The morning came, as it always did, and Mo'aksa emerged first from the comfort of the bed. Still half asleep, he swiftly slipped into his shoes, pulled a fresh doublet over his white tunic, tightened a belt around his waist, and quietly stumbled down the steps. After so many days repeating this routine, it had become muscle memory. At this point, he could complete it with his eyes closed, whether his mind had awoken with his body or not. He next ate a light breakfast before slinging his axe into its holster and tying his long white hair into a low knot behind his head. Just as he opened the door, he turned to look over his shoulder to say goodbye to Ysolda. Their routine was quite consistent, so much so that even without having seen her leave her bed, he knew that she would be coming down the steps as he walked out the door. Like clockwork, when he turned over his shoulder, there she was. They nodded to one another and parted ways.

He went on to meet up with Anoriath at the city gate, and thus began his morning hunting trip on the Whiterun plains. Mo'aksa's head always cleared as he hunted. The grogginess of morning slowly dissipated, and his intense focus on taking down the nimble elk of the plains allowed him to cool his head from the heightened emotions of the night before. It wouldn't be until their afternoon break for lunch that his mind would clear enough for the quandary to come creeping back to the front of his mind.

'If the magic is real, there could be no better opportunity to start a fresh life. But if it is too good to be true, Mo'aksa could risk everything for a dream,' he thought. Without realizing, his face tensed as the thoughts ran through his head. He must have worn that worried expression a moment too long, as his hunting partner suddenly spoke up.

"What's up with you today, big guy? You're quieter than usual. Cat got your tongue?" Anoriath pestered, chuckling to himself despite Mo'aksa's unamused expression.

"Just thinking, that is all," Mo'aksa replied simply.

"Dangerous pastime, that. Thinking is what always gets folks into trouble," He jumbled out between gulps of bread and cheese.

"Ah, is that so? Well Mo'aksa has no choice but to get himself in trouble then."

"It's girl trouble, isn't it?" Anoriath said abruptly. Mo'aksa just about choked on his lunch.

"Girl trouble?"

"I knew it! Take it from me pal, no one is worse at thinking than women. They twist themselves into knots if left to their own devices," he continued, mouth still full of food. "Do yourself a favor and just keep it all surface level. Say it to her directly, because if you try to outthink her you'll only get yourself in more trouble."

Mo'aksa blinked several times in response. "Are... you giving Mo'aksa relationship advice?" He said, dumbfounded.

"I know, insightful, aren't I?"

'What right has this one to give Mo'aksa advice… he lives with his brother, both bachelors,' he laughed to himself. But in spite of this revelation, in the back of his mind he thought that, on some level, perhaps Anoriath was right. If he were to join the expedition, then he'd have to leave Ysolda for a time, and he wanted her opinion on the matter before making a decision of his own. That said, he knew that Ysolda would object to his true goal of changing his face, of this he had no doubt. But she didn't truly understand the gravity of his past and the danger just being with him put her in, and further, she likely wouldn't even appreciate the rarity of the opportunity to change one's body in this way. He couldn't pass it up, even if it was a wild goose chase. For now, he would keep that part to himself. She would have to find out eventually, so he didn't feel he was lying to her. Part of him still felt guilty about it.

"Well, we better get back to it. If we don't hurry and clean this game, I won't make it back in time to open the market stall," Anoriath said, dusting himself off. Indeed, by now the sun had risen well into the sky, and it was time for the next part of his daily routine.

Mo'aksa parted ways with Anoriath at the gate. In his arms he held bundles of fresh meat, wrapped in linen cloth and salted for preservation. He made his way to the servant's entrance of the Bannered Mare and met with Hulda and Saadia by the kitchen. After exchanging the goods for gold, he made his way into the kitchen and washed up. By the time he was ready, Saadia had already prepped the ingredients for the evening's menu. Mo'aksa nodded approvingly, and began helping her to cook. Though she was quite guarded about her past, Mo'aksa could tell by looking at her that she was a fugitive, like him. But her soft hands and lack of any working skills at all led him to believe she was from a more well-to-do background than he. Perhaps it was Ysolda's influence on him, but he felt some kind of kinship with her despite usually disliking incapable nobles. In the afternoons, he volunteered to help in the kitchens; conveniently at the same time that Saadia was to work there. After many weeks of cooking together, she had begun to pick up some of his skill. The Bannered Mare's notoriously bad food improved a little bit each day.

