Chapter LI – The Evils of the World
"It's kind of pretty, you know?"
Melia ran her hand over the blade almost reverently. Over the odd white metal, the intricate carvings of the hilt and, finally, over the strange gem that was shining brightly enough to illuminate any chamber.
Snow was falling softly on the artifact and evaporating the instant it got near. It was like that sword radiated some sort of heat. It was… disturbing.
"Pretty but evil," Vuaerion sighed. "The Daedra lure the unsuspecting and weak with pretty words, powerful artifacts and empty promises and then they take back from them tenfold."
"I know," she nodded absentmindedly. She had heard this lecture a thousand times before. All his paladins had. But it was a lecture worth repeating.
Resisting the evils of the world was a constant struggle, day in and day out. Vuaerion had seen it too many times. He had seen friends and family succumb to the temptations and then give their lives away to unspeakable monsters. It never got any easier. It always hurt to lose someone this way. It always left behind a scar that would never heal.
"Brother Vuaerion, is there anything more we need to do here?" Ragnaak interrupted them as he gazed at the statue nearby with a deep frown on his face. Meridia stood tall on her mountain, wings spread wide and arms reaching to the skies. There was a pedestal in front of the statue that was sure to hold something – maybe another artifact that awaited its champion.
No such luck, monster.
The Vigilants had their own ways. Although this mission was more of a stroke of luck. Their patrol came across a mage being attacked by vampires and they disposed of them swiftly. The mage was shaken though. And after a long talk with Vuaerion, he agreed that the Daedric menace in Skyrim was out of control. That was about the time he admitted that his faction – these Synod mages – uncovered a Dwemer device that pointed them to an object of Meridian power near Solitude. He was more than happy to give them direction to this place and let the Vigilants dispose of this evil.
They breached this ancient temple, tore down any barriers that Meridia's evil magic held on this plane, until they found this sword. It was an admirable victory. And hopefully their own dispelling rituals ensured that no followers of the vile Daedra would ever find sanctuary in this place again.
"No. We are finished here," Vuaerion's eyes went to the large statue as well. He would like to tear it down. Maybe they could send a few men to do that too. But right now, there were other concerns to address. "Take a few men and bring the sword to our vaults, Ragnaak," he nodded. "The rest of us will head to Markarth."
It was about time they made their way there.
On their way to Mount Kilkreath, a messenger caught up to them with a strange plea from the old priest of Arkay in Markarth. Apparently there had been cases of half-eaten corpses in the Hall of the Dead. It definitely sounded sinister and the priest was right to contact the Vigil. Vuaerion wasn't sure yet what this could mean, but they needed to investigate this as soon as possible.
What was much more concerning, however, was the fact that the letter was so old. It spoke of the strange events spanning over several months – since Sun's Height. But Sun's Height was beginning tomorrow. That could only mean one thing. The letter was at least half a year old. Why was it only delivered now? The messenger had no answers for Vuaerion. Apparently the letter was collected from one of their mailboxes. Why did the priest wait so long to send it?
No matter. It was clearly something that needed to be investigated thoroughly.
And hopefully the Vigil would be able to neutralize yet another vile threat in that city. The place bore bad memories for all the paladins ever since they had to deal with the shrine of Molag Bal in one of the houses and the death of their brother. It was such an unfortunate tale.
But it only reaffirmed the fact that anyone could succumb to the Princes.
Even those that were intent on fighting against them.
And it was not just their lost brother.
Recent news had left a bad taste in Vuaerion's mouth. It was always difficult to learn of someone he knew who fell prey to the monsters.
But there was no other choice but to act whenever possible. The Daedra were not to be trifled with.
And the only people Stendarr would not stand to extend his mercy to were their pawns.
…
"Brother Vuaerion, do you see that?" Melia tugged on Vuaerion's cloak to stop him in his tracks.
He saw.
It was hard to miss, really.
They were approaching Markarth after a full day of marching and a brief rest. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Until now.
What happened to the stables?
