CHAPTER 73: EVENING STAR 2/3
Since the Battle of Whiterun, Jorrvaskr had been awfully quiet.
As Erza Scarlet lay in her bed at night, the echoes of that battle still raged through her mind. She heard the bells toll, the never-ending bombardment of the catapults, the fire, the screams, clank of steel on steel. She could still smell the smoke and blood linger in the air, the rotting stench of death as the corpses lay covering the fields of Whiterun, a laden table for the crows to feast on. But each time she closed her eyes, the face of a dying shield-sister haunted her dreams.
And the guilt never left her alone.
She could not forget, and as days turned into weeks, she realised that she never had to. Cana remained in her heart, lived on in her memory, but gods, how Erza wanted to remember Cana's life, her bubbly laughter, her lovely songs and jests instead of her bleeding to death in her arms. But no matter how Erza wished, the vision did not change. The way Cana's eyes turned hazy before she took her last breath never stopped haunting her, and the silence in Jorrvaskar as she woke up from the nightmare brought an agonizing reminder that it had been real. Cana was truly gone, and the mead-hall would never be the same.
But most often, the tears did not come, even though she was suffocating on the grief. Like a throbbing, dull pain, it kept her awake at nights, just like tonight. It was the 22nd of Evening Star, two days before the long-waited council meeting was to be held in the city. Erza had been surprised to hear the Jarls of Skyrim had agreed to discuss a treaty, but any other place would have been better than this ruined town. Whiterun was still licking its wounds caused by war, barely able to stand on its own.
How would Cana feel about this? We are allowing the Stormcloak traitors to step into our halls and expect them to lower their swords, the very same steel that cut her apart, Erza ruminated over and over the possible worst-case outcomes of the meeting. Would she laugh? Or would she insist to fight them again at the gates? What if they use this as an opportunity to take over the city, will we compromise the honor of those who gave their lives defending the city from them?
Erza wasn't alone with her thoughts. The news of the meeting infuriated the commonfolk as they spread through the city. The Imperial forces had been securing the city since the siege, and Whiterun was no longer a neutral territory. Sure, the Empire aided with rebuilding the city, but the extra troops required extra resources. Food and housing were already scarce, but the Jarl seemed to be giving those very generously to those foreign soldiers, much to the citizens' dismay.
While the soldiers "guarded the city", the citizens spent their days rebuilding the destroyed houses, but at the heart of winter, such constructs were a deadly project. Cold crept in the air, and each day more poor, homeless souls succumbed to starvation or froze to death. The Jarl could only house so many refugees in Dragonsreach now that they housed the Imperial troops, and especially prior to the council, most were banished to make way for the highborn quests. Ever since the battle, Jorrvaskr had taken in the wounded and homeless, but way more died than recovered. Each day, there were less bodies to burn, but also less survivors left to rebuild Whiterun.
But somehow, the city would survive.
At least we are not Riften.
Erza sighed, lifting the fur blanket up on her bare body as she stared at the dark ceiling of her chamber. The warmth failed to shield her from the dread, anxiety prickling at her skin like frigid needles. She had buried Cana, but what of her other friends, Natsu and Lucy? Last she had seen them, right before the battle, she had sent them off to Riften. And not long after that, the news of a devastating dragon attack in Riften reached Whiterun. Some even said that the entire Ratway had blown up underneath the city. If Natsu and Lucy had been there, how could have they survived?
"What are you thinking, dear?" said a voice next to her.
Erza turned her head on the feather pillow, facing Jellal. In the darkness, she could still distinguish his features, the large eyes and sharp jawline, strands of blue hair that fell down on his forehead. Erza smiled just slightly, failing to conceal her sadness. "Everything," she whispered.
"Could I make you forget?"
Jellal pulled her closer to his warm body, as naked as hers. She lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, one that had always brought her so much comfort. It didn't now. It hadn't brought any, not in a while. Gently, Jellal combed his long bony fingers through her hair, sensing her anguish. Erza knew what he was thinking, she could hear it from the way his pulse got faster, but her answer would be no.
"I don't want to," Erza said quietly. "I don't want to forget the friends I buried, nor those whose fate is unknown to me."
