Chapter XLII – Hunter in the Trap

The ruins of the small town of Karthwasten looked worse than they thought.

They had never before walked through the area, not after a dragon decimated it. Now they could see it in all its glory. It looked worse than Helgen. At least Helgen had stone buildings here and there, but there was nothing left of Karthwasten than the unsteady constructions of charred wooden buildings. There was nothing else left. No grass on the ground, no vegetation around and the trees barely had anything left on them.

But any dread that the sight of that place might have evoked was nothing compared to the constant fear hounding them while Bishop was hunted throughout the Reach.

After their pretend fight, Bishop made sure to adjust his pace a bit while Aeyrin stormed off into the distance. Once she was sure she was far enough, she drank the contents of the white phial and put on the ring. Then she went back to follow Bishop.

She managed to catch up right after she drank a second potion and once she approached Bishop, he instantly froze and reached with his hand for his sword, even as his other one kept holding his bow. Aeyrin quickly reassured him by grabbing that hand in hers and squeezing reassuringly.

Her constant presence by his side was comforting. She grabbed his hand sometimes, or she touched his shoulder, just to let him know she was still there. And any noises she made in her inability to avoid crunching branches under her feet or kicking small rocks could just sound like they came from Bishop instead – no suspicions about another invisible presence there. He just hoped the lack of muffle to his own movements wouldn't alert the assassin. He wouldn't notice that, would he?

Bishop did have to subtly pat Aeyrin a few times when he thought it would be time for her to drink another potion. Eventually, he just resorted to taking sips from his own waterskin to signal it. Even though he wasn't sure if she drank or not before he did, the extra reassurance was the best way to go here.

And after almost two more hours of walking like that, they reached the destroyed town.

Bishop let out a loud sigh at the sights in front of him. He wasn't sure if it was obvious, but he was going for 'angry resignation'. After all, he did take the opportunity to express his frustration for the assassin's benefit every now and then – punch a tree or let out a growl to himself. And now he was in a place that could somewhat hide his presence. What else could he do than take the opportunity to rest? He was all alone after Aeyrin left him in a lurch with an assassin after him and he needed to use whatever advantage he could. And the charred remains of the houses had a lot of hiding places.

He scoured the town for a while. He knew now that the assassin would wait for him to stop in his tracks, to try and get some rest, especially now that he was alone. He had managed to presume a few things about the hunter by now. For one, the Argonian didn't have any ranged weapons anymore. His weird… spit tube was probably the only one he had and he likely ran out of darts after that one he used on Bishop. It made sense. The man was equipped for his rampage on the boat in Solitude. Seeing Bishop in the area was an unexpected change to his plans and he clearly wasn't supplied for it. He probably didn't think he would need more than that one dart for the unexpected target.

And he was clearly not going to give up his chase no matter what.

Fuck, the Brotherhood was obviously so fucking pissed at Bishop.

He looked through some of the rubble and peered into several of the constructions. He didn't see any place too opportune until he reached what surely must have been some housing for the miners. There were several beds there that were now only black frames that would fall apart at a slight wind.

The 'room' actually had its walls around still standing. Even though there was no door. And no ceiling. Well, he liked to look at the skies anyway when he was trying to sleep. The remnants of the charred roof beams kind of marred the view, but whatever. He plopped his pack down before he quickly rummaged inside and began to secure the doorframe with his traps. Aeyrin was right there with him in that room, so he didn't have to worry about her tripping them.

Once that was done, he took the bedroll from his pack. He realized that he was the only one that carried it – they didn't bother cluttering their packs with two bedrolls. They slept in one together anyway.

He couldn't pass up the opportunity to drive the pretend narrative further.

"Heh, hope you fucking freeze without this, bitch," he grumbled to himself. It felt so fucking weird to be talking like this about Aeyrin. Even though he didn't really feel like he was talking about her, just like the pretend fight, he felt like he was talking about some pretend person or some pretend version of her. But he still worried a little that somehow she would take something he said seriously. He did kind of get worried when she mentioned being abandoned in Solitude. It was true. He should have tried harder to find her, but he let himself be distracted by Jordis. He still felt guilty about that, even though he knew she didn't blame him.

After his angry grumble, he felt something flick his ear. It hurt a little, but it was clearly done in a playful manner. And he managed not to make a sound at the surprise. That was fucking lucky. But then again, if he did that, he would just pretend to get spooked by a bug buzzing in his ear or something. A person as on edge as he was could get startled by anything.