The building was completely gone, there were only some remnants of its wooden constructions, but those were charred beyond recognition. And the grass and ground around was just one huge black mark. The actual stables for the horses were in a similar state. But there were no corpses – human nor animal.
"Do you think whatever was eating the corpses did this?" Melia scowled.
Hmm… it wasn't impossible. They had no idea what they'd be dealing with. But this looked like something else. So much fire contained in one specific place – it looked like a dragon attack.
It was disturbing that a dragon would attack Markarth. From the reports, they often stayed away from areas that were too well secured.
"Let's go inside and find out what happened," he just noted with a bit of a disturbed tone in his voice. Another thing that made chills run down his spine was the distinct lack of guards at the gates and battlements. If a dragon attacked, wouldn't the city tighten security even more?
Vuaerion led the way towards the gates and, since there were no guards to do it for him, he opened them himself.
The sight inside the city was no less startling.
It was… empty.
He had never seen Markarth like this. The streets were completely barren. What could have happened here?
There was a hint. Namely the giant dragon skull lying on the ground right by the gates. There were no other bones around though. And then he noticed the roof of the Silver-Blood Inn. It was actually… melted in spots. The Dwemer metal was hardened by now and it no longer spilled down the buildings, but it was obvious that it had done just that before.
This seemed like a very vicious dragon attack. But still… it was clearly dead. Where were the people?
"Come, let's go to the Keep," he ordered his men to follow. There was not much they could do here, was there?
…
"Brother Vuaerion. Good to see you again," Jarl Igmund nodded at him amicably.
The Keep at least was populated. Not as much as usual though. There were only three guards there, no Thalmor either, and there was only the Jarl and his housecarl in the throne room.
"Greetings, Jarl Igmund," Vuaerion inclined his head to the man. He had so many questions.
"I'm afraid I'm not sure what business you are here on, brother," Igmund scowled a bit. "We are dealing with the fallout of a major crisis within our city, but it was of a more… ordinary nature, I'm afraid. Or are you merely stopping for supplies?"
"No, my Jarl. We've received a letter of a disturbance within your Hall of the Dead," Vuaerion explained.
"Ah shit, what now?" The Redguard housecarl growled in exasperation.
"I'm sorry, what?" Igmund raised his brow. "Who exactly sent you the message?"
"Your priest of Arkay did," Vuaerion's tone turned uncertain. Who else would send it?
"Brother Verulus has been missing for months," the Jarl blinked in surprise.
"Ah… that… explains much," Vuaerion sighed. Though it still didn't explain enough. "From the timeline outlined in the message, it appeared this issue had been going on for almost a year. I have no idea who sent it. It only arrived now."
"Hmm… I suppose it's possible," the Jarl sighed. "Volunteers went inside all the buildings a few days ago to take scope of the damage and to see how much ransacking was done. Maybe Brother Verulus never sent this and whoever found it in his chambers did."
That… only raised more questions.
"I'm sorry, 'ransacking'? I thought you had a dragon attack the city?" What could a dragon possibly ransack? "My Jarl, what happened here?"
"It's… been a very long week, brother," Igmund's face fell in palpable exasperation. "Forsworn attacked out city a few days ago. They united for an attack both from the outside and from inside Cidhna Mine. Most of my men fell that day." He looked somberly at the ground.
Forsworn? The barbarians actually attacked Markarth? That was both worrying and impressive at the same time.
"We barely got a day of peace before the dragons came. Two of them. One of our theories is that they noticed the lack of visible security in our city and they seized the opportunity. One was slain and the other flew off. We've lost a couple more men and there was some structural damage, but… we can only hope that was the last disaster we have to face for some time to come," Jarl Igmund continued to explain.
"I am very sorry to hear this, my Jarl," Vuaerion lowered his head as well. There was only so much anyone could do. The Daedra were trying each and every day to wreak havoc on Nirn, but they were far from the only threat. There were so many others, one more dangerous than the other. Perhaps there were none more dangerous than the Daedra, but that didn't mean they couldn't do equal or greater damage at times.
