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Discussion in 'Skyrim Fan Fiction' started by shadowkitty, Sep 10, 2013.

  1. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYONE: The Draugr of the Barrow

    The giant spider lay motionless as Wyldfyre and Lydia recovered from the fight. Just as Wyldfyre sheathed her sword she realised she had forgotten the bandit. She whipped around to find him gone from his web prison, an empty doorway in his place.

    “By the Maker!” she cursed. “The thief got away!”. Lydia turned to and rushed forward.

    “I hear noises up ahead, a fight!” They both rushed through the doorway and down a large stairway into what appeared to be a burial chamber. Large man sized holes lined the walls which were filled with dead bodies in various states of decay. Some skeletons were barely recognisable while others were draped in wrinkled taught greyed skin and rotting clothing or armour. Wyldfyre scanned the room, broken in half by a narrow walkway. On the far side of the room they could see the bandit battling three of the dead men in armour.

    “ECK! Draugr!” cried Lydia. Wyldfyre shuddered. The Draugr where the things of nightmares. The way they shuffled and the noises they made in their rotting throats. But at least the Draugr were keeping the bandit at bay. She signalled Lydia to take the left side while she took the right. They both fired arrows into the walking dead but they appeared not to even notice the injuries that would have incapacitated a living man.

    “Swords!” Wyldfyre shouted and went in with her sword swinging. She slashed at the draugr, hacking off limbs. Even then the Draugr still kept up their attack, powerless to resist the one thing that kept them going. To protect whatever lay beyond them in the last chamber of the barrow. Lydia beheaded one of the Draugr and it finally fell to the ground. The bandit was fighting one of the Draugr, his back to the wall, bleeding heavily from a gaping wound in his belly. Wyldfyre turned to the other Draugr who was advancing on her. It moved quicker than she thought was possible and soon she was engaged in a sword fight with it. It also had an amazing strength. It swung and slashed at her relentlessly before suddenly there was another sword protruding from its ribs and Lydia was there behind it. It fell to the ground.

    “Thanks” Wyldfyre said. Lydia nodded and looked past Wyldfyre to where the bandit had taken off the head of the final Draugr. The thief lay on the ground bleeding from his wound. He breathed in a shaky breath before he closed his eyes and was forever asleep. Wyldfyre bent down and pried the Golden claw from the man’s death grip. She stood and examined the claw. It had three animals carved onto its palm.

    “Lydia” she called “What does this look like to you?” Lydia came over and examined the claws carvings.
    “Looks to me like another puzzle? “

    “Yes by why make it so elaborate? “She turned it over, studying the long claws “why make it into a claw?”

    “Do we want to find out what it opens?” asked Lydia. Wyldfyre shrugged.

    “We have come this far. Might as well see what lays beyond whatever this is keeping closed” She shoved the claw into her satchel and walked towards the narrow walkway, just as another Draugr up ahead came to life and heaved itself up from its wall coffin. This one had no weapons but instead held up its hands. Wyldfyre froze, halting Lydia as well.

    “Its hands!” she whispered “It can do magic! Be careful” The Draugr grew closer and Wyldfyre and Lydia stepped back, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever magic the Draugr could conjure. It walked through the narrow walkway, its hands still raised. Wyldfyre got ready for a counter attack. She raised her hands as well, ready for whatever it threw at her. Just as it was about to use its magic on them it stepped on a rock in the ground that moved under the pressure and a great spiked steel gate sprang open and impaled the Draugr. The gate swung back into its position along the wall, the Draugr still stuck on it, limp and unmoving.

    “What was that?” Wyldfyre asked stunned. Lydia laughed.

    “I had forgotten about those!”

    “Care to enlighten me?” . Lydia walked over to the stone the Draugr had stood on that had triggered the gate trap.

    “You see this? They are all through these types of ruins. They activate all kinds of traps. Swinging gates, swinging blades, battering rams”

    “And when were you going to tell me about this?” Wyldfyre asked, annoyed. Lydia looked stricken.

    “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ve never actually been in an old Nord ruin. This is a first for me to”. Wyldfyre sighed.

    “Alright you are forgiven. Before we go on is there anything else I need to know about? Any more surprises?”. Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment.

    “Well those draugr back there, as you saw they are pretty strong, they have no sense of pain so you need to almost behead them to make them stop. Also they know magic, which we also found out. Um.. there are more powerful Draugr to I have heard. Deathlords. But no-one I know has ever encountered one and lived to tell the tale.” Wyldfyre sighed.