He splayed the bedroll on the ground and sat at it limply. He still made sure to keep that pissed off expression on him, but he did let go of his bow at last, since until now he had been doing everything one-handed, unable to part with his weapon. Now the whole thing was up to Aeyrin. He trusted her with this, there was no one else he could trust with his life, but anything could still go wrong. He promptly took a swig out of his waterskin again to signal another potion. There could be no careless mistakes now.

After that, he pulled out some of the dried meat he had for rations. That was all he would have for dinner. It was too dangerous to make a fire and cook something.

It was boring and tense. At one point, Aeyrin tapped his shoulder hurriedly. He wasn't sure if it meant what he thought it meant, but he assumed that she could smell the assassin again. That was… good. That was what they wanted, right? No more running. The roles needed to reverse and the hunter had to become prey in turn.

After his disappointing meal, Bishop growled in anger once more before he plopped himself down on the bedroll, armor and all. It was about time something happened. He closed his eyes and pretended to try to get some rest. He had to make things believable, so he sometimes still occasionally grumbled and tossed around just so that he would look like it took a while for him to fall asleep. But eventually, he evened his breaths and started to 'sleep'.

He wasn't sure what Aeyrin was doing and it was nerve-wracking. Was she waiting in the corner of the room or such? Was she closer? He hoped she would manage to save him in time. Bishop was alert himself, but after what that asshole pulled at the hunter's rest, Bishop couldn't trust such dumb luck. It was only fortunate that it seemed like the assassin really didn't have any ranged weapons left and also no more poison. Neither him nor Aeyrin were poisoned by his blade when each of them got cut.

The wait seemed to last forever.

Every single second felt excruciating and, as always, every single sound startled him. And it was really bad here. The wood was crackling constantly in its charred state.

But there was no other sound. Not for a long time.

He couldn't sleep anyway. He just concentrated on keeping his breaths steady as if he were asleep.

And then it happened.

It wasn't the feeling of someone above him. It wasn't the feeling of a cold blade against his neck. In fact, it was a sound. A pretty fucking loud one. It reminded him of the same thing that happened in the cave – metal clanking against stone. Though it reverberated a little bit more.

And that's when he realized it wasn't stone. It was crystals.

Aeyrin stood in the assassin's way the entire time without him having a clue.

A second later, there was a grunt out of her, then another. Bishop quickly sat up and stared at the scene, but he couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear Aeyrin's or the assassin's movements. He had no idea what was going on. There was just the occasional soft grunt that was all too familiar to him – she often did that when she swung her mace.

That was a good sign, right?

He felt something wet land on his face with each grunt – a few drops. But when he wiped them off, he couldn't see anything on his hand. The blood that sprayed him was clearly still invisible, just like the man. Or Aeyrin. It was the Argonian's blood, right?

Then it all went quiet. A horrible feeling squeezed Bishop's chest. It felt like an eternity before he heard something more.

"I… I think it's done…" Aeyrin let out a relieved sigh.

Fuck. Was she serious? Thank the fucking Gods for her!

Bishop sprung up to his feet in an instant and, before he could do anything himself, he felt a heavy weight lurch into his arms, the hard crystal armor hitting him painfully in his chest. But he couldn't care less about the discomfort. Aeyrin was still invisible, but he was pretty sure he could do this just by the feel of her. He leaned in instantly to capture her lips in a grateful and relieved insistent kiss.

"I can't believe I managed to do this," she chuckled a little when their lips parted. It was still weird that she was invisible while she spoke to him, while he held her in his arms, but it was the most beautiful sound he could have heard just now.

"You were amazing, sweetheart," he squeezed her tighter. He still looked at the ground over his shoulder, and surprisingly enough, he didn't have to do that for long. Soon enough, a corpse materialized there. It was a green Argonian in black armor with red accents, just as expected. And fortunately, with his skull thoroughly bashed in and face charred and frosted over from the enchanted effects of Aeyrin's mace. The pool of blood around the man and the splatters everywhere, including Bishop's face and the smudge on his hand, became visible too in the light of the setting sun.

He let go of his invisible savior for a while and he knelt by the corpse. He should probably check the pulse or something, just in case. But instead, he pulled out his hunting knife and he slit the assassin's throat. Better safe than sorry.

Soon he could feel the familiar presence near again as Aeyrin hugged him from behind, squatting there behind him as if she needed to be there with him all the time. He got the sentiment, he appreciated the proximity after all this too.

