Song of Hakonsdotter: A Warrior Rises

by TheSamanthaborn

Honorary Title: All Dogs Go To Sovngarde When a traveling mercenary finds herself being accused of allying with the Stormcloaks, she's arrested and condemned to death. Salvation comes on the wings of ruin, but when she manages to claw her way to safety, she's granted a new lease on life. What will she make of herself with her freedom? And what destiny do the Divines have in store?

11. That Burden Called Hope

They passed several farms along the road, with farmers hard at work in the fields, and then the city's western watchtower, with the guards inside hardly paying attention. As soon as their yellow cuirasses got hard to make out, Avulstein freed himself of the heavy cloak, stuffing it inside his pack and swiping at his sweaty brow.

A minute later, they veered off the road altogether, cutting across the plains to their right. They wouldn't be able to talk at speed, and Merrin didn't know the way, so Avulstein took a minute or two to teach her some hand signals he'd learned as a soldier, and then told her to watch for his signal. Then both of them urged their mounts to a canter.

As time and miles passed, she saw that there were plenty of deer out in these plains, and that should have meant plenty of wolves. But they only saw two small packs as they rode through, and both times, the wolves kept their distance. It was the perfect day for a ride, with a generous breeze rippling the seas of grass around them, the blue sky seeming never-ending on the horizon, and despite the reason they were riding in the first place, Merrin felt her spirits lifting.

They'd been riding hard for a long time, putting great distance behind them, and had just ridden past some old burial cairns when Avulstein abruptly signalled for her to stop. She eased Sparrow into a gallop, and then a trot, pulling up beside him. Over their course, they'd pulled up close to a jagged range of peaks – too small to be called proper mountains, but far too large to traverse – and now Avulstein was staring at the shelf of rock, brow furrowed, looking uneasy.

'We're going to have to swing wide, this next part.'

'Why? What's the matter?'

'We're coming up on Hamvir's Rest. It's just up there, to the east. I won't ride by that place – it's cursed.'

For a second Merrin looked at him, disbelieving; when she saw he was actually serious, she couldn't help but snort.

She'd heard the stories of Hamvir's Rest. When she was a little girl, her father had loved to sit her and her friends down around a fire, and scare them all silly with the tale. She'd outgrown the fear, but clearly, some others hadn't; in her travels as a hired blade, she'd heard more than one grown man insist that he'd come face to face with Hamvir the Headless, traveling through the White Forest at night. Well – face to shoulders, at least. Obviously, Avulstein still believed the stories.

'You don't really believe that, do you?' She stared at him, and tried to sound convincing. 'It's just a story – and besides, it's still broad daylight!'

But Avulstein staunchly refused, unfazed by her amusement – said that any man fool enough to disturb Hamvir's Rest would be taken care of by Hamvir himself, and that like it or not, he was going around.

Merrin sighed, but didn't argue it further, and they picked up speed again as they veered left, and made the detour.

Avulstein's superstitions gave them no more trouble, and soon they had drawn up even closer to the rocky range. They met up with a stream to their left, flowing past them in the opposite direction; as they continued, it widened from a stream to a rushing river. Eventually the terrain got steeper, and sections of the river were suffused with foaming rapids. It got to be a tighter and tighter squeeze between the river and the rockface; within another hour, they had to ride along single-file just to fit on the craggy path.

The sun was just starting to set and Merrin was about to tell Avulstein they should start looking for a place to camp, when they crested the top of a small hill, and he called for them to stop again.

A stone's throw ahead of them was a river delta, with massive fingers of water rushing out in three different directions. Nestled on the bank of the nearest river, in the shadow of the rockwall beside them, was a shabby wooden shack. Not twenty feet to the side of it was a roaring waterfall, crashing down from the rockwall overhead and into a basin beyond it.

It was gorgeous and unexpected and loud, and she looked to Avulstein questioningly.

'I've passed through here a handful of times,' he all but shouted. 'There's a crabber here, lives in this cabin all summer. He lets people camp, for a couple of gold. We can stay here for the night.'

'Perfect timing,' she shouted back.

'Watch your horse's legs.' He turned back around in his saddle, and started picking his way down the path. 'Not all of these rocks are actually rocks.'

She kept a sharp eye on Sparrow's path as they walked, but no mudcrabs came scuttling up to do battle, and in another minute they'd reached the shack. They found the crabber sitting on the edge of a sagging porch, bare feet dipped in the river, smoking a clay pipe. Avulstein passed him a few septims, asking to stay the night, and the crabber waved them amiably away, telling them to go ahead before he resumed his puffing.

Merrin spotted a bucket beside him heaped with freshly caught crabs, and she pointed at them, asking the price. She passed the crabber another few coins, and was handed back a meaty red sook.

Finding a spot to camp wasn't too hard; the river here had cut deep into the earth, leaving some banks that were high enough not to be soggy, and steep enough to deter the crabs. It was one of these grassy patches they chose, and soon they were set up for the night and fixing supper. Merrin had scrambled down to the water to fill her cookpot, and now it was on the boil over a fire Avulstein had made.

She had never been much of a cook, and two weeks in the kitchen with Tilma hadn't done much to change that. She'd paid for crab because it was hard to mess up, already having its own decent flavor. It was shoved unceremoniously into the pot, and she added crushed garlic from some of what Avulstein had brought, hoping for the best. Rocking back on her heels, away from the fire, she paused to take another look around.

They weren't the only ones making camp in the delta tonight; about thirty feet off, two hunters were sitting by a fire and a couple of pup tents, working over an elk they'd taken down. And not ten minutes ago, a lone man had come walking along from the opposite direction they'd come in, and made his way over to the crabber's shack.

Avulstein had taken care of the horses while she cooked, pulling them up to safe water and throwing the woollen cloaks over their backs so they wouldn't cool down too fast from the ride. He rejoined her as she was transferring the cooked crab onto tin plates, and then he fished a couple of forks from his pack.

They had just tucked into their unimpressive meal – that Avulstein was kind enough not to comment on – when they were approached by the lone man who'd come walking in.

'Hail, strangers. I don't suppose you'd be willing to help out a man in need?'

The man in front of them was tall, thin and lanky, and was dressed as a commoner, with a plain tunic and breeches, a boiled leather vest, and a gimme cap pulled low over brown hair. He had a spritely, youthful face, with slightly upturned nose and eyes, and looked to be a piece younger than either of them. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and the smile he flashed them was rueful.

Avulstein was quiet, staring at the stranger with open distrust, so Merrin turned back to him and answered instead.

'That depends. What's the need?'

He chuckled, sounding good natured. 'I understand. Open country, and all that. I don't mean to cause any trouble, if that's your worry. The name's Rimmel.'

He talked in an open, easy-going sort of way, and then tipped his head towards their fire.

'I was wondering if either of you would let me use your flint to start a fire. I'm trying to set up for the night, and, ah – ' he paused, looking even more abashed. 'I managed to drop mine into the river. Figure it pretty well belongs to the crabs, now.' Again, he chuckled at himself.

Avulstein still didn't look impressed, but Merrin had relaxed; she felt no threat, no ulterior motive. She looked over at Avulstein with an expression that said 'eh, what's the harm?' and then turned back to the lanky stranger.

'Rimmel, you said? Come on.' She pushed up from the ground, got to her feet. 'Take me to your camp, and we'll start a fire. Everyone needs to eat, right?'

Rimmel looked relieved, and cracked an even wider smile as he nodded at her. 'They sure do. Thank you kindly, miss.'

He led her a ways down the riverbank to where he'd set up camp, nestled right up against the rockface, and in the last fading light of the day, she took a sweeping glance around his set-up. He already had a canvas erected, held up over a bedroll with two sticks rammed into the earth; leaning up against one of the sticks was a rucksack, and leaning against that was a cross-body satchel. He had the makings for a fire all ready to go, with kindling propped into a peak on the ground, and a cook pot full of cold river water beside it. The sight of it made her smile, and he caught it, causing him to laugh again.

'I know, I know. Pretty sorry sight, right? I've always been prone to mishaps.'

She shook her head, still smiling, and shrugged. 'Accidents happen to everyone.'

As she knelt down to start her work with the flint, the man named Rimmel sighed, a sound full of chagrin. 'Some more than others, I think. Thank you again for lending a hand. I'm just lucky I'm not the only one camping out tonight. That crabber's generous enough with his land, but he won't lend you so much as a button. Yessir, lucky indeed. If you don't mind me askin', what brings you folks out this way?'

She stiffened for half a second, and then forced herself to relax. There was no way the man could know anything – he was just making friendly small talk.

'Hunting.' The lie came easily enough, and she shrugged. 'Hoping to bag some game.'

Then to avoid further questions, she turned his around. 'Yourself?'

'Oh, me? Same as always. Got plenty of messages to run. This here is part of my regular route.'

His answer piqued her interest. 'Oh, so you're a courier?' That explained the messenger bag, and why he was alone.

'Yes, ma'am. Have been for most of my three and twenty years.'

In that moment, a spark finally took to the piece of char cloth she offered, and with a bit of encouragement, it went licking up the tinder bundle. The orange light bathed the tiny camp, and Rimmel gave a laughing cheer. In a few more seconds, he had what promised to be a proper fire. Job finished, Merrin rose from her crouch, dusting off her hands and pocketing her flint, and Rimmel gave her a clap on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

'Thanks so much, again. Now I can get to making dinner.'

She returned his infectious smile. 'Enjoy your fire.'

