A/N: I want to thank all of you for being patient – I know you've been waiting awhile! This chapter was exceptionally challenging for me to write, but the end result is something I feel good about. I also want to give a HUGE thank-you to all of the wonderful people who left me reviews, or who came to my Twitter page to talk – you guys are great! I appreciate you so much!

For any newcomers, I hope you enjoy this! And when you're finished, I'd love to hear from you! Message me here, on AO3, or on my Twitter account, TheSamanthaborn.

Happy reading!

Rest had been fitful and shallow that night, and all three of them were sore when they rose at dawn. But if they'd been followed, they hadn't been found. On top of that, the sleep she'd managed had been enough for Merrin's magicka to replenish, and she'd finally been able to unbind her leg and heal her arrow wound properly.

The storm had broken while she'd slept, and by the time they were ready to leave the cave, the sky was promising easy weather. But the rain had left its mark; the ground was soggy beneath their horses' hooves as they cut south, and the several rivers they'd needed to ford were all swollen and surging with the recent downpour.

They'd been much closer to their goal than she'd realized, when they'd stopped the night before; it was only mid-morning when Avulstein looked back at her, and told her they were nearly there.

'But how? None of this looks familiar.'

He'd chuckled, and gone back to looking ahead.

'That's because we're taking the back way.'

The back...? It had taken Merrin several seconds, and then she'd realized it: the snaking rivers they'd been crossing were the very ones she'd gazed out on, two days before. As that fact sank in, she'd peered over Avulstein's shoulder and looked out with new eyes at the massive rockface they were approaching. It was impossibly craggy and steep, and even less inviting than the path they'd climbed the first time. She hadn't been able to see any path at all in the foreboding jumble of rock, and while she'd kept her mouth shut, she'd worried that Avulstein had lost his mind.

But he hadn't. When they'd been so close to the towering rockface that she could all but reach out and touch it, he'd suddenly led their horse around a grassy boulder that concealed the opening of a curving, narrow pathway, that disappeared from view behind a jagged shelf of rock.

It was so hidden, so out of the way that she was sure only family could know it was there. And it was so steep that within a minute of starting the climb, she'd abandoned dignity and shoved down embarrassment, throwing her arms around Avulstein's waist, clinging tightly even as he laughed at her.

The horses had made the climb as cheerfully as ever, despite her fears that they would all plummet to their deaths, and after what had felt like an eternity to Merrin, the path started widening and opening up. The rockface hiding them from the valley below had fallen away, and then suddenly a wooden platform loomed above them, to their right. It had seemed so strange and out of place to her that it took a moment to recognize it was a sort of porch, or balcony. When the horses had given their last push and made it officially off of the path, it made more sense; a platform for sure, with a bench for sitting and taking in the view, and several empty mead bottles laying beside it. Fifty paces ahead was the back of Haldr's cabin, with several different saws hanging from nails in the logs above an enormous old washtub.

Avulstein had called at the top of his lungs for Haldr as they'd approached the cabin; after a moment, there'd been a call back.

Haldr had made preparations for their return. The three of them were hustled into the cabin while he all but shouted praise, telling them that he knew they could do it; he'd embraced all three of them, even Merrin, thumping her so hard on the back that it hurt. And then he'd grabbed Thorald and looked him over critically, murmuring how glad he was to see him alive, before embracing him again.

The bed had been all turned down and made ready, and Thorald was ushered into it by a cousin deaf to protest. As soon as Thorald had been comfortably propped up, he'd been stripped of his Thalmor robes and his filthy trousers (with Merrin turning away to face a wall) and given a clean pair of breeches instead. After the job Merrin had done, he'd had no more open wounds – but he did have scabs, and Haldr had gone to work on his cousin's bare chest and arms, dabbing a thick green poultice over the worst of them and wrapping his torso with long strips of boiled linen. While he'd worked, he'd asked if they figured they'd been followed; they assured him they hadn't been.

As soon as Haldr was done with that, he'd turned to the kitchen table where the other two were seated, and grabbed a trio of bowls. A cauldron of something that smelled delicious was boiling away in the hearth, and soon each had been plied with a generous bowlful; hearty venison and potato stew, with thick hunks of rich meat and a healthy layer of melted fat glistening on the surface. This had been paired with a loaf of dark bread, and of course, Haldr's home-brewed mead.

While they'd eaten, they'd talked.

Thorald had already told his brother of the torture he'd endured, laying in the cave the night before. Merrin had overheard most of it, so she was also in the know. Safe now in the cabin, though, the men spared their cousin the grisliest details, and it was probably for the best – even as Thorald gave a quick summary, Avulstein gripped his spoon so hard he bent it, and he stared stonily down at the tabletop. His brother's words now only hinted at the horrors he'd endured, but she was confident that as he said them, Avulstein was sitting there and hearing what he'd been told the night before. And she knew he was wracked with guilt.

Haldr had still whistled and cursed when Thorald was finished, and had given his cousin's shoulder a sympathetic shake.

'It's a damn lucky thing they got you out when they did. I'm glad the sons of bitches all paid.' Then his brow furrowed, and he looked from one brother to the next, confused.

'But what is it they wanted from you and the others?'

'Same thing as always. Information.' Thorald looked dogged and tired, and he took a long drink of the mead in his hand. Then he straightened up in the bed.

'My squadron had been working pretty closely with Stormcloak himself, in the months before we were taken. He wanted us for our position, how close we were to Solitude. We'd been trying to work out a way to get the orders Tullius was giving his men into our hands, straight from the source. We'd considered some sort of intercept at the Oculatus posting in Dragon's Bridge, but that wasn't direct or reliable enough. Instead we came up with the plan for a spy – a double agent.'

'What do you mean?' Haldr had filled himself a bowl of stew and had been about to take his first bite, but now the spoon hovered part-way to his mouth as he stared at Thorald in shock. 'You don't mean to say that you were—'

'No.' Thorald cut his cousin off, shook his head. 'Not me. I'm too well-known in Whiterun. I have too many Imperial enemies. If I'd tried to tap into Solitude, Id've been made in no time. No, it was meant to be one of my squadron. Someone relatively unknown. He would be chosen for the mission, and then he would've headed to Solitude in plainclothes and joined the Legion. The idea was that this man would work his way through the ranks as quickly as possible, to the point where he was trusted by Tullius and his lackeys. And then as soon as he was given information, he'd start feeding it back to us.'

Avulstein looked unsurprised by this; obviously, he'd been told the night before. But Merrin hadn't overheard this part of their lengthy discussion, and she looked at the younger Stormcloak with a mix of wariness and respect.

'That was a bold plan,' she murmured. 'High risk. But it would've paid off in spades. Did it ever pan out?'

'I have no way of knowing,' Thorald answered with a scowl. 'We were still hashing out the details with Ulfric and my captain, Istar, when me and a group of my friends were taken. I've been a prisoner to someone or other ever since, and that was back in late spring. I have no idea how my posting fares, or what Ulfric does now. I assume we were targeted because someone recognized Ulfric, moving back and forth through the area to meet with us.'

In the silence, she considered announcing to the room the truth of what had happened to Ulfric; how they'd been captured together near Darkwater Crossing months later, and nearly executed at Helgen before he'd made his escape in the havoc of the dragon attack. But after some thought, she let the moment pass and kept her mouth shut; none of what'd happened was well known yet – rumor hadn't spread very far in a few weeks, and what had was full of inaccuracy. And besides – hadn't she wanted to keep her involvement a secret? It didn't seem like the smartest move to reveal it again, now.

She wasn't the only one keeping quiet. In the wake of Thorald's words, Avulstein glanced at her for the barest of seconds before staring back into his half-eaten stew. With Thorald and Haldr still looking at her, she managed not to look confused – but only barely. Why was Avulstein letting his brother think that Ulfric's presence had gotten him captured, when they both knew that wasn't true? Why was he keeping Olfrid's involvement a secret?

The moment passed when Haldr cut in with a nod. 'It was a great plan, to be sure. It's too bad that it's probably shot now, what with the Legion coming down on your posting.'

'I'm not so sure.' Thorald looked away from Merrin and glowered into the fire, shaking his head. 'When we got taken to the nearest Imp prison, the guards in charge there didn't mention the plan at all – it really seemed like they knew nothing about it. They didn't even bring up Ulfric being with us. I figured we'd be rotting there until our fellows won the war and freed us...the transfer came out of the blue. When we got handed off to the Thalmor, everything changed. They knew that Ulfric had been with us, and they guessed we'd been cooking something up. But they didn't know what. They tried to break us...get us to talk.'

Barely perceptibly, his hands trembled, and he looked down into his lap as he clasped them together.

'But none of us did. Not any of my friends...and not me. So for all I know, the plan could still be safe. Buried. And Ulfric still might use it, wherever he is.' Suddenly he looked back up, brows furrowed, and looked directly at his brother.

'But those Thalmor...they were crazy. I forgot to tell you last night, Avulstein, with everything that happened. But they really were. You want to know what the head torturer asked me about, just a day or two before you came? He was demanding I tell him what I knew about dragons.'

Beside Avulstein, Merrin stiffened, and nearly dropped her flagon. But nobody noticed, and Thorald carried on as if nothing had happened.

'Dragons! I thought he was fucking with me, and said as much.' He grimaced. 'Big mistake. He kept asking me insane questions like, had I ever seen a dragon? Had any of my squadron been looking for dragons? Had Ulfric ever brought them up, in my presence? As if I'm Ulfric's confidante or something,' he scoffed. 'When I reminded him that dragons were extinct, he—' he looked suddenly over to Merrin, who'd composed herself, and he colored up. Looked hastily back at his brother.