"You are thinking of the Dragonborn and her companion, aren't you? Weren't they headed to Riften right before dragons burned the whole city down?"
Erza nodded against his chest. "Yes, and I can't stop thinking about what might've happened to them." Erza lifted her head just a bit to look into his eyes, that glimmered in the dark. "Doesn't it ever bother you? The fates of other people?"
"Can't say it ever has," Jellal answered and wiped a long strand of scarlet hair from Erza's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Yours is the only life I care about. Nothing else matters in my world."
Erza found no words to answer that with. The more she had heard him say that, the more she'd come to understand that she had never known how to answer that. Only the feeling within her chest had begun to change. Maybe once, when she had been younger, those words alone had mattered the world to her. She'd worn them like a badge of honor, not realizing she was merely a winged insect to his funeral pyre. More and more, this thought had begun to grow in her mind.
He is mad, Erza had finally realised. Or perhaps, admitted to herself. He is utterly, completely mad. Perhaps it had been during the battle, when she'd witnessed him slaughter all those soldiers and enjoying it. But if I still love him, then what am I?
"If they are alive, they will join the meeting," Jellal said after a long silence. "The news of the upcoming council have reached far and wide. If the Dragonborn still breathes, she'll present herself there."
"If." Erza sighed. "If she doesn't, the war is already lost. Not this insignificant war between brothers, but between men and the dragons. It's the end for all of us."
"I know. But then again, what can we do? I haven't done anything to bring her any unnecessary harm. Since my little cover hasn't blown yet, they have kept our secrets. They might have earned my trust, after all –"
"Jellal," Erza said fiercely. "Shut up, for Mara's sake. I don't want to hear that. Our secret doesn't matter. I should've never –"
"Oh, it does. It matters to me. As I've said –"
"Yes, I know, nothing else matters to you. I know. But such a smart man as you are, do you understand that we will both die? There's no future for us. Not without the Dragonborn. And no matter what, if you ever lay your deadly hands on her, I will –"
Many times by now, this thing Natsu had said to her in his anger rang through Erza's mind. She could still remember it so clearly. 'You aren't married yet? A bit of advice. Not that I'm exactly in the position to advise on this matter, but you listened to it before, so listen to it again. Don't marry him. Ever. And as the second piece of advice, you sleep with him, right? The next time you're in bed with him, strangle him to death. Seriously. Do that, or I will.'
And sometimes, for half a heartbeat, Erza found herself seriously considering that. She understood what Natsu had meant with his words – and perhaps, if he had made it to Whiterun back then, he would have killed Jellal already. But he hadn't, leaving such a task, or the consideration of it, to her. But each time, Erza found herself not being able to bear the thought for longer than that, no matter how much she'd grown to resent him.
They had always been together. There had been no her without him, not ever – no matter how wicked or evil, Jellal was a part of Erza, and she was a part of him, her darkest burning star. The thought of killing him felt the same as cutting off her own festering arm, her mind screaming at her to stop even though she knew it was the only right thing to do. Could she do so, even if that would be the only way to release herself from these chains?
And as she had fallen silent, she realised why they said that no-one ever planned murder out loud.
"Erza," Jellal whispered then, "I am already aware of that. Be it so unfortunate that the Dragonborn would perish, and so would the world, as long as I can die before you, or beside you, I will be happy. But I will not walk on this world without you. And I will do anything to secure that."
She had heard this before, so many times. She knew him – this was exactly who he was. And knowing that she could say nothing to change that, she remained silent and turned her back on him. Staring at the dark walls of her bedchamber, Erza felt the anguish simmering deep in her guts once again – where there had been warmth in her heart, was now a cold and deadly grasp of an iron fist.
An iron fist of his love.
At dawn, while it was still dark, Erza woke up alone.
Jellal did that often – spending the evening with her, maybe letting her fall asleep next to him, but at dawn, he was gone. Whether he retreated to his study in Dragonsreach or to commit murder in the sewers of Whiterun, Erza couldn't tell, and didn't even want to. Her bed was just as cold either way.