"Are we alright? I didn't mean anything I said. You know that, right?" She had to reassure herself. It was a pretend fight about things he knew she never blamed him for. She hoped it was obvious.

"Of course, love." He leaned back into her embrace before turning his head to plant another lingering kiss to whatever part of her face that was turned to him. "I didn't mean anything either. And thanks, for going along with this. And saving my fucking neck."

"As if I wouldn't," she chuckled. "Even though you did call me a 'bitch'." Her laughter hid none of the relief and joy at this torment being over.

"I just wanted to be convincing!" He smirked, but he knew she understood. Now they were safe here at last. Well… as safe as possible. There was only one more thing left to do.

Aeyrin materialized in front of him soon after that. She had blood all over her, sprayed across her shiny armor and her face and hair, but that didn't manage to diminish the smile on her face. She approached the corpse from the other side as Bishop started to rummage around in the Argonian's armor. She soon joined him in the mission.

They found a weapon – a shortsword made of ebony. A quality weapon, clearly, though not enchanted. Or maybe depleted - they did find an empty soul gem in the man's belt pouch. He was very obviously running out of his supplies. There was the spit-tube, long and made out of ebony too, funnily enough. Who would waste money on making an ebony tube? It didn't make a difference what material it was from, right?

There were no more darts on him and there was only one more knife. A hunting knife. Also made of ebony. This guy clearly had top quality equipment, he just didn't have a lot of it left. There were some dried bugs in a bag there too, probably his rations, but no large pack or equipment for camping. He was an impressive tracker for someone not set to spend much time in the wilderness.

There was one thing of interest among his equipment though, aside from the weapons they could sell.

A letter. It was covered in blood, but they could still make out the words in it.

.

Spotted target F near the ship, I'll follow when he leaves Solitude. Sorry for the delay. The ship is dealt with.

Dragonborn can't Shout anymore. Take note.

Who the fuck is Aldin and what's that about eating souls? Arnbjorn might know. Sounds Nordic.

Target F knows he's followed. Went to Dragon Bridge but left. I don't know why. I don't think they are after me right now. Maybe we keep them too busy to protect F anymore.

F too alert, I don't know when I'll be back. I'll send this as soon as I can, but it might take longer than I thought.

Dragonborn is a fucking werewolf! Take note. Get tips from Arnbjorn on how to deal. If we still need to. I'm finishing this. I can't go back and lose the trail.

Target F and Dragonborn had a fight and split. So stupid. Humans are stupid with their emotional outbursts. I'm following F further. I'll strike when he has to sleep. It will be too easy now, even if he thinks he's safe with his pathetic little traps.

.

Aeyrin and Bishop shared a disturbed look as they finished reading the letter. It was partly a letter, partly some notes as if for him alone. But it was clear he meant to send this to his fellow assassins.

They knew they were watched and followed. They should have known all of this, but it was still disturbing to read through.

"'Target F', huh?" Aeyrin shook her head incredulously at those notes.

"You think it stands for 'fucker'?" Bishop smirked. It may have, with how much trouble he clearly was for the Brotherhood. It was so fortunate that they killed the Argonian before he sent this though – now the Brotherhood wouldn't have the information about Alduin, Aeyrin's condition and her lack of Shouts. That was the last thing they needed.

"So, this… Arnbjorn… that's probably the Nord that lured you in Dawnstar. We should let Maro know and show this to him," Aeyrin nodded thoughtfully.

"This we can't show to anyone," Bishop scowled. "Not about you or about Alduin. We'll let Maro know when we get to Markarth, but we're not sharing this letter."

Alright, he had a point there. Maro wouldn't find out about the werewolf assassin this way, but… Bishop already explained Karnwyr's reaction to him. They all had suspicions. Hopefully there was no harm in that.

"I still can't believe you turned for me like that," Bishop smiled at her after a while. He really didn't see that coming.

"I was so done with that!" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "I didn't know what else to do. And I could smell him. I thought… it was smart. That the werewolf could smell him better."

"She probably could," Bishop nodded. Too bad that fucker managed to defend himself.

"I can't believe I did that either, I just… didn't know what else was there," she sighed.

"Yeah, I know, and I wish you didn't get hurt. It must have been confusing to wake up from it like that."

"Well… it wasn't bad. Not as bad as 'waking up' in Falkreath with a bloodbath around me," she shuddered. Better a gash on the leg than a rampage, even if it was deserved by those bloodsuckers. "Uhm… it doesn't matter," she didn't want to think about it too much anymore. "This asshole's dead now. Let's just grab his weapons and go find some place to rest. A nicer one."