While cooking, the conversation naturally turned to Mo'aksa's present dilemma of deciding whether or not to take the job. Saadia always had good advice, she was perceptive that way.

"Well, I think you should just tell her what's on your mind. You know Ysolda better than I do, she's not one to mince words. All this secrecy will only make her upset," Saadia said. Mo'aksa sighed.

"Yes, but the question is how to bring it up. She will not like to be apart from me for so long, but this could be a great opportunity for us," he huffed back. Saadia clanked her spoon against the side of the cauldron and set it down on the counter. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face Mo'aksa.

"I just told you, she's not one to mince words. Come on you dense oaf, just talk to her about it! She's logical, if taking the job is what's best for you then she'll agree. You're only worried because you think it might not be what's best for you, aren't you?" She huffed. Mo'aksa nervously rubbed the side of his head.

"No, Mo'aksa really does think it is best…" he said, defensively.

"Then what are you so nervous about?" Saadia replied, picking the spoon back up and vigorously stirring her pot of soup. "Honestly, sometimes you remind me of a teenager, the way you fret over her," she said under her breath. Mo'aksa laughed nervously, but conceded that, as always, Saadia had seen right through him.

The afternoon rolled by at a slow pace, bleeding into the early evening. After his hunting and cooking occupations, he had some time to himself in the evenings. He would sometimes visit the taverns and socialize, usually picking up an odd job through casual conversation. But today, he had gone home early and pulled a dusty chest out from the spare room on the second floor. He unlocked it and looked inside. Leather armor and thick hides lined the bottom of the contents, atop them sat a quiver of arrows, a heavy wooden bow, and three old daggers. He pulled out a leather satchel from the back of the chest and counted three healing potions and two tonics meant to improve stealth. Furthest in the chest sat a heavy coin purse, bloated with gold coins. Mo'aksa took a portion of his earned coin for the day and added it to the purse, nodding happily as he felt the weight of it in his hands. He removed the contents of the chest and laid them out on the table beside him, inspecting them individually. He made mental notes here and there, like the dagger that had dulled and needed sharpening, or quiver which held too few arrows for his liking. His thoughts were broken by a voice piping up from behind him.

"So it's true then, you are planning to go traveling," came Ysolda's melodious voice, and when he turned to see her, she had a somewhat sad smile across her face. "Why did you tell half of Whiterun before you told me?" Mo'aksa felt the tips of his ears heating up, and he looked away from her, shamefully.

"Mo'aksa was not sure how to ask you…" he said pitifully.

"Well, I suppose making sure everyone in town tells me for you is one way to make me aware," she huffed. "So? What game are you chasing this time?"

"Sorry. It's just that this is not a normal errand, it is an expedition to a tomb. Mo'aksa will have to be away for a long time," he explained, nervously wringing his hands together. "Mo'aksa does not know how long he will have to be away."

"A tomb?" Ysolda questioned. Mo'aksa nodded, and she sighed deeply in response. "Hm, that mysterious wedding gift that arrived last night sure seems like a crazy coincidence, doesn't it?"

Clever as always, he thought. He shrank into himself and gave a sheepish nod. "The man stopped by and offered Mo'aksa the job. He has until the end of tomorrow to decide," he said quietly.

"And I suppose the fact you're laying out your travel gear is a sign that you've already made your decision," Ysolda grumbled, arms crossed. Mo'aksa gulped anxiously.

"Would you… be upset if Mo'aksa did go?" Ysolda thought for a few moments, tapping her finger on her chin pensively. Mo'aksa thought she seemed far too calm about the whole situation, when he expected to get an earful from her. "Mo'aksa doesn't want to upset you, but in truth he does wish to go on this journey."

"Understood," Ysolda replied. She glanced over at the chest, lid still open, and then back at Mo'aksa. "You've got until the day after tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," Mo'aksa said, the tip of his tail swaying with curiosity as he analyzed her expression.

"Wonderful. Then why don't you give me a little time to think things over, hm?" She replied. Mo'aksa blinks several times, seemingly not following.