Upon a routine she dressed up in her armour and stepped to the hallway, locking the door behind her. Few candles illuminated the empty sleeping quarters of Jorrvaskr, but sounds from upstairs let her know she wasn't alone. Instead of the silence, she could hear two brothers arguing. Like dark clouds looming in the horizon, such noise so often meant an impending brawl. Erza fastened the pace of her steps as she hurried up the stairs.
"I'm not going to let any Stormcloak arsehole set their foot into the city!" Farkas shouted to his brother. "No matter what the Jarls have agreed to, the rebel scum are not welcome here after what they did. The next Stormcloak I see is dead!"
There didn't seem to be anyone else in the mead hall except these two. Most of the Companions were either helping Eorlund at the forge or rebuilding the town, as Vilkas and Farkas were also pointed to do, but they always found some time for fighting.
At least something was as it had always been.
"Brother, calm down! We Companions have already put our spoon into the wrong soup, and see what it's done to us. We should have never gotten into politics, into war –"
"Madmen ravaging our gates and burning our city is not politics. It's protecting our home. You of all people should understand that. We held the Stormcloaks off once, and we will do that again, as long as their leader still breathes!"
"It's important that Ulfric Stormcloak also joins this council. He could be talked some reason to –"
"Yes, with my fists!"
"Brothers!" Erza said, stepping between the two men before they'd throw fists at each other. "What's happening here?"
"Eh, Farkas doesn't appreciate that Ulfric will be taking some of his soldiers to the city. Not his whole army, or well… what's left of it anyway, but some men to guard his back. They will arrive here tomorrow. Farkas thinks –"
"THEY SHOULD BE HANGED ON THE CITY WALL!" Farkas shouted, but Vilkas cut him off.
" – that they are not allowed to the city, but if we won't allow them, I doubt Ulfric will join the council. We need to stop this war, and this might be our only chance to stop it. I can't let my brother hang all of Ulfric's men right there!"
"Don't you have any respect for our lost siblings, Vilkas? They gave their lives to keep the Stormcloaks off the city! We can't open the gates to them now! THEY ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!"
"And they would do the same to stop the war without any more bloodshed!"
"There will be bloodshed, can't you see? When we let them into the city, Ulfric is trying to take it again. He wants Whiterun. We can't let him to Dragonsreach! He will strangle our Jarl in his sleep!"
"It's not only Ulfric they are letting to Dragonsreach, idiot. General Tullius, his arch nemesis, is also going to be there. It's not about Whiterun anymore. It's about the fate of the whole Skyrim. We cannot let our country collapse under the civil war while the dragons are raging!"
"Ulfric will strangle General Tullius as well!"
"Farkas, please, shut your mouth or I will shut it! This is not up to you to decide anyway!"
"Upon my honor, I will behead Ulfric before he strangles Jarl Balgruuf and General Tullius and –"
Then, Erza caught both men from their necks, lifted them up and smashed their thick heads together. The brothers yelped like kicked hounds as they fell to the floor, ugly bruises already forming on their foreheads from the strength of Erza's sisterly gesture. If she wouldn't keep them in order, who would?
"You two stop this pointless argument immediately, or I will do that again. Is that clear?" Erza commanded, fiercely staring both of them from below her brows. Farkas rubbed his head and nodded quietly, and Vilkas began to get up from the floor.
"My apologies, dear Shield-Sister," Vilkas whispered. "We… didn't mean to cause this much commotion so early in the morning."
Erza chuckled. "It's good to have some noise in this hall every now and then, isn't it? But this isn't a matter of argument. The Stormcloaks will be here tomorrow, whether we like it or not. It will be up to the Imperials to deal with them if something goes wrong. We stay out of this for now."
Farkas still sat sulking on the ground, not looking into either of them. It was way harder for him to deal with this. Losing Cana and Skjor had been difficult for every Companion, but Farkas struggled to put his grief into words. As always, he spoke with his fists – or with his steel. Refraining from the urge to shed blood wasn't easy, times like these.
"But you were going, right? You're going to represent us in the council?" Vilkas said.
"Yes," Erza answered. "Kodlak approved, as long as Companions stay out of matters concerning the civil war. But against the dragons or dragon cultist, our steel can be hired. As our research has shown, dragons are vulnerable to Skyforge Steel. That's why Eorlund has been smithing more words, especially designed to pierce through dragon's hide."