It was only unfortunate when the dangers clashed and put any Stendarrite at an uncomfortable crossroads. Vuaerion almost didn't wish to ask the next question, especially after these news. But he knew he had to. It was his duty, no matter the circumstances.
"There's a… skull by your gates. It is my understanding that dragons don't really die unless…" he didn't need to finish the sentence. Igmund clearly knew what his question was.
"We were fortunate that the Dragonborn was here during the attack," Igmund nodded.
And there it was. His duty calling. It felt bitter. It was a familiar bitter feeling, but he knew he had to fight through it. There was to be no mercy for the pawns of the Daedra.
He could feel the eyes of his men on him. He knew what they were wondering. They wanted to know what their mission was now. And he could do nothing but what his vows dictated.
"Is she still here?" He asked at last. He made sure not to allow any trepidation to be palpable in his voice. His men were waiting for this question. They were rearing to resolve this issue, as was he. But the implications of the dragon attack left him… more conflicted than he liked to be in his calling.
"She left yesterday," Igmund merely shrugged. "Truth be told, I am almost tempted to run away for a brief respite after all this mess as well," he let out a very strained chuckle.
Yesterday. There was time. Perhaps they could still track her.
He had to. There was no other option. If he didn't at least try, it would be a failure to his duties.
Sister in faith or not, Dragonborn or not, she was a dangerous beast now. It pained him to think of it, but it was true. His brother was absolutely certain he saw her turn near Solitude. Vuaerion felt bitter just thinking about it. They only received the news so recently, after they left the city for Mount Kilkreath, but there were already so many questions, so many implications. Was she a werewolf when they met? When they went together to slay the werewolf clan? When she killed their brother in the basement by Bal's shrine? When she brought him the Skull of Corruption?
It filled his head with so many doubts. A servant of Daedra that delivered an artifact to the vault. That attempted to battle Bal and his mind games. Or was it all a ploy? Was it all to reassure him and to lead him off her scent?
Doubts had no place in a Vigilant's mind. Keeper Carcette always said that when one lets their mind be consumed by doubt, all his convictions are put to a test.
Vuaerion had not failed these tests before, not even when it mattered the most. Not even for her.
He couldn't fail them now either.
"Brother Vuaerion, what was the threat in the Hall of the Dead?" Igmund interrupted his ruminations suddenly. "Please, for the love of the Eight, tell me we do not have to deal with more right now."
"We will investigate, my Jarl," Vuaerion nodded. "The message spoke of half-eaten corpses and Brother Verulus thought a cannibal might be on the loose. Some Daedric cults do resort to such… despicable practices. There are records of worshippers of Namira doing such things, but it could also be a werewolf looking for a meal," he cringed at those words. "Since we had found Molag Bal's influence in your city, we cannot rule out his cultists either. And possibly, it could also be something more… common. Such as an elf from Valenwood living under the Green Pact and possibly trying to avoid harming the living."
"At least it's merely the dead suffering this time. I don't even know if this is actually happening though. Brother Verulus never notified me of this issue and neither did the provisionary caretaker we appointed after his disappearance," Igmund pondered. "I would be grateful if you could get to the bottom of this, Brother Vuaerion. Your men are welcome to Markarth's hospitality, as always."
"Thank you, my Jarl. I promise you, we will do whatever is within our power to rid you of all the Daedric threats lurking in your city." He meant it. He had no other choice.
He gestured to his men and all ten of them headed back outside. The Forsworn attack must have happened a while ago, judging by the lack of corpses on the streets. Would they have been put into the Hall of the Dead already? That would mean that they could find out easily whether the cannibal was still active by examining the fresh corpses.
They walked out into the fresh morning air once more and Vuaerion stopped them all right outside the Keep.
"What now, Brother Vuaerion?" Melia asked nervously. He knew what she was asking. They had two threats to dispose of now, as much as he hated the fact.