'Let's just say he didn't take kindly to it.'

Avulstein was staring hard now at his brother. 'Why the hell would they ask you something like that? It makes no sense at all.'

Thorald shrugged helplessly, and the room fell into a momentary silence before Haldr spoke up again.

'So they were crazy. That's hardly a shock, from the Thalmor, no? The bastards are dead. We can finally rest easy knowing that you're safe.'

'I suppose you're right.' But he looked troubled as he said it, and then he looked abruptly back to Avulstein.

'Brother...how did you know where to find me? You told me you had Merrin to thank, but never really explained last night.'

Avulstein clearly hadn't spun a story yet to replace the truth; his mouth opened as he looked back at his brother, but no words came out. Seconds passed in silence, making Thorald wary...and then finally Avulstein slumped, defeated, and sighed. All eyes in the room were on him as he shook his head, and spoke.

'I...I didn't want to burden you with that.'

'What do you mean, burden me?' Thorald looked alarmed now, and his tone of voice sharpened. 'Avulstein, what are you talking about?'

'It wasn't some busybody reporting on Ulfric that got you arrested.' Avulstein hunched his shoulders, and grit his teeth.

'Our parents and I had a hunch back in Whiterun. Merrin went and found proof of that hunch for us. Thorald...somehow, Olfrid Battle-Born knew exactly where you were posted, and he gave that up to Tullius himself. Personally.'

For a heartbeat, it was quiet in the cabin. Thorald sat up straight in Haldr's bed, looking as if he'd been struck. And then all of the sorrow came rushing back to his face, along with a good deal of anger.

'...It was Battle-Born? It...he...wait.' He took a deep breath, looked confused along with everything else.

'How in the Hells did that old bastard even know where I was posted?'

In the silence that followed, Thorald plunked his drink aside with a shaking hand, and then his bowl of stew, and leaned forward to look directly at his brother. It was obvious that between the two of them, Thorald had the calmer nature; even as he stared at his brother with eyes full of anguish, he maintained control. He never even raised his voice.

'Avulstein? How did Olfrid know?'

'I don't know that.' Avulstein's tone was thick with shame, and his hands clenched into fists on the tabletop as he looked at Thorald. 'And I'm sorry for it. But I promise you, brother, I will find out. Somehow.'

They told Thorald everything else they knew about Olfrid's involvement in his capture, while Haldr sat beside the window and lit a clay pipe to smoke, looking tense. Thorald took the news surprisingly well – when he heard of how Merrin had infiltrated the house, he even laughed.

And then he surprised them doubly, by setting the matter aside.

'For now, it doesn't matter.' He smiled sadly at his older brother. 'You knew as well as I did that Olfrid had this in him. He and his kin can't stand us and ours.' Then he shook his head, firmly.

'But the point for now is that he failed. He managed to get me locked up for awhile, yeah. And thanks to him, some of my closest friends are...' His words tapered off, and his sorrowful expression deepened as he struggled to take several long, even breaths. When he picked back up, his voice trembled a little.

'...Are gone, too soon. In a way they didn't deserve. But their killers will answer for that. And so will Olfrid, eventually. If not by my hand, then by the Divines'. I have to believe that,' he added, more fiercely.

'And as for me? I'm alive. If his intent was to kill me, he failed. And he's failed to break this family. You told me last night that ma, da, Olfina, they never gave up hope.' His blue eyes swept over his hands in his lap, and then landed back on Avulstein's face.

'There's nothing I can do for the brothers I've lost. But our family at home is waiting for word – word that I yet live. I can give them that, and that's what I want to focus on, now.'

Avulstein sighed, and looked just then as if his regrets were choking him. He shook his head at his brother.

'You know it's not safe for you to come home. I'm sorry, but you need to stay here, with Haldr.'

Thorald did know; Merrin had heard Avulstein break the news to his brother the night before, in the cave, and after some argument, she'd heard Thorald relent. Was he changing his mind after all of this?

But Thorald quickly shook his head.

'No, I know that. You were right. But that's not what I meant. There's another way I can talk to them. Not as good as face to face, but better than a handed-down message.'

'I understand,' Merrin cut in with a murmur. 'And it's a great idea. Haldr.' She twisted in her seat at the kitchen table, to look at the red-head sitting by the window.

'Do you have any more parchment?'

Haldr left his pipe on the sill and jumped up to rummage through his wooden chest again, and in another minute Thorald was set up with parchment, quill and ink. He even had a stiff piece of hide, to balance on his knees and support his paper. He quietly thanked his cousin and fell into writing, and the cabin went silent but for the scratching of the quill.

When he'd been at it for a little while, Avulstein broke the silence, speaking to his brother.

'This is a good idea. We've all missed you for months, worried after you. It will be good to be able to bring them home something of you.'

Thorald mmmmed his agreement, but just then a worry occurred to Merrin, and she cut in carefully.

'Um...Thorald. What if, when we come back to Whiterun without you, your mother thinks we're lying about you being alive? What if she thinks that Avulstein wrote this letter, and we're just trying to trick her to spare her heartbreak? She really wants to see you herself.'

Thorald surprised her by snorting and chuckling. 'It would be hard to mistake my hand-writing for Avulstein's. His is horrible.' But then he put down the quill, and lifted his head to look at her thoughtfully.

'But I see where you're coming from. Ma has always been an awful worrier. Hmm.' His brow furrowed in thought, and he frowned. For several seconds, they all sat in silence. And then he gave a start, and his face brightened.

'I know! I can use my poetry.'

Now it was Avulstein's turn to snort; he did his best to muffle it with his lifted flagon, but all present heard it just the same. Thorald looked up at his brother and raised both brows imperiously.

'Shut up, you,' he said calmly. 'Some of us appreciate the finer arts.'

Both brothers smiled at one another then, and Thorald turned to Merrin, continuing.

'I wrote a poem some years back, and ma just loved it. Said it was one of the best she'd ever heard. I figure she was puffing me up, but she asked to keep it, and has it still. Knows it word for word. Avulstein doesn't know it, and so, can't reproduce it. If I sign off the letter with the last line of her poem, then she'll know I really wrote her this.'

Enthusiastically, Merrin nodded. 'That's smart. Very smart. And lucky.'

Again, Thorald snorted. 'Well, I figure my luck had to turn around at some point, yeah?'

At those words, the easy smile Avulstein had worn slid quickly off of his face, and he went back to staring at the wooden tabletop. Thorald didn't notice as he went back to writing, and once again, silence fell over the cabin.

This time, nobody broke it until Thorald was finished. He signed the piece of paper with a flourish, and then folded it into a tight square before he looked up at the three of them and offered it. Haldr was farthest away by the window, and Avulstein was staring into his empty flagon. So Merrin hurried over to him and took the letter, storing it in her pack with great care. Thorald watched her do it, and when she lifted her amber eyes to his blue ones, they were soft.

'What's the last line of your poem?' She asked him gently.

'We do well to suffer the cold winds of winter; for they bear aloft the next summer's seeds.'

His tone was just as gentle as hers, and she nodded at him sagely as she straightened up.

'That's very true. And very profound.'

Thorald nodded as she returned to the table, and then just kept his head bent.

'That's what she always loved about the poem. She'd tell me every now and then that it gave her hope.'

'We'll get the letter to her as soon as we can.' Avulstein cut in then, and his tone was reined in and purposeful. It drew them all back into the present moment, and what still needed to be done, and the mood shifted into a business-like one.

'Aye. You've an important trip ahead of you yet, cousin.' Haldr tapped out his pipe, and rose to collect the empty bowls and flagons from around the room, moving briskly, efficiently. 'Do you mean to take your leave straight away?'

'I don't intend to make my parents wait,' Avulstein replied. 'But we can't leave just yet. I don't know about you,' he said, turning to Merrin. 'But I could damn-sure use a couple hours' sleep.'

She nodded at him quickly, gratefully. 'So could I. Caves don't really make for the best rest.'

'Don't I know it.' He grimaced, and turned to look at his brother, and then his cousin.

'Would you mind if we hunkered down on your floor for a bit?'

Haldr scoffed, looked put out.

'Now you're just asking me stupid questions.' In one stride, he was next to Avulstein's rucksack. He slid the bedroll from where it was tied to the bottom and unrolled it with a flick of his wrists; then he dumped it unceremoniously onto his floor.

'Make yourselves comfortable, the three of you. Rest. I'll be outside if you need me, building up a fire. Got some things that need burning.'

Then he scooped the heavy armful of Thalmor robes up, and strode briskly through the cabin door.

Falling asleep had been easy. A mix of exhaustion and a long job finally done worked wonders; for close to three hours, they slept so soundly that no one so much as twitched.

It was just afternoon when Haldr finally came in from his yard work and woke them. And then, it had been time for goodbyes.

The four had taken turns embracing, the now fully-dressed Thorald thumping his brother on the back and squeezing him tight, and then giving Merrin much gentler treatment. Haldr had rushed to ply them both with more dark bread, and a pouch of salted fish, and his green eyes were twinkling as he looked the two of them over. He also produced a well-used steel helmet when Avulstein asked – for slipping back into the city, when the time came.

Avulstein gripped his brother again, squeezing his upper arms with both hands, and leaned in close to him.

'I wish we could stay longer, but ma will start to think something went wrong.'

'No, no.' Thorald shook his head. 'I understand. You need to go.'

'You need to take it easy. Rest. Heal up. Let Haldr do most of the work around here.'