"Ah, well," he hesitated, but upon seeing her raised eyebrow, he conceded. "So be it, my varbarij."

Ysolda chuckled and then stepped closer to him, rising to her tip-toes and gently grasping the fuzzy sides of his face. He smirked and allowed himself to be pulled down to her height, planting a tender kiss on her lips.

"Mo'aksa is sorry for not asking you right away. In truth, he expected this one would not like the idea," he said quietly. He felt Ysolda's warm breath wash over his whiskers, and his anxious heart was put at ease. He was always at ease in her arms.

"I suppose you're entitled to have your own business, I have my own, after all. But if it's something that involves me, I'd rather you bring it up before you make up your mind," Ysolda said, giving him a gentle peck on his nose. "But don't worry, I forgive you."

She suddenly broke away from him and started rushing down the steps.

"Ysolda?" Mo'aksa called after her. She hurriedly threw on a cape over her shoulders and then waved to him from the doorway.

"I've still got some business to take care of. Go on to bed before me!" she said, and then dashed into the streets. Mo'aksa clicked his tongue, sure she was up to something, but perhaps out of some mix of disinterest or shame in himself, he instead decided to take her up on her suggestion and curl into his bed, sinking into a deep slumber.

The next day came and went, Mo'aksa carrying on with his preparations for the expedition, and Ysolda consistently dodging him at every opportunity, or so it felt. For two people living in the same home, he couldn't help but feel distance. He began to question his own words from the night before, wondering if perhaps he had upset her so deeply that she didn't even deem him worthy of an explanation. That night, when she climbed into bed with him, by the time Mo'aksa had pulled the blanket over his own body and snuggled up next to her, she had already fallen asleep and thus avoided any further questioning.

At last on the final day, Mo'aksa had packed his bags and searched all over for his wife, but as the hours remaining dwindled, his heart sank deeper and deeper. In all that time his conviction to join the expedition had only grown, but he struggled with the thought that he may have to leave without her explicit approval, or perhaps even a goodbye. It was with a sunken heart and a dejected expression that he pulled his travel pack onto his shoulders and moped down the cobblestone road to the Whiterun stables. Standing there, fair skin illuminated beautifully with the light of the setting sun, was the same slender elf he had seen before.

Adar looked over at Mo'aksa, arms crossed impatiently, and his sour expression soon melted away to a smug little smile.

"Well well, and here I had expected you might actually refuse. Sure took your sweet time, didn't you, La'hrashi?" Adar jeered. Mo'aksa lunged forward, his snarling face mere inches from Adar's.

"Mo'aksa is willing to assist, but you will keep that name out of your mouth, or else the vakiz-sallidadna will be the least of your concerns," he growled. Adar gulped nervously and nodded.

"Message received, now unhand me you brute," he said. Mo'aksa gave him another grim look, seemingly deciding whether or not the intimidation should continue, when he heard a most unexpected voice from behind him.

"Um… Mo'aksa? Is everything alright?"

His grip on Adar instantly lightened and he nearly snapped his neck as he whipped his head around to see, dressed in leather armor and carrying a pack of her own, his wife, looking rather surprised at the scene before her.

"Ysolda? What are you doing here? Where did all this come from?" he said, shocked. He approached her and examined the armor up close, noting the craftsmanship as well as the design on the fetal fittings, the symbol of Warmaiden's. "Since when did you have armor?"

Ysolda placed her hands on her hips and smiled at him proudly. "I had Adrienne custom-fit this for me. She had to burn the midnight oil and charged me a hefty fee, but I'd say the price was worth it."

"Why… would you…"

"Because, if you're going to go on this dangerous trip out of the city, then you're not doing it without me," she said firmly. Mo'aksa's mouth fell agape. Behind him, he heard Adar laughing.

"Would you look at that! Two mercenaries for the price of one!" he cackled, approaching Ysolda and extending a hand to her. "Adar, at your service my dear."

As Ysolda was about to take his hand, Mo'aksa abruptly put his between them.

"She is not a mercenary, she's barely left the city before," he said. He looked at Ysolda, eyebrows furrowed. "Love, you cannot mean to do this. Surely it is a joke."