"Now… now we split," he sighed. "Trackers with me. The rest… try to find out whatever you can about the disturbances in the Hall of the Dead. Speak to the people and the current caretaker. Find out who sent the letter and whether this is still happening. You know the procedure."
"Yes, brother," five paladins spoke in perfect unison.
"In the meantime… we'll find the Dragonborn. She couldn't be too far. We… we have a duty to dispose of all the evils of the world, no matter the circumstances," he sighed.
Some of his trackers looked raring to go. He remembered that same excitement, even bloodthirst, when it came to ridding the world of these beasts.
They didn't know what it meant to know the person lost beneath the curse.
He knew. He knew so well that it was still painful, even after all these years.
It wasn't exactly the same this time. He used to be fond of the Dragonborn, true, but they were barely acquaintances. It wasn't like back then when he really shared a bond with the beast.
But this time, there were other concerns. Killing her… would it doom the world to the dragons? Were his vows telling him that it was better to risk thousands of lives over the hundreds a werewolf could slay in their lifetime?
Doubts are tests of faith and conviction. Remember that.
He had to stay true to himself, to his vows and his values.
What kind of a man would he be if he wavered now?
What kind of a man would waver now and not back then? Not for her.
…
"Unless you want to jump off that cliff, come out. You're surrounded," Vuaerion bellowed with anger in his voice.
He was angry that it had to come to this. He was angry that the doubts were still plaguing his mind, but there was no other way.
Their hunt was successful. Tracking the Dragonborn was far from easy, but they mostly relied on asking travelers on the roads. Fortunately, further away from Markarth, there was life and there were people. They may have been oblivious to the horrors that happened in the city, or maybe they were merely braver than those who lived through them. But there were travelers out there.
And after a few unsuccessful questionings, pretending they desperately needed the Dragonborn's help, they finally came across someone who had seen her. A few Orcish tribesmen told them she and her companion were camping near their stronghold.
From then, it was an easy task.
And now they were here. The two of them were hidden behind the tower, but Vuaerion could see the traps barring access there. They were there. The cliff was too high to jump off unscathed.
They were caught.
This would be difficult. Not only did Vuaerion have to do something he was feeling conflicted about, but he had to do whatever he could to keep her companion safe too. After some tests, of course.
Was it wrong for him to hope that he would still find out that his brother was mistaken? That she was no werewolf.
"Who the fuck are you?" A gruff voice rang from behind the tower after a while. Nobody could see anyone yet, but clearly they decided it was no use pretending nobody was there. Good. At least things were moving along. The sooner this was over with, the better. Vuaerion only hoped that the bitter feeling would pass faster than it had before with her. It had to, right? This was not a personal conflict, it was a moral one.
"The Vigil of Stendarr. Come out now," he growled.
There was silence again.
If she was innocent, she would have come out to greet him amicably. This did not bode well.
After a while, there was some noise, but nobody spoke. Soon, Vuaerion recognized the sounds. It was the rattling of chainmail, clanking of plate and rustling sounds of leather. It seemed like there were no more doubts. They were gearing up to protect themselves. He could no longer hope that this was all just an unfortunate mistake.
He would not give her the chance though.
Vuaerion headed forth without hesitation. Whatever trap it was, it was hardly going to be something effective against his armor. He readied his warhammer, just in case the beast turned, and he marched forward.
The tripwire snapped as he continued and a small dart clanked against his metal plate, but predictably, it did nothing. As if it would ever penetrate his ebony protection.
He emerged into plain view soon enough. Aeyrin and her companion didn't get much chance to react. They were both still pulling on various pieces of their armor. He wasn't sure why the werewolf bothered, but it didn't matter much. The moment their eyes met, he could see the guilt in hers.
Well, he still liked to make extra sure.
He held his hammer in one hand and the other one lit with magic. Nobody managed to say anything. Vuaerion was the only one prepared for this situation – those two were clearly utterly caught off guard.
But once the bright beam of light shot from his hand, her companion moved so quickly – right into the trajectory of the spell.
Aeyrin let out a shocked gasp as the spell hit him. Why? Was it going to do anything?