They parted ways, with Merrin leaving the glow of his camp to make her way back to her own. Avulstein had finished his share of supper, and had busied himself by cleaning up the dishes. He took one look at her expression and huffed, shaking his head as he dried out her cookpot. But he held his silence, and she just smiled at his reaction, amused.

She finished her dinner quickly under the spread of true nightfall, and then went to relieve the horses of their heavy cloaks for the night. When she came back, Avulstein had both bedrolls rolled out for them. The sky hadn't warned of rain, so they'd opted not to erect the canvas he'd brought, and instead their only roof would be a net of stars.

They spoke very little as they made ready for bed, offloading gear and adding logs to the fire. Merrin wasn't really surprised; they did barely know one another, and he was Eorlund's son. And it was still more than that. The weight of what they'd set out to do was undoubtedly pressing on both of them. How could it not?

Avulstein sat on his bedroll and pulled off his boots, and let her know that they'd be pushing northwest again at first light. Then he wished her a simple goodnight, wiggled into his bedroll, and rolled so that his back was to her. In minutes, he was snoring softly, sound asleep.

Merrin didn't understand how he managed it; she laid down and wrapped up in her own bedroll, but try as she might to make it happen, her mind wouldn't empty. It couldn't.

So she laid flat on her back, listening to the sounds of the water and the nightlife, staring up at the shining magnificence that was millions of stars, blanketing the inky sky. As she laid there and the moons rose steadily higher against their glittering backdrop, a blooming red aurora flickered to life, dancing across the sky like silk ribbons of crimson and vermilion. They washed the land below in their colors, as well as the moons above, making Masser glow like an enormous rosy pearl.

All of it was breathtaking, better than any book, any painting – but she couldn't fully appreciate what was in front of her, with the thoughts that were swirling in her head.

The ones leading the pack were all worried; worried about the task ahead of them. What if they made it to Northwatch too late? What if Thorald was dead by the time they found him?

What could he be experiencing, right now, this second, at the hands of the Thalmor? The possibilities made her shudder.

She had only promised Avulstein and Fralia that she would do her best. But laying here now, still for the night, with nothing to keep her company but her thoughts, she felt very strongly that her best was only good enough if it brought Thorald back alive. She didn't know how she would handle it, if she had to bring Fralia any other answer.

That was why she'd reacted the way she did. Why she'd broken into a family's house, why she'd volunteered to come along, why she'd rushed away from Whiterun...without saying a word to anyone.

That last thought reverberated in her head, growing louder and more defined, and as she stared at the flickering red sky, in her chest she felt the first flickering of guilt.

She hadn't said a single word to anyone at Jorrvaskr before she'd taken off.

At the time, she'd convinced herself that she was only in a hurry because somebody was in danger. Now, as she laid here and the flicker of guilt started to grow, she had to admit to herself that that wasn't the only reason she'd left so abruptly. She'd left in anger – left to avoid unwanted questions. To put space between herself and Vilkas, who had pissed her off so badly.

She was still pissed off, but she couldn't use the anger to push aside the guilt. And she couldn't ignore it when a new thought floated up to the top of the pile: What must the Companions have been thinking of her now?

Merrin flushed when she realized that in all likelihood, they had noticed her gone and believed that she'd taken off for good – left Jorrvaskr behind. And then she felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Why wouldn't they believe that? The last thing she'd done was butt heads with Vilkas, and storm off in a fury. And then, poof, her and most of her things had gone.

As the realization really sank in, her stomach gave a nasty twist. She had come to care about a lot of the people who called Jorrvaskr home – considered some of them friends. How might they be feeling right now, thinking that she'd lit out without even saying goodbye?

Athis, Torvar...Ria...Kodlak. Farkas. At the thought of Farkas, an even bigger twist, that actually made her wince.

Oh, gods. She had looked Farkas right in the eye and promised him that they would have a talk when she was ready, about what she'd been hiding. What she'd been through. He cared about her, wanted to help her...and she'd given him her word...and now it looked like she'd disappeared. Unbidden, her fresh guilt conjured up the image of Farkas as she'd last seen him, eyes impossibly blue and wet with tears, and a face so forlorn that it tugged at something deep. Aloud, she let out a curse.

She couldn't turn back now – it was too late, and the Gray-Mane brothers needed her. But she couldn't leave the situation with the Companions the way it was, either. What could she do? How could she fix this?

For several frustrated seconds she stewed, mind racing in circles—and then it clicked. Slowly, with wide eyes, she turned her head to stare in the direction of Rimmel's camp.

---

The lanky Nord didn't her as she came into his camp for the second time; he was too busy frying snelt over his now-roaring fire and whistling something cheerful to himself. When Merrin spoke up, he jumped so badly that he nearly bobbled everything straight into the flames.

'You said you're a courier. Are you headed to Whiterun?'

Rimmel's eyes were round as saucers as he whipped around to face her, and the hand that wasn't holding his frypan was clutching his chest. After a second, recognition lit his features, and he sagged with relief.

'Oh, it's you! Kynareth save me, I almost jumped into the fire! You can't sneak up on people like that,' he petered out weakly.

She grimaced. 'Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.' She really hadn't. 'Are you alright?'

'I will be, once the ticker settles down. Saints alive.' He let out a gusting breath, stood there a moment, and then a wrinkle of confusion bunched his brow as he looked at her again.

'I didn't really catch what you first said...is there something I can help you with?'

'Maybe there is.' Merrin repeated her original question, and this time, Rimmel nodded.

'Matter of fact, I am. Plan on making it in before tomorrow night.' He cocked his head, was back to looking friendly. 'Why, you have a message that needs running?'

'...Yeah, I do.'

She didn't have any paper – or any ink, or a quill for that matter – but Rimmel carried spares of each for situations just like this, and she just ended up paying him a bit extra to use his. He also produced a thin piece of sanded hardwood about the size of a piece of paper, so that she wouldn't have to write on the ground. And then he turned his attention back to his fish and his whistling, to 'let her get on with it'; he didn't pry or ask any questions, and she found herself smiling again at his back.

She settled in the dirt with the wooden board and paper balanced on her knees, dipped the quill into the ink...and then just sat there, with it hovering an inch above the paper. She realized now that she shouldn't have left Jorrvaskr without letting anybody know, and the guilt of it was gnawing at her. She could still see Farkas' face, so sad, and imagine what he must have been thinking right about now, and it froze her. It was him that she felt the worst about leaving with no explanation – and it made it so that she couldn't bring herself to write to him.

Instead, she addressed it to Kodlak, and then the words came.

Kodlak,

I'm sorry that I left without saying anything to anybody. I really am. I didn't mean to worry anyone, and I want you to know that I WILL be coming back.

I'm out on a job – one the Companions wouldn't take, but I felt like I needed to. I'm helping Eorlund's family. Please don't involve him in this or ask him any questions – he has no idea about any of this.

I don't know how long I'm going to be gone, but I WILL be back. You can count on it. Please let the others know that I'm safe, if they're wondering.

I'll be seeing you as soon as I can.

-M

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. She'd been tempted to ask Kodlak not to let anybody try and follow her, just in case, but in the end she'd left it out – it sounded too presumptuous. Rimmel didn't have any wax to melt, so she folded the letter up tight and tied it with twine. Then she directed him on who to give it to, thanked him for his help, and left him to his dinner.

Merrin made her way back to her own camp feeling as if some of the weight on her conscience had eased. And when she'd given herself a moment to think about it, she felt like she'd made the right choice, in writing to Kodlak and not anyone else; the Harbinger was wise, and level-headed. He would make sure whatever needed to be done with the information would be done.

Avulstein hadn't noticed her leave, and he was still sound asleep as she padded past their campfire and slid back into her bedroll. The sky was still a beautiful riot above her, and this time she let it steal her breath as she snuggled down into her covers. With some of her guilt abated, the long day was catching up to her, and it wasn't long before she was finally nodding off. She closed her eyes to the heavens; it was the chorus of crickets and the knickering of the horses that finally lulled her to sleep.

---

Whiterun was going to Oblivion around her.

The townspeople she'd come to know were wailing in terror as they fled like ants down the slope of the city and towards the Plains district, trampling each other and toppling things in their rush to get away. Merrin tried to turn around to look after them, to watch them retreat, but she couldn't – it was as if she were bolted to the stone of the square. All she could do was look up.

The sky over Whiterun was red and churning, swirling like an angry undertow, and enormous chunks of sizzling rock had started raining down on the structures below. She'd only ever seen the like once before, and the knowledge of it gripped her in icy claws. She knew the one who could bring down brimstone.

As if he'd been summoned by her thoughts alone, the harbinger of doom himself came sweeping into her view of the sky above. He crested up and over the tallest tower of Dragonsreach, riding a hot and sulphurous wind on the great onyx wings that bore him aloft, before swooping down in a menacing arc toward the city below. Beaming crimson eyes took in the scene below him, and he let out a blood-curdling laugh that must have boomed for miles, inspiring another litany of screams from the people fleeing the city.

The dragon swooped in yet again, entering the space of the Wind district, seeming too big to be allowed, but intruding nonetheless. At this distance, she could see the iridescent shimmer of his scales, hear the cracking flap of his leathery wings – and then very slowly, very deliberately, the dragon took his leave of the skies. He landed with a terrible crash onto the roof of Jorrvaskr, across the square from where she stood, and even from this distance she could see the way his ebony talons dug into the roofing and crushed the shakes. The weight of him seemed to make the mead hall shudder. And then he was folding his wings, and everything around them was oddly silent.

