Among all the places Bjorn's journey had taken him, finding solace in the warmth of Margaret's presence was the least expected. He remained with her for weeks after the incident, compelled by something deep within him that urged him to stay. Similarly, Margaret felt a pull within her that wouldn't let her ask him to leave. Together they laid Siward to rest and held a solemn ceremony in a local cemetery.
While the villagers were initially hostile towards Bjorn following her son's death, Margaret succesfully convinced them it was a tragic accident. In the quiet of their mourning, unspoken forgiveness hung heavy between them, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds they had inflicted upon each other's lives and the new, better people they aspired to become.
One morning, soft light filtered into the room as Bjorn awoke beside Margaret, their bodies intertwined.
As Margaret's eyes opened, she smiled warmly at Bjorn and greeted him with a soft, gentle kiss.
"Does this feel right to you?" Bjorn asked, feeling conflicted, "to Siward? Is it fair to
my parents?"
"Whether it's right or wrong, there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
"Same," Bjorn said without hesitation, "I feel like we are the only ones who can help each other. We both share a similar monster inside of us. We need each other right now."
Margaret replied earnestly, "We can't change our pasts, Bjorn. All we can do is navigate the present and shape a better future together."
"I'm glad we gave Siward a proper funeral," Bjorn's couldn't hide the shame in his voice, "he deserved that much, and more."
"Yes, me too."
"I wonder what kind of man he would have been. Probably a better man than me."
"It doesn't matter now, Bjorn. All that matters is what kind of man you will be going forward. And what kind of woman I'll be."
"I was just thinking of my parents. They were everything to me," Tears welled up in Bjorn's eyes as he spoke, the weight of his loss heavy upon his heart. "I never got to say goodbye, never had the chance to thank them for everything they did for me."
Margaret was now overwhelmed with enormous guilt. 'I'm so sorry, Bjorn,' she said. She knew nothing she could say would take back the harm she caused him, yet she didn't want to remain silent. 'I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry for what I did to you and for what I did to your parents.
Bjorn reached out, his hand finding hers, "Margaret, we've both made mistakes, done things we're not proud of. But it's never too late to seek redemption, to make amends for the wrongs we've committed. And perhaps, in facing our pasts together, we can find a way to heal the wounds that still linger."
Margaret nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Thank you, Bjorn. I'll do everything I can to make things right, to atone for the suffering I've caused."
A long silence followed, until Bjorn finally spoke again. "Margaret, I can't shake the weight of what happened to Siward... I never intended for any of this to happen."
"I know, Bjorn. It was a tragic accident, and I don't blame you for it. I should have kept Siward away from the danger."
"Still, I can't help but feel responsible. Kurdan taught me the importance of honor and discipline, yet I let my rage cloud my judgment. Now he's gone, and I've taken an innocent life."
Margaret stroked Bjorn's cheek with her fingers,. "I understand why this is troubling you, Bjorn, but you can't keep torturing yourself. I forgave you, you should forgive yourself too."
"You're right, Margaret," Bjorn then noticed something else was bothering her, "what's wrong? Talk to me."
"I never told you about the day I lost my uncle. I was just a little girl when it happened," she began, feeling immense despair recalling these events. "I never knew my real parents. The Nords had killed them during the Markarth incident when I was too young to remember. But my uncle... he was like a father to me. He taught me everything I know about survival in the Reach."
"I'm sorry, that must have been hard."
"I watched as he was cut down by Nord soldiers," she went on, her voice trembling with emotion. "He never stood a chance against them. They treated him like he was Forsworn. But he was just a simple farmer, trying to get by."
"I'm so sorry, Margaret," Bjorn said, trying to find the right words to say. "It was an injustice, it wasn't right."
"I saw every Nord as an oppressor," she confessed, "To me, they were all responsible for the pain and suffering inflicted upon my family."
Bjorn tightened his grip on her hand, offering silent support and understanding. He knew that Margaret carried the weight of her past with her every day, but he also saw the strength and resilience that lay within her.