Bishop only nodded. This place really didn't seem too pleasant to rest in.

And they fucking earned their rest.

…

The trek was decidedly more pleasant when they weren't taking the worst route possible.

They actually took the main road from Karthwasten. They were decently sure that they were safe now, so why not? It would have to be a fucking big coincidence if another assassin accidentally ran into them just now.

And in the end, they managed to find a place that was a stark contrast to the dismal ruins of the charred village.

There was a plateau at the top of one of the cliffs that was just too tempting. They could be hidden there behind the stone monoliths with a standing stone depicting The Lover towering in the middle of the semi-circle.

It was a beautiful place. Somehow, it was as if those standing stones tended to attract the gorgeous scenery. Or it was the other way around – people probably built them in the prettiest places. There were mountain flowers almost growing over the stones and one of the bare mountainous trees one could mostly find in the Reach, creating a canopy of empty dry branches above them. The stars and the northern lights on the clear sky illuminated the scene in a magical light.

They were still careful. They still set up traps, they would still not be idiots about it. But the relief could not be hidden. They could enjoy the stream below, the beautiful view of the gorge leading to Markarth, and the silence. Finally the silence that they didn't need to be nervous about.

It was an exhausting journey. They had no more rations, no more invisibility potions, aside from the empty white phial, and they were so tired. But there was no way they wouldn't enjoy their victory. Another assassin bested, even without Karnwyr's help. As much as they wanted him around to look out for them, it was reassuring that they managed it this time, managed to find the assassin on their own, and even hunt him down in turn. Even though it was largely incredible luck at play.

Finally out of their armors, after a very good dinner, and huddled again in their one bedroll, they could enjoy the night properly, as it was meant to be. Before, they were both annoyed about their lack of freedom and security in the wilderness since they had to trap the camp and constantly be on the move. They had seen nothing yet. Now they knew – it could get much worse. So much worse. So now, funnily enough, they were grateful for going back to this.

"I thought I would find any place gorgeous after that burned down town, but… this is really something," Aeyrin let out a wistful sigh as she stared up into the skies, at the colors playing there behind the branches of the tree.

"Yeah, it's really nice," Bishop murmured as he planted lazy kisses at the side of her neck. He really needed to unwind after that ordeal. And what better way was there? They were both already naked, and while before he mostly ran his hands over her body to warm her up a bit, now he was just idly kneading and squeezing whatever part of her got under his hands.

He soon uncovered the blanket from the upper part of her body, exposing her to the cool air, and he moved his kisses down from her neck, across her collar, to her breasts.

Aeyrin let out a soft pleased murmur as he nipped at the flesh of her breast. It was nice to just concentrate on this again instead of on the paranoia. Was it even paranoia when they were actually hunted? Well, it didn't matter. No more thinking about the assassin. It was time to only think about Bishop.

She raked her hands through his hair while he ran his tongue around her hard nipple. One of his hands tangled in her locks in turn while the other kneaded her other breast slowly. He was being slower with his advances than she had anticipated – given their tiredness and the strain of the past three days, she expected him to be eager for a release and then get some sleep, but instead, he seemed to be more intend on enjoying the tranquility of the moment.

She let out a gasp when he bit into her skin again, as an enticed tingling began to spread through every spot he touched. Her grip in his hair tightened and so did his in hers. Soon, he pulled her hair to dip her head back and he moved back up to her neck, now even more exposed to him, as he licked over his favorite spot before he began suckling on it.

Aeyrin groaned at the treatment – it always made the pleasant heat in her body even more intense. She managed to use her free hand to uncover the rest of her from the blanket and she promptly hooked her leg behind his to pull him closer on top of her. He continued to knead her breast, though now much more enthusiastically, as she snuck her free hand in between their bodies to touch him.

She began slowly stroking over his hard cock while he continued to mark her neck. He let out a grunt of pleasure against her skin and then moved his mouth a spot lower to do the same. Apparently it wasn't just his favorite spot he was intent on now. He left another mark right below, then another even lower, before he moved to make one on the top of her left breast.

Aeyrin squeezed her hand around his girth a bit more firmly and she picked up the pace of her stroking. Bishop didn't need much more encouraging. He removed his hand from her breast and moved it to his own cock, interrupting her motions. He promptly positioned it between her folds, running it through them a bit, teasing her clit with the tip. Fuck, he didn't even have to tease her and she was already so wet. He loved that just some kissing and playing with her tits could get her so eager. Then again, he didn't need much to get going either. And there was no point in prolonging this. They were clearly both more than ready.