    “Anything else?”

    “Um.. not that I know of” Lydia finished. Great thought Wyldfyre.

    They checked over the draugr bodies even though Lydia at first refused to touch them. Wyldfyre was delighted to discover they too had loot on them. They also checked the draugr that had not risen from their coffins. She was beginning to think that she was a little obsessed with gold as she pocketed the coins. They went down some more stairs and came to a narrow hallway with three great blades swinging back and forth.

    “The swinging blades trap I take it?” Wyldfyre asked Lydia, who looked sheepish. She looked over to Wyldfyre.

    “How about you let me go through this one first? I think I can see a chain on the wall. Hopefully it will turn it off”

    “Alright” Wyldfyre nodded. Lydia sheathed her sword and stepped up to the first swinging blade looking up into the ceiling to measure how they were swinging. She then darted forward, the blade swinging behind her.

    “Careful!” Wyldfyre called out “Those blades look sharp and heavy”

    “I know, I know!” Lydia called back. She made it past the second one and only had the last to go. She waited for another couple of swings and then lunged forward. She turned and pulled the chain and the blades retracted back into the ceiling. Wyldfyre made her way quickly through the hallway. They travelled further down into the ruins, encountering only one other draugr before they came to a large cavern with a waterfall on the left side. A stone bridge forded the thin river that flowed across the room and down a tunnel that was barred by a gate. Across the bridge stood two upright sarcophagi. As Lydia approached them, one burst open to reveal a draugr. It stepped down from its coffin and met Lydia’s sword.

    “Loot” Wyldfyre reminded her. Lydia shuddered as she delicately picked through the draugr’s clothing to find the gold. Wyldfyre pulled the chain for the door and they continued down the tunnel until they came into another cavern. This one was long with old columns holding up the ceiling. There was a strange blue glow coming off the walls. Wyldfyre moved over to one to investigate. The blue glow was coming off odd looking mushrooms. Wyldfyre took a sample and stowed it in her satchel. They followed the little river through the cavern until they came to a cliff where the river fell down into a deep pit.

    Wyldfyre peered down into the pit below. She could see a draugr patrolling a narrow walkway and so she took out her bow and loosed an arrow at it. It hit the draugr and it toppled over the edge and into the pit. On the right of the waterfall was another tunnel. Sitting just next to it was a chest. Wyldfyre tried the lid and discovered it was unlocked. She found gold coins inside. They descended into the pit and took the narrow walkway that the draugr had been on a moment before. There was a tunnel further up ahead but Wyldfyre turned and climbed down the path that led into the pit.

    “Where are you going?” Lydia called at her over the noise of the waterfall.

    “That draugr fell down here. I need to check it”

    “Really? Is it really that essential you gather loot from everything that isn’t moving?”

    “It is!” Wyldfyre called up to her “If you want a roof over your head when we get back to Whiterun!”. She dropped down into the pit, careful to avoid getting her boots wet and picked her way over to the fallen draugr. It only had two coins on it. Wyldfyre swore. She looked up and over the far side of the pit. Right next to the waterfall was an old chest. Wyldfyre took off her boots and lowered herself into the water. It was bitingly cold but only came up to her knees. She sloshed over to the chest. It was locked.

    “By the Maker!” she swore. Lydia peered over the walkway.

    “What’s up?”
    “There is a chest down here but it’s locked”

    “I’m coming down”. Soon Lydia was beside Wyldfyre. She had a small metal implement in her hand and what looked to be an old kitchen knife in the other.

    “Let me show you how to pick a lock my Thane” she smiled. She inserted both of the metal items into the lock and started jiggling them back and forth. Wyldfyre watched her as she worked at the lock. Just then it made a loud click and the chest lid was free from the lock. Wyldfyre hefted open the lid to find gems and gold coins. She stowed everything in her satchel. She looked at Lydia. She had opened the chest after all.

    “When we get back we half this ok?” Lydia was not expecting her new Thane to be quite so generous.

    “If that’s what you want” she said. They dried off and went down the tunnel that led off to the right of the pit, and found themselves back inside the ruins. They found a large double wooden door blocking their path.

    “This looks like it leads into something important” observed Lydia.