Vilkas listened to her in awe. "To think, you're the only one of us who has faced a dragon in a battle… such is our Erza's valor and glory."
To some extent, Erza had told her shield-brothers about the mission "Mystogan" sent her off to – to examine the ancient ruins of Labyrinthian to find out any means to defeat the dragons with. Vilkas, Farkas and other Companions thought she was accompanied by two survivors from Helgen who were determined to bring down the dragons, but how exactly was the dragon in Labyrinthian killed, they didn't know. Perhaps they thought that Dragonborn, the same who'd slayed the dragon in Kynesgrove, had appeared to help them. They did not know that the Dragonborn had been with Erza all along, even in this hall as a visitor.
But perhaps, if Lucy would truly show up and present herself in the council meeting, the truth would finally be revealed to the world – and that now, she'd be strong enough to defend herself from her opposers.
"I wasn't alone in that battle, so don't give me too much praise," Erza said then. "However, in the council they'll possibly discuss about forming strike units against the dragons. Would you two be up to such missions?"
"Fighting dragons? Consider me in!" Vilkas replied without a hint of hesitation in his voice. "What about you, Farkas? Are you done sulking?"
Farkas sighed. "Fine."
Laughing, Vilkas reached out his hand to his brother and helped him to stand. "I'm sure that a few fierce battles against those mighty beasts would help you forget your sour mood!"
"Yeah, that would give me something else to think about than killing Stormcloaks."
"But will you promise you won't go killing anyone tomorrow? Or do I have to chain you to the wall?"
"No, you don't have to chain me to the wall," Farkas growled and headed to the longtable. He took a seat and poured himself a cup of mead. "I have a small request for you, Erza."
"Well, what is it, brother?" she asked.
"When you see Ulfric Stormcloak, tell him to go fuck himself."
Erza sighed, having known he would say something like that. While Vilkas followed his brother to the table and scolded him, Erza decided to take her leave. She had better things to do than solve their arguments all morning. As long as they wouldn't burn down the hall, all was considered good. So, Erza took her greatsword from the weapon rack by the doors, strapped it to her back and left Jorrvaskr while another quarrel began to stir behind her.
The dawn began as usual in the heart of Whiterun, deadly quiet. The stalls on the marketplace stood empty – in her mind's eye Erza could still so clearly remember how full it had once been, how the streets were crowded with life, but no longer. A couple of young girls carried iron nails and hinges from the blacksmith to the construction sites in the lower districts of the city, where new houses were built.
Only a few shops were still running where they used to be. Beside the inn, the alchemy store and Belethor's goods had survived the siege nearly unscathed. These shops Erza had visited this morning, and now she carried a basket full of herbs, potions, and fresh bandages towards the Temple of Kynareth.
It had become a habit since the Battle of Whiterun. Each healer in the Temple was too busy to get them, and this was the least she could do to help. She had grown especially fond of the young girl named Wendy, the one who had healed Lucy's broken ankles back then. It broke Erza's heart to see how the lights had kept dimming in the girl's eyes during this war. Healing the most terrifying wounds of war had gnawed away the innocence, but Wendy would be strong enough to bear it. She was blessed by Kynareth, and this task was given to her directly by the goddess.
The same as Jellal.
Erza knew very well what Jellal thought of her new habit of visiting the temple. He could have, very easily, put all the soldiers out of their misery and end their endless whining. So what if they had lost a limb? They wouldn't be any use to anyone ever again, and death would come collecting them eventually, so Jellal could just… fasten that progress. It made Erza wonder if Kynareth's blessing was a double-edged sword, gods throwing a coin – would an individual with her blessing be born incredibly good, or inherently cursed to insanity?
The door to the temple was open, as always. Erza took a breath at the threshold, gazing down at the withered flowers covered in frost. Months ago, she had taken Lucy into this temple to get her ankles healed, and every day she came here, Erza remembered that moment. How different everything had been back then – it had been new, this situation between her and Jellal. It had still felt good. It no longer did – and she could only think of the things she had sacrificed to achieve this, to stay by the side of an utterly heartless man. For him, she had lied to Lucy, and broken her trust.