"What happened after that?" Bjorn was curious.
"After my uncle's death, I found myself alone in the Reach," she recalled, "The Forsworn took me in, offered me shelter and protection. But as I grew older, I began to realize that their cause was hopeless. The endless cycle of violence and revenge... it was a futile struggle."
"I see," Bjorn remembered his mother's stories of growing up in the Reach, fighting the Forsworn. He now felt even more conflicted about his newfound connection with Margaret.
"One day, they attacked a defenseless caravan of traders, well defenseless besides one guard who was quickly cut down. I couldn't stand by and let them harm innocents any longer. I supported their cause, but I disagreed with their methods."
"So what did you do?"
"I intervened, killing several of my Forsworn brethren in the process. Then with a spell, I blinded all of them and took off. I summoned giant spiders to keep them busy and distract them while I made my escape."
"You did the right thing."
"Yes, and I paid the price for it. I traveled Tamriel as a free spirit for a while, but eventually, the Forsworn caught up with me again when I returned to the Reach and ambushed me. They thought killing me was too merciful of a punishment for my betrayal, so they imprisoned me in a hagraven's cave and left me to rot."
"I'm sorry, that's terrible."
"But then Zalam-dar and Wulfmir came," Margaret continued, "They rescued me, offered me a chance to fight for something greater. That's when I first joined forces with them, thinking I could be more than just a pawn in someone else's game."
"But you became a pawn in Zalam-dar's game."
"Indeed," Margaret couldn't argue with him, "When he found me in that cave, I was terrified of the hagravens. Zalam-dar taught me to become what I fear, then it'd have no power over me. That's why I became Hagraven."
"He was like your Kurdan, only not as good of a man."
"Yes, you could say that," Margaret's expression hardened, her gaze distant as she recalled the events that followed. "At first, I thought Zalam-Dar was helping to make a world free of injustices like one my family suffered. But over time, I realized that his vision was not as noble as it seemed. He sought power at any cost, manipulating those around him to serve his own agenda."
Bjorn still needed more answers about Margaret's past alliances before he could reconcile his affectionate feelings for her. "But what did you think of the Thalmor? You seemed to be ok with Zalam-dar working for them, and their actions against Talos worshippers."
"I hated Nords, Bjorn. I wanted them to feel the same pain and suffering that they inflicted upon my people. The Thalmor's persecution of Talos worshippers was a turning of tables I appreciated, seeing my oppressors become the oppressed. But now, I see that their methods were just as cruel and unjust as those they sought to punish."
Bjorn still struggled to fully accept her shady history,, yet he surrendered to the fact that he saw a lot of himself in her. He couldn't help that he cared about her deeply, learning that love is not always rational or a choice; sometimes, it just is.
"We've both been shaped by our pasts, and we've hurt others in the process," he told her, "But together, we can overcome the darkness and build a brighter future."
"Yes, together,"Margaret squeezed Bjorn's hand and softly pressed her lips against his. She then noticed a troubled expression on his face.
"Something bothering you, Bjorn?
"I still don't understand your feelings for Wulfmir," Bjorn ventured cautiously. "He was a Nord, and you said you hated Nords back then, yet you seemed to care for him deeply."
It took Margaret a minute to find the right way to phrase what she wanted to say.. "Feelings are complex, Bjorn. I thought he wasn't like the others. I wanted to believe someone loved me, cared for me, even if it was a Nord. But deep down, I always knew I meant nothing to him. All he cared about was money and gold, and he liked me for one thing only . When I got pregnant he was stuck."
"I care for you, Margaret. More than I ever thought possible."
"Thank you," she said, touched by his words. "Thank you for being here for me." And with that, they leaned in, their lips once again meeting in a tender kiss.
A calm and short silence followed, before a knock was heard at the door. Margaret quickly put on her clothes and rushed to answer it. It was Amirah.
"I understand Bjorn is staying here now," Amirah said coldly, "I need to talk to him."
"Sure, just give him a minute."