"Da taught me to use a bow when I was a girl, and I grew up with five brothers. I think that qualifies as training, at least," she said with a chuckle. When Mo'aksa seemed unmoved by her story, her own expression tensed. "No matter what I say, you're going to go on this expedition, right?"

Mo'aksa was silent at this, his fur standing slightly. Ysolda sighed and gave him a disappointed look.

"I knew it the instant you told me about it the other night. You might have even left without telling me a thing," she explained, and at this he cut in.

"Mo'aksa would never have-"

"So here's the deal," she interrupted, and Mo'aksa bit his tongue. "I've always wanted a proper chance to explore, I can't bear to spend the rest of my days cooped up behind the city walls. The way I see it, this is the perfect chance for me to have an adventure of my own, and keep an eye on you all the while," she explained.

Adar snickered from behind Mo'aksa, but he did not turn to regard him, his gaze fixed on Ysolda as she spoke.

"Best of all, now I'm no longer giving you the option to betray my trust, so frankly it's a win-win for you, as well. Aren't you lucky?" she concluded, and Mo'aksa hissed at her.

"Ysolda, this is no game! You have seen these tombs yourself, have you? Remember what they are like? There is real danger there!"

"Well, then it's a good thing I'm going in there with the decorated vanquisher of Skuli the Shameless," she said indignantly. "You didn't give me a choice in your matter, so I'm not giving you a choice in mine. I'm coming with you, Mo'aksa. I already set our affairs in order for us to be gone for a while. Like it or not, I'm tagging along."

Mo'aksa searched for the words he wanted to say, but drew a blank. He angrily darted his eyes back and forth, unsure of how he could convince her to stay when she had so deftly made her case already.

"If I may," Adar said, disrupting his train of thought. "As much as I do love to watch this novella play out in front of me, I do have a schedule to keep and the sun is already setting. If you are joining me, then I'd like a decision now, please." he made eye contact with Ysolda. "Although from the looks of things, I believe one has already been reached."

Mo'aksa sighed aggressively and then at last dropped his arm, finally allowing Ysolda and Adar to properly shake hands. He stomped away a few paces down the road, bitterly sulking as he kicked around a loose pebble.

"Thank you for allowing me to keep an eye on my wayward husband," Ysolda said, taking a dainty curtsey for Adar which he seemed to approve of. "But I'm afraid I won't be lifting a finger to help you, Mr. Adar, unless you amend your prior statement." Adar flinched.

"What prior statement?"

"Your mission is your own, unless of course you agree to pay me whatever rate you are giving my husband," she said with a cheeky grin. Adar looked over at Mo'aksa, who was still sulking down the way.

"W-well, we haven't actually agreed to any particular terms yet…"

"Oh, excellent! Then I suppose you won't mind if I take over as his accountant, right?" she said with glee. "We'll have to discuss the terms in detail while we travel, seeing as we're already losing daylight. Come along then, Mo'aksa! Let's get a move on!" Ysolda called, pushing Adar down the road and then grabbing Mo'aksa by his tail and dragging him along as well.

"I can certainly see who wears the pants in this marriage," Adar said with a laugh, but Mo'aksa didn't respond to him in the slightest, prompting him to double down on his jeering. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Who else in this world could command a beast like you besides a nord woman?" he said, laughing louder.

"And that's the truth!" Ysolda chimed in, laughing along herself, although Adar seemed to wince slightly at her response.

Mo'aksa couldn't help but remain silent, his mind stewing. He feared for Ysolda's life, but at the same time, he felt a tinge of excitement in his heart at the thought of her at his side in battle. He wished he could put his foot down, tell her no, demand that she stay where it was safe, but some part of him was happy she had decided to come along. He resented himself, for no matter how he tried to reason himself out of it, he simply couldn't find the logic that would win against his heart, though he knew he may come to regret it.

And so they departed, the Altmer, the Nord, and the Khajiit, all journeying together down the darkening road out into the vast unknown.

~Chapter 2 END~

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, life has been busy! But I haven't forgotten my plans for this, and I'd really like to see this arc through to the end. It may be slow and it may not be perfect (goodness knows the early chapters were rough!) but I hope you'll love what's coming as much as I will enjoy writing it. Thank you!

Ta'agra Translation:
Varbarij - sweetroll

Vakiz-sallidadna - between-death (draugur)