Erza stepped in but did not announce her arrival. She was welcomed instantly by the blue-haired girl, who met her at the door and received the basket of supplies.
"Thank you so much, kind Companion," Wendy said with a smile and bowed deeply. "What would we do without your help?"
As those thin fingers curled around the basket's handle, Erza saw them covered in fresh blood. It wasn't Wendy's, so maybe someone had been injured again at the construction sites. As they rushed in to rebuild the houses, incidents happened way too often.
"If there's anything you need, just let me know," Erza said and looked at the girl. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her skin was so pale, as if she hadn't seen the sun in months. "And please, remember to look after yourself too, Wendy."
Wendy nodded, though it was easy for Erza to tell she wouldn't promise that. "Well, there is something I hope you could do," Wendy started quietly. It always pained her to ask anything. She never wanted to be a burden. "I've heard there will be a council meeting in Dragonsreach tomorrow. If all the jarls and lords will be there to hear, please, tell them to stop this war." She glanced down at her hands. "Skyrim has bled enough."
Erza gave her a sad, warm smile. "Peace is the best we can hope for. The recent news of the dragon attacks should have reached their ears by now. If they have any sense in their thick skulls, they will lay down their swords."
"I'm praying to Kynareth they will," Wendy whispered. "We cannot survive another battle. There's already too many wounded to heal. Too many young lives have been lost, all in vain. If I was a better healer, maybe –"
"You're doing the best you can, Wendy. You're already a brilliant healer and have saved so many lives," Erza said and placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, looking her in the eyes. "If someone should ease your burden, it's the high lords. The rebuilding should be safer, the citizens should be properly fed, the fighting has to cease, and –"
"But the high lords cannot stop the dragons," Wendy said and then quietly stared at her hands, still gripping at the basket's handle. "Sorry. I should go back to treat the wounded. Thank you, Erza, once again for your help. May the gods be with you."
The young priestess bowed at her once more and then walked away, leaving Erza alone and slightly confused in the entry hall. There had been something hidden amongst her words, something Erza couldn't quite grasp, that had chained her back to silence. If there was only more I could do to help her, but I'm not a healer. I'm a warrior. They even call me the Scarlet Despair now. People like me are a reason she's working herself to an early grave.
However, these brief meetings with Wendy kept giving her hope that there were still good people in Skyrim. With that faint hope in her heart, Erza left the Temple of Kynareth knowing she wouldn't be meeting much good today. Along her daily routine, she'd then head to Dragonsreach to hear of 'Mystogan's' plans and schemes for the dragon war.
The cobblestone path led from the temple to the plaza of Gildergreen, the sacred tree of Kynareth. Its pale trunk and leafless branches spread against the clouded skies. Behind it, there had been the statue of Talos, but the Imperial soldiers had been tasked to tear it down after the battle. The priest Heimskir had protested against that for days until he had been thrown to jail for "disrespecting the law." And so, even this square had grown silent, and only the prison walls listened to the endless preaches about mighty Talos.
"Shor's bones, what happened here?"
Erza flinched at the sudden voice - she had been certain there was no-one at the plaza, but as she turned around, she saw two cloaked figures approaching from the marketplace. She knew only Jellal could walk this silently, but this old man had reached the shadow of Gildergreen and Erza wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't spoken.
"War happened, that is," Erza replied, gazing at the man. His face was shrouded in the shade of his cloak's hood, but while she tried to analyze the features, the younger man stepped forth and revealed himself.
This one Erza recognised immediately, and how happy she was to see a familiar face.
"Gray?" she muttered, still in surprised disbelief. "Gray of Dawnstar? What are you doing here?"
The raven-haired Nord smiled and reached forward to shake Erza's hand. "It's good to see you, Erza. We have a lot to catch up with," he said. No matter the differences between them in the past, time had come to leave those behind. They were on the same side, after all. Erza squeezed his hand firmly, then let go. Gray gestured at her and turned to talk to the older man behind him. "She was with us in Ustengrav. She's a friend and can be trusted."