But it didn't. She must have only been startled in her confusion. The Nord looked a little dazed, likely still trying to make sense of the situation, but there was no scream of pain or any sign of that spell working on him. The light enveloped him briefly, but it was harmless.
Well… at least one of them could be spared.
"Step away from her and you will not get hurt," Vuaerion sighed. Was it too much to hope for this could be done more peacefully?
"Seriously? Fuck you! I don't listen to overzealous tin-cans," the Nord snarled.
Vuaerion could hear his men already gathering behind him. And, judging from the fact that neither of those two moved, it seemed like at least some of the Vigilants were aiming their crossbows or bows at them.
They were waiting for his command. One word and it would be done. But he couldn't bring himself to it. Not yet.
Besides, the Nord still stood in front of Aeyrin protectively and he seemed unwilling to move. They needed to get him out of the way first. There was no sense in harming him, if they could help it. But Vuaerion was beginning to worry that he wouldn't give them any other choice.
Maybe he could try to appeal to her though. Maybe there was still some humanity left.
"You lied to me," he scowled at her. "Pretended to be one of us, to hold our values, while you were just another monster in disguise. Do you really want to take it this far and have him harmed for your vile existence?"
"Leave her the fuck alone and nobody has to get hurt!" The Nord growled at him hatefully again, but Vuaerion didn't pay attention to him anymore. He only observed the conflict etched on Aeyrin's face.
"I didn't lie," she finally spoke through gritted teeth. "I didn't want this. I don't want this. Someone did this to me a few months ago."
Hmm… for some reason, it was comforting to know that Vuaerion hadn't been deceived. But it also made things even more heartbreaking.
"Ah. Then… I am very sorry it has to come to this. But you know what must be done," he gave her a regretful look.
"No! Wait," she shook her head vehemently. "There's a cure!"
Of course. The 'cure'. So many claimed as much but there was no evidence of it being true. He knew that it was not true. It was a pathetic excuse, or a lie used by cultists to lure people in, to have them just try with the notion of a way to take it back. There was no taking this back. Ever.
"You know as well as I do that that's not true. Those are lies told by the cultists. There is no cure. There never has been. And while you comfort yourself with these pretenses, you will fall deeper and deeper into Hircine's hold," he snarled.
Aeyrin looked like she wanted to say something, like she wanted to object, but the words died on her lips. Her brows creased deeply, as if she was pondering whether he was right. Of course he was. She knew this already, didn't she?
"Bullshit," the Nord barked at him. "You're the one making fucking excuses to justify you slaughtering people for your fucked up beliefs."
"I know of these things better than anyone," Vuaerion sighed. "Sometimes I wish I didn't, but it's true. There are no cures out there for this curse. I'm sorry." He took a few steps closer and the Nord took the opportunity immediately to brandish his sword. He was lucky he managed to prepare most of his armor and his belt before Vuaerion made his way here. Aeyrin wasn't so lucky. She only had her chain shirt on her and one bracer with strange gleaming crystals on it. It wouldn't protect her. The only way she could protect herself now was to transform. It wouldn't save her, but it might take some of them down with her.
"Don't fucking move any closer," the Nord snarled again.
"Brother, what do we do?" Melia whispered somewhat loudly from behind him.
"Just wait. There is no need to harm them both," Vuaerion nodded resolutely before he addressed her companion again. "You are protecting a vicious monster capable of anything. Reconsider. This will not end well for you unless you do."
Aeyrin's face looked pained after his words. She must have known he was right.
"Shut the fuck up! She's not a monster!" The man yelled at him quite erratically. Did he not realize how dangerous she was? Not just to strangers, innocent people or their enemies. She was most dangerous to those close to her. He would be saved from that threat today.
"Really? How many innocents have you killed, Aeyrin?" Vuaerion scowled at her. "How many have paid for this curse, just so that the monster can hunt?"
She didn't answer. She only lowered her gaze to the ground with even more pain and guilt etched on her face. It was telling enough.