And then he was looking directly at her.

Again, Merrin tried to move, to run, to do anything, but she couldn't. All she could do was turn her head, move her eyes. The dragon tilted his enormous head, regarded her coldly even with eyes that were glowing like two red-hot coals. A great burst of steam came billowing from his nostrils, trailing down his chest before being whisked away by the maelstrom winds around them. And then the dragon spoke.

'Sahlo mal lir.'

It wasn't like it had been back in Helgen. Or, not quite the same. The dragon's words still rang with a terrible force that seemed to rearrange the very air around him. The tone of his voice still sent a shudder careening down her back, dripping with cruelty, and hatred, and malice.

But this time...this time, she understood what he'd said, as clearly as if it were the common tongue.

Pathetic little worm.

He stared her down, as if he were waiting for her response, or measuring her reaction. It was now that Merrin realized that on top of being frozen, she couldn't make a sound. He seemed to realize this in the same moment she did, and the dragon threw his head back and laughed again, long and malicious. When he spoke again, his voice was taunting.

'Hi mindol hi aal filok fin zok suleykaar kul do Bormahu?'

You think you can escape the firstborn of Akatosh?

He bit at the air, hundreds of razor sharp-teeth coming together in a sickening snap, in a move that managed to seem mocking, even as it terrified. And then he shook his glittering black head.

'Hi dreh ni mindok fin mulaag do fin Dov!'

You do not know the STRENGTH of the dragons!

His voice was ringing in Merrin's head like a gong held beside her ear. Her adrenaline was running so hot that every muscle in her body was screaming, and her pulse was thundering through her veins. As if he could smell her fear, the dragon broke into an evil smile, and glared at her as only a reptile could.

'Koraav dii yol ag daar hi lokaal, mal joor.'

Watch my fire burn what you love, little mortal.

He took an enormous, billowing breath, and she tried to scream for him to stop, fought desperately to move, to no avail. And then he released his breath, in a screaming torrent of white-hot flame that enveloped the district.

He hit the Gildergreen first, and she watched as it went up with a woosh into a mass of flame, like so much kindling. Next was Heimskr's cottage, and then the Temple of Kynareth, who's roof gave in with a shrieking groan, collapsing into the interior below. She cringed when he sent a gout of roaring flame directly at House Gray-Mane, and could only watch as the fire took purchase, licking up the sides of the ancient house, turning the splitting, curling wood from grey, to brown, to black.

Everything around her was ablaze, now. Fire dripping like magma had spread from buildings to the ground below, and the grass itself had caught like a carpet made of racing flame. The only things yet untouched were Jorrvaskr, herself, and the dragon.

The fiery maelstrom seemed to have enraged him – he was no longer laughing, but roaring, and the final gout of flame he spewed was aimed straight up, into the churning sky. He looked back down at her across the sea of fire, and the eyes that latched onto hers were pure flame, and filled with fury like nothing she'd ever seen. He rose suddenly onto his hind legs, stretching to his full height, and then he unfurled his massive wings, spreading them out to either side. He was the picture of power in this stance – a jet black nightmare in a swirling hellscape. Magnificent, and terrible.

The fire gave off such a loud roar that she thought it was all she could hear. But the dragon bellowed louder, in his hateful timber.

'Hi los NID, ruz wah dii moro!'

You are NOTHING, compared to my glory!

With no warning, he leapt from the roof of Jorrvaskr, landing in the square with a force that made the ground tremble. And then, burning eyes locked with her own, he started stalking towards her.

She couldn't look away, now – could only see the dragon, and she fought with everything she had to move, to run, but it was nothing short of futile. Behind her, the fire was spreading, caging her in, and she could feel its merciless heat, so close that it was starting to burn. As the dragon came closer, she was horrified to see a reflection of herself in his glowing eyes, silhouetted before a wall of dancing flame.

When he spoke again, he was close enough that the terrible power behind his voice buffeted her like a ragdoll, hitting her like a solid wall, and yet she remained immobile. He was looking frenzied, and bellowing with all the conviction of a zealot.

'PAH fen mah us Alduin! Zu'u fen KRII fin rii do Jul!'

He stopped maybe ten feet from her, and her keening mind took in every detail; the way the light from the fire bounced off of his inky scales, the glistening wetness coating his long, white teeth, the cruel hook of his claws scraping against the stones. He rolled most of his weight onto his back legs, then, eyes gleaming like the predator that he was, and she recognized the stance of the pounce. And she knew she was going to die. As he stood there regarding her, his fury seemed to fade, until he reined it in, and then gave her the most sickening smile of all. When he spoke, it was just above a whisper, but it still pushed at her like so many hands.

'Ahrk hi – hi fen faas dinok, us fen laat.'

And then he was roaring louder than ever as he lunged at her, and all she could see was teeth.

---

The scream that she hadn't been able to let loose came ripping out of her now as she shot straight up in her bedroll, tearing at her covers like a caged wild animal. The sound of the scream went rippling through the delta and into the night beyond, and Avulstein came jerking awake with a snort and sat straight up in his bedroll, too, grabbing the dagger he'd left at his side and looking to her with wild eyes.

'Merrin? What is it?!'

She looked back at him with eyes just as wild, breath tearing in and out of her lungs. She felt impossibly displaced: seconds ago, she'd been devoured by a dragon. It took her several long beats of sitting there panting, hazy with confusion and terror, before the pieces clicked into place and she realized what had happened.

'Merrin?' This time, Avulstein sounded more concerned. 'Are you alright?' In the flickering red light of their diminished campfire, she saw him set the dagger back down, and pull his covers aside. He wasn't the only movement in the delta – far from it. As she looked beyond him, she could see the shadows of movement rippling across the rockface; in the hunter's camp and Rimmel's alike, there was stirring.

'Everyone okay over there?' It was one of the hunters, sounding bleary, shouting to be heard across the camp. 'Is there trouble?'

A light from an oil lamp lit up the nearest window of the crabber's shack, and then a second later he was out on his porch, facing the two of them in a long nightgown and a sleeping cap, holding the lamp aloft to get a better look at them. Rimmel, too, was on his feet, and actually making his way toward them, knuckling both eyes, not looking where he was going.

'Dreaming.' Merrin muttered it to herself, and then looked back at Avulstein and said it louder, her voice hoarse from the scream. 'I was just dreaming.' The relief of it was nearly enough to knock her flat on her back again.

Avulstein let out a quick, gusting sigh, dragging one hand over his tired-looking face before shaking his head. It was then that the latent, secondary realization hit her, and it made her want to sink into the ground: she'd been dreaming, and now she'd woken everybody up.

Avulstein cupped both hands to his mouth, and shouted reassurance back across the delta for all to hear.

'Sorry to wake you, folks. No trouble here. Only nightmares.' He looked over then at Rimmel, who had made it most of the way to their camp, and called out to him at a lower volume, sounding stern. 'No, no, it's fine. We don't need any help. You can go back to your rest.'

There was a general grumbling across the delta, and a long-suffering 'A'right', and then people started sliding back down into their bedrolls, or stoking their failing campfires. The crabber let out a grumble and shook his head, before extinguishing his oil lamp and shuffling back into his cabin, letting the door slap shut behind him. Rimmel, looking mostly asleep again, had started his bumbling way back to his camp.

Merrin's hands were knotted in her lap, stray hairs from her unravelling braid falling in her face, and when Avulstein looked back over to her, she winced.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' She let out a shaky breath, forced herself to tuck her hair behind her ears. 'I'm sorry I woke you...all of you,' she muttered, embarrassed.

Avulstein could have been harsh with her, but he wasn't; he stared at her with steady eyes, and shrugged his shoulders. When he spoke to her, his voice was low, and it bore no anger.

'No need. Must've been some nightmare.'

She shuddered at that. 'You have no idea.' But then she frowned.

'Still. I feel like an ass, waking everybody up.'

He snorted. 'Don't. Happens to all of us, sooner or later. Trust me – I would know.'

She supposed he would know, being a soldier in Ulfric's war. The things they saw must've made for a lot of restless nights, in his camps. As she hugged herself and rubbed her arms, he kept on talking.

'What matters is that you go back to sleep, if you can. Get your rest. Still a few more hours yet before dawn.'

He was trying to be reassuring, she could tell. And she appreciated the effort. But as she nodded at him, thanked him, as they settled back into their bedrolls and the camp settled back into relative silence, Merrin found that she couldn't settle.

No matter how comforting the sound of the crickets, or the whickering of the horses, or the babble of the streams...as the minutes slid by, she found herself breathing shallow, quiet breaths, and staring up at the moons.

She had never had such a vivid nightmare, in all her life. The prickle of embarrassment was nothing compared to the literal cold chills of fear still snaking their way up and down her legs. And no matter how hard she tried to shake the dream's grip, and lodge herself firmly in the reality around her, a part of it wouldn't let her go.

Because she'd understood what the dragon – Alduin – had said, and his last words had chilled her to the bone.

ALL will fall before Alduin! I will CRUSH the spirit of Man!

And you...you will taste death, before the end.

---

By the time dawn had broken pink and gold over the delta, Merrin and Avulstein had already broken down their camp, packed up the horses, and were tracing the river west.

She had maybe snatched an hour's sleep, in the few hazy hours before the sky started to lighten. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to shake the echos of her nightmare, and any rest she'd managed to take had been fleeting and shallow. Avulstein had hardly fared better, and the early morning birdsong had just had her thinking of giving up on sleep and packing up her bedroll when he'd abruptly stopped snoring, rolled over to face her, and asked if she was awake.