Haldr rolled his eyes and snorted as he came to stand beside Thorald. 'Relax, cousin. He'll get the royal treatment while he stays with me.' Then he chuckled, and nudged Thorald gently in the ribs. 'Long as it takes for him to heal up, anyway.'

'And that's another thing,' Avulstein cut in, looking no more relaxed. 'Even after you've healed up, stay here with Haldr. You've put in time enough for Ulfric – the whole family would rest easier if you quit the field, at least for a while.'

Thorald pursed his lips at the words, but after a pause, he nodded. 'I reckon you're right.'

Avulstein shook his head, stared hard at his brother.

'Promise me. I don't want you running off. Promise you'll be here when I get back.'

The other three in the cabin all started at his words, and then Thorald was the first to speak.

'What do you mean, 'when you get back'?'

Merrin turned to look at Avulstein, questioning. His blue eyes swept over her face, and then Thorald's, and rested on his cousin.

'I've had some time to think about it,' he announced. 'And the way I see it, I'm in no better a position than Thorald is. We didn't kill every Thalmor posted in Northwatch – some of them were away when we hit it. They're bound to come back, and when they make sense of what they find, they're bound to come looking for you. If I stay in Whiterun, they'll find me instead. I'd be safest in the hills with you two.'

Thorald's face lit up at his older brother's words, and Haldr cracked a smile too as he nodded slowly.

'You're right. You will be. Well, just do what needs doing in the city, and then head back. I know I don't need to tell you you're welcome any time.' Then he looked over to Merrin and stared at her warmly. 'And that goes for you too, friend.'

'I appreciate that.' Merrin smiled back at him, and then turned to Avulstein.

'If you're on borrowed time, I don't want to waste any. We don't know how soon the Thalmor might come looking – we should go.'

Haldr clapped his cousin on the back once more. 'She's right.' And then he chuckled.

'This way is probably for the best, yeah? Ma would've wanted to skin you herself, if she found out you'd been around and hadn't come to call.'

Finally, Avulstein smiled, and gave a quiet chuckle as he shouldered his pack.

'That's a fact. Aunt Margot could make any Thalmor seem tame.'

Lastly, Thorald came forward, and took Merrin's hand gently in both of his own. His look made his face seem especially soft, and he stared her directly in the eye.

'I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done. For my family, and for me. I'll never forget it, and I hope to see our paths cross again, someday. Thank you.' He raised her hand to his lips, and gave her centre-most knuckle a single soft kiss.

'You don't have to thank me,' Merrin answered, a touch embarrassed. She squeezed the hands that were holding hers, and then deftly drew hers away. 'It was the right thing to do.'

'That doesn't make it any less rare. Or remarkable.' He smiled, and then looked past her to his brother.

'Keep each other safe, on the road. If ma wants to know more than I've written, best to go easy on her. And hurry back soon. I've missed you, brother.'

'I will.' Avulstein nodded solemnly. 'I'll be back as soon as I can be.'

'Good. I promise I'll be here, whenever that is.'

Avulstein opened the door to the cabin with Merrin right behind him, and then looked back from the threshold. His cousin had come to stand beside his younger brother, and both raised their hands in farewell. Haldr called out to them last.

'Gods watch over you both.'

After leaving Haldr's cabin, they chose to avoid any more mountains altogether, by turning Sleipnr south.

And as time and miles passed them by, it seemed to really dawn on Avulstein that the worst was over, and that they'd triumphed; the cabin's outcrop was a smudge behind them when he suddenly burst out into joyful yelling, dropping Sleipnr's reins to pump both fists in the air and tipping his face up to the sky. He swiveled in the saddle to look at her behind him, and was grinning at her from ear to ear. She couldn't help but laugh and grin back, and when he spurred the horse faster beneath them and she grabbed him in response, she could feel him laughing with her.

The way was fairly easygoing, with nothing steeper than a foothill; Sleipnr showed no signs of tiring, so they kept up the speed as early afternoon aged into late. They slowed to a trot along a small stream just as the sun was setting, and then stopped to let the gelding take a well-earned drink. Avulstein was still in high spirits, and when he told her that he knew this area well and assured her that it was a straight shot to the village Rorikstead, they decided to press on and ride in the dark. The moons were only just starting to wane in their cycle, and the sky was awash with stars; they had no trouble seeing the plain beneath them as they thundered on.

It was near to midnight when the trio approached the promised village, surrounded by lush farmland, and nothing stirred as they trotted down the one and only road and stopped in front of one of the log buildings. It was too dark to read the sign hanging from the porch-roof, but Avulstein told her that the inn was called the Frostfruit. They tied Sleipnr to the post outside, and after they'd rubbed him down and made sure the trough was filled, they slipped him two heels of bread and headed up the stairs with their bags.

The door was locked at this late hour, and they had to wake the innkeeper with loud knocking. He opened the door blearily after a minute, holding a lit candle and looking unimpressed in a nightcap knocked askew. Traveling, this time of night? He'd looked them suspiciously up and down, lingering on their many weapons. But finally he made up his mind, and threw the door wide to let them enter, grumbling that they'd have to wait a minute.

The innkeep went to wake a younger man – his son, from the resemblance – and the two of them set to readying the two a couple of rooms. Then they'd paid a price that she suspected was inflated for the trouble, and were left to their own devices, with the innkeep informing them there'd be no food until morning while he re-locked the front door and then hurried back to his quarters in the basement. In moments the inn was silent again, and they stood staring at one another in the flickering light of two candles they'd been handed. With nothing else to do, they said goodnight, and then each retreated into their room, closing their wooden doors behind them.

For the first time in days, they slept past the break of dawn – rest that was sorely needed. When Merrin finally rolled over in the single bed and opened her eyes, there was enough light seeping through the crack under her door that the tiny room she'd rented was only semi-dark. She used the dim light to get dressed, pulling on her clothing and then her armor, while she listened to the chatter of voices outside. She grabbed her pack last, and then opened the door to her room and stepped out into the tavern, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

It was much brighter out here, with sunshine streaming in through windows in the peaked roof. A fire-pit that had been cold and empty when they'd arrived was now crackling merrily away, orange flames snapping towards the ceiling and adding to the light in the room.

Two men sat at a wooden table not far from where she stood, munching loaves of bread and talking between themselves. They seemed like old friends, the way they leaned toward each other, and one of them smoked a long pipe in between eating and laughing. Both of them glanced her way when they noticed her, but neither paid her any mind.

She spotted Avulstein sitting at the bar, fully dressed and with his pack tucked between the legs of his barstool. His back was to her, and he hadn't noticed her yet. On the other side of the bar, the innkeeper stood wiping at the wood with a rag. Her standing there must've caught his eye, because the older man looked up suddenly and waved her over with the other hand.

Merrin sidled up to the bar and dropped her pack to the ground, plunking her helmet down onto the wood and then sliding onto the stool beside Avulstein. Now he noticed her, and he tipped his head her way before he cracked a smile.

He was halfway through a bowl of heavy porridge topped with sticky honey-comb, and before she could say a word, he was gesturing for the watching innkeep to fix a bowl of the same for her.

'And milk to drink, if you have it,' she added quickly before the man could hurry away, and sighed when she saw him nod. Then she turned to look at Avulstein, exasperated.

He was staring back with one brow furrowed, and a crinkle in his nose. His grey hair was more dishevelled than usual, and he was looking rumpled.

'Milk? Whadda'you want milk for? You'd be better off with mead.'

'I drink enough mead.' Then she shook her head.

'You shouldn't have let me sleep in so late.'

He shrugged. 'I reckoned you needed the rest. I did. I haven't been awake much longer than you. And besides,' he added as he leaned toward her and gave her shoulder a bump with his own, 'I've got your back. I wasn't worried about any Thalmor this morning.'

He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard, and smiled at her in a jesting sort of way. 'Let them try me, today. They'd be sorry.'

A second later the innkeeper was back, setting down what they'd requested in front of her with a plunk, and Merrin gave up with a roll of brown eyes. She lifted the wooden spoon in the bowl, pleased with the drip of the honey, and shot Avulstein a smile of her own as she nudged him back, relenting.

'Yeah, yeah. Tough talk, from the man with breakfast in his beard.'

He looked down with a sudden huff, combing his fingers through his beard for spilled porridge. When he didn't find any, he looked up to meet her eyes, saw they were dancing, and gave a snort and a glower at her pious expression.

'Yeah. How about you just drink your milk?'

'Don't mind if I do.'

They took the time to feed Sleipnr some hay and sweet barley before they left, with Avulstein scratching lovingly at the spot between the dapple's ears, and then they saddled up. The innkeeper's son came out onto the porch with a broom in hand as they were leaving; for some reason Merrin didn't understand, his expression was envious as he watched them go. She stared at the red-headed man until he slid from her view, but by the time she'd straightened back in the saddle, he was already drifting from her mind.

In the broad light of day, she could see the fields of waving yellow wheat stretching far on either side as they rode, rippling in the breeze like seas of gold. The year's final harvest of grain would happen soon, with autumn around the corner, and Rorikstead had clearly done well for itself.

It was a sleepy village all in all, hardly more than a hamlet; in practically no time, they'd left it behind.

The pace they kept was brisk, but not frantic – and while the wind rushing by made it too loud to talk, Avulstein pointed out from the saddle often and exclaimed, drawing her attention to anything that he deemed noteworthy. He pointed out a lonely hawk, riding a thermal in an upward spiral high above their heads, and then later a fox with a rusty red coat, darting from some bushes into its den.