"Please, get him out of the way," Vuaerion sighed, instructing his men.
The moment the words left his mouth, a bolt shot from someone's crossbow, straight into the Nord's thigh. He didn't get a chance to react. He let out a pained grunt immediately and his knees buckled under him. He was down on the ground within a second.
Melia rushed forward and grabbed him, dragging him back towards the group of Vigilants at Vuaerion's back. They knew what to do – they wouldn't have to hurt him further. But they also knew that this was becoming more and more personal and none of them made any moves against Aeyrin. They left her for him.
She was holding her hands over her mouth as if to stifle shocked gasp, but no sound left her. She looked at her companion with fear in her eyes, but once she noticed that the only thing the Vigilants did was take away his sword and hold his arms behind his back, her attention shifted to Vuaerion again. She didn't move. She didn't even look like she would attack.
Maybe she would let him do this without resisting.
Vuaerion took another step towards her and she merely flinched. She still occasionally looked at her companion with fear and uncertainty. She must have been so confused. It was difficult to see them realize what they really were. But it was only right.
"It's alright. This is what must happen," he spoke to her as comfortingly as he could. "You know that monsters like you cannot be allowed to run loose."
Something glittered in her eyes and she still looked like she wanted to protest. But on the other hand, she looked like she wanted to agree as well. The conflict was painful to watch. When he took another step forth though, she took a step back.
"Don't fucking listen to him!" The Nord snarled, his voice laced with palpable pain. "He doesn't know shit! He doesn't know you, he doesn't know the werewolf. I do. You're not a fucking monster, just please, fuck, believe me already!" He thrashed in the Vigilants' arms, but they held him firmly. And his injury certainly didn't help him in that situation.
Aeyrin nodded slowly. Vuaerion wasn't sure if she was responding to him, because she still didn't move. Well, she did fidget with her hands around her belt nervously, but she had been fidgeting the entire time.
Vuaerion finally approached closer to her. Close enough to touch her. It was such a painful sight, he felt like he needed to reassure her again that this was the right thing. But before he could, she dropped down to her knees onto the bedroll below her and almost curled onto herself.
With a sigh, Vuaerion knelt down by her side and gently laid his hand onto her back. This was the right thing. He knew it. She knew it. He had to remember that, no matter how sorry he felt for her.
Aeyrin looked at him with palpable regret and she reached out to him. For a moment, he thought she would stroke his cheek. Moments like these made even monsters emotional.
But that was not what she did.
Suddenly he felt her hand grip his hair and tilt his head back. The other one shot upwards so fast he could barely register it. And soon, he felt a cold blade press into his cold neck. The entire scene was followed by a series of shocked gasps from the remaining Vigilants.
"I'm sorry, Vuaerion," her voice trembled as she spoke. "I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let you do this. I know what you've been led to believe. I was led to believe the same thing. But he's right. I swear to you, I'm not a monster. There are so many out there, like me, who are no monsters."
Vuaerion didn't even register it, but suddenly, there was shocked shouting behind him and soon, he caught the sight of the Nord scrambling near him, getting away from his men. He must have used the shock of the situation to get away from their grip, but he was still wounded.
Vuaerion couldn't see anything behind him. He had no idea if his men were ready for attack or if they kept their weapons low, worried that threatening anyone with them would make Aeyrin kill him. She was going to do that anyway, wasn't she? What else could be the outcome of this?
He would have almost preferred it if she turned. It would have been clear-cut then. He wouldn't have to see her face as she teared up and looked at him so pleadingly. He wouldn't have fallen for this trick.
"Vuaerion, I don't want to be like this," she shook her head briskly. "I don't want to end like this. Do you have any idea what kind of a nightmare this is for me?"
"I… I can vividly imagine," he wanted to nod, but he couldn't move his head. Did she find the blade in the bedroll when she crumbled down? She knew it was there. That was clever. And vicious. Monsters were always vicious. But her words and the look on her face kept him conflicted. Why?
He knew it was a struggle. He remembered when it happened to her.