    “Indeed” agreed Wyldfyre. Together they pushed open the doors.
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  2. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYTWO: Bleak Falls Sanctum

    They were in a small chamber with a fire pit in the middle of it. Beyond that was a larger chamber, barred by another swinging blade corridor. Wyldfyre could see Draugr patrolling the chamber beyond. She noticed hanging oil lamps suspended from the ceiling and that the floor was covered in that same flammable liquid she had encountered at Halted Stream Camp. Wyldfyre took out her bow and aimed at the oil lamp, right when the draugr passed underneath it. The arrow hit the lamp and the fiery liquid rained down onto the draugr, lighting the liquid on the floor and causing the whole chamber to erupt in flames. The draugr were blown across the room, as was everything else. Pots, urns and linen wraps were scattered everywhere. Wyldfyre and Lydia passed the blades and explored the room. There was a trap door in the floor that led nowhere. Old wooden stairs led to a second floor that circled around the room and led across a stone walkway.

    Another winding tunnel ended with a wooden door and Lydia pushed it open to reveal a long vaulted hallway beyond. Its walls were covered in old carvings of battle scenes and Wyldfyre was sure it was telling a story of some sort. Most of the carvings were too worn to make out what they were though so they continued along the hallway. At the end was a massive stone door. The outer edges were carved in swirled designs and there were four circles in the centre. The three outer rings appeared to be sectioned off with different animal carvings on them. The middle circle had three oddly placed holes in it. Wyldfyre squinted at the door. Then she took out the Dragon claw.

    “That’s it!” she exclaimed “It’s a key! The claw is a key and these animals on the claw correspond with these outer circles” she pointed at the largest of them, the first one. “Lydia, see if you can move this panel around until it comes to a bear” Lydia turned the outer panel until the bear was positioned at the top. It made a loud scraping noise as it turned on its axis. Lydia looked back to Wyldfyre.

    “This one?” she pointed to the next panel.

    “I think it’s a moth” Wyldfyre squinted at the claw. Lydia turned the second ring until it revealed the moth. The last one required the Owl carving to show and it clicked into place. Wyldfyre turned the claw around and inserted it into the door, the key mechanism pressed inwards and Wyldfyre turned it clockwise. Just as she pulled the key out again the door made a rumbling noise and then ponderously lowered into the ground. Dirt and small rocks fell from the ceiling as Lydia and Wyldfyre watched the great door disappear. They looked at each other, sensing that this last chamber was the one they had been waiting for.

    “Ready?” Wyldfyre asked Lydia. Lydia unsheathed her sword and nodded.

    “Ready”. They crossed over the doorway and descended the steps that led down into a massive ancient cavern. The floor of the cavern was worn and uneven. Over time the huge columns that supported the ceiling had eroded away, some had toppled to the ground, leaving great piles of rubble. An opening in the ceiling above revealed the night sky. Wyldfyre could not believe they were in the ruins for that long and commented to Lydia about it.

    “You lose all track of time in places like these” Lydia said in hushed tones. Three waterfalls flowed into the cavern, making everything moist and slippery. A small river flowed through the cavern and across a bridge was a large raised Dais. Wyldfyre could just make out a single sarcophagus resting in the middle. Her heart fluttered a little at the sight of it. What lay inside was likely to be way more powerful than the Draugr they had encountered. Possibly one of the Deathlords Lydia had told her about. As they neared the Dais, Wyldfyre could hear a faint chanting. She shook her head in annoyance. As they got closer the chanting grew louder.

    “Where is that coming from?” she looked around. Lydia frowned, confused.

    “Where is what coming from?”

    “That chanting. Don’t you hear it? It’s getting louder as we get closer to the back of this chamber”. Lydia strained her ears but could hear nothing.

    “I hear no chanting” she shook her head. Wyldfyre looked at her, but Lydia shrugged. They slowly crossed over the small stone bridge as a group of bats flew past them and up to the opening in the ceiling. As Wyldfyre went up the first small flight of stairs that lead to the dais, she shook her head again. The chanting had grown so loud in her head that she could not hear anything else. Lydia took out her sword and made her way up the second flight of stairs.