With no point in staying on, they'd made the earliest start they could. This had suited Merrin fine, even though she was tired – Avulstein had been understanding, but she didn't expect the same from the other campers, and didn't see the harm in being gone before they'd woken. And besides – they needed to be as quick as they could.

They'd taken their breakfast right on the trail, munching on hard tack while they rode, assailed by the buffeting chorus of a million insects and the rushing of the river. The delta had been sitting in a sort of depression, with the land around rising in every direction, and when they took a more northerly slant, their work was generally uphill. But the horses were sturdy, and bore it well, and they were able to maintain a fast course.

As dawn mulled into actual day, they suddenly crested the hill they'd been climbing, and just as it had before, the land flattened right out with no preamble. The change had a profound effect on the river they were following, and soon it had gone from narrow and coursing to wide, shallow, and barely flowing.

Both of them tensed and shared a speaking look when they came riding up to a sizable camp nestled along the far bank; both of them were thinking of bandits, and Merrin reached quickly behind her to grab her bow.

But she didn't end up needing it; as they drew level with the camp, they could see the carcasses of two wolves and an elk strung up in nearby trees, the last being worked on by a Redguard woman with a skinning knife, and they reassessed their opinion of the camp: hunters. She didn't pay them any mind, probably didn't even hear them over the river between them, and the rest of the camp seemed empty – probably already out for the day's hunt. They relaxed a little, and urged their horses past without incident.

They'd had to slow their pace some time later when the path had narrowed, and were riding single file when they were suddenly attacked by birds—swooping and shrieking with talons extended. The rockwalls around them were apparently full of nests, and for the good of their and the horses' eyeballs, they had to ride into the river itself, and splash to roughly its center.

It seemed to be enough for the birds; in another minute they'd fallen quiet, and quit their threatening swooping. Before too much longer, they'd left the nests behind.

Staying in the river was easiest, with the banks now nearly non-existant, and they forged ahead. Even in the center where the water was deepest, it only reached half-way to the horse's knees; when she looked down into the clear water, Merrin could see schools of tiny fish darting away from the hooves invading their shallows.

They'd been riding in silence for some time already – so it startled her when Avulstein suddenly spoke, as if they'd been mid-conversation.

'We're making a bit of a detour.'

That hardly made sense; she scrunched her nose up as she peered over at him, letting her confusion show.

'What for?'

'To head up to my cousin's cabin.'

'Why?' She didn't think she needed to remind him that time was of the essence.

Avulstein didn't meet her gaze, instead keeping his eyes on the rocks in the river ahead of his horse.

'Two reasons. First, while I know the general area that Northwatch is in, I don't know exactly where it is – he will. If it's sittin' anywhere in this province, my cousin knows where it is. And second, to let him know that we're coming back with Thorald.'

For a moment her confusion deepened, but then she understood, and nodded. 'Ah. You think Whiterun is too dangerous for Thorald.'

'Think it?' He shook his tousled grey head. 'I know it. After we spring him, anybody who comes looking for Thorald is gonna go sniffing in Whiterun. We need to lay him up somewhere else, somewhere remote. My cousin's place will do the trick.'

'You trust this cousin?' Her voice was wary when she asked. Even among Nords, asking to hide a fugitive relative was no small favor.

Avulstein obviously picked up on her thought, and just snorted. 'Kin's kin. This is my ma's sister's son, close family. He'll do right by Thorald.'

He sounded utterly sure of this, and Merrin nodded, conceding.

'Fralia will be disappointed.'

'She'll have to understand.' But he sounded disappointed, and Merrin's heart went out to him, his family, all over again.

After another minute's progress down the river, Avulstein held out a hand for her to stop, and then jerked his head to the left.

'Alright, up through here.'

Merrin looked to where he pointed. In the wall of rock beside them was a sudden gap, just wide enough for a horse and rider to pass through, and a rocky path that twisted up and away. Anyone who wasn't looking for the opening would have easily missed it. Shifting, she eyed him warily. 'Nice front door.'

'I said remote, didn't I?'

The path was twisting this way and that, with no clear view of what lay ahead, and it was so steep that Merrin worried. For several minutes, all she could do was clutch Sparrow's reins a little too tightly and do her best not to look behind them as they climbed.

Just when the ground angled so sharply upwards that she didn't see how the horses could manage it, the rock on either side of them fell away, and the climb was finished as suddenly as it began. Sparrow whinnied triumphantly as she cleared the path, shaking out her long dark mane, and Avulstein's mount seemed to agree as they joined her; his step was high and full of energy, and if a horse could look pleased with himself, this one did.

Holding back a sigh of relief, Merrin trained her attention ahead of them – and let out a whistle instead.

Rock rose around and above them on two sides, and they stood at the top of a grassy clearing that was roughly circular in shape, with the proportions of a shallow bowl. It was loosely ringed with fallen boulders and tall, skinny firs that shivered in the wind, and on the far side of the clearing, the ground dropped away suddenly, like a shelf. This gave way to a stunning sweep of mountains so grand that their distant tops were blue and hazy, and valleys nestled at their feet that glittered with snaking rivers. It was breath-taking; as if the earth had cupped its hands together and formed a ladle, ready to dip into the great basin below.

'It's...beautiful.'

'Yeah..it never gets old.' They sat there for another second, staring out, and then Avulstein shook his head and spoke again. 'C'mon, we'd better head over.'

There was a cabin nestled in the clearing, with jointed log walls and a roof of cedar shakes, and they steered the horses toward it. Smoke was rising from a chimney, and as they drew closer she spotted a worktable shoved against one wall, covered in what looked to be pelts, and two more drying on nearby racks. When they were still twenty paces from the cabin, Avulstein reached over and grabbed Sparrow's reins, pulling her up short.

'This is close enough. You don't know my cousin yet...let's just say it's best not to spook him.' Then he dropped the reins, cupped both hands around his mouth, and bellowed into the clearing.

'Haldr! HALDR, are you there?! It's your cousin, Avulstein!'

From somewhere beyond the cabin, they heard a clanging sound, and then a curse. And then a voice, thickly accented and surprised.

'Avulstein? What are you-? Hang on!'

They stayed where they were, and after another few beats, a man came striding around the side of the cabin nearest them. He was tall and broad, wearing nothing but a pair of breeches—and his hands and arms were bloody to the elbow, with occasional smears over his chest and face. He was clutching a dirty rag in one hand, and using it to try and scrub the blood off as he walked over. His expression was surprised, but far from unhappy.

'Avulstein! It is you! By the Nine, what are you doing all the way out here?' He grinned at Avulstein, looked over at Merrin. 'And who is this?'

Avulstein slid from his saddle and grabbed his cousin's still bloody hand, and the two of them pulled into a one-armed embrace, clapping each other heartily on the back. He didn't return the grin, and if anything, he looked even more tired than before when he pulled away and turned to face her.

'This is Merrin Hakonsdotter, a family friend. Merrin, this is my cousin, Haldr Margotsson.'

'Well met, I tell you. I would shake your hand, but...' Haldr gestured to his messy self, still grinning. 'Bucks don't skin themselves, and I was hard at work when you got here. Smart to call out, by the way,' he continued, turning back to Avulstein. 'I keep my knives sharp, as you well know, and wasn't expecting company.'

Neither of them smiled or laughed at the jest, and as Merrin dismounted and came to stand at Avulstein's side, the man's easy smile started to fade, replaced with the first hints of concern.

Even if Avulstein hadn't mentioned that Haldr was Fralia's blood, Merrin still would have guessed as much – the man in front of her didn't have a grey mane. His hair was a pale reddish color instead, hanging loose and scattered with braids, and a close-cropped beard was the same shade. Beyond that she saw the resemblance, though; something about the cheeks and jaw, and although the eyes were a light green instead of blue, they reminded her of Fralia's.

At the drawn-out silence and their solemn faces, he was really starting to look uneasy.

'Cousin? What does bring you here? Have you quit the field? Last I heard, you were running with Ulfric. Tell me, has something happened?'

Avulstein let go of a gusting sigh, and clapped Haldr on the shoulder again.

'That has to do with why we're here. Come on, we should head inside, and you can clean up.' Finally, he cracked a weak smile.

'You smell like a gut bag. And we need to talk.'

---

'So there's nothing else for it. We're going to get him.'

'Ysmir's beard.' Haldr came back to his table with their tankards, refilled with more mead, and plunked them on the pitted wood before he sank back onto a bench.

Merrin and Avulstein sat across from him, backs propped up against the cabin wall, and they grabbed their tankards in unison, both drinking deep, despite it being their second round. The road had been thirsty, and they were both tired.

The cabin they sat in was sparse, but clean, and well-lit. A fire crackling in the hearth washed the cabin in its orange light, even as the piece of oilcloth nailed over the single window let the afternoon shine through. The wooden floors were scrubbed clean, which had surprised her, and the bed in the corner was all made up. The three of them sat at the dinner table, with the plates set to one side, and drying cords of garlic and elf's ear hanging from the rafters above.

Now that Haldr had heard the story, he looked tired, too. He'd washed up at a basin beside the bed, and thrown a tunic on, and now sitting across from them, he scrubbed a clean hand over his face. Pressed fingers into his eyes.

'The two of you are doing right, that's for sure. Thorald can't be left as he is.' He let his hand drop, eyed them seriously. 'And he shouldn't be brought back to Whiterun.'