"But there is a way out. I know it," Aeyrin tried to convince him again.
"These are lies," he snarled. "It's a fool's errand in which you will fall only deeper and deeper under the sway of this power."
"No! I will not! I am stronger than that!" She gritted her teeth in pure determination. It was somewhat… admirable. "I don't know if I hurt innocent people when I was forcibly turned. I think I did. But I haven't since. I don't let myself. I can never let myself. I swear to you, I will find a way to cure myself. Please, just leave with your men and let me end this curse."
She sounded so sure. So confident. He almost believed her.
There had always been talk of cures, but never anything substantial. How could she be so sure? And did she really prevent herself from harming people? He found that hard to believe.
"You can't control that beast," Vuaerion tried to shake his head again, but he quickly stopped when he felt the blade press into his neck more. She was pulling his hair so painfully, but she probably didn't even realize how much strain was in her clutch.
"Maybe I can't. I don't know. But he can," she inclined her head to her companion.
What?
What did that mean?
Then again… the brother who reported the Dragonborn's... state… his report was very odd. He said he found her companion held by the werewolf right before she turned back to an elf. But the companion wasn't harmed in any way. Any werewolf would rip him to shreds, right?
Vuaerion's eyes went to the Nord. He was currently yanking the bolt from his thigh, and when he managed, he let out a loud hiss of pain. But he still managed to give him an almost exasperated smirk, despite the permanent fierce scowl on his face.
"I'm good with wolves," he noted kind of matter-of-factly. What did that mean?
"Vuaerion, I chain myself in a remote area every month when I'm supposed to turn. The only time I turned voluntarily was when I was captured by a clan of vampires and had no other way to kill them," Aeyrin spoke again. She really did sound convincing. "Please, just let me handle this. I would not be able to forgive myself if I let that werewolf hurt any innocents. You included."
"I… I cannot," he let out a deep sigh. How could he? How could he ever admit that she might be right? What kind of a person would that make him?
"Why?" She almost whined desperately. "You know me. Everyone knows me. I assure you, if I do something heinous, you'll hear about it and you'll be able to catch me again. Just give me a chance, please. I promise you, I won't hurt anyone."
That wasn't comforting. Was he supposed to just wait until disaster struck? He was supposed to protect people from monsters, not wait to see if the monsters would kill anyone!
And besides… he couldn't. He couldn't let her go now. Not after what he did to her.
"Brother Vuaerion…" one of his men almost whispered. "Is that… is it really possible? Could there be a cure?"
"Don't be daft!" Another one scoffed. "It's lies. Lies by the vile Daedra. Let's kill her already."
"Can we really kill her?" Melia's voice was so hesitant. "What about… what about the dragons?"
Vuaerion only let out a troubled sigh. Yes, there were so many things messing with his convictions. He felt like he wanted to believe her. He felt like he wanted to give her a chance.
But the mere thought broke his heart.
"My sister promised never to hurt anyone either," he mumbled quietly. She was convincing too. Or maybe she wasn't and he merely wanted to be convinced by her. His memories of that time were getting hazy, blurred by constant battles of feral beasts preying on the weak. It had been ages since he talked to a werewolf. Since he talked to them like they were human.
He forgot how hard it was.
"Your sister?" Aeyrin gave him a concerned look. He felt the blade retract from his neck a bit and her grip on his hair eased, but she was clearly still ready to do it all over again if needed. He wasn't convinced if she was actually ready to kill him though. How did she sound so sincere? How could he let himself be convinced again after what happened?
"She slaughtered two of my hunters the next day," he shook his head regretfully. "They cornered her. Ambushed her. Maybe she didn't want to kill them either, but she did. And I had no choice. I had to slay her for that."
"I'm… I'm so sorry, Vuaerion," Aeyrin looked at him full of sympathy and with a measure of realization. As if his cause suddenly made sense to her. Maybe he did become a little less understanding after that. But… it was only right. Wasn't it? "I will do everything I can to avoid the Vigilants until I'm cured. I don't want to hurt any of you."