The air between the two of them was clear, and light enough. But it also held a certain anticipation; it felt like there were things they should've been talking about, but weren't.

Still, she did nothing about it. There was time yet before they made it back to Whiterun, and Merrin felt confident that when Avulstein wanted to talk, he would. So she just relaxed in the saddle and joined in, pointing out to him the funneling swirl of butterflies to their left, and then a faraway sabre-cat sunning lazily on a rock.

Some time after noon had come and gone, the first hazy etchings of Whiterun shimmered into view on the horizon, far, far across the plains. Both of them pointed at the same time, and then laughed. And then Avulstein pulled on the reins, and slowed them to a walk. He twisted to face her for just a moment in the saddle, and she knew that it was time.

'So...we really did it. We really saved him.'

'Yeah.' Behind him, she nodded and sighed. 'Yeah, we did.'

'I can hardly believe it. Even now.'

'I told you on our way to Northwatch that we'd bring him back alive, didn't I?'

He snorted at that. 'I never fully shared your faith or confidence.'

'Because you feel responsible for what happened?'

She'd cut right to the chase. For a split second he stiffened, but then his shoulders slumped. It was his turn to sigh.

'Yeah, I do. I was afraid my brother was dead because of me. Since I read that letter in my parent's house, it was damn-near all I could think about. Getting him back was all that mattered...'

He fell silent, but Merrin just waited. Something told her there was more.

'...All that mattered. I would've gone alone, if you hadn't come with me. I would've died if it came to it, trying to take Thorald home. But it hurt too much to really let myself believe he could be alive. As much as it hurt to tell myself he was dead. So I shoved it all down, and just tried to focus on getting there.'

He'd slumped further as he'd spoken, and he sounded forlorn. She didn't feel like it would be unwelcome if she put a hand on his back, and so she put one there; patting him twice, three times, so he'd feel it through his armor. What would've been strange a few days ago felt natural now, and she watched as he took a deep breath and straightened up a little.

'I understand what you're saying. I do. But your brother lives. Your hope and faith would've paid off, if you'd had them.'

'But he went through hell, sure enough. I feel responsible for that, too.'

Merrin pursed her lips, hummed partial assent.

'Yes, he did. But maybe you should give yourself a break, and focus on what went right this time.'

She knew it would be pointless right now to try and get him to see that he was innocent in this. It was something he'd have to come to on his own.

Avulstein gave another huge sigh, and shook his head. 'Maybe. I don't know.'

They rode in silence for a few seconds. Then he spoke again, plain and honest.

'You made it easier than it would've been. Easier to bear. You brought...moments where things could be simple, and I could think about something else. You made it so I could laugh. I'm...glad that you came.'

Merrin blinked as she stared at the back of his head, and swallowed, once. Twice. The compliment was unexpected, and so were the emotions that it stirred – a sort of longing, satisfied. It took her a moment to be able to answer.

'...Thank you, Avulstein. That really means a lot. So am I.'

He nodded. 'The whole thing went better with you there, then it would've gone if you weren't. I figure a lot better.' Again, he twisted to look at her behind him, and his eyes were serious as he took her in. There was a sort of contentment in his expression, and it warmed her to see it there. They looked at each other for a beat, and then Avulstein turned back around, staring ahead as he continued.

'We set out to save one person, and we ended up saving five. That's a good feeling.'

'A damn good feeling.' A question occurred to her then, and she asked it.

'You don't regret letting that young barkeep go, after seeing what the Thalmor did to Thorald?'

At first, he didn't answer. The city had gotten clearer in the distance as they drew closer, and now if she looked over his shoulder she could make out the farmsteads in their fields. After a minute, he shook his head again.

'No, I don't. He was barely better off than those Khajiit in the cage. No less trapped. He seemed like an okay kid. And...this war has taught me that not all of a people are the same. Not by a long shot.'

She waited for a while before she answered, her voice quiet. 'It was a really good thing, what you did for that family. Helping their son like that.'

He startled in the saddle at that; snorted, and waved one hand through the air.

'That? It was nothing. Just common decency.'

He reminded her so of Eorlund, the way he said those words. It made her break into a smile he couldn't see.

'It made me proud of you.' She remembered the look on his face when the couple had thanked the two of them, the wetness in his eyes. 'And it was far from nothing.'

'...I suppose you're right.' He looked skyward in front of her, rubbed his free hand absently on his armored thigh.

'I feel like I haven't done enough good, in my time as a soldier. But...I have this. This trip was something good.'

'And there's more to come,' she agreed with a nod. 'It'll be very good to give the news to your family.'

'Yeah.' Avulstein nodded. 'My family...they've been amazing. Even when Thorald went missing, they never said a word to make me feel like they blamed me. And I don't think they do. But...still. Being able to tell them he's safe again is going to lift some of that weight, for me. Like...I've evened things out some.'

'That makes sense...do you think they'll support you going to live with Thorald and your cousin?'

He snorted. 'I'm not sure. But it's not like there's really a choice. Whiterun won't be safe for me, after this – for who knows how long. I need to keep distance between me and the Thalmor. And I need to keep an eye on Thorald.'

'Because you think he's restless.' It was a statement, not a question.

'I know he's restless. But what he needs is rest, period.'

'Would that be why you tried to keep the truth from him? About Olfrid?'

Again, he tensed – but again, it only took him a second or two to answer. A new trust had formed between them in the last couple days; tentative, but there.

'Pretty much.' He looked at her from the corner of one eye, looked away. 'I didn't want to risk him running back to Whiterun to challenge Battle-Born. He's finally safe, and I'd do anything to keep him that way...even lie. I just wasn't sharp enough to come up with something believable,' he ended on a mutter.

'Well, he promised to wait for you, before we left. That's something,' she reassured him.

'When you get back to him, are you going to try and convince him to give up soldiering?'

He answered slowly, with a nod.

'That's my plan. Way I see it, eleven years is enough of a man's life to give. I'll tell him that it's high time we lay down arms, and start looking for somewhere to start new lives. Lives that will mean something, when we're old men.'

'That sounds like a good plan to me.' Merrin paused then, a thought occurring to her.

'But what will you do if he can't be persuaded? If he wants to go back to Ulfric, after all of this?'

There was a long pause.

'I...I don't know. I can't let my brother fight alone. Whatever that might mean.'

His voice had gone heavy and bleak with those words, and they pricked her with an answering dread. Both of them fell silent after that, their conversation extinguished like a candle blown out, and they were quiet as they forged ahead.

After some minutes, Avulstein reached fumblingly into his pack and pulled out the helmet he'd borrowed from Haldr, sliding it down into place on his head and hiding his face from view. They could see the first farms clearly now, and the great walls of stone that hemmed the city in. The sun was on its descent in the rich blue sky, and was nearly touching the tallest peak of Dragonsreach. They'd be able to make out guards on the walls, soon.

Still, neither of them spoke; the only sounds were the whispering breeze, and Sleipnr beneath them.

Merrin wondered if, like herself, he was thinking about their night in the Stormcloak camp – the words they'd exchanged. He'd made it clear in that tent that he wanted to be done with war...and she'd encouraged him.

And yet, just now, he'd sounded so resigned – so helpless. She stared hard at his armored back, and his last words weighed heavily in her gut, in the way of all things that were hard to swallow.

Eventually they passed between two farmer's fields and came trotting straight up to the Whiterun stables. They were lucky; both the stable-master and his son were inside their house, and so there were no questions asked as they drew up. Avulstein dismounted first, and looked around him to either side before he drew out the key to the stall door and unlocked it. Merrin guided Sleipnr inside, taking care not to bang her head on the lintel, and then she slid to the ground. Avulstein closed the door behind her, and was the one to finally break the silence.

'Alright, nearly in the clear. We just need to take care of him, and we can go.'

'Yeah.'

Merrin stripped Sleipnr of cloth bit and bridle, reins and headstall, as Avulstein pulled fresh hay down from where it stored in the rafters and spread it out with a nearby pitchfork. Then he went with a bucket to the nearby pump to get water for Sleipnr's trough. Merrin unbuckled the straps of the saddle, pulled them apart, and lifted the whole thing away, hanging it up on the stall's back wall. By the time Avulstein came back with a bucket full and sloshing, she'd slung his saddlebags over the half-door and was depositing the last piece of tack into the chest.

Avulstein pulled out a flatbrush, and with nothing more useful left to do, Merrin stood in front of Sleipnr and stroked his forehead, watching as he gave the horse a quick and firm brushing.

Sleipnr enjoyed this thoroughly, knickering loudly every once in a while and blowing warm air into Merrin's face, but she hardly even noticed. Her eyes were still on Avulstein, and the nasty feeling in her chest was getting harder and harder to ignore.

When Avulstein finally finished with the brushing, he straightened up and met her gaze. The helmet hid his face well, but in the shadows of the stall she could just barely make out his dark blue eyes, staring at her from the slits in the steel.

She took another two steps toward him, and from this short distance she caught a glimpse of the smudgy bruises around those eyes, that had been left by the Thalmor mage. And then suddenly the feeling in her chest was crawling up her throat and all at once she was talking – fiercely, in a rush.

'Don't do it. Don't go back to war.'

'W-what?' Clearly, she'd caught him off guard; his eyes widened as he looked at her.

'Please. You told me yourself, you're tired of fighting. You want a new life, where you can be someone else.'

She surprised the both of them by reaching out, grabbing Avulstein by his upper arms, and giving him a little shake.

'I know he's family, but you have to think of yourself! Don't let anyone drag you back. I can't stand the thought of something happening to you on some battlefield, when you didn't even want to be there.'