    “Wyldfyre!” she exclaimed “Look at that!”. Wyldfyre hurried up the stairs as well and saw a great curved wall at the back of the dais. It had strange markings like words carved into its base and a fire breathing dragon was carved on the top section. Wyldfyre could now tell that the chanting was coming from this wall. The ancient song seemed to be calling to her. She walked towards the wall, unable to resist its call. As she approached, one of the words started to glow and as the chanting grew even louder, the words seemed to jump off the wall and flow inside her. She felt a strange sensation as her vision failed. Like a great beast inside her swallowing up the word and taking it for itself. She swayed slightly as she was shown the word and it became part of her. She knew it. For reasons she could not explain she knew the word. The chanting faded and her vision returned and she realised Lydia was shouting at her.

    “What?” she asked her, shaking the fog that filled her head. Lydia breathed out an explosive breath.

    “What just happened to you?” she asked her Thane.

    “I’m not entirely sure” Wyldfyre answered her “But I think I just learnt a Dragon word”. Lydia looked at her in amazement.

    “Why? What did you see?”

    “You walked over to this wall and your eyes went white and I couldn’t reach you. Like you were in some sort of trance”. Wyldfyre looked at the ancient stone wall. It sat there cold and silent. She touched its surface but felt nothing.

    “Do you think there are more of these around Skyrim?” she asked Lydia. Lydia touched the stone wall as well.

    “Now that I think about it, I do seem to remember reading something about these walls. I think they were once guarded by the dragons themselves. I never really believed it myself, but after what just happened. And that Dragon the other day…”she left it open. Wyldfyre reluctantly left the wall and looked back over to the sarcophagus. Just in front of it was a stone table with a few coins and gems scattered on it. As Lydia approached the table the lid of the coffin suddenly flew off and a large armoured Draugr Deathlord stepped out of it. He was wearing a horned helmet and had a two handed greatsword in his hands. He stalked ominously towards Lydia. Wyldfyre was still in the shadows of the wall so the Deathlord had not seen her. Lydia stepped back, her sword held out in front of her.

    “I don’t think I can take this thing on my own” she called to Wyldfyre “Not with that greatsword” Wyldfyre took out her bow and notched an arrow. She fired at the Draugr and hit it in the side of its head. It still continued stalking Lydia. She had her back up against the table and as the draugr swung its massive sword, Lydia blocked it with her shield. It made a terrible noise as the greatsword glanced off the shield with sparks flying out in all directions. The strength of the blow brought Lydia down onto one knee and Wyldfyre rushed in to help her friend. She drew her own sword and slashed the Deathlord across its back, slicing into the rotten leather and flesh. The Draugr growled something guttural and swung towards Wyldfyre. She moved away from the table, to give Lydia room to recover.

    She raised her free hand and thought of her spells. Fire leaped from her fingertips and engulfed the Draugr, but it still came at her, swinging its sword with such ferocity it made a whistling noise as it passed by Wyldfyres head. It sliced into Wyldfyre ever so slightly, cutting her forehead. Wyldfyre could feel hot blood drip down her cheek. Lydia came up behind the draugr just as Wyldfyre released another jet of fire and got burned as well. She cried out in pain and stumbled away.

    “Lydia!” Wyldfyre cried. She could not go to her friend’s aid as the enraged Deathlord continued its attack on her. She had to move quickly to the left and ran around the other side of the table, backing into the word wall. The draugr stalked towards her and she held out her hand again ready to release another fire spell. As the Draugr made its way towards her, she shrunk back into the wall before remembering the word she had learned. She had no idea how to use it but as she thought about the word and how it made her feel she suddenly opened her mouth and shouted.

    “FUS!”. The draugr stumbled back as if it was hit by an invisible opponent. It fell to one knee but only remained there for a few seconds before it stood to its feet again. Wyldfyre only had time to scan the area quickly for Lydia but she was nowhere to be seen. Wyldfyre was on her own. The Deathlord shambled over to her and she left the shadows of the wall and went around the table, keeping it between herself and the draugr. She had to think of a way to defeat it, and soon. She was worried about Lydia. She had no idea how injured she was. Momentarily distracted she was suddenly knocked sideways by an invisible force. Her momentum rolled her off the other side of the dais and she tumbled down to the cavern floor, hitting her legs and arms on rocks as she fell. She landed with a heavy thud that winded her.

    She lay there stunned for a second when she felt someone touch her arm. She flinched, thinking the Deathlord had come to finish her.

    “Wyldfyre”. It was Lydia. Wyldfyre sat up gingerly. She was bleeding everywhere. Lydia was also sitting on the ground, holding her arm. Wyldfyre peered at Lydia’s arm and saw that it had been badly burned.