"If I let you go and you actually succeed, if you actually get yourself cured… then… then I have slain my sister for nothing," he could barely hear his own words as he spoke. His ears seemed to be drumming incessantly and he felt his neck constricted so much he could barely breathe. "Then it will mean that she could have found a way out and I destroyed her before she could. Not just her life. Her eternity. Trapped… there."
"If you don't let me go, you will just have another life on your conscience. And another eternity," she pleaded. She was clearly aware that it sounded like a pathetic excuse. But she wasn't exactly wrong. "And not just my life. The dragons will kill everyone."
The dragons. Right. She played her trump card. But he knew she was right. He tried to ignore it, but he had heard plenty of tragic stories about the dragons by now. And he heard plenty of stories of how many tragedies she herself prevented.
Telling himself that he was considering this for the good of Tamriel felt easier than giving her a chance he never allowed his flesh and blood to have.
"Please," she gave him that heart-wrenching look again. He wasn't sure if he was angry or not. He felt manipulated. But he also felt like she was sincere. What else could she say? She had a duty of her own and she was forced into these circumstances. Maybe she could really find a way out. Maybe she was determined enough to do so. Could it really be that the cure was real? "I am sorry for what happened with your sister, but, please, do not make this mistake again."
'Mistake'.
It was a mistake to kill her.
Had he always known this, deep inside? Was he just trying to convince himself that it was necessary? Maybe he should have chained her and locked her up somewhere and give himself a moment to think and research. Maybe then things would be different. But he didn't. And ever since then, he could never give any credence to the rumors of the cure.
Because it would make it a mistake.
But could he live with another one?
Did Aeyrin see something break in him? She withdrew from him entirely and merely sat there, watching him. The weathered knife in her hand was no longer ready to slit his throat.
And Vuaerion quickly raised his hand to prevent any unsolicited attacks from his men.
"We need… more information. About a potential cure," he announced loud enough for it to be clear that he was addressing the Vigilants. "We cannot risk the dragons remaining immortal when there is even a slight possibility of a different solution. Sheathe your weapons."
"She's lying to you, brother!" One of his men yelled. A new recruit. Of course he was itching for a fight.
"Stop it already," Melia promptly addressed him. "I don't want this on my conscience. Do you?"
"I don't want a werewolf going on a killing spree on our conscience," the recruit snarled. "Why don't we take her in and lock her until we find that cure of hers?"
"Stendarr's mercy, how is that different?" another Vigilant sighed. "She's not out here, dragons are killing people. You get it? Didn't you see that those things attacked Markarth?"
"I wondered how the fuck they knew we were here," the Nord growled under his breath.
Vuaerion didn't address any of those concerns. He made his decision. They had to obey. If Keeper Carcette decided to punish him, so be it.
But there was one thing that made him a little more hopeful about this. He noticed the glint of silver necklaces around Aeyrin's neck and he reached out to her curiously, hooking his hand under the delicate chains and pulling on them.
She flinched away. But when she realized what he was doing, she grabbed the necklaces herself and dragged them from under her chain shirt. There it was. A silver chalice dangling from one of them. It wasn't the one he had given her when they first met, but it was still a symbol of Stendarr.
It may have been naïve, but it made him feel a little better about trusting her.
"Stay vigilant, sister," he gave her a warning look. "Do not allow the monsters to take you over. You are meant for something much greater than being a slave to the Princes."
He stood up at last, but she remained there on the ground. She was clearly rearing to approach her companion and heal his wound, by the looks she kept giving his thigh.
"Thank you," she gave him a grateful nod. He hoped this wasn't another mistake.
"I can't guarantee how the Keeper will take this news and how others will react. So I hope you are ready to hold up your promise and avoid our men," he really didn't want a repeat of what happened to his sister.
Aeyrin raised two fingers as a silent solemn promise.
He still felt so conflicted.
And he still had no idea what he would feel if she found a way to cure herself in the end.
Relief, or more guilt.