There was raw emotion in her voice, and Avulstein blinked once, twice, three times before he cautiously broke out of her grip and slowly shook his head.

'But Merrin...I...'

'Please.' She wasn't just seeing him as he was now, before her, but also the way he'd looked that night – haunted and hopeless. It moved her to interfere in ways she normally wouldn't.

He was silent for one beat, two. Then he gave a big sigh behind the helmet, and looked at her with eyes that flashed many emotions – surprise, warmth, embarrassment, doubt, hope.

'I'll, ah...think on all of this.'

It was more than she had any right to expect; it would have to be enough. Taking a deep breath, Merrin shoved the insistent feelings down, and gave her head a shake that sent her messy braid sliding over her shoulder. And then she exhaled, and nodded.

'Right – alright. We're almost done, here. Let's get you back to Fralia.'

When Merrin finally walked up to the city gates, she was many things – almost none of them pleasant. Tired, aching, hungry and dirty; longing for a bath, and sporting a saddle bruise that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. She was made irritable by all of these things, and her recent outburst at Avulstein had her feeling inexplicably anxious; after everything they'd just been through, her conflicting emotions felt ragged and frayed. And running beneath it all was a sneaky under-current – blooming relief, to be back in this city that was slowly starting to feel like home.

The guards posted at the gate had looked a bit suspiciously at Avulstein, faceless as he was in the helmet. But they recognized Merrin easily enough from all of her comings and goings; when she stated firmly that the two were returning from Companion's business, the doors were opened for them.

They found Fralia inside House Gray-Mane, facing the front door in an armchair by the fire, fast asleep. He turned to lock the door behind them, and she noticed that his hands were shaking.

Avulstein reached out to rouse his mother, and when she started awake with a gasp to see one son instead of two, her face crumpled. Frantically, she reached out to grab his hands, and her blue eyes welled with tears as she looked up at him.

'Avulstein...is Thorald...?'

'He's alive, ma.' His voice shook nearly as badly as his hands, but he smiled down at his mother. 'He's alive and well.'

Fralia let out a breathy 'oh!' and surged out of her chair at this news, throwing her arms around her son and squeezing as tight as she could. Avulstein returned the embrace, and for a second they just stayed that way. Then Fralia pulled back to stare at him, looking confused and anxious.

'Well then, where is he? Why isn't he here, with the two of you? And what happened to your face?' She looked over to Merrin for the first time now, and she could see the worry in the older woman's eyes, still shining with unshed tears.

So they sat her back down, and explained.

When Avulstein told her where and why they'd left Thorald, a few of those unshed tears went slipping down her wrinkled cheeks. It wasn't what she wanted to hear; her face was taut with disappointment and heartache. But ultimately, she nodded agreement.

'You did right,' Fralia croaked. 'I just wanted him back so badly. I never thought about the Thalmor. But you're right. If...if Thorald can't come home, he's best off with family. With people who love him.' She closed her eyes, and squeezed Avulstein's hand as a few more tears fell.

She had questions about the fortress, and what they'd encountered there. (Was it very dangerous? How many were you up against? Was Thorald too badly off when you found him?) They were both careful with their answers, especially to that last question – skimming over harsh details, and leaving the worst parts out altogether. And both were quick to assure her that Thorald had been tended to at the first real chance.

Afterwards, Fralia sighed. She still looked sad, and throughout the questioning, she'd seemed dissatisfied – chewing her lower lip and casting her hands about in a nervous flutter. She reached out to Avulstein in the chair beside hers and cupped his face in one slender hand, giving him an uncertain smile.

'I'm so glad to have you home, safe – it means the world to me. Don't think that I'm ungrateful, because you couldn't bring your brother home. I just...' She sighed again, gesturing helplessly with her free hand. 'I wish that I had something of him. To make him feel closer to me.'

Merrin started at those words, suddenly remembering, and jumped to her feet.

'Actually, there is something.'

She moved to where she'd left her rucksack on the floor and slid a hand into its jumbled contents, groping for Thorald's letter until she felt the folded up paper.

'A letter? He w-wrote us a letter?'

Fralia's lips trembled as Merrin pressed the letter into her cupped, waiting hands. She smoothed the many folds with shaking, eager fingers, and then her wet eyes flew over the lines on the page. Those eyes grew wider and wider as they made their way down, until they hit the last line, where they abruptly caught and held. In a breathless whisper, Fralia recited the last handful of words.

'...for they bear aloft the next summer's seeds...' Looking awestruck, Fralia looked from the letter to Avulstein, and then to Merrin, eyes shining with a mixture of tears and hope.

'Gods. It really is him.' She pressed the letter to her chest with shaking hands – and then all at once, the woman crumpled. The sheer weight of all that fear and desperation came falling away, and so did the strength that had borne it. Free at long last of such a burden, she bent over double in the chair, and let loose the deluge that had been dammed up for months.

For a while, Merrin and Avulstein just let her cry. Their eyes met over Fralia's shuddering back, and understanding passed between the two of them. Then Avulstein brought comforting hands down onto his mother's shaking shoulders, and he started to murmur soothing words.

Eventually, the old woman pulled herself together, and straightened back up with a hiccoughing sigh.

'Alright. I'm...I'm alright.' She scrubbed furiously at red-rimmed eyes, gave a hard sniff, and rose to her feet, still clutching Thorald's letter in one hand. Then she looked up at both of them, and smiled.

'Come here.'

As she drew them to her and into one-armed hugs, Merrin could see a budding new...lightness, to Fralia. It was like being free of such heavy fear and sorrow had lifted actual weight from her shoulders. It warmed her heart to see it, and when she looked to Avulstein, she could tell he felt the same...but there were shadows in his eyes, and after a moment he drew back from his mother, grimacing.

'Ma...I'm so sorry...but I have to leave, too. The Thalmor will likely be coming to Whiterun, searching for Thorald.' He grabbed her shoulder, gave it a squeeze.

'It isn't safe here for me, anymore.'

For a moment, Fralia's shoulders slumped, and she looked like she was going to cry again. But then she took a deep breath and drew up straight, lifting her chin with resolve, and nodded. Her lips formed a thin, firm line, and her blue eyes met and held her sons.

'...I know it. You're right again.' A small pause. 'You'll be going back to Thorald and Haldr, then?'

He nodded, and she seemed satisfied with this answer. With a tug of his armor, she pulled him back into arm's reach, and hugged him again.

'As it should be. It hurts me not to have you near, but you'll be safe with them. Give my sister my love, and my nephew. And Thorald, of course,' she sighed. Then a sudden thought occurred to her, and she whipped her head back up to pin him with a stern mother's glare.

'But you are not leaving this house until you've had time to say a proper goodbye to your pa and your sister! There was practically no talkin' them down, when they finished work for the day an' came home to find you gone!'

That last sentence reminded Merrin with a jolt of the people likely waiting for her in this city, and she interrupted Avulstein's guilty rumblings to interject.

'Speaking of finding someone gone...Fralia, it's been an honor to help your family. And I can't tell you how glad I am that Thorald is safe. But the Companions are waiting for me to come back – I left...abruptly.' A tiny niggling of the earlier guilt came rising back up to the surface now, but Merrin did her best to ignore it.

'Of course.' Fralia nodded vigorously and reached for both her hands, taking them into her own.

'I don't want to keep you from your other duties. I just want to thank you, before you go.' The much older, shorter woman looked up at Merrin with a vibrant smile and shining eyes, and Merrin couldn't help but smile back.

'From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, Merrin. For all you did to save my younger son's life, and guard my older one's. I can only guess what it must have cost you, but you offered it gladly. That's a mighty rare thing, in times like these.'

Like it always did, the heartfelt thank-yous made Merrin awkward, unsure of what to do with herself. She squeezed Fralia's hands and shook her head, trying not to look embarrassed.

'I just did what had to be done. And it's not like I did it alone – Avulstein had my back, too.' He'd saved her life.

Fralia reached up then, and trailed one gentle finger along the scabbed-over slash across her cheek, her souvenir from a Thalmor mage. She let out a soft hmmm, and then stared into Merrin's brown eyes knowingly.

'Everything has a cost. And none of this was your cost to pay – yet you paid it without complaint, and then came all the way back to try and lie to me about how dangerous it was, and make out like you hardly did a thing.'

Merrin started guiltily at those words, said so matter-of-factly, and so did Avulstein beside her. He opened his mouth to protest, but Fralia quelled him with one sudden sharp glance. Then she looked wryly at Merrin.

'Don't try to deny it – my sons act like they're allergic to credit, just like the fool I married.'

Her tone was dry, but there was still no mistaking the warmth there. Her mouth was curled at the corners, in the faintest hint of a smile.

'I've had decades of experience. So I know it when I see it. But they never get away with it on my watch, and neither will you, young lady.'

Then Fralia pulled her into a sudden fierce embrace, squeezing with surprising strength.

'You have my eternal gratitude, for everything you did,' she whispered. 'And we will never forget this.'

After a moment Fralia let her go, and stepped back from Merrin with a smile and misty eyes. Merrin had to avert her own stinging ones, and nodded.

'Go on, then. We don't want to keep you from your fellows.'

Then Avulstein walked up to her, and once again, it was time for goodbyes.

He looked at her with steely brows furrowed over his dark blue eyes, an uncertain expression on his face and hands clamped together in front of him. The sight of him pulled a smile from her, even as it panged.

