiny rubies and sapphires, sparkling as his hand turned.

Inadvertently, Sinawen's eyes widened. Squires were a group of Elenwen's most trusted people. No-one had been appointed as a squire for months now, some of them had even been demoted or disposed of.

"My apologies," she murmured. "I did not know."

"So it seems," he said in a disturbingly neutral tone. "So," he whispered as he walked around her, stopping just out of her sight to force her to turn her head to him as he pulled her hood out of her face, "what brings you here, lady Sinawen?"

Her heart skipped a beat. She was supposed to be a nobody. She had given up trying to climb up the merciless ladder to Elenwen's circle of trusted and decided to deal with things another way. She had stuck to the smaller jobs, making herself almost invisible. He was not supposed to know she even existed. Especially not if he was a Squire who surely had more important things to do than concerning himself with a mere errand girl.

"Surprised?" he curled his lips and that smile sent shivers down her spine. "I pride myself in keeping track of things, you know. One must be beyond observant when there is a traitor on the loose. I must praise you, though, for you are really good at what you do. One would think that such a gorgeous woman would be more… ambitious," he touched her cheek with the back of his hand and gently put a lock of her beautiful black hair out of her face, "but you keep slipping away, hiding in the shadows. To be honest, I haven't even expected to meet you here."

She doubted that but decided against spelling it out loud.

"What do you want?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling more than she would have liked it to.

"Now we're talking business. But for Kynareth's grace, pardon my rudeness. Let us sit down and talk like civilized people. There's an inn down the road, a nice and cozy one, paneled with wood. This way," he beckoned.

She forced herself to walk, feeling numb as if there were weights tied to her feet. Barely noticing the other Altmer around or anything along the way, she entered the inn as Arethil held the wooden door for her. He waved to a table in a remote corner of the room opposite the counter and she made her way there, sitting down on one of the four chairs around it. He joined her, watching her steadily, the smile still formed on his lips.

"So," he exhaled with a relaxed face, "you have had a pretty nice trip through the land, managed to skip all the important meetings but still obtained all the necessary information like passwords, secret gestures and such. Your name was on the attendance list but barely anyone has ever seen you these past two months. Your last location was Markarth where you delivered a message of barely any importance. That was six weeks ago. Then you suddenly disappeared. Everyone thought you had left, but what if you had stayed? What if you had hidden yourself in, let's say, Nchuand-Zel?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said dryly.

"Is that so? You know," he moved closer to her, his voice turning into a mere whisper, "the Dragonborn must have had a reason to infiltrate into the most guarded city in Skyrim."

"Of course. She barely does anything without a reason."

Arethil's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Sinawen, don't be a fool. You cooperate with me and you're free to go, with a good spot guaranteed."

She snorted. "And what am I supposed to tell you?"

"You need to work on your acting skills, my dear. But let's say, for example… how did the Dragonborn escape from Markarth? And why did she go there anyway?"

"I don't know."

He sighed, pulling away from her, and leaned to the back of his chair with his hands clasped together behind his head. There was a silence, deep and heavy, and Sinawen could hear her heart throb. He kept piercing her with his eyes, a sweet smile formed on his lips. She was still, staring into those dark merciless eyes without blinking once. She knew she had to say something, do something. There were five other Thalmor in the room and all of them probably answered to the guy in front of her. The guy who was currently enjoying torturing her mentally, making it nice and slow. Later he would probably grab a dagger and stab her hand. Maybe he would skin her slowly, break her bones one after another, hang her head down and poke out her eyes. He would do everything except cutting her tongue for he needed her to talk. All that only to heal her in the end and start anew. She knew the Thalmor methods well and they were beyond cruel. She had witnessed them after all, forced to laugh when the screams of the victim had filled the room. And this man knew it.

She caught a glimpse of the innkeeper out of the corner of her eye as she approached their table. She waved her hand at Arethil, a playful smile on her face.

"Let's not be so serious, master elf," she said merrily. "Shall I offer you some beef stew? It just so happens that we have some fresh… oh my, what is that?!" She pointed at Arethil's left elbow. The elf turned ever so slightly and Sinawen suddenly registered an almost imperceptible change in the innkeeper's posture, a mere gesture sent her way. It was there. Now! This woman probably thought Sinawen was actually helping the Dragonborn. There was no other explanation for that.

Faster than lightning, Sinawen jumped up from her chair, took it in her hands and swung it around, making the other Altmer back away in defense. Raising her hands, she made herself invisible and rushed to the door. Only one of her enemies managed to block her way. She took a dagger out of her shoe, stabbing it right into his heart. Kicking him out of her way, she busted the shabby door with a firebolt and darted through the village, her figure slowly regaining its shape.

"Don't let her escape!" she heard Arethil scream from inside the inn. Four elves were behind her, two mages, an archer and a fighter with a mace. She gasped when an arrow missed her left hand by an inch and stuck in the ground before her. A frostbite spell slowed her down, allowing the fighter to catch up with her. He caught her robes and pulled hard, making her fall down on her back. She kicked him in the shins, knocking him over, and suddenly they found themselves rolling down from the slope in a messy bundle of limbs and bodies. Sinawen jabbed her feet against the ground, stopping just a few feet from the precipice which fell steeply deep down into the river. Breathing heavily, she barely managed to roll over to avoid being hit by her opponent's mace. She kicked again from the ground, this time hitting his stomach. He gasped and she used this moment to draw her sword. Swiftly, she aimed for the weak spot of his elven armor, the right underarm. He dropped his mace as the sharp pain spread through his limb, a stream of his blood dying Sinawen's gilded sword in red. One more swing and he found himself standing at the edge of the slope. A shower of icebolts came down on Sinawen as she pushed him over.

Ignoring his screams and the splashing sound that followed, she quickly cast another invisibility spell. Barely being able to move, she dodged another shower of icebolts and two arrows which came flying in a breathtaking speed by a mere hair. A ward spell came out of her left hand the moment the invisibility spell ceased. She quickly moved backwards to the bridge on her left, keeping the ward between her and her enemies. Stepping on the bridge, she turned invisible again.

"After her!" Arethil commanded, pointing at the bridge. Carefully, she took a few steps back to the land and stepped aside as the elves rushed across the bridge to the pine grove which grew on the other side of the river. Holding her breath, she walked slowly back to the town, hiding behind the Lumber Camp wheel. Another invisibility spell cast, she forded the inflow river to her right and found herself standing on a levelled ground with stumps scattered about. To her left, Karth River was descending steeply toward her in a series of waterfalls. Repeating the invisibility spell over and over again, she slowly made her way along it, entering a harsh rocky terrain leading uphill. Several wolves attacked her on the way and she made a quick work of them, her body shaking with exhaustion and shock from her recent experience. So this was the end of her. She would not be able to approach the Thalmor anymore. Nor could she approach the Dragonborn for that matter.

She sighed. She felt small and insignificant. That man could have easily found another accomplice, it was just a lucky coincidence that he had run into her and decided to make her his so-called right hand. And he will find another one because he does not need her anymore. Then he will seek her and kill her because she knows too much, and the woman who just sacrificed herself to distract Arethil and save her did all that in vain. It hurt. It hurt more than the stabs of the icebolts which had pierced her skin in the fight before, more than any injury she had ever suffered. Her heart hurt, pulsing painfully, placing a solid lump in her throat. She reached a pool between two waterfalls, swam to the other side of the river and knelt down by its bank. Hot tears mixed with the cold water dripping from her clothes and hair. Sobbing quietly, she hugged her knees and curled up into a small wet bundle.

A few hours had passed during which the sun had made its way beyond the horizon and the night had enshrouded the land in shadows, when she heard a voice behind her.

"I could kill you with a single swing of my sword if I wished so, little weeping Thalmor, but surely the likes of those lofty spike-ears don't run crying in the wilds unless they get betrayed… or betray. I must confess, though, that I find the sight of a weeping Thalmor fairly amusing."

She jumped up and turned around swiftly, her face a grimace showing a mixture of pain and anger. A tall and well-built man stood before her, his mahogany-colored hair tied at the back of his head in a messy ponytail. He had a wide face with tattoos whose shape and color she could not distinguish well in the darkness of the night, and wore a set of pelts decorated with sabre cat teeth and black feathers. There was no doubt he was a Forsworn, looking like a savage that he was.

"You would gain nothing by killing me since my purpose has just ended," she said wearily, shivering as she realized for the first time how cold she was.

"And so you ran. Then you are like us, a forsaken one with nowhere to go."

"No," she whispered. "I am not like you. I am a traitor to my own kind, and a traitor to my enemies as well. There is no place for me, not even among you."

"And would the traitor care to share her tale?"

"The traitor will think upon it."

Minutes had passed and then hours when Sinawen started talking. She talked slowly, musing on the things she had done and gone through. She had been merciless and arrogant, blinded by the painful love that would never be reciprocated, disgusted with the world she had been born into, a world full of striving for power. She too had been dragged into it, having to fight her way through her life, which had been but painful and full of struggles. She felt hatred for everything and everyone, and a great deal of regret whose source was unknown to her. Tears slid down her cheeks, making the pain slowly fade into a dull feeling of resignation.

He was watching her the whole time, letting her speak and waiting patiently. There was a silence when she had ended, disrupted only by an occasional sigh. Then he spoke.

"Your story is indeed a painful one. But you did not share everything. Just who is that enemy of yours whom you sent to meet her end? Does it hurt to tell, now that you have nowhere to go?"

"Would you believe me?" she asked quietly.

"Is there a reason for you to lie?" A simple question. He was right.

"The Dragonborn."

He jerked, his eyes widening a little at the sudden confession.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered: "What can you tell me about the Dragonborn? Where is she now?"

"She is leading a rebellion," Sinawen snorted. "She really has no sense of…"

She was cut off as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.

"A rebellion? Where? When?!"

She stared at him in surprise, startled by the sudden urgency in his voice.

"Her army was supposed to attack Windhelm two days from now… oh, maybe just a day," she corrected, shooting a quick glance at the sky. "Although there have been some complications so there might be a delay."

"So she has finally made her move," he said slowly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. "Then it is time to make ours."

He pulled back and turned around, heading for the rocky slope which rose steeply from the riverbank. Somewhere up that mountain among the fresh smelling pine trees and heather bushes would be his camp. Sinawen knew for her destination had been this very summit.

"Farewell, weeping Thalmor," he uttered at last. "May you find your place again. Next time we meet, it might be on battlefield."

"Wait!" she called to him and took a few steps in his direction. He turned his head slightly to let her know he was listening rather than look at her.

"Can I… can I join you? Whatever your plan is, can I join you?"

"You are a traitor," he said. "You would become a burden and betray us. We will remember, however, the favor you have done us, and maybe, if our roads cross again and good winds blow upon us, then we won't have to cross swords. Farewell."

And with that, he left her to her thoughts, a lonely elf lost in the vastness of this cruel world.

Legate Marcus wore a grim expression, staring at one corner of his tent absent-mindedly, twiddling his thumbs slowly. It was bad enough to stand against an army of elves who had better equipment, controlled powerful magic and outnumbered his troops greatly, but to battle an army of dragons and Alduin himself sounded like pure madness. There was only one Dragonborn on his side, preparing to leave him to his own resources on top of that. He was a sturdy warrior who had won many battles before, outwitted his enemies with his brains and crushed them with his warhammer. He knew the flow of battle, he knew the strategy and had a few skilled strategists by his side. He also knew how important it was to keep up the morale of his men if he was ever to win the war. But how in Oblivion could he manage to do such a thing when his own morale was crumbling? The news the Dragonborn had brought were far worse than he could have ever expected.

He leaned over the table he was sitting at, looking Aislinn seated opposite of him in her golden eyes.

"I've made those of my men who have heard it take an oath of silence," he said to her. "You must not speak about this to anyone. The army's going to fall apart the moment they learn about it."

She nodded slowly.

"You seem calm about it," he noted, making it sound a bit like a rebuke. She snorted.

"I have known I have to face Alduin again for some time now. Nothing really changes for me. And when you go from one deadly enemy to another, travel through a land where anyone and everyone could be your enemy with just one thief to support you, and make fighting dragons and draugr deathlords your daily routine, you stop thinking about what would happen to you if you lost after a while."

"But your life is not the only thing on the line here. Do you not care about the rest?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Of course I do," she whispered. "But I find myself unable to move if I keep thinking about it. It's just… it's too painful…"

"I'm sorry," Marcus shook his head. "Please, forget what I've just said. Just save us. The whole world depends on you."

"You don't have to tell me twice," she said bitterly. In fact, I've heard this one like thousand times already.

She rose and nodded at the Nord. "I think I should head back and make some preparations."

"Come see me before you go," he said. "I want to say goodbye."

"The plan is to come back, you know," Aislinn smiled at him.

He chuckled as she raised the curtain and left the tent.

She passed through the lively camp and entered her tent. Letting out a silent sigh, she took her backpack off her shoulders and started checking its contents. She never let it out of her sight as there were keys to most of the houses in Skyrim, not to mention books and scrolls which were not meant to be read by just anyone. They were there, still at the very bottom, hidden in the depths of a canvas bag. A spare set of clothes, just in case, even though she doubted she would ever use them as they couldn't be worn underneath her armor like the linen shirt and a pair of tights that she usually had on. Some potions and several soul gems that Marilis had forced her to take, even though she hated to use them. A great number of lockpicks since there was never enough of them. A few spare daggers and a set of enchanted rings and amulets for various occasions. That should be it. Her daedric armor lay ready on her bed, her swords, bow and quiver along it. She quickly changed into it and attached her weapons, daedric sword to the left, ebony one to the right, bow and arrows over her back. Taking her backpack and slinging it over her right shoulder, she marched out of her tent and looked for Karliah and Brynjolf.

Surprisingly, she found them nearby, whispering to each other and chuckling as they pointed to an unknown target. Aislinn put her backpack back in her tent, keeping it in her sight, and moved to a nearby tree. She crept from there, using another tent as her cover. She was now fifteen feet away, the closest she could get, but barely heard their voices. Their target, however, was now clearly visible from her spot. It was Marilis.

She raised her eyebrows and wondered what it could be that they wanted to steal from him. It was a bet so it could be anything, but knowing those two, it had to be some kind of challenge. She studied him, his purple robes, every pocket he could have there, the wide sleeves, the numerous folds and wrinkles. There were so many places where he could hide something. She noticed a hidden dagger attached to his left side. There were several chains and amulets hidden in his sleeves and clearly something in his boots – but who wouldn't have something in their boots. And then she saw it. A small irregularity on his right side beneath the folds. It looked like a pouch with a number of regular objects in it. Gems. She knew at once that this was the target. Smiling, she crept back to her tent, took her backpack and then called to her thief partners.

"Hiya, lass!" Brynjolf saluted. "Everything ready?"

"Almost," she said with a smile. "I've got a few more errands to run. Do you think you can hold onto my stuff for a while?"

Brynjolf nodded and took her backpack from her hands. "Don't take too long," he urged. "The night's going to fall soon and we should be on our way as soon as it gets dark."

"I know," she said, the smile fading from her face. "I'll make it quick."

She rushed back to Marcus's tent and they exchanged a quick farewell. He gave her a few flasks of different shapes and colors and added an instruction note.

"Poison," he explained. "Various kinds, actually. Soak your weapons and arrows in them and your enemies will fall in dozens. I prefer a fair fight myself," he patted the head of his hammer, "but knowing the strength of your enemies, I suppose you'll welcome any kind of advantage you can get."

She nodded in gratitude and soon found herself pacing towards Marilis's tent. The Dunmer mage seemed busy enchanting a number of armors and weapons but greeted her heartily as she approached him.

"You seem a little uneasy," he said, his fiery eyes piercing her.

"I was told the polar opposite a while ago," she snorted.

"The person who told you must have been blind," he smiled. "I can see it in your face. And your body is speaking for itself."

Aislinn looked down at her body inadvertently, gaining a chuckle from the dark elf.

"I will miss you," he said with a serious face. She blushed a little and averted her eyes.

"Marilis, I…"

"It's the thief, isn't it?" he interrupted her. She looked at him, perplexed.

"You like him," he continued, gaining a disconcerted stare from her. "I can see it quite clearly. That is your choice. But don't worry. I can be very patient." He ran his fingers over her face, touching her gently.

She shivered. This did not seem right. She wasn't sure of the reason but there was this feeling at the back of her head warning her from going any further. Still, he had been the first one to understand her, spelling out her feelings without her having to explain. She felt torn apart, as if the ground under her feet was crumbling. Yet she knew she couldn't love this man. It didn't feel right.

"I am sorry," she said, moving a bit closer and reaching out her hand in an apologetic gesture. "But you will always be a dear friend to me."

"I can live with that. For now," he said in a mysterious voice.

"I think it's time for me to go." She could hear her voice tremble as she spoke. He nodded in silence, still smiling.

She turned around without another word and headed to the place where Brynjolf and Karliah were waiting. She felt a little numb, her stomach tumbling, almost urging her to throw up. She would have never expected a little love affair to do this to her… but then again, there had been people in much worse condition because of love. Just how much this simple feeling can do to a person?

Straying away from the topic in her thoughts, she groped about a crevice in her armor, taking out a small pouch.

This has been the sloppiest theft in my life, she scolded herself and shook her head violently, causing several soldiers along the way to stare at her. Her stomach tumbled again and she wondered if she had become so weak that a few stares could make her lose control.

Carefully, she opened the pouch and took a deep breath, excited at the thought of beautiful shining gems shimmering merrily in the setting sun. And then she looked inside and her face went paler than a Falmer's skin.

There were no gems inside. Instead, a number of white, almost transparent stones filled the pouch, literally sending shivers through her body. Her eyes widened in horror.

"Vaermina damn us all, please, tell me that I'm dreaming."

Those were the last words before her legs gave way and she felt her body hit the ground. She noticed white mist spreading around her and heard a number of distant screams before darkness took her.

Oblivion take me, this was one of the hardest chapters to write, if not the hardest. I am still not quite confident about it but somehow... I hope the message got through to you. To be honest, I did not even plan on making Sinawen such a complicated character, but she somehow turned out to be one. Dunno what to do with it when the story just turns that way.

Also, maybe you have guessed already, but... yep, I have a thing for eyes and hair. Since I always remember people by eye and hair color and these are the first things I notice, I tend to focus on these when describing a person. Heh.

Speaking of which, I mentioned in the story that Brynjolf had turquoise eyes. Seriously, he has different eye color in every picture and on every screen so I just picked the one I like the best. I've seen him with blue eyes, as well as green ones, but it's turquoise for me. :D

As always, thanks for the likes, reviews and follows. And please, do review if you can. You will make one Mirwen very happy. :)