Aeyrin kept urging her closer with the leg wrapped around him and he didn't intent to keep her waiting for long. Soon, he moved his cock down to her entrance at last and slid inside, letting out a long satisfied groan of pleasure. Fuck, he needed this so much ever since all this shit with the assassin began to hound them. He needed to just forget the world around and feel her envelop him like this.

Her moan at the contact reverberated around them, but just then, neither of them could care less about alerting anyone. Was it smart? Probably not, but they just wanted to get lost in each other. Bishop started to move slowly against her, but soon she began to meet his thrusts, or perhaps picking up the pace on her own was more accurate. She was all too eager now. No more peace and tranquility. Now she just wanted to feel the unbridled passion.

"Harder," she gasped under him as her hands moved to his back, raking her nails on his skin. Her leg was still hooked around his hips and her head was still dipped back so that he would have proper access to her neck and breasts.

Bishop kind of felt like making her beg for what she wanted a little, but in the end he didn't torment her with disobeying. He promptly put more force and momentum into his thrusts, reveling in how every time he buried himself inside her, she let out a loud gasp and dug her nails into his back especially hard. He always loved the feeling of that. As if she was trying to hold onto him for dear life.

Surprisingly enough, Bishop managed to hold himself back from reaching his peak despite the intensity of his thrusts. Definitely long enough to send Aeyrin over the edge first. The nails dug into him so much and scratched across his back, leaving a painful burning behind. He was damn sure that she left marks, but it was only fair. He could already see three spots on her neck and two on her breast coloring on her olive skin.

The pulsing of her tightness around his cock threatened to undo him, but he was determined to hold on a little longer. Once she seemed a little more present after her release, he began thrusting again, resuming the previous pace. Aeyrin's deep gasps now took on a much more high-pitched tone and she promptly wrapped her second leg around his waist, readjusting the position. He felt like he could get even deeper inside her like this. It was so fucking satisfying to feel so great after three days of thinking he would definitely die.

Eventually, he couldn't hold out any longer. His head almost fell into the crook of her shoulder and he bit into her skin again, this time more in a harder bite than a playful nip. Aeyrin didn't seem to mind though, judging by the way she dug into his back again. He felt himself finally release deep inside her, keeping himself buried as deep as he could throughout.

The world around him blurred for a while. When he came to, he had to collect himself off Aeyrin so that he wouldn't smother her. Apparently, he just let himself fall on her limply after he reached his peak. Though she didn't say anything, she did let out a deep breath when he plopped down next to her, giving her some room to breathe.

There was such a serene expression on her face, but he knew he caused her some frustration. Sure, she came, but then he kept going and he could always tell when she was getting close again. And it wasn't unusual for it to follow so soon with her. He was definitely not against finishing the job.

He planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder, a little sticky from the sweat, while he snuck his hand between her legs. He didn't really care about any fluids still staining her there – they would both need to clean up anyway. He soon began to rub his fingers between her folds, teasing her, and occasionally dipping three fingers deep inside her. She was definitely wet and stretched enough to take at least that now.

He could feel her body tighten again in pleasurable anticipation, so he promptly intensified his ministrations.

"Come for me, princess," he whispered into her ear lasciviously. He was pretty sure that even that made her shudder. Her eyes were closed, head dipped back again and her back arched in tension. At one point she bit her lower lip with a moan escaping her and he had a the urge to instantly fuck her again, seeing it. Not all parts of his body agreed yet, but he'd just need to wait a little longer. Until then, he was perfectly content to drink in the view.

It didn't take long and Aeyrin let out a loud moan, almost shaking against him as she closed her thighs a little around his hand, squeezing him inside her. He could feel her walls trembling again in satisfaction and it took a minute before she let out a long sigh and released him, letting him slip his fingers from inside her.

He could never resist doing this. Despite her still having her eyes closed, he promptly moved his stained fingers to her lips and prodded her gently. Aeyrin didn't even have to look. She immediately opened her mouth, letting him slowly slide his fingers against her tongue, before she closed her lips around him and began sucking on them.

Bishop moved his digits in and out of her mouth suggestively for a while, before he withdrew them. At that point, Aeyrin finally opened her eyes and looked at him. There was a very satisfied and serene smile on her face.

It was all they needed after the days of being hunted.

And Markarth could prove to be dangerous too.

But now, they could forget all that.

Now they could just enjoy the perfection of the moment.