Had she only known this man for five days? After all they'd seen and done together, it felt like so much longer. And after tonight, he'd be gone from this city, and Divines only knew if or when she'd see him again. In the silence of the greatroom, Merrin cleared her throat, awkward and at a loss for words. For several beats, the two just stood there. Then she startled as she remembered something, and turned again towards her pack.

'Your cloak. I still have it.' She drew the cloak out from the canvas bag, heavy and warm and fur-trimmed, and held it out to him when she turned around.

'You'll be needing it back.'

The words were out of place in that moment, and reliably, Avulstein snorted. But then a small smile played over his face, and he shook his head.

'I want you to keep it. A gift, for all you did.' He'd taken a step toward her, and now he pushed gently at her outstretched hand, pressing the cloak towards her chest. He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to; his eyes said it well enough. After a beat, Merrin smiled.

'Then I thank you, for the generous gift.'

'It's the least I can do.' Carefully, he shot a glance at his mother, who was standing now by the cook-fire and pretending not to listen. Leaning closer to Merrin, he lowered his voice.

'Thank you, Merrin...for everything. You were right – and I'm glad of it.' He reached out to her and grabbed her shoulder, gave it a squeeze.

'This trip has changed a lot for me...friend.'

Hearing that word sent ripples of warmth through her chest, and she nodded at him slowly, smile widening.

'I hope you take that change with you wherever you go. No matter what you do – friend.'

He tipped his head to her, and his eyes were lit with understanding.

How far we've come, in just five days.

'I will. I swear it.'

She gave his shoulder a squeeze in turn, and then they drew apart. Fralia came to stand by her son as Merrin put her new cloak away and shouldered her bag, as she made her way to the door. She turned with one hand on the knob, and raised the other in farewell.

'May the Gods watch over your battles.' Despite me hoping that you won't have any.

Looking so like his father, Avulstein nodded, raising a hand of his own.

'And yours.'

Merrin had closed the heavy wooden door behind her and taken one step off the threshold, feeling heavy herself, when an unseen hand closed around her wrist and she was yanked behind some nearby shrubbery with a yelp.

In the split-second she was grabbed, Merrin suspected one of the Battle-Borns – spying, maybe – and so she dropped her bag as she yanked herself free, and her hand went flying to her sword-hilt.

But no Battle-Born stood there in the leafy green shadows.

'Farkas,' she gasped.

And it was; staring down at her with blue, blue eyes, his face framed by curtains of dark hair, Farkas stood with his back pressed up to one side of the house. As she stood there in shock he put a finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet as he glanced around to either side.

'Shhh. Yeah, it's me! What're you gonna do, chop me?' His eyes had dropped to the hand on her sword-hilt, and Merrin couldn't help but scoff as she yanked it away.

'No. I thought—' She broke off mid-sentence, eyes narrowing as she stared up at him. Then—

'What are you doing here?' She demanded, nearly spluttering. Seeing his face, hearing his voice had her heart hammering even harder then when she'd thought she was being attacked; combined with all her other messy emotions, it made her defensive. Both hands curled into fists, and she didn't trouble to keep her voice down.

'Shhh! Quiet,' he pleaded, casting another dogged glance into the courtyard beyond them. Then he looked down at her again, and met her glare.

'I don't want anyone else knowing you're back, just yet. I'm here because I needed to see you – see for myself you're alright.'

His words made her stomach lurch, and Merrin's irritation softened some as she crossed her arms and looked up at him. She shook her head, but lowered her voice.

'Alright...but what are you doing here, in this shrub? Skulking around Fralia's back door?' She eyed him pointedly. 'How did you know where I was?'

'Oh. Uh...' He dropped her gaze, and looked instead over the top of her head, out into the Wind District.

'This isn't the best place to talk. Would you follow me?'

Merrin stared hard at the face of her friend for one full beat. Two. Then she shook her head again, and relented.

'Fine. Lead the way.'

He didn't take them very far – glancing furtively around, he hurried them 'round the back side of the house and ushered her through the little gate into the Gray-Mane's paddock. The closest stall was devoid of any four-legged friend, and Farkas hurried into it, beckoning for her to follow. Feeling more than a little ridiculous, she complied.

'There. Bit more private, this way.' His expression was serious, and even though there were shadows beneath the stall's peaked roof, his eyes were intent on her face.

'C'mere, let me look at you. I've been worried.'

The guilt in Merrin's chest flared at that, and when he reached out to grab her by the upper arms, she let him. She stared at Farkas as he looked her over, and noticed with another guilty start that he was looking tired; there were purple bags under his eyes, and it looked like he hadn't been keeping up his shave. He was armorless, in just breeches and a shirt of pale grey linen, and unarmed.

At the soft expression on his face, she was hit by a wave of emotion. The last few days had been dangerous; they had felt very long. She'd thought many times about the man now in front of her – what she would say to him, what he might say to her when she finally got back. She had missed this place, but above all, she'd missed him.

The back of her throat constricted in a funny way, and she was struck with a sudden strong urge to go rushing into Farkas' arms.

But Merrin held herself back. Instead she took a steadying breath, shook her head, and forced herself to sound calm when she spoke.

'You still haven't answered my question. How did you know I was back, and where I was?'

'Uh...'

Farkas' eyes flicked down to hers, and then away. His cheeks colored ever so slightly. Was that a hint of guilt on his face? With an odd little chuckle, he let go of her arms, and sat with a thump onto the hay bale pushed up against the back of the stall. Elbows on knees, he looked up at her with a face full of chagrin.

'I may or may not have hired one of the messenger boys to hang around the city wall and keep an eye out for you.'

She stared at him, silent and shocked, and he carried on in starts and stops, his voice low and quiet.

'All day...for two days now...so he could run and find me the second he saw you coming back.'

'Farkas.' Her emotions were a riot at hearing the words, no one feeling dominant for more than a flash, and she had no idea what her next words would be.

'...You didn't.'

'I did.' He raised his eyes to meet hers again, and the look she saw there told her that it was the truth.

For a second, she was just silent – holding her breath, thoughts racing. And then she surprised both of them, and laughed; a sharp burst of laughter that made the mule in the yard raise his head up from his grass to stare at them.

'Why?'

'When you left, some of us didn't think you were coming back. With what happened with Vilkas, and how you gave no word.' He tilted his head, and dropped her gaze to stare instead at a knot in a wooden plank beside them. His voice went even lower.

'It was a rough couple'a nights. But then—' He shook his head. 'Your letter came. Kodlak read it, and then he read it to the rest of the Circle. I passed word on to the rest of the whelps—I mean, newbloods,' he corrected hastily.

'You promised Kodlak that you were coming back. I tried not to worry, but that didn't really work out. So I...hired a kid, to keep an eye out while I couldn't, and let me know as soon as you came back.'

Finally, he lifted his eyes back to hers.

'I had to see you for myself. Back home, and in one piece.'

In the wake of those words, her irritation turned to ash, and in its place Merrin was left holding all of the guilt from the past several days. Her shoulders slumped as she looked at him, and her mouth twisted.

'I'm sorry, Farkas. I shouldn't have left the way I did.'

'No, you shouldn't have.' He agreed with her, and as he looked up at her there was a flatness in his voice, a shimmering hurt in his eyes that stung her worse than any screaming would have done.

'I don't get it, Mer. How could you do that? Just take off, without a word to anyone? Without a word to...' he clamped down on whatever he'd been about to add, and a muscle in his jaw worked as he seemed to chew on his feelings, the thought left unfinished.

'I was angry. I wanted to be left alone,' she replied, worrying the skin around her thumbnail ragged.

'And I told myself that the job I had to do was urgent – that I had no time to mess around with anyone's questions.'

Even as she offered them up, she could hear how feeble her old motives sounded. And hanging now in the air between them, it was plain to see that they were just excuses.

Her voice had the slightest tremble to it despite her efforts, and she sighed as she let them all go.

'I was embarrassed, and looking to get away. What I said back in the mead hall...about the dragon,' she said with some difficulty. 'I didn't want anyone to know. Not yet. It's...complicated.' It took a lot of resolve not to hang her head, to keep meeting his liquid blue gaze as she gave him the truth.

'Complicated. Huh.' Farkas leaned back so that he could rest against the wood of the house behind him. For a moment, they were both silent, staring. Then—

'Some farmers from the north came running into the city, while you were gone. All up in arms, saying to the Jarl that a dragon had burnt their wheat shares, an' killed most of their sheep.'

Merrin's mouth fell open, eyes wide as she looked at him.

'Wha—?'

'Balgruuf sent some of his guard, to check it out,' he continued over her. 'They haven't returned, yet. But the big man seems to be taking it serious. Folk are scared, after what happened in Helgen.'

He pierced her then with eyes gone suddenly intense, so that they didn't match his slow, reasoning tone of voice.

'You didn't want our questions. I can respect that. Understand it, even. But do you understand?' His dark brows furrowed, and he set his jaw.

'By and large, the ones in Jorrvaskr wouldn't have just been nosing around, with the questions they asked you. They'dve asked because they care about you. Your well-being. What you've been through.'

It was a lot of words at once, for Farkas, and they left Merrin at a loss. Regret, remorse, humility wrapped around her like mist, and she didn't try to stop it. Her mouth opened and closed several times, with no sound coming out. Finally, she managed a stammering sentence.

'I...understand. Now. I didn't, before. I'm sorry Farkas, I didn't know.'

'Okay.' He nodded, but didn't seem placated. 'You understand now. So what about now? If I asked you now to talk to me about Helgen, would you talk?'

'...No.'