    “Lydia” she shook her head in horror. It was one thing to burn a bandit coming at you wanting to kill, but your friend? “I am so sorry” she said. Lydia winced at the pain, her face pale.

    “It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean it. And it was my fault for getting in your way”. Wyldfyre fished around inside her armour. She had one health potion vial and handed it to Lydia. Lydia tried to give it back.

    “Take it my Thane, you are injured as well”. Wyldfyre shook her head.

    “I can ignore my little scrapes, but you need it more than me. That’s an order”. Lydia slipped the top off the vial and drank it. Some of the colour returned to her face and the terrible burn faded slightly. Lydia still needed help. But first they had to deal with the Deathlord.

    “Where is it?” Wyldfyre asked. Lydia scanned the cavern.

    “I think it is still up on the dais. It doesn’t seem to want to leave it for some reason.”

    “You think it may be protecting or guarding something up there? Wyldfyre mused. “We can probably use that. Can you draw a bow?” Lydia nodded. “Good then lets hit it with all we have, stay down here, and keep to the shadows. Loose as many arrows into it and take it down. Don’t let it see you. It can shout like me, but is far more powerful.” Wyldfyre stood, brushing the dirt off her blood caked knees. She took out her bow and notched an arrow. Lydia did the same and winced with pain again.

    “Let’s go”. Wyldfyre stalked around the base of the dais until she could see the Deathlord prowling back and forth. It peered out into the blackness of the cavern, searching for them. They both raised their bows and loosed their arrows. Both hit the Draugr and it howled in frustration as it searched for its enemies. Wyldfyre and Lydia wasted no time in loosing another volley of arrows at the Draugr and it staggered across the dais, waving its greatsword. Another volley and the draugr dropped its sword. It soon resembled a spiky tree, with all the arrows protruding from its desiccated body. It fell to the floor and Wyldfyre quickly ran up the dais, unsheathing her sword as she went. She swung her sword in a great arc and sliced the Deathlords head clean off its body. It crumbled in a heap while the head bounced off into the darkness.
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  3. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE: Back to civilisation.

    Wyldfyre's sword hit the floor with a loud clatter that echoed around the cavern. She sat on the edge of the coffin catching her breath. Only now did she feel her injuries start to sting. She fetched her dropped satchel near the table and found another health potion. The small scrapes healed completely, and the cut to her head faded to a thin white scar line. Lydia came slowly up the stairs. Wyldfyre handed her another potion and Lydia took it gratefully. She eyed the Deathlords body.

    “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help to you.” She said mournfully.

    “Don’t worry about it” Wyldfyre reassured her. “We finished him in the end” She bent down and went through the draugr’s rotten armour. It didn’t yield much. Wyldfyre was more than a little annoyed. What was this Draugr guarding down here? She stood and scanned the dais. Over the far side, just tucked away behind the word wall, almost obscured in the shadows, Wyldfyre spied a large chest. She smiled.

    “Now that’s more like it” she said as she peered into the chest. It was full of coin and some fine pieces of armour and gems. It also had a curious looking stone sitting on the bottom. Wyldfyre took it out and examined it. It was written in the same words as the ones on the word wall beside her. On the other side was a map with various points marked on it. It had something to do with dragons. That much she knew. She tucked it into her satchel, thinking the court wizard at Whiterun would probably be interested in it, being passionate about dragons as he was. He practically begged information from her when she had come back from defeating that dragon at the Western watch tower. He would like this stone she mused. She stood and looked around the cavern one more time.

    “Let’s leave this place”. They found a stairway they hoped would lead them out of the ruins. It took them through a large wooden door and through a tunnel before they came to another door. Wyldfyre could feel a cold breeze squeezing its way through the cracks under the door. They pushed it open to find themselves back out on the mountain. They gladly shut the door behind them. Wyldfyre looked around the clearing and went over to peer down at the lake below. She was half sure of where they were.

    “Lydia” she called. “Am I right in saying we have come out on the other side of the mountain? And that the lake below us is Lake Ilinata?”. Lydia looked around and scanned the horizon. She nodded.

    “We have and that is. Whiterun is back that way” she pointed backwards.

    “So if we go down the mountain here, we will come to the road that leads to Riverwood?” Wyldfyre asked.

    “Yes. If we ford the river up a little further.” Wyldfyre nodded. She was reluctant to travel at night, but she wanted to get Lydia back to Riverwