Chapter 16: The True Self

Brynjolf sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, placing Aislinn's backpack beside him, and Karliah joined him. The lass had gone off and Marilis, their Dunmer target, had disappeared, probably to his tent. Around them was a number of other tents and a few birch trees, and soldiers in Imperial armors scattered about. Most of the camp were on their feet since they were expecting supplies to arrive any minute and legate Marcus had urged everyone to be extra cautious on such occasions. Still, if a dragon had decided to attack the camp, Brynjolf doubted anything could be done until Aislinn managed to catch the beast. He had to admire the brave legate who did not give in to his fears despite knowing what he stood up against.

"I'm glad I'll be leaving soon," he sighed. "I don't like wars and battles, really."

"I'm not keen on them either," Karliah replied with a nod. "We're thieves and thieves don't belong on battlefield. Even our boss seems a little uneasy with all this battling going on, and having her name chanted all the time on top of that."

"It's been so long since I last did a real theft. And the blasted mage is always so careful. Seriously, even though I don't deal with mages that much, this is the first time I've seen a mage being this cautious."

"Well, he does look secretive. But I get the feeling he's extra cautious around you," Karliah chuckled. "And I'd say it's no surprise. Besides, you only want to rob him because you're jealous of him." She winked at him cunningly.

Brynjolf snorted. "And what's your reason then?" he asked dryly.

"Fun. Challenge. You name it," she laughed. "It reminds a little me of that one time we went on a mission with Gallus and he pretended to be a mage to infiltrate one group. In the end, he made a bet with one of them that he would be able to create a better illusion. He ended up giving him some love potion he didn't even remember obtaining and the mage kept following him for the rest of the day. Still, he managed to rob him since the guy was so blinded he wouldn't even notice a horse trampling on his foot if there was one. That said," she looked at Brynjolf teasingly, "our boss might actually have the best chance to rob the guy."

"Bah."

Another chuckle escaped Karliah's lips. "I do believe she's suspecting something, you know."

"She probably knows," Brynjolf mused. "But it doesn't matter anyway. She'd have to do it today before we leave."

"Oh," Karliah drawled in acknowledgement, looking now thoroughly entertained as she shot a glance at the road to her right. Two hundred feet from the place she was sitting at, Aislinn was approaching, a small pouch resting in her hands. She had a curious smile when she opened it. "Speak of the Daedra. Now that's our boss for you."

Brynjolf jumped on his feet and was about to call out to the lass but he stopped halfway, furrowing his brows as he studied his boss.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked apprehensively.

"I don't…" Karliah didn't finish her sentence. Her eyes widened as Aislinn's face suddenly lost all traces of color and she tottered, murmuring some inaudible words. Then she fell on the ground, dropping the pouch and revealing a set of white stones inside. Several of them cracked at the impact and thick white mist spread around.

"Lass!" she heard Brynjolf scream in horror. "The damnation of Nocturnal!" He sheathed his sword and hurried to Aislinn, and Karliah quickly followed.

"Dragonborn!" several soldiers around shrieked and the camp was in uproar in an instant.

"What happened?!" one of them shouted.

"I don't know!" another voice echoed through the camp.

"It's the rotstone!"

"Are we being attacked?!"

"I don't know!"

"I can't see anything!"

"Neither can I so shut up!"

"That was my foot, you idiot!"

"Then don't stand there like a fool, move it!"

Brynjolf pushed his way through, his mind set on a single goal – get the lass out of there as soon as possible. He wasn't sure what the rotstone would do to her if she stayed under its influence for too long. However, there was one thing he was sure about. Marilis was a traitor and Aislinn was in danger as long as he was on the loose.

Finally he reached her. She was there, lying unconscious on the ground, the paleness of her skin emphasized by the white mist which was almost impenetrable here since so many stones kept feeding it. Her limbs were spread around her in a disorderly manner and her hair covered her face which was bleeding slightly from left cheek which had hit a rock on the ground, her blood mixing with the soil.

He reached out for her when a magical impact threw him several feet back.

"What a rotten luck, Namira curse it," he heard a Dunmer voice nearby. It was calm and quiet and yet he could hear it over the shouts and screams around. "You blasted thieves were never a good sign," Marilis sighed. "This was not supposed to happen, I seriously did not plan on fighting in the middle of an enemy camp. But since it is inevitable… at least I can escort the Dragonborn myself now and I will make sure that I thoroughly enjoy my time with her." He drawled the last words, as though they were meant for Brynjolf especially.

The thief winced in terror. He noticed a robed figure reaching out to Aislinn and picking her body up.

"Son of a bitch!" he hissed and darted towards the mage.

"As a matter of fact, my mother was a refined lady of House Redoran," Marilis uttered dispassionately. He was cut off suddenly when Karliah attacked him fiercely, a poisoned dagger in each hand.

"Now now, you're not playing fair," he drawled as he activated a ward spell and parried her onslaught. "Time to say goodbye, my little thieves. Don't worry. You might see your beloved Dragonborn soon enough. Or whatever remains of her."

The mist thickened around the elf, shrouding a trail of silver dust which opened before him. Brynjolf and Karliah ran after him as fast as they could but the silver trail vanished as soon as he stepped on it, leaving the two of them hopelessly behind. Furiously, Brynjolf pushed his way through the camp again, getting ahead of Karliah, and galloped to the provisional stables, locating Shadowmere who stood aloof from the other horses, watching them fill their muzzles with hay. The black horse stepped aside as he tried to mount him, giving him a contemptuous snore.

"Come on, lad," he urged. "This is no time to act picky, just let me on."

The horse gave him a sour look and backed away, huffing in a threatening tone. Brynjolf glowered at him and spoke, his voice just as threatening.

"You listen to me now, friend. Your master is in serious trouble and if you don't help me this instant, she might get killed or… maybe something worse. I don't suppose that's what you want."

Shadowmere's eyes narrowed but he stilled himself, shifting his weight as the thief approached him. Brynjolf pulled himself up to the saddle and took the reins in his hands. Then a cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized that he had no idea which way the Dunmer mage was heading.

"Do you…" he stuttered shakily. "Do you know where she is? Can you sense her?"

The stallion twitched his ears. Brynjolf wasn't sure what that meant but he wasn't left with much choice.

"Go. Just bring me to her. Please."

A cloud of dust rose around his hoofs as the black horse with crimson eyes which pierced the darkness that had spread through the land darted into the distance.

Dovakhiin, wake up, a voice echoed through Aislinn's mind. It was different from the voices she was used to hearing. This one was full of harmony, calm and reserved, chasing away her anxiety and the fear she had been slowly getting accustomed to. Remember what you are. Do not let yourself be tempted by the lost souls inside you. Power does not equal force or aggression.

She gasped and moaned silently as she opened her eyes, sharp pain shooting through her whole body. She could not move save for her eyes and it took all her strength to make them roam and study everything and anything in their sight. There wasn't much, just a few pine branches and grey, cloudy sky. She could hear a falcon cry nearby and there was the humming sound of river rapids. Judging from the sound, the river must have been quite far from the place she was lying at.

"Awake, at last," she heard a honeyed voice nearby and that was when she realized that a hand had been sliding her cheeks softly. She shivered and wanted to cry out but no sound came out of her mouth. A flood of memories flashed through her mind, almost taking her breath away.

She was in the camp, talking to Marilis. He made a move on her and she declined him, using the moment to sneakily steal his pouch. She wanted to surprise Brynjolf and Karliah… but she wasn't expecting to find rotstones inside. It was too late, she was too weak to do anything. Her two companions had probably spotted her. There were screams and noises, mixing, blending into an incomprehensible murmur and then fading. She had wanted to cry out but her strength had left her. "The mage is a traitor!" she had wanted to scream. Now they knew but it was too late.

He was sitting calmly beside her, rubbing her cheeks as he pleased, and that could only mean they had left the camp far behind. His hand was now moving to her chin and then her neck, brushing her skin tenderly.

"Don't worry. I can be very patient."

If this was his idea of being patient, then she did not want to know what would happen if he actually became impatient. She looked the way his voice had come from with disgust, staring as if her eyes could repel him, brush the repugnant hand of his aside.

"Oh, don't be so mad, my dear Dragonborn," he said quietly. "It was only a matter of time before you got caught anyway, but you're in good hands now. Believe me, the Hunter's no fun. But I can take things nice and slow."

His words made her stomach tumble. Just what was he planning to do to her? She was scared, holding her breath in anticipation of something terrible.

He leaned to her and she could smell his breath on her face, his long white hair creating a soft veil around them. His fiery eyes were gazing into hers with lust, piercing her, stunning her mind and making her heart stop. His lips formed into a smug smile, twitching and curling at her frightened face. A lump settled in her throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. She wanted to turn her head, push him away, kick him, do anything to get out of his reach. Shivers ran down her spine as she felt his fingers on her left arm, touching and caressing, sliding and pressing gently, and suddenly she realized that her armor was gone. She was feeling small and vulnerable and it was driving her insane. Despite not being able to move, she could feel every inch of her body now, painfully aware of how much of it was exposed. Her sleeves were torn and the shirt itself was very loose, making it easy for him to slide his hand under it if he ever felt like it. Her tights were there but they would make no difference, the way they revealed the exact shape of her legs and her hips. She closed her eyes, silently praying to every deity she knew, trying to distance herself from the sweet and yet too painful sensation of his dark fingers running over her body.

Then his lips touched hers ever so slightly, slowly but steadily sliding to one side of her mouth and then to the other, leaving an imperceptible wet trace. And then again. The third time they applied light pressure against her before pulling back and leaving her frozen in terror. If she could just scream, let the fear and anxiety burst out and dissolve in the air. But she was not even allowed to do that. There was warmth in her eyes and then a pair of tears reminiscent of tiny pearls rolled down her temples. She could hear his soft laugh, her body trembled and felt like imploding and bursting into pieces at the same time.

"You are so beautiful when you cry," he whispered to her ears, his lips now playing with her hair, tickling the skin on her face. "Those dragon-like golden eyes of yours shedding tears… there is so much power in them and yet, such weakness is shown when they weep. I can see the struggle in your heart. It's like two armies fighting each other inside you, pulling you back and forth in their game of tug-of-war, making you feel so lost and insignificant. But do not worry. Although I am thoroughly enjoying this, you will soon be freed of this burden."

She tried to take a deep breath and make herself think straight. She hated how he was right. There was a struggle inside her, driving her into sheer madness as the voices in her mind whispered to her, tempting and beckoning. There was a whole new world on the other side, a world of power and dominance where she could crush anyone who would dare hurt her. Crush them, break them, devour them!

Dovakhiin, the calm voice sounded in her head again. She concentrated on it, shutting herself inside of her mind, forcing the pain and anxiety away. She searched and scrabbled about her mind, calling forth innumerable memories, letting them enshroud her and engulf her completely. Memories of flying freely on the currents of the wind which she did not even remember having, memories of glorious victories and joyful battle cries, memories of singing and playing games with two sweet girls who always greeted her with sparkles in their eyes… and the image of a red-haired thief with turquoise eyes and gentle smile, and a voice so deep and crispy it made her shiver every time the word "lass" was articulated.

"You shouldn't trust people... especially not the thief you're traveling with."

No…

Dovakhiin!

She knew betrayal. Everyone seemed ready to betray her the moment they would gain something from it… except for him. He would never do that. He cared for her… he had to care for her.

More than anything, she wanted to see him, cuddle in his arms and lean to his chest. Why had she been so stubborn and never let him know how she felt, allowing a complete stranger to get so close to her instead? She had doubted him, questioned his strength and loyalty every time he had given her that look of his. I don't buy that. Or when he had tried to stop her from doing whatever she had been about to do. But of course he would. This was not about his strength, he must have been worried about her. And maybe he was right. She was rash and careless and got into every kind of trouble she could. Was he angry now? Was he looking for her?

She decided that he was and locked her mind on that thought, embracing it with all her might. He had to be searching for her. He just had to.

I will not lose, she thought stoutly. This is my life and my world and I will not lose. The suffering will end eventually. It must end.

With that, she opened her eyes again. Shock struck her when she realized her Dunmer captor was now trying to tease her ear earlobes with his tongue, applying pressure, then biting. But he was trembling, being too fierce and trying too hard. She could feel his shallow breath and shaking hands, the uneasiness which made him lose his cool. He was angry and disconcerted, startled at the sudden stillness of her body. So this is how it worked. As long as she did not show a reaction, he would get distracted.

But then she shivered as she felt a soft tickle on her neck, sending vibes through her limbs and body, numbing her mind and freezing her heart.

I will not lose, she reminded herself sternly. Even so, she was not sure how long she would be able to endure this. She forced the image of the red-haired thief to appear in front of her and concentrated on it.

Brynjolf, she thought desperately. Come quickly.

It was cold. This time, she was standing on an ice floe, the harsh freezing wind slowly getting under her skin. The floe was small, barely allowing her to stand on it. She would not be able to sit, not to mention lie down, the tiny space forcing her to concentrate on balancing so she would not fall down to the endless depths of the sea below and drown to her death. Wherever she set her gaze, there was nothing but freezing water, its surface dark and murky as there was barely any light, just light grey mist shrouding her whole world and slowly covering her face with frost. She wondered just how many cruel worlds there could be. Has she seen each and every one already, or were there countless ways to make her suffer, even without the help of a man?

This was the strange things about her dreams. She had never met a single person, not even a creature she could communicate with. It was strangely disturbing, filling her with infinite loneliness as her only companion during the whole time she had spent in prison had been brother Martin. And this world too was plain, lonely, deserted. There was not a single bird, not a fish in the sea, and even if some creature did appear, its eyes would be empty, a pair of soulless hollows trying to pierce her and petrify her.

As if her imagination tried to take a form of its own, she suddenly spotted a movement in the water. It had to be something huge. She knew already she would not be able to tell its shape and nature anyway. It was the Void, or its messenger, trying to capture and swallow her, showing her how meaningless her struggles were, how meaningless the life she had been living had proven. She closed her eyes, awaiting the terror that was certain to come.

"You ran away again, my child," she heard the memory of Martin's voice whisper in her mind. Just how many times had she been told this? But she had not been given a choice. It was always the same and there would not be anything she could hold onto in order to overcome this situation.

Or would it?

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes again. The small ice block under her feet was swaying back and forth and it took all her strength to keep standing. The cold was making her whole body numb, the chills spreading through her flesh, grasping every bone and tendon, making her slip and fall. She grabbed the edge of the floe and desperately held onto it. And then the creature splashed and roared, a wave came flushing and washed her away.

A mass of freezing cold water overran her, pulling her down, away from the air. She was drowning, dying slowly… as she would anyway.

"You ran away again, my child."

No… I'm not running away…

"I have come here for a purpose. The savior of Skyrim has chosen you. You are needed…"

Mama…

But how could she help her? What kind of help would her mama need that she would not be able to obtain any other way? She called forth the memory of her, focusing on that proud strong woman with firm hands and gentle voice, on her golden eyes which always shone brightly, on her face which seemed so distant… and lonely. Just as lonely as Lucia was now, but her mama would never give up. She would never run away, of that the little girl was certain. She would always find a way…

The creature was closing the distance between them rapidly and Lucia prayed. The water around her was bubbling and swirling, making her lose sight of it for a moment, and then it was there, its huge body twirling around her. She reached out for it and it embraced her, carrying her to the surface. Cold air suddenly bit her face and she gasped as it flooded her lungs. She took a deep breath and felt a refreshing wave of energy run down her body. The creature was getting ready to dive again and Lucia quickly let go, fighting against the whirlpool around it which threatened to sweep her away.

She swam and swam again, slowly but surely getting out of its grasp, only to struggle against her own body growing weak and exhausted. She ignored it, her hands reached out and paddled the water, one stroke after another, again, again and again. Her feet went numb, the cold spreading through her legs to the belly, her chest and then along her arms, reaching the tips of her fingers, when she finally noticed a solid ground under her feet. She crawled on all four to the sandy beach which rose before her, gasping for air. She felt like laughing hysterically at her sloppy, but nevertheless victorious performance.

Then, a golden light illuminated her frame and she raised her head to look at the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. It was a dragon but it looked more like a phoenix from the old tales that her mama used to tell her. It shone with the purest gold, spreading its fiery wings, exhibiting its gorgeous trunk and mighty talons, and eyes like two blood-colored rubies were gazing at Lucia with depth which transcended time and space. She suddenly felt very small, looking bashfully at the astonishing creature, but somehow she knew that it was real. If this world was something that her mind had created and finally overcome, then the being that stood before her was not a part of it. And yet, she knew that it had always belonged there, right at this place, and it had been waiting for her.

"You… you are…" she whispered, her body trembling slightly.

"I am brother Martin," he spoke calmly, "but I am sure you already know that by now."

"You are a dragon."

"Of course I am, and so is your mother. But I am also a human. And so is your mother." There was a slight change in the dragon's posture and Lucia could feel he was smiling at her. "You have done it. You have learned how to overcome your weakness and accepted your humanity. You must never forget this for that which I am going to teach you now is one of the most dangerous things for a mortal. I will give you some of my own strength, something which froze in the Time along with me and waited for the right person. It might bring you closer to your mother and to understanding the endless cycle of this world. But it will change you forever."

"And… what is it that you're going to give me, exactly?" Lucia inquired, biting her lip nervously as she slowly got up on her feet and took a few insecure steps forward.

The dragon lowered his head on the same level as Lucia's and the shining rubies were now gazing at her face, casting a crimson glint upon it. He spoke in a quiet voice but it resonated in Lucia's head as the words left his neb.

"I will give you the Blood of Septims."

Huh. Really, I can't believe what I just produced. At one time I was thinking of scrapping this whole chapter and rewriting it but I decided against it since I would have ended up writing the exact same thing, maybe using different words, anyway. You see, Marilis was designed as a nasty wicked man, evil to the core, right from the beginning, but I do have a problem expressing certain... things, and I think this chapter just got the better of me. Meaning I completely lost control over it and it just... wrote itself. :D Still, there's a reason why Marilis is so awfully twisted and surprisingly, it's not because he's in love with Aislinn. Well, I did give you a tiny lead in the previous chapters but I think most of you missed it. You'll know in time.

I hope I did not disgust you now and that you will keep on reading the story. (Oops, it's here again... inferiority complex, go flush yourself in the toilet, please.)

Also, you might have noticed that I changed the description. I kind of found the previous one unfitting so I rewrote it. But don't worry, nothing has changed in the story.

Thanks for staying with it. I'll be infinitely grateful for any reviews, likes and follows. :)

Mirwen