Erza glanced at Gray's mysterious traveling companion. As if realising she did not know him, he caught his hood and pulled it back, revealing his auburn curls and dark eyes. There was something strikingly familiar about the man, something Erza couldn't name in that moment. He kept glancing around the streets, as if he had been looking for someone else than her.
"My name is Gildarts," the man introduced himself. "I'm a Master Wizard from the College of Winterhold. We've come to represent the College in the council meeting, though we arrived one day early. The travelling conditions were better than I expected."
He's Natsu's old teacher, Erza realised then, remembering the stories the fire mage had told, and forced herself to hide her smile. "I have heard about you," she said politely. "I wasn't expecting this reunion, but I'm glad you've made it here safely. I was just going to Dragonsreach to discuss with our scholar, so if –"
"Actually, now that our paths crossed like this, we could talk to you privately first," Gray said and looked around, making sure they were alone at the plaza. "Remember who Natsu and Lucy were supposed to meet in the Ragged Flagon?"
Erza nodded slowly. "The one who took the –"
"Yes," the old mage said, cutting her off. "It was me." For a moment, his gaze was stuck on Erza's scarlet hair as it swayed in the faint wind, as if he'd heard legends of the Scarlet Despair too. "It's quite a long story how it came to be, one I'd rather not tell right now. I assume you'd rather hear news about your friends, wouldn't you?"
"I do," Erza answered, unable to conceal her nervous excitement. "Are they safe?"
"For now," Gildarts said, but then he sighed heavily. The way he fell silent formed a knot of anguish in Erza's guts. She glanced at Gray, who looked just as grim – they were both holding back something Erza probably didn't want to hear.
"For now?" she wondered, keeping her voice low. "Did… something happen?"
Gildarts lifted his head to look directly into her eyes. "The dragon cult got Lucy."
And then, Erza felt her heart fall. The old mage didn't need to say anything else, this was enough to darken her soul as black as the void. She stuttered for words, but only a faint gasp managed to escape her trembling lips. Suddenly, she felt light in the head, and had to take support from the pale trunk of Gildergreen.
Jellal had promised to not hurt her.
He had, and she had believed.
She truly had.
As a moment passed in silence, Gildarts then invited her to the Bannered Mare with him and Gray to hear the rest of the story. Though the shock kept squeezing her lungs, she followed them into the inn and tried to comprehend everything they told. Gildarts shrouded the bedchamber with a soundproofing spell to share the secrets – him belonging to the ancient Blades and guiding the Dragonborn, his research about Alduin's return, the dragon attack of Riften and eventually, Lucy getting captured by the dragon cult and what they had done to her.
By the end of it, Erza was in tears.
Late that evening, as Jellal once again came to visit her bedchamber in Jorrvaskr, Erza was still devastated. She didn't say a word to him, but it seemed to bother him very little. After doing his deeds, he lay beside her in the bed and wiped the tears from Erza's cheeks.
"What are you thinking, dear?" he asked, as he always did.
This time, Erza did not reply. She just couldn't. Do you know? Do you know what happened to Lucy? Do you know what they did to her? Erza faced away from him and stared at the dark walls. Were you behind that? Why? What madness has taken over you? Do you understand what's going to happen now?
A sob strangled her chest. Somehow, she knew he could not escape the consequences of his wickedness, not this time. He would pay for this, and he would pay with his life – if the Dragonborn and the fire mage would appear at the council tomorrow, this would be the last night Erza would spend with him.
Natsu will kill you, Jellal. The words were right at her tongue, but she could not utter them. They still scared at her too much, like she was trembling from fear, holding up the sword, ready to swing it to cut off her own festering arm to release herself from these chains.
If he won't, I will.
A/N; Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT HAS BEEN 2 YEARS SINCE BATTLE OF WHITERUN! Story-wise about two months have passed, but in reality it took me entire two years to get to this point lol. It was interesting but also challenging to write about Erza's POV again. A lot have changed in her mind, she's mostly swimming in guilt and regret and grief. She's finally realising how rotten her assassin lover is, even though it wasn't quite Jellal's fault Lucy got captured by the dragon cult. Erza got this impression nevertheless.
In next chapter, we'll finally see Natsu and Lucy again! I've missed my babies 3
Next up: Evening Star, 3/3