'Sharp as ever, cousin.' Avulstein set his tankard aside and leaned forward on his elbows, also looking serious.

'We were hoping he could lay low with you, for awhile. Stay here, where no one will come looking.'

'Of course.' Haldr said it at once, without missing a beat, and nodded. 'Wouldn't hear of anything else. Those Thalmor bastards can search all they want – they'll never find Thorald here.'

Merrin was impressed by him – agreeing to such a large favor so freely, as if it were small – and she smiled as she stared down wordlessly at the tabletop.

Kin's kin.

Avulstein made a sound of approval and smiled at Haldr, reaching out and giving him another clap on the shoulder.

'Attaboy. I knew we could count on you. But first thing's first. Thorald's being held in Northwatch Keep, northwest of here. I need directions to make it there.'

Haldr's eyes had sharpened as his cousin spoke, and now he nodded again. 'Aye. I know the keep you speak of. Hang on.' He pushed away from the table, going to rummage in a chest, and when he came back, he was holding parchment and a charcoal stick.

'I can make you a map.'

'Yes. Perfect,' Avulstein breathed, his eyes gleaming. 'That would be a huge help.'

'Well, a map of sorts.' Haldr had already started working, shading furiously with his charcoal. 'We don't have time to make you a perfect one. But you'll get the idea.'

'Anything helps,' Merrin interjected. 'This country is new to me. And Avulstein said you know where everything is in this province.'

Haldr snorted without looking up. 'He's stretching the truth a bit. But more or less. I know the keep you're looking for,' he repeated, tilting his head as he started drawing several lines. 'Few do. I figure that's on purpose. The Thalmor like someplace quiet to do their dirty work.'

'So the keep will be isolated?'

He nodded absently, his hand now working at a cluster of circular shapes. 'Aye, that it is. Far back, in deep country. Wild country...' suddenly he looked up, first meeting Merrin's eyes, and then Avulstein's.

'You tread a dangerous path, cousin. I've seen men disappear over less. Two is a mighty small army.'

Now it was Avulstein's turn to snort. 'Two is all we could dreg up.' His gaze flitted over to hers, and then back to his cousin's. 'It was awful good of Merrin to even come with me. It was going to be an army of one.'

Haldr looked at her then, in a careful sort of way. 'You any good in a fight?'

After what Avulstein had said the day before, Merrin couldn't help it – she bristled in response.

'I hold my own.'

He conceded immediately, raising his free hand in a gesture of peace. 'Alright, I don't doubt it. Still, it's just two is hardly better than one.' Once again, his green eyes sharpened. 'Maybe I should come with you.'

Avulstein was already shaking his head before his cousin had finished the words.

'We shouldn't risk it. The Thalmor don't know or want you, and I wanna keep it that way. And besides, if anything were to happen to you...' He turned away, glaring into the fire instead, fists clenching suddenly on the tabletop. 'No. We need you here.'

'Then what if you wait? What if I send for help? If I rode out now, I could be back by sunrise with a few good men, men I trust. They'd be happy to help you get Thorald.'

Again, Avulstein shook his head, and spoke the words that Merrin was thinking. 'You said it yourself – we don't have the time. Thorald could already...we can't waste any time at all.'

For a tense moment, the two men stared at one another, jaws tense and flexing, hands balled. But then Haldr conceded defeat with a nod and a sigh. 'I know you speak true. Doesn't mean I've got to like it.'

He finished the map with two x's, and then flipped it around to show to them, brisk and practised again.

'Alright. We three are right here - ' he pointed to the nearest 'x' on the simple map. 'Northwatch is here.' A tap to the second 'x'.

'You'll need to backtrack from where you came—you came up through the river, right?' He stopped for quick confirmation, and at Avulstein's nod, continued on.

'It's a finger off of the Karth. Keep tracking north up the river, til' it gets too deep. Ford it to the west, then follow its curve until you hit Dragon's Bridge.' The cousins shared a quick, tense look, and then Haldr shook his head, looking back to the map, Avulstein following suit.

'You're gonna have to ride through. Just be quick, an' you'll be fine. After that, take the road east. You know where to rest the night.' Another quick glance, that made Merrin wonder.

'From there, it's a run through some plain. Keep heading due northeast. If you set out at dawn and you ride hard, then by midmorning you'll come up on a landmark. You can't miss it – a group of boulders, looks like a giant's fist with one finger pointing up to the sky. When you pass it, turn north. Keep riding as hard as you can – that there is cat country.'

'We can handle cats.'

She'd meant the words to be reassuring, but it looked like she'd missed her mark; Haldr scowled at her, and leaned forward as he yanked down the neck of his tunic, revealing three long, jagged scars that ripped across his neck and chest that she hadn't noticed before. Claw marks.

'I'm telling you straight. Keep your eyes open – or the cats will handle you.'

Immediately, she pursed her lips and met his gaze. 'I'm sorry.'

He brushed her off with a wave of his hand. 'Just heed my warning. You got knives?'

She remembered the knife that she'd borrowed from Ria, and nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Pray it doesn't come down to using them. Both eyes open.' Then he looked back down at the map, and the other two followed, feeling slightly more uneasy than before.

'This course will take you right up to some peaks, and in them you'll see an inlet. It's hard to spot from afar, so be sharp. When you find it, head into it. It's gonna get cozy – little more than a goat canyon, at the narrow end. And it will be a climb, so be easy on the horses. But they made the climb here, so they should be fine.'

'They're good horses,' Avulstein interjected.

'Hmmm. As long as you were quick about finding the pass, you should come out the other side by early afternoon. Now you're all but swimming in the Sea of Ghosts. Northwatch sits on the shore.'

Avulstein nodded, grunted. 'Anything you can tell us about inside the keep?'

Haldr spread his hands out in front of him, shook his head. 'Sorry. As to that, you two are on your own.'

'This is already a lot more than we had.' Merrin smiled again, and this time let him see it. 'Thank you, Haldr. You've helped us a great deal.'

He looked tired again, and grim. 'Let's just pray it's enough.'

---

Haldr had wanted them to stay and take a real meal, but they'd both been anxious to get underway, so in the end he'd sent them off with salted elk instead, and another warning to be careful. And he'd promised that he would be waiting for their return with Thorald.

If she'd thought the climb up to the cabin had been unnerving, the climb back down was positively nauseating, and she'd leaned so far back in her saddle that she was basically prone. Luckily, Sparrow didn't seem to mind.

They'd splashed their way down the river like Haldr advised until it ran too deep, and then forded it to the west. The afternoon had stretched on as they rode, and the sun was now sinking toward the treetops.

She'd been stewing in her curiosity for quite some time, when she finally asked Avulstein the question she'd been chewing on.

'What's wrong in Dragon's Bridge?'

Her speaking seemed to startle him, and when he answered, he sounded irritated.

'Huh?'

She tried again. 'Why do we need to be careful in Dragon's Bridge?'

He looked at her hard for a long moment, and then let out a sharp sigh before turning his eyes back to the dirt path ahead of them. He seemed to weigh something before he spoke.

'It's..oh, alright. Fine. We need to watch our backs in Dragon's Bridge because that's where the Penitus Oculatus is posted.'

He said the last words like they were poisonous, and right away, she understood. The Penitus Oculatus were the Emperor's main enforcers—a special branch of the military tasked with imprisoning criminals and deserters, routing out illegal dens...hunting down fugitives.

If there was really an outpost in Dragon's Bridge, then they would have to tread lightly indeed.

She also understood his annoyed reluctance.

'This must be a real trust moment, huh?'

His shoulders hunched at that, and when he turned to look at her, he was glaring again. 'What do you mean?'

'I get it. You do barely know me.' Her voice was cool, and her face was set when she met his gaze.

'But you'll learn. I didn't follow you out here to the middle of nowhere to stab you in the back. And...' she paused, considered her words. 'Let's just say that I know the Empire isn't choosy about who they call a traitor. I'd rather avoid finding myself guilty by association.' Again.

Avulstein had the decency to look guilty now, on top of annoyed. 'Look. I just...' Then he sighed again, and this time gave up. 'You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't doubt you, and I'm grateful that you came. It's just...hard, for someone like me to trust strangers. Especially after Thorald.'

Merrin sat rigid in the saddle for another beat, and then slumped on a long sigh of her own.

'We won't be strangers by the time this is over. But, I can't say I blame you. So, apology accepted.'

They had only been riding in the freshly cleared air for about a minute when Avulstein brought his dapple to a halt, urging her to do the same.

'Alright, this is as close as I care to get without cover. We'd better put our cloaks on.'

They donned the heavy cloaks and raised the hoods, and not another minute after they'd set off, the trees to their left opened up and thinned out to nothing, and they had a clear view ahead of them. They were about to start climbing a steep, sudden hill. One of the Emperor's roads came sweeping out from their left and up said hill, and it was a welcome change from rocky dirt.

The river Karth and this road parted ways as they climbed, leaving the rushing water below them, and she could see why; in the distance, a waterfall surged where the land parted in a long drop, and a clutch of rapids foamed at its basin before the water resumed its business. The entire scene was capped by the bridge, obviously the town's namesake – it was carved from natural rock in the ancient Nordic style, crowned by two dragons with long horns that guarded either end of the massive bridge.

They passed through the town as quickly as they could. The cloaks earned them some strange looks from the townsfolk, and they had to slow to a leisurely walk to avoid any extra suspicion. But nobody bothered them with questions or comments, and their hoods were deep enough to hide their faces. The road through the town seemed free of other traffic, and nothing held them up.