Bjorn rushed to get dressed and then ran to the door. Amirah had a look of disgust on her face.
"Interesting company you keep these days, Bjorn," she then turned to Margaret, "interesting company both of you keep."
"Is there something you need?" Margaret had a hint of anger and jealousy in her voice.
"Just give us a moment," Bjorn tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Margaret kissed him on the cheek, glaring at Amirah as she walked away.
"So you kill her child and now you're sleeping with her?" Amirah couldn't hide her contempt anymore, "Not to mention she took part in killing your parents. I can't even imagine what I saw in you now. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Shes a changed woman now, and I'm no one to judge her," Bjorn defended her, " and it was an accident. I didn't kill her son on purpose. She knows that."
"It doesn't matter if it wasn't on purpose. Your blind rage and your thoughtlessness caused this."
"So are you here just to lash out at me?" Bjorn snapped at her, "go ahead then, let it all out and be on your way."
"No, Bjorn. I'm here to tell you that Zalam-dar and the Rising Dawn Syndicate are planning to attack Sentinel and that the Swords of Serenity could use your help.
"Attack Sentinel? Why would Zalam-dar and the Rising Dawn Syndicate target Sentinel?"
Amirah sighed, "If you were actually listening before instead of being caught up in your own personal vendettas, I've already explained this.. Zalam-dar seeks to destroy the current power structure of all the major provinces in Tamriel. Attacking the capitals of each province and overthrowing the leaders is part of his strategy. The Swords of Serenity are trying to prevent a disaster, and we need all the help we can get ."
Bjorn glanced back at Margaret, who had been observing the conversation from a distance. He then turned his attention back to Amirah, spiritedness filling his eyes.
"I'll help," Bjorn declared, "but I need Margaret by my side. We face these challenges together."
Amirah hesitated, looking from Bjorn to Margaret and back. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded, "Fine. The situation is dire, and we can't afford to turn away capable allies. Just make sure you're both prepared for what's to come."
With an understanding nod, Bjorn and Margaret began to gather their belongings, preparing to finally take on the Syndicate head on. Amirah waited outside for them.
"Well she's a piece of work," Margaret had been waiting for Amirah to leave just so she could say that,
"She's the mother of my daughter, Margaret," Bjorn reminded her, "and I still care about her. Plus she has good reasons to feel how she feels. I can't blame her."
"Fine, fine,"Margaret couldn't hide the irritation in her voice, "but she'll never get you like I do, Bjorn."
"You are probably right. But I'm not sure that's something to be proud of."
"I never said it was, silly boy. It's just a fact."
"Anyway, me and her are done, you don't need to be jealous."
"Jealous?" Margaret scoffed, "with all the things I've done, the people I've killed, the life I lived , you think I'd get caught up in something as trivial as jealousy?"
"No I suppose not."
As they stepped outside, Bjorn could feel the tension between Margaret and Amirah. It was as if they were fighters in the Imperial City Arena, eagerly awaiting the bell to ring so they could tear into each other.
Bjorn stepped in, seeking to diffuse the situation, "Look, you don't have to like each other. But right now, we need to work together."
"I didn't say anything." Amirah replied defensively..
Margaret, unable to resist a jab, chimed in, "Not everyone is as perfect as you, miss princess. Nothing but a silly spoiled girl."
Amirah, maintaining her composure, replied with conviction, "I'm well aware of my imperfections, but the things you've done go beyond that."
"Oh yeah? It's that simple for you, huh?"
"It is.," Amirah asserted, "My mother was murdered by the Thalmor when I was a little girl. I didn't folllow a murderous psychopath like Zalam-dar. I didn't go around murdering people. There's no excuse for anything you did."
"Easy for you to judge, isn't it? You haven't lived my life."
Amirah pushed back yet again, "no, I haven't. But I know others who've been through worse and they never did anything like you did."
"So you never hurt anyone? Ever?" Margaret continued to badger her, "I don't believe it, miss goody two shoes!"