The word was hard to say, looking into his face, but she said it anyway. He didn't deserve anything less than the truth.

'I'm still not ready.' The news about the northern farms had shaken her; for the first time since she'd had it, her terrible nightmare came to the foreground of Merrin's mind, and she had to rein in a shiver as she shoved it down again. She straightened up, stood tall, but it didn't help much.

'...I'm afraid,' she finally admitted, in barely more than a whisper.

Farkas had crossed his arms over his chest, and was looking at her in a steady, unflinching sort of way, not moving – saying nothing. But despite all of this, there was nothing hard in the way he stared at her, and nothing cold. Something in his manner had softened as she answered him – something she couldn't place.

The silence in the stall stretched out, long and then longer still. Around their feet, the fluffy white chicken came weaving with its feathered head bobbing, hunting for bugs and softly clucking. Just when she was about to cave and ask what he was thinking, he nodded at her.

'I understand. Thanks for being honest with me.'

She let go of a breath she hadn't known she was holding. 'I still mean what I said, before I left – I want to tell you the story. Eventually.'

Again, Farkas nodded at her. 'I know you do.'

'Well...what are you thinking, then?' It bothered her, how badly she wanted to know.

'I'm just letting it sink in,' he answered, quietly. 'Letting go of the worry, and the hurt. You had me pretty pissed off there, for a while.'

He admitted it freely, with none of her difficulty. And then for the first time in the conversation, he smiled at her; it was the boyish, easy smile he'd given her the very first day they met, and seeing it now loosened the knot in Merrin's chest.

'I'm sorry, Farkas.' She shook her head. 'I didn't mean to worry you, or piss you off, and I'm sorry I did. I thought about all of you, on the road...I missed you.' It felt corny to admit it, but she forced herself to say the words, anyway.

'From now on, I'll take one of you with me, when I have to go do something dangerous...'

She quirked her brow, thought about it.

'At the very least, I'll say something about it.'

She would learn quickly that Farkas wasn't the type to hold a grudge long; he seemed mollified by her words, and as his grin widened, she couldn't help but give a slow smile back. Looking down at him, she offered a hand.

'Alright? Are we square?'

He nodded.

'We're square.'

Then he grabbed her hand in his own much bigger one, and used her to hoist himself to his feet. He looked down at her gently, and she realized he was tracing her freckles with his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was warm.

'I missed you, too, Mer. It's good to have you back. And I'm sorry that you're afraid.'

Again, Merrin was hit with the urge to grab him, embrace him. This time, she gave in.

He was so thick in the waist that she could barely reach all the way around him; she rested her cheek on his broad shoulder, and sighed as she gave him a squeeze.

'It's good to be back.'

For a split-second he seemed to stiffen, but then he relaxed and his arms came around her in a good, strong embrace that warmed her, even through her armor. For a second they stood that way, with Fralia's goat watching them blandly, and then they broke apart, both smiling. Farkas was a touch redder in the cheeks than before, but Merrin didn't notice. Then he coughed, and spoke up again.

'So...like I said, Kodlak read us your letter. Important trip. Hard, I bet. Did it go right?' For the first time, she noticed him staring at the long, scabbed-up scratch on her cheek, eyeing it warily.

Merrin let out something between a groan and a growl.

'It was damn hard.' But then she nodded in a satisfied way, determined to be positive.

'But it went right, in the end. Better than right.'

He lifted one thick brow.

'And what about before it went right? Did things get hairy out there?'

'A bit. We took some tough knocks when it came to crunch time. Of course, the travel was shit. Oh—' She grimaced. 'And I took an arrow to the leg.'

He'd been nodding as she talked, but at this last, his eyes blew wide.

'What?' She asked quickly, defensively. 'It's healed up now.'

For several seconds, Farkas seemed to battle with himself, words crowding unsaid in his mouth. Then he swallowed them, and just shook his head.

'You'll tell me the story later?'

'Yeah. Later.' She nodded at him, and then smiled. She was thinking now about Thorald, the altmer barkeep, the family of khajiit, and feeling accomplished and warm. 'It's a story that needs some time to tell right.'

'Alright. But...so you're saying...he's safe now?' Even in the relative privacy of the stall, Farkas lowered his deep voice to little more than a whisper.

'Yeah.' The words still felt great to say out loud. 'He's safe.'

'I knew the brothers, growing up,' he said, thoughtfully. 'It's good to hear you got him out. You never said in the letter what you were saving him from, though. Who...?'

'The Thalmor,' she whispered, disgusted. 'We were nearly too late. The bastards.'

She watched Farkas blanch, and then slowly, he nodded, blue eyes flashing.

'Woah. Okay. Definitely a story that'll take some time to tell.'

'Like I told you it was.' She smiled grimly and nodded back, and he straightened up beside her.

'Alright. I did what I set out to do – got to see you, make sure you came back okay. Well, more or less,' he amended, staring down with some concern at her legs.

'We should probably grab your bag and head up to Jorrvaskr. The others'll wanna know you're back.'

He was right. With the air between the two of them cleared, Merrin felt lighter; everything she'd just been through seemed a bit easier to manage. And a large part of her was eager to reunite with the Companions – even though it would probably mean some questions.

'Then I guess we'd better not keep them waiting.' She smiled up at him wryly. 'You're the one who yanked me into a bush like a murderer and scared the shit out of me, so you can carry my bag.'

'Yeah...' They slipped out of the wooden stall and started to back-track, but her joke didn't have its desired effect; when she looked up at him, she could see he looked uneasy.

'What's the face for?'

'I should warn you.' Farkas answered slowly as he bent to grab her rucksack, and threw it effortlessly over one shoulder.

'A few of the others are pretty burnt that you lit out the way you did. They might have something to say about it, when they see you.'

It wasn't hard for her to guess who 'a few of the others' might be, and a prickle of irritation itched between her shoulder blades. But Merrin shook her head resolutely and stood tall as they emerged into the afternoon sunlight, doing her best to control it.

'So let them. I'm a big girl. I can take it.' She glanced up at Farkas, saw him biting his lip, and shot him a smile she didn't quite feel.

'Thanks for the warning, though.'

But he must have seen through her; as they marched across the courtyard and up the front steps, he cajoled her.

'Hey, don't go in mad. I just thought of something.'

His voice had the slyest hint of jest in it. It made her suspicious.

'What?'

'You said you got shot in the leg, but you never told me where. Are you by any chance trying to hide that you took an arrow to the kn—'

She scoffed and cut him off.

'Oh Gods! Shut up, Farkas.' With Jorrvaskr's doors in front of them, she threw an elbow at his ribs that he neatly dodged, and rolled her eyes.

'You are not as funny as you think you are.'

But a second later she snorted, and almost despite herself, a smile unfurled on her face. Just behind her, she could hear him chuckle.

When they pushed the doors open and strode into the mead hall, all heads present turned to see who'd come in.

When Ria saw that it was Merrin, the Imperial gave a little cry and sprang from where she'd been sitting with Torvar to rush into Merrin's arms. Merrin had the breath squeezed right out of her, and then Ria was grabbing Merrin's face in both hands, looking her over with dark, worried eyes.

'You're back! Oh, thank the Gods! We've been so worried about you!'

Torvar had gone rushing to the lower level stairs and had cracked open the door, shouting 'Athis, she's back!' Now he came to stand next to Ria, giving her a toothy grin.

'See, Ria? I told you the woman could handle herself.' He turned to Merrin then, pale blue eyes twinkling, and addressed the last bit to her.

'Good to see you back in one piece, foxy.'

'Foxy?' Merrin repeated it with a wrinkle of nose and brow. 'I'm—'

'Oh, shut it, Torvar,' Ria interrupted, shooting him an acid look. 'I was worried, okay?' She looked back to Merrin, exasperated, and used the hands still holding her face to give it a little shake.

'You scared the crap out of me! What were you thinking, doing something dangerous like that alone?'

It felt like being scolded by a cranky matron. Feeling freshly guilty, Merrin winced, and wrapped her hands around Ria's wrists to gently pry them away.

'I'm sorry, Ria. I never meant to worry you. But I wasn't alone. I had help.'

Athis came bounding up to the small group, and when he saw her, his eyes lit up. He tried to say something to her, but Ria cut over him.

'Who?'

'Eorlund's son,' Merrin answered quickly. And when Ria looked confused and said 'But...', she just shook her head and pressed on.

'It's a bit of a long story. And I'll tell it to you. But – ' she gripped Ria's hands in her own, and gave them a squeeze – 'I want you to understand that I was careful, and I had help, and most of all that I'm fine. Please stop worrying. I'm alright, and I was always coming back.' She gave her friend a tired smile.

'Right now, I'd just love nothing more than to sit down for a while.'

For a second, Ria looked like she was going to press the issue. But then most of the worry left her eyes, and she slowly shook her head. Her shoulders relaxed, and a hint of her signature wryness came back as she let go of Merrin's hands.

'Fine. And for the record, I never doubted you'd come back, if you could – you stole my dagger, and had to return it.'

Merrin and Farkas had just started to laugh and Athis was clapping Merrin on the shoulder and saying 'welcome back' when the doors to the hall's lower level suddenly came bursting open with a crash. It made all five of them jump, badly startled, and fall into silence. Five heads whipped around to see who would emerge on the stairs.

But in her heart, Merrin knew.

It was Vilkas, and he was looking thunderous.

He came stalking straight toward her, and with one look at his face, the other newbloods cleared a path. But he didn't pay them any mind. In his apparent rage, Vilkas seemed to only have eyes for her – eyes that tried to pierce her like two blue knives as he drew up in front of her.