When the Penitus Oculatus outpost came into view, with its doors bordered by Legion banners and guarded by Imperial soldiers, Merrin unconsciously held her breath. She could practically see the tension rolling off of Avulstein, and hoped that the Imperials wouldn't see it, too.

There was a moment as they were passing when she was afraid they'd be stopped; an Imperial man wearing Commander's armor came striding from the building and onto the porch, and drew up short when he saw them riding by. He looked at them, confusion on his face, and took another step forward, opening his mouth as if to call out.

But then one of the guards on the porch called to him, and the two of them slipped away as he turned to hear whatever the guard had to say. She wanted to glance back to make sure he'd stayed busy, but didn't dare.

He obviously had; in another minute they passed through the town's rear entrance, and nobody gave them any trouble when they did. Merrin sagged with relief in her saddle, letting out the breath she'd been holding, and saw Avulstein do the same. When they'd cleared a hundred paces, she leaned in towards him.

'Think we're in the clear?'

'Looks like it. But give it another couple a' minutes.'

They took their cloaks off as soon as Avulstein deemed it safe, and then spurred their horses to pick the pace back up. The cobbled road made things easier, and they plunged northeast with considerable speed.

After the best of an hour, the sun was really starting to set – they needed to think about camp. She drew Sparrow up alongside him, and shouted to be heard.

'Where are we setting up for tonight?'

Rather than shout back, Avulstein waved for her to slow down to a trot. He peered through the trees on either side of them, and when he spoke, he looked guarded.

'We're headed for a Stormcloak camp. We're nearly there.'

Merrin's stomach clenched; it was one thing to travel with one Stormcloak...another thing entirely to stay a night in a Stormcloak camp. But she schooled her expression, and only raised an eyebrow.

'You really think that's a good idea?'

He snorted, guiding his horse off the road, not checking to see if she followed suit.

'You got a better one? As I recall, you don't know this land. It's this camp, or a cave.'

She just sighed, shook her head and followed him.

They'd been riding on a down-hill slope, and now they made a sharp turn, so that they followed the same rockwall they'd just climbed traveled down. When she saw the first sudden flicker of a campfire through a stand of trees, she pulled Sparrow right up next to Avulstein.

'So close to the Oculatus outpost,' she murmured. 'Hey...how did you know exactly where this camp would be?'

Avulstein looked back at her, lips pursed. 'This was Thorald's posting.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.' He nodded grimly. 'Now listen to me. When we get there, we need to keep our cards to our chest. We don't tell them we know where Thorald is. If we did, they would all just go and rush the keep, trying to get him back.'

She shook her head, seeing his logic. 'That won't work with the Thalmor.'

'Right,' he whispered back. 'Exactly. So we need to be smart about this. Just keep your head down, smile, and let me do most of the talking.'

The camp was far enough back that a traveler wouldn't likely stumble in by mistake. As they cleared the last of the trees in their way and the tents came into clear view, Merrin realized that they'd actually walked right past the camp on the road they'd just taken, high, high above their heads. With the way the camp nestled against the rockface, you'd never even know it was there.

It was filled with a dozen men or so, all looking scruffy and road-worn, and all of them recognized Avulstein immediately. They called out to him, and several approached them straightaway, embracing him and clapping him on the back when he jumped to the ground.

Towards the back of the camp, another man poked his head out from a sturdier-looking tent. When he saw what all the fuss was about, his face split into a grin, and he came striding toward them.

'Avulstein Gray-Mane! By the Gods, it's really you.'

'Hail, Istar.' Avulstein smiled in turn, but sounded tired. 'Yes, it's really me.'

'It is so good to see you! You're looking hale, brother.' The man named Istar clapped both hands over Avulstein's shoulders and held them there. 'Bringing the fight to the Legion, as always, eh?'

Avulstein chuckled. 'You know it.'

The man was tall, and even burlier than Avulstein, with red hair pulled back in a thong and away from a craggy face criss-crossed with scars. One eye was milky white with blindness, but the other was bright blue, and sharp. He wore a bear pelt like a cape settled over wide shoulders, with the paws clasped together at his chest – a Commander, then.

He threw his head back and laughed at Avulstein's words, and gave him a little shake.

'Reliable, as always. But, enough of standing here! Come, sit with us, give us the news. It's suppertime, at that. Just threw some meat on the spit. And I'd bet your road has been long, eh? Come, the both of you.'

Merrin slid from her saddle then to join Avulstein on the ground, and one of the soldiers around them grabbed their horses' reins and led them to where several others were tethered and grazing. They were led to the middle of the camp, and seated in front of the fire, and most of the men quickly joined them. The camp's leader sat closest to them, and stirred the fire.

'Now, Avel, you know you're always welcome in my camp. But I can think of only one reason you'd be here.' When he fixed them with his blue eyes, he no longer looked cheerful, but somber.

'I wager it's something to do with Thorald.'

Avulstein nodded, looking just as solemn. 'You'd wager right.'

Istar leaned forward amidst a murmuring from the other men, looking serious. 'Have you discovered where he's kept? Neither he or any of the others have returned.'

'No,' Avulstein lied, sounding regretful. 'I haven't. I came to look around, search for more clues to where he might be.' He leaned forward too, conspiratorial. 'Have you heard anything new?'

'Not a gods-damned thing.' Istar shook his head, clenched his fists. 'The cowards haven't dared hit us again. Slunk back into whatever hole they came from, I guess, and took our men with em'. Been pretty quiet ever since.'

Avulstein scowled. 'Any Imps talking?'

'We ain't the type to take prisoners. We've had a couple of skirmishes, ambushed some supply lines. The few we questioned weren't talking.' He snorted. 'Now they can't.'

'I'll bet.' Avulstein scrubbed a hand over his face, his eyes. 'I'm not giving up. He's my brother.'

Istar nodded. 'They all are. We're all brothers in arms here, Avel. None of us will give up searching – we'll keep listening for anything new.'

Then his eyes shifted, and landed squarely on Merrin for the first time. A hint of a smile came back to his face.

'Speaking of new. Who is it you ride with? She's unfamiliar to me.'

Avulstein cut in before she'd opened her mouth, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

'This here is Merrin. My woman. My wife.'

His—? Merrin managed to quell the sharp look she nearly threw him, and only raised an eyebrow when he turned to look at her.

'Merrin, I'd like you to meet Istar Cairn-Breaker. He's one of Ulfric's commanders, and one hell of a fighter. Also a long-time friend.' His eyes spoke plainly to hers, telling her to just go with it.

'Well.' Merrin drew herself up, and smiled graciously when she turned to look at Istar, reached to shake his hand. 'It's a pleasure, then. Any friend of Avel's is a friend of mine.'

Istar shook her hand enthusiastically with both of his rough ones, and then surprised her by leaning forward to plant a kiss on her knuckles. He shot her a devilish grin, and when he looked back to Avulstein, his eyes were dancing.

'Well, well! Well met, indeed, to the lady Gray-Mane.' He chuckled. 'Avel, you lucky bastard. How many years have we known each other now? I didn't think you'd ever do it.'

'Guess I can still surprise you,' Avulstein smirked.

'Not just him.' An older man with ruddy cheeks and silvering brown hair chipped in from across the fire. 'A woman like that, hitched to you?' He chuckled. 'You could knock me over with a feather.'

Many of the men laughed at that, and Avulstein took it good-naturedly. A third man piped up, sitting close to Istar.

'Well, where did you find her, then? How'd you meet?' There was a murmuring from the men gathered round, and Istar nodded, still smiling.

'Aye, I would like to hear that.'

Again, Avulstein beat her to it.

'I met her on the battlefield. She's one of us.' He squeezed her to him then, and smiled down at her with affection and pride. 'Back in Mid Year. My squadron was in a tight spot, boxed in by some Imps we'd hit on the road. Hers came blasting out of nowhere, and dropped on em' like a hammer. She personally drove a sword through the bastard that had me in a corner.' He chuckled. 'Tough woman.'

Now she was really disgruntled. But still, she held her tongue. The men had started murmuring with appreciation, and instead of correcting him, she painted on an indulgent smirk.

'What can I say?' she looked up at him, still smirking. 'He looked like he needed the help.' And sent a quick elbow-jab into his ribs.

This had the men hooting with laughter, including Istar, and several congratulated them both.

From there, the talk went back to business; as meat was carved and passed around along with bottles of dark mead, they forded questions about Thorald, and the other missing men. Mostly, Merrin kept her mouth shut and let Avulstein handle it, only nodding along when she had to. There was one sticky moment when several of the men offered to help with their search, and Avulstein had to be delicate and creative about how he said no. But he managed it, and steered the topic to safer waters.

'Istar, your food and drink are appreciated. We were hoping to bed here for the night, too. Do you have room to spare?'

Istar was already nodding before he'd finished. 'Of course, of course. You don't have to ask, Avel. There's always room in this camp for another brother.' He looked at Merrin, winked as he smiled. 'Or sister.'

'You have our thanks, old friend. The road has been long.'

'Like she always is.' The red-head grinned. 'But it wouldn't do to have you turn in before we can regale your lady with some stories from our travels together, right? Of course, right.'

The conversation was much lighter, then; it was obvious that the two brothers had spent a lot of time together in the field, and that Thorald's fellow men knew his brother pretty well. They told her several stories from times where Avulstein had been brave or heroic, turning a skirmish in their favor, or sticking his neck out to save one of them. Some of the stories were funny, and that surprised her – she hadn't seen Eorlund's stoic son as the type to pull pranks on his comrades, or make silly mistakes that ended in comedy. The most interesting story involved a lot of mead, and ended in a naked horseback ride through the woods.

Avulstein took all of their teasing in stride, but after this last story he took Merrin's hand in his own, and insisted that they really had to turn in.

They got led to a tent big enough for the both of them, with flaps that could toggle closed. She let him lead her through the canvas flap and out of sight before she slipped her hand from his and turned to face him, head tilted, teeth set.

'Those are some damned good acting skills, Avel. I never knew you went to the Bard's College.'

'Quiet,' he shushed her. His hands worked quickly at the toggles on the tent-flap, closing them one after the other. 'You can lay into me in a second. Just let me get this damn thing closed.'

She waited, impatient, and when he turned to look at her a long moment later, she couldn't help but cross her arms over her chest.

'What was all that?'

'All what?' They'd carried their packs in with them, and he looked calm and unbothered as he freed his bedroll from his bag and started rolling it out on a fur-covered pallet.

His calm irritated her all the more, and it was good that the drinking and laughing were still going strong outside of the tent, because she raised her voice.

'Why are we suddenly married? And why am I a Stormcloak?'

Avulstein looked at her patiently, like he was waiting for her to realize something. When it didn't happen, he huffed. His voice was flat and brusque when he spoke.

'It was the only way to make sure you'd be safe here tonight.'

Merrin's nose wrinkled at that. 'What do you mean?'

His eyes widened, and he leaned towards her for emphasis.

'Would you rather all of the lonely men out there know that you're available? And that you don't support Ulfric's cause?' He eyed her pointedly. 'That's one step away from being a traitor, out here.'

'Oh...oh.' Merrin hadn't thought of any of that, and the second 'oh' came out much more sour than the first. 'Really? And they all seemed so friendly. Bastards.'

'You're probably the first woman they've seen in months. Trust me, you're best off hitched to me.'

It stuck in Merrin's craw like a stick – but she knew that he was right. It wouldn't be the first time in the last four years that some asshole had tried climbing into her bedroll. After several seconds of just staring at him with her jaw clenched, she deflated.

'I guess you're right. I wasn't thinking ahead. You were. Thanks.' Most of her irritation fled her as she said the words, and definitely all of it that'd been for him. Awkwardly, she let her arms drop again.

'They're good men. Really.' He flopped down onto his bedroll, started pulling off his boots. 'But war does things to people. It's best to play it safe.'

'I guess you would know that better than I do.'

His only response was a grunt and a shrug, so Merrin set out to get her things ready. She spread her bedroll out next to his, turning it down so she could climb inside, and yanked off her boots, followed by the rest of her armor. She heard Avulstein rifling through his pack behind her, but didn't pay him any mind. Instead she unbraided her hair, running her fingers through the long black locks and working out the snags before she braided it afresh.

When she finally sat down on her bedroll and turned to look at him, Avulstein was laying with his head propped against his pack, staring at a thick, crumpled piece of parchment in his hand. It was dim in the tent, with only the light from the fire outside seeping through the canvas, and at first she thought it was Haldr's map. Then her eyes caught a glimpse of the crimson wax at the edges.

'Hey.' Immediately, she softened with concern. 'You shouldn't be re-reading that. It'll just upset you.' She didn't see how he even managed to read it, with so little light.

But Avulstein shook his head at her. 'I'm already upset. Nothing's gonna change that, tonight.'

She frowned, crossed her legs as she scooted closer. 'You're worried about him. I know. So am I.'

'That's not all there is to it.'

She nodded. 'I realize. You're also pissed off. I would be too, if a family I'd been close with for years did something like this to me.' Her eyes flashed with anger in the dim light. 'Olfrid sold your brother out.'

Avulstein hissed through clenched teeth, glared over the top of the letter. 'That's no surprise. It's like I said before. That bastard has never forgiven us. He'd be happy to see us both dead.'

'I feel like you're missing something, here. Doesn't it concern you that he was able to do it?' Merrin scowled. 'How did he even know where Thorald was? Who passed that information along?'

He was silent for several long seconds, jaw clenched and working. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose.

'That does concern me. And I intend to find out. But that still isn't all there is to it.'

His voice sounded hard, but she heard anguish beneath it.

'What else is there?'

He turned his head to look at her, and she saw it then, written all over his face. Guilt.

'I don't know what my brother has been through. I don't even know if he's alive,' he grated. 'That's on me.'

Again, her heart went out to him. He looked so haggard in the shadows. And so lost.

'That's not true. You can't think like that. You weren't even here when Thorald was taken. There was nothing you could've done to stop it.'

'He followed me into service.' His voice was a harsh, forceful whisper. 'I'm the older brother. If I hadn't taken him with me when all of this started, then he wouldn't be—' He ground off into silence, started again. 'He wouldn't need saving now.'

'I'm sorry. But you can't know that. You can't,' she insisted when he shot her a glare. Then she studied him, really studied for a moment. 'It sounds like you have some regrets.'

'Some?' All at once, he sounded exhausted, and he closed his eyes. 'I'm full of them.'

This gave Merrin pause; she knew that soldiers led lives of hardship – made difficult choices. But she hadn't expected to see the haunted expression in those eyes.

She felt the urge to lay a hand on his arm, but resisted it, in case it would just upset him. Instead, she asked a soft, venturing question.

'What is it that you regret?'

His eyes opened again, but his gaze floated up to the ceiling and stuck there. It was as if he had to look beyond the canvas, to see what she was asking for.

'Truly? I lay here and find that I regret nearly all of it. Eleven years, I've been pledged to Ulfric's cause. I was young, so young when I answered the call, and my fire only stoked Thorald's to match. He was barely even a man when we left home – a boy, really. With strong arms, and a hard head. He asked to join me when I told him I was leavin', and at the time, I thought it was a great idea. Two brothers, together on the road. Fighting for Skyrim. Fighting for justice.'

He sounded bitter and wretched and it wrenched her heart, so she sat in silence, and waited.

'We went to Windhelm. We stood in front of Jarl Ulfric, and swore our loyalty. And he seemed only too happy to have us. He made us feel welcome, made us feel important. There was feasting in the Palace of Kings, and storytelling, and all of the new recruits were filled with promise.

'And some of it lived up to what we'd been told. For a while. I still believed in the cause, believed Ulfric was right, and so I spent years runnin' around, sometimes with Thorald beside me, sometimes not. Blocking roads with rockslides. Stealing shipments of weapons and rations. Sleeping in caves that still smelled like trolls, and eating once a day when the rations would run out. But when I made it back to some town or other to report, there was always food waiting for me, and drinks. Women. And I met some damned good men in those fields. Some of the best men I've ever known.'

'Good people can be hard to come by,' she said quietly. 'I'm sure you're better off, having known them.'

'Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know.' He shook his head, furrowed his brow.

'I heard the stories by the fire. It sounds like you've had plenty of good times. Those men look up to you. They call you friend.'

'And what is that worth, in the end?' He cursed softly, with no heat, and shrugged. 'A handful of good times, of good memories, scattered over eleven long years? What do I have to balance the cost? To show for my time?'

He turned his head suddenly then, to look at her. He'd asked as if he wanted her to answer; his expression was forlorn, and a touch wild.

'I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a man of three and thirty, with no real prospects. I've taken no wife. I've had no children. I've spent the last decade running around in the wilds taking pot-shots at Imperial caravans. I wasted my time. I've seen that for a while now,' he ended bitterly.

'You don't believe in Ulfric anymore. Why?'

'Why?' He scoffed, waved a hand around the tent. 'Look around you. Look at the men outside this tent. Tonight is a good night, sure. With the mead, and the stories, the laughing.' He laughed then himself, mirthlessly.

'But they're tired. We're all tired. They just won't admit it to themselves. Tired of all of it.'

'We were all happy to boo the Empire, and start a rebellion with Ulfric. Some of us even welcomed war. But when it came all these years later, it wasn't what any of us expected. Wasn't what I expected. We thought the bad times were hard before? Pff. We hadn't seen shit. Now I've seen things. We all have. Some of the best men I've known...' he stopped, shook his head, grimaced. 'Gone. Some of the worst men I've known, too. Sometimes one turned into the other.'

She didn't say anything in response – didn't trust herself to.

'And do you know what I realized, somewhere along the way?'

All she could do was shake her head.

'I realized that we were wrong. All we'd wanted was freedom for Skyrim. Freedom, and peace from tyranny. But that wasn't what was happening. People were just dying, everywhere we went – good people, bad, it didn't matter. Ulfric was wrong. There was no peace. And the Imperials...they weren't the monsters we'd been told they were. They were just like us. All they wanted was freedom. Peace. We'd brought the tyranny on ourselves.'

'Avulstein – '

He kept talking, as if he hadn't heard her.

'If we all could've just realized it sooner, then we wouldn't be here. Maybe we could've avoided it. There would be no trudging through the mud and wind and snow, hunching over a fire in some godforsaken woods, rubbing elbows to keep warm and sharing happy memories to keep hope alive. And there would be none of the rest of it, either. No praying in a closet to a god that might not hear you, no chasing after your brother when he's been taken by real monsters. No telling yourself that you've killed him—and being scared that you're right.'

His words had picked up speed as he went, and now his voice was shaking. He was trembling. And under the bitter anger on his face, there was misery.