"I… um," Amirah stumbled on her words. The guilt and shame of her recent tragic mistake began to resurface, the image of the poor Breton girl still vivid in her mind. "Of course, I have, but my intentions have always been pure. I never wronged anyone on purpose. I'm nothing like you, do you hear me?"
"Are you telling me that? Or yourself?" Margaret spoke as if she could read Amirah's thoughts and see right through her.
Bjorn, trying to de-escalate the situation, interjected, "Margaret's not the same person anymore, Amirah. She's on our side. We're here to prevent a catastrophe. Let's focus on that and try to work together."
Amirah shot a piercing glance at Margaret but nodded once again in reluctant agreement. They made their way towards the meeting point where the Swords of Serenity were assembling. The air hung heavy with unresolved tension as the trio ventured into the looming threat that awaited them.
Narissa, a skilled elven mage, greeted them with a nod. "Bjorn, Margaret, welcome. We're grateful for your assistance. Our scouts have reported increased activity from the Rising Dawn Syndicate near the outskirts of Sentinel."
"What can we expect?" Bjorn cut right to the chase, "
"Well it won't be easy. Usually the New Dawn Syndicate attacks in waves," Narissa explained, "First they will send their horde of undead. We've tried to cremate most of the corpses in the cemetery, but their master necromancer Ajira can still summon zombies and skeletons to fight at her side from the realms of oblivion. Then after that, they'll send in their troops."
"What if we could find Ajira before the battle and take her out?"
"Easier said than done," Narissa explained, "Word is, her and Zalam-dar alone took out an entire prison of Thalmor guards when they were aprehended trying to overthrow some of the main settlements in the Dominion. The leadership of the Syndicate is one of the main reasons it's taken entire armies to fight off their assaults."
As the sun fell, Bjorn, Amirah, Margaret and the Swords of Serenity stood alongside other Alik'r mercenary groups and the city guard awaited the Syndicate's assault on sentinel. Kematu was present, now with his new band of mercenaries. There was no official name for his new guild but they were slowly earning a reputation as being the "best of the best" . Kematu himself was becoming a sort of urban legend among bandits and other groups targeted by mercenaries. "To meet him was to meet your end"
Narissa snapped Bjorn back into the moment as he was deep in contemplation. 'There's someone here who wants to see you,' she said.
"No, don't tell me you brought her here," Azzan rarely raised his voice, but he came close this time.
"She's here to help us, Azzan," Narissa reassured him, "We can't turn down any allies in this fight."
Bjorn looked ahead and saw a Nord woman in black hooded leather armor. Her skin was pale as the mountains of Skyrim, and her eyes were as red as the fires of Oblivion. She kissed Narissa on the lips and then started walking towards Bjorn.
"Nice to see you too, Azzan," she teased dryly as she passed by. Once she made her way to Bjorn, she smiled at him and pulled down her hood to reveal her long golden locks. "It's been a long time, brother."
"It's really you," Bjorn stammered. He took a hesitant step forward, unsure if this reunion was a dream or reality.
Hela grinned. "Last I checked, I am indeed your sister," she quipped
" I never thought I'd see you again," he admitted, unsure of what to feel.
Hela smiled and opened her arms to give her brother a big hug. "Neither did I, Bjorn. But life is often full of surprises, some more pleasant than others."
As they pulled apart, Bjorn studied his sister's face, taking in the subtle changes that time had wrought. "Where have you been all these years?"
Hela's expression grew somber. "Surviving," she replied cryptically. "I've traveled far and wide, seen things you wouldn't believe. But that's a story for another time."
Bjorn nodded, sensing that his sister carried burdens of her own. "I'm just glad you're here now," he said earnestly.
"How'd you find me?" "My sweet Narissa told me. Amirah talked to her a lot about you, and she soon remembered who you were and that you were my brother," Hela explained, then shot a glance over to Amirah. "I heard you two were an item. She's quite easy on the eyes. You've done well, brother."
"Narissa," Bjorn had a look of realization on his face, "I remember now, she was the dark elf girl you were friends with."