'You.'

Definitely rage. His voice trembled with it when he said the word, and so did the finger that he jabbed toward her face. He was breathing hard.

'Vilkas...' Behind her, Farkas spoke up, sounding uneasy.

Vilkas cut over him, nostrils flaring, eyes boring into hers.

'Finally back from flouting our rules and causing trouble, eh?' He hissed out a breath.

'What took you so long? Did you get lost?'

Instantly, Merrin's better mood evaporated. Her spine stiffened at his words, ram-rod straight. Her lip curled, and she glared at him, unflinching.

'That's none of you business. What is your problem?' She'd apologized to her friends, but she owed Vilkas nothing. Her voice was hard and sharp.

'That you would take a risk like that,' he barked. 'That you worried Kodlak! You're nothing but a whelp, and an insolent one! You don't get to make calls like you did – run off, whenever you feel like it! Being a Companion means a sibling at your side, always – not taking off like an idiot child, on fairy-tale rescues!'

His voice had risen to a shout, and he'd waved his arms wildly as he'd shouted, his harsh voice bouncing off of the walls. Behind their group, Skjor and Aela came up the stairs, staring in some alarm at the cluster of bodies. But none of them took any notice.

Deep inside, Merrin felt a sharp stab of guilt that she'd made Kodlak worry. But she shoved it down. Her chest was swelling with temper now, and her hands balled to fists as she scowled at Vilkas. Like a fragmented crystal in the sun, snatches of memory flitted through her mind – Kodlak calling Vilkas a 'decent man'; Eorlund's voice. 'Nobody runs anybody, 'round here.' Thorald's battered face.

'Who died and made you king?' She spat. 'You don't get to talk to me like this.'

For a heartbeat, the room was filled by deep silence, like the calm in the eye of a storm. And then Vilkas snapped.

He took a lunging step toward her, getting right up in her space. Then he grabbed her with shaking hands by the collar of her breastplate, and yanked her forward, so that she could feel his hot breath on her face. All she could see anymore were his blazing eyes, his twisted face.

'You need to learn your place,' he growled.

The fires of Merrin's temper surged at that – burnt her white-hot inside, like flash-fire from a powerful mage. Her jaw clenched so hard it cracked, and before she was conscious of deciding, she was moving. Vilkas was in plainclothes, with a tunic rolled up to the elbows and his forearms bare. Viciously, she clamped both hands around those forearms and dug every nail into his flesh. She felt it break under her with a feral satisfaction, and while he gave the slightest flinch, he didn't withdraw. Her amber eyes burned with that inner fire as she faced him down.

'My place,' she managed through gritted teeth, 'will never be answering to the likes of you.'

He snarled – an actual snarl, like an animal – and then as she watched, his blazing eyes changed.

One second they were his normal silver-blue. In the next, they went a pure, unnatural silver; as bright and liquid as molten metal, without a trace of blue. Even in her fury, the change shocked her. By a fraction, her grip on him loosened as she stared.

It had all happened so fast; the others in the room had all stood frozen and dumbfounded as Merrin and Vilkas had clashed. But now the spell had broken. From the head of the stairs, Aela started cutting a swift path toward them. The whelps behind Vilkas all took a step back – all save for Ria, who Torvar had to grab.

But Farkas was quickest. Stepping around her in a flash, he came up behind his brother and brought his huge hands down over Vilkas' shoulders.

'Brother, come on, that's enough. Let her go.'

He sounded upset, but in an odd sort of undertone; the primary notes in Farkas' voice were cajoling and uneasy, worried – like he was trying to appeal to Vilkas. Something in that voice made the hairs on the back of Merrin's neck stand on end.

Those strange silver eyes went whipping back to glare at Farkas as Vilkas tried to shake him off.

'Leave it alone, Farkas,' he snapped, his voice rough and distorted. 'This doesn't concern you.'

Farkas opened his mouth to reply, but what he'd planned on saying, they never found out.

'What in the name of the Nine is goin' on here?!'

No one had noticed the front doors opening, but they noticed it now; Eorlund Gray-Mane was filling the door-frame, staring at them all with wide eyes. He was holding a familiar piece of paper in one hand, and looking as if a strong wind would knock him over.

In the sudden shocked silence, the blacksmith took in the bizarre scene before him – Merrin lifted nearly off her feet by Vilkas, who was in turn being grappled by Farkas behind him, the pale faces of the whelps behind him, and the sharp green eyes of the Huntress beside them. Eorlund's face went red, and he let out a bellow that echoed through the mead hall.

'Vilkas Jergenson, you let go of that woman THIS – INSTANT!'

The effect this had on the room was profound; pin-drop silence settled over all present, and several mouths came falling open. Astoundingly – maybe from the pure shock of it – Vilkas obeyed Eorlund's command, and let Merrin go. She stumbled from the sudden change in weight; before she'd even righted herself, Farkas had clamped two vice-like arms around his brother's chest and started dragging him several huge steps back, scattering the newbloods yet again. He put his mouth to his twin's ear and started murmuring something that only Vilkas could hear. Vilkas' forearms bled from where Merrin's nails had pierced the skin, and red rivulets were snaking down his wrists. But his eyes were no longer liquid silver – they'd gone back to their normal blue.

It was Eorlund who finally broke the silence.

'Merrin...is it true?'

His voice was raw with suppressed emotion, and he looked as if his own hopes were betraying him. Weakly, he lifted the hand holding the letter.

'You've...freed my boy? My Thorald?'

She'd been awhirl with anger still for Vilkas when she was let go, her insides seething with a venomous jumble that she couldn't express. But at the look in Eorlund's eyes as he clutched the doorframe, all of it seemed to just...vanish. The room around her took on a secondary quality as she locked eyes with the smith, and nodded.

'Yes. Thorald is free, and healthy, and he told me to give you his love.' She could hear the triumph in her own voice, and the ragged edges.

An inarticulate sound tore from Eorlund's throat. And then—

'Gods be praised!'

He covered the distance between them in two paces, and wrapped her into a hot, sweaty, crushing hug that lifted her clear off the ground and made every vertebrae in her back crack.

'I can never thank you enough,' he moaned, weeping freely on her shoulder. 'Thank you, girl, thank you! Thank you for saving my boy.'

This trip had exhausted Merrin, in truth – physically, and emotionally. She was tired, and aching, and chafed, and overwrought. Her nerves had been put through their paces, and her face was covered in awful sunburn...

But in that moment, being crushed and cried on by Eorlund, she felt in her heart of hearts that it had cost her nothing. Whatever she'd suffered to bring on this moment, it was well worth it.

It was clear from the reactions of the others in the room that this was exceptional behavior from Eorlund. It must have cowed Vilkas considerably, because when he cleared his throat and spoke, he still sounded angry, but nowhere near where he had been.

'She showed a serious lack of judgment by leaving on her own, Eorlund. She needs to be reprimanded— '

'On what grounds?' Eorlund boomed. He set Merrin carefully back on her feet and then threw a harsh glare at Vilkas, tear tracks streaking through soot from the forge.

'She wasn't alone! You weren't there – you don't know what you're talkin' about.'

Vilkas looked like he had a terrific headache building, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'That may be so, but she can't just run off like she did. Jobs need approval before we can just go and—'

This was clearly the wrong thing to say; Eorlund bristled to his full height and clenched his hands into fists.

'That girl,' he said, voice shaking with barely controlled emotion as he jerked his head toward Merrin, 'has shown more gods-damned initiative than any of you. How long have you KNOWN that my son was missing?'

His eyes were wild as he glared at the other people in the room, accusatory.

'And yet, you did nothing! Not a one of you! My son is safe from Thalmor clutches because this woman in front of me heard one whisper of his trouble!'

He set one huge, calloused hand on her shoulder and squeezed, drawing up to stand right beside her, and his face was set into belligerent lines.

'So what do you think to punish her for, then? Hmm? What?' The older man looked derisively at Vilkas, and then around the hall.

'It looks to me like you're ashamed, that she did what you should've done long ago!'

The other people in the room were now looking thoroughly ashamed – even Vilkas. He opened his mouth, but for once, no words came out.

'You're absolutely right, my old friend.'

The words had been spoken from across the room, in Kodlak's rich timber. Again, every head in the room whipped around with a murmur.

The Harbinger was standing at the top of the stairs, beside Skjor. His gaze swept the room, and he looked solemn as he entreated Eorlund with stormy grey eyes, and a nod.

'It shames me, that only one of our number was there for Thorald. I am overjoyed to hear of his escape, and however we end up resolving this situation, I promise you that Merrin's heroics will be properly taken into account.'

Merrin's heart was beating fast. She looked from the Harbinger, to Eorlund, to Vilkas, not knowing what to say, or think. Beside his brother, Farkas smiled at her, and flashed her a thumbs-up in the silence.

Before anyone could say more, though, that silence was broken by yet another unexpected entrance.

'I apologize for the intrusion, Harbinger.'

It was Irileth, standing in the doorway Eorlund had left open, red eyes flashing as she took in the tense surroundings.

'Noble housecarl.' Kodlak addressed the elf as everyone stared at her, sounding surprised. 'What brings you—'

'The Companions obviously have some business to settle, in house. But it will have to wait.' The dunmer's eyes flicked to rest on Merrin, boring into her with their intensity, and her handsome face was set into grim lines.

'Merrin Hakonsdotter, the Jarl calls to you for aid – effective immediately. There's been a dragon sighted at the Western Watchtower.'

What did you think of this chapter? Leave me a review, and let me know!