She couldn't help but reach out now.

'Avulstein.' This time she said it firmly, and clearly. 'Look at me.'

He did as she told, and met her amber gaze with eyes that were lit with pain. She moved to his side, and placed a hand on his arm. With her other hand, she grabbed the letter that he'd been holding the whole time, and carefully pried it free. He didn't resist her, and when she had it away from him, she put it on the bedroll behind her. Then she spoke carefully, feeling the tremors still running up his arm.

'I'm...sorry. So sorry, for what you've been through. I know that no apology covers it, but I am.'

'I did it to myself,' he answered, fiercely.

'Shhh.' She hushed him, but without any heat. 'Let me talk to you.'

He stared at her, waiting, and she scrambled internally. Looking for the right words, the right thing to say. She hadn't been expecting any of this – hadn't guessed that he felt this way.

Haltingly, she began again. And just did her best.

'We haven't...known each other very long. I wasn't expecting this. But,' she said insistently when he started to get up, to mutter an apology, 'I'm glad you talked with me. You deserve to have someone hear it. I can't imagine all that you've been through, or all that you're feeling.'

She couldn't. Couldn't imagine the pain, or the burden, of someone who'd been a soldier for so long. The responsibility he must have felt – the fear. But she had some inkling.

'I...know what it's like, to hurt people, when you didn't really have to. I know it stays with you.'

He was staring at her still, trembling lightly, and gave her the barest of nods.

'But all we can really do is move forward, and try to forgive ourselves. I know I've had to. So do you. You've got to forgive yourself, Avulstein.' Now he was shaking his head, looking pained, and she pressed on, trying to reason with him.

'You're disillusioned with Ulfric. That's okay. Hell, maybe it's even good. I don't have all the answers. But you need to look at the facts. You believed in Ulfric for ten long years, and in those years, you did the things you did because you believed in a better Skyrim. Not because you wanted to hurt people. Because you wanted peace, and you were going about it in the way you thought best. That's admirable.'

'But I was wrong,' he ground out miserably. 'We started this war. Now who knows when it will end? What if there's nothing left to save, when it does?'

Merrin shook her head, put her other hand on his arm. 'Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't give up hope. You aren't the only one who thought war was the answer. Thousands of others thought the same. Some still do. You don't bear the weight of that burden alone. And as for Skyrim...' She paused, thinking. Avulstein waited, and it was silent in the tent.

'My father was a soft-hearted man. A pacifist, more or less.'

Avulstein snorted. 'Then he was smarter than me.'

'Hush. I was born in the spring before the Great War. I never knew a time where Talos worship wasn't forbidden, or where the Thalmor weren't a presence in Skyrim. My da...he kept praying to Talos, secretly. When I was old enough to ask him why, I did. He told me that it was the price of peace, and that he was happy enough to pay it. I didn't really know what he'd meant until years later.' The memory made her smile, and she let him see it as she continued.

'He was still alive when Ulfric came back from the Reach, and started stirring up grudges against the Dominion. Still alive when you joined Ulfric's cause. In the year that he died, we had another conversation. I was scared of a war between Ulfric's men and the Empire. I worried what would happen, if the Thalmor cracked down on Skyrim. I told him what I worried about. Do you want to know what he said?'

He gave her another tiny nod, looking unsure of himself.

'Then I should warn you – my dad was a poet. He took me by the arm, and brought me outside. He pointed to some mountains that weren't far off, and asked me, what did I see? I thought he was having a laugh. I told him that I saw the same old mountains I saw every day – what did they have to do with anything? And his answer was 'everything'.' She remembered like it had happened yesterday, and didn't fight the stirring in her chest.

'Everything? Da, how can mountains be everything? You aren't making sense,' I'd said to him. He answered by telling me that I wasn't looking deep enough. He said to me...he told me that the mountains were a part of the land, part of the beauty that was Skyrim. And that our land had always been a part of the people who called Skyrim 'home'. He said that Skyrim was strong, and proud. Hard. Tough. And that because the people loved her so much, that we had grown to be the same. He told me that I might be right – that with so many strong, proud, hard people jostling, thinking they knew best, that it might result in war, and the loss that comes with it. I was frustrated with him. Why had he dragged me outside, just to tell me that?'

For a few seconds, they both just breathed. The only sounds were the men outside. Merrin closed her eyes, and got to the point.

'He just smiled at me. And then he told me that I needed to remember. Skyrim had been standing tall long before the Nords came from Atmora. She'd been strong enough to withstand the tests of time...and then she withstood the tests of Man. What was the first thing the Nords brought to Skyrim? War. War that waged for generations, war that some never lived to see an end to. But the war did end, and when it did, the land still flourished. And then the people learned from the land, and they were strong, too. That's been our gift from our home, more than anything else – the strength to endure. He said to me that, if war did come, that we would all stand strong. And that when it eventually ended, the land would still be here, even if changed. The people would still be here, despite our losses. And that Skyrim would carry on.'

She opened her eyes, to find that Avulstein was staring hard at the ceiling. When she saw the tears in his eyes, watched a single one slide down his cheek, she thought maybe she hadn't done so badly – had said the right words, after all. Not wanting to hurt his pride, she stared down into her lap, instead, and finished up.

'Three years after he died, the war came. And I've done my best to stay away, because I don't think that it's for me. But I'm not worried like I was before. I know Skyrim will endure, no matter how long this war lasts. And the more people are brave enough to open their eyes like you did, the sooner it will be over.'

Quiet settled over the tent, and then stretched out and stayed there. Avulstein still looked tired, but not as lost, and she could feel that he'd stopped trembling. After another few seconds, she patted his arm and eased away, settling again on her own bedroll.

The minutes stretched on in silence, but the silence was somehow comfortable. Merrin wondered what he might've been thinking, but didn't feel the need to ask. She'd never told anybody else about that conversation with her father – but it had felt right, telling Avulstein. She'd felt like he'd needed to hear it, as she had.

Avulstein was the one to finally break it, by sniffing hard, and then sighing.

'Damn. Your da really was a poet.'

He sounded better than he had, steadier. And she could hear jesting in his tone. So she smiled, and answered in kind.

'I did warn you. Sometimes I think that blacksmithing just distracted him from his true calling. He should've been a bard, or a writer.'

'You speak of him fondly. Seems you were lucky to have him.'

'Oh, I know. I definitely was.'

Avulstein sighed again, rolled onto his side on his bedroll, and Merrin turned her head to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes were clearer, and his face seemed calmer, and less burdened.

'He saw Skyrim for what it truly is. Thank you, Merrin, for sharing his view with me. I'd forgotten.'

'You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad I could help you at all. Gods know you have too many worries.'

'You have helped, so you're getting my thank-you.' He pursed his lips. 'As for my worries, I don't see them changing much, until I know what's happened to Thorald.'

'Tomorrow, we're hitting Northwatch Keep, and we're taking Thorald back, alive. Tell yourself that. Believe it.'

Avulstein was quiet for several seconds, staring at her with an odd expression on his face. Then he shook his head at her, and gave a little smile that was so like Eorlund's.

'Who are you really, you strange woman? Why did you leave the city to come running through the wilderness with a man you barely know, all to try and save a total stranger? You make no sense.'

'I like to think I make good sense, thanks.' She returned his smile with one of her own. 'And I may have barely known you, but you seem alright to me.'

'Oh? Based on what? My family?'

'Your family,' she conceded. 'Then there's the fact that you didn't run me through when we met. And now I can add those stories I heard from the others tonight. Although,' she paused. 'Some of them were...interesting, to say the least. And you call me strange. Pfft.'

He picked up on the teasing in her voice right away, and his brows twitched. 'What are you trying to say?'

'Now, Avulstein, I mean really.' She laid down on her bedroll, turned her head to shoot him a grin.

'Riding naked through the woods at night, without even a saddle? I'm not sure I can ever look at your poor horse the same again.'

He barked a laugh at that, and this time his lips twitched. 'Ha! Oh, but you've got it wrong, there. That wasn't my horse I rode. You think I would do that to Sleipnr? Think again, woman.'

She stared him down with eyes that were glittering, trying hard to hold back a laugh.

'You named...your horse...Sleipnr?' Then the laugh broke free from her chest, and she swatted at him with glee. 'Someone thinks very highly of himself!'

Avulstein blushed hard, hard enough to see in the dim light, and he looked aggrieved. 'I do not! What, a man can't enjoy the classic novels? Odin's horse was a powerful beast—'

She was still laughing at him, covering her mouth to try and stifle the sound, and he broke off with a flustered waving of the arms.

'Oh, forget it! You-you harpy!' But his eyes were dancing as he said it, his red face contorting with restraint as he looked at her. And then the dam finally burst, and he laughed along with her.

The sight and sound of it did Merrin good, and they laughed together for some time, stifling the sounds as best they could, trying not to be heard by the men outside. When they had finally fallen silent, they looked at one other, smiling.

'Alright,' Merrin said quietly. 'Enough with the compliments. We have an early start ahead of us. We should actually turn in.'

'You're right. Merrin? Really – thank you.'

'Glad to do it.'

They both settled under their covers, and it went still in the tent. For a minute, neither of them said a word.

Then Merrin piped up, innocently. 'Wait...are you sure Sleipnr has everything he'll need for the night?' This question ended on the tiniest chuckle.

In response, she got a long sigh. But she imagined him smiling with his back to her.

'Merrin? Go to sleep.'