"Yes, we wrote letters after I left. And now? Now we're closer than ever," Hela winked at Narissa from a distance and Narissa blushed, awkwardly blowing a kiss back.
"You wrote to her, but you never wrote one letter to your brother? After all this time?" Bjorn blurted out, feeling hurt.
"Oh, get over yourself, Bjorn," Hela snapped, her voice turning hostile. "You all disowned me, remember? I never heard you speak up once when Mom and Dad sent me away."
"I… I was still in shock, because of what you did."
"That little bastard Heinrich got what he deserved. He would have continued to try to hurt me and Narissa. The world is better off that I ended him. I regret nothing and I never will."
"You made choices, they have consequences," Bjorn said steamy, "what did you expect mom and dad to do? They could have let you go to prison as a child or be executed or worse. Sending you to that orphanage was a mercy."
"A mercy?" Hela seethed, "you don't know what it was like in that orphanage. How Grelod treated me and the other children. One day I will get my revenge, one day I will end her."
"Revenge, it isn't worth it, believe me."
"Oh yes...I heard about mom and dad. It saddens me though they haven't been my parents for years. "
"What happened to you in the orphanage? Did you stay there until you were 16 or were you adopted?"
"Yes, though adoptions weren't allowed in the orphanage, Grelod didn't want that," Hela informed him, "but an Argonian man and his Breton wife took a special interest in my case when they read about me in the newspaper and the killing of Heinrich and the other children. They were former assassins, trained in stealth and they snuck me out of the orphanage."
"So that's where your skills come from then," Bjorn was intrigued by his sister's story, and was eager to hear more.
"Yes indeed," Hels grinned proudly, "but enough about me, whats been going on with you?"
Bjorn recounted the harrowing events that had led him to this moment—Siward's tragic death, his unexpected bond with Margaret, and now, the looming threat of the Rising Dawn Syndicate's attack on Sentinel.
Hela listened intently, her expression growing serious. "You always did have a knack for finding trouble," she remarked with a wry smile. "But fear not, brother. I'm here to help."
Bjorn's gratitude was palpable. "Thank you, Hela. I'm glad you're here."
"Now I think this touching moment has dragged on enough," Hela teased, "let's focus on the task at hand. We've got a Syndicate to thwart."
As midnight approached , Bjorn, Hela, Margaret, and Amirah stood on the battlements, their eyes fixed on the horizon where the Rising Dawn Syndicate's forces appeared. The sea breeze carried salt and danger. The last rays of the sun dipped below the mountains, casting an ominous glow over Sentinel.
Hela's crimson eyes glowed in the twilight. She fingered the hilt of her dagger, a small smile on her lips. "Remember, brother," she said softly, "the night is our ally. We move like shadows, strike like vipers."
Bjorn nodded. He glanced at Margaret, who stood resolute. Amirah looked ready, her calm exterior hiding inner turmoil.
Narissa approached, her elven features serene. "The scouts report that the Syndicate's horde is moving faster than anticipated. They will be upon us by nightfall."
The group shared a silent understanding. There was no turning back. They were bound by their pasts and driven by hope.
Bjorn took a deep breath. He turned to Hela, Margaret, and Amirah. "We fight not just for ourselves, but for everyone who has suffered. Tonight, we stand as one."
Hela's smile widened. "Let's give them a fight they'll never forget."
As the first stars pierced the darkening sky, the city held its breath. The first wave of the attack, the undead horde and summoned daedra came closer.
Bjorn's grip tightened on his sword. "It's time," he whispered.
They took their positions, ready to face the storm. In the stillness of the night, the silence before the battle felt like the calm before a tempest.
Then, with a roar, the Rising Dawn Syndicate's forces appeared at the edge of the city. The clash of steel, the battle cries, and the sounds of magic filled the air, signaling the beginning of the end.
Bjorn's heart pounded as he exchanged a final glance with Hela, Margaret, and Amirah. Together, they stepped into the fray, their pasts fueling their fight for the future.
The battle had begun, and the fate of Sentinel hung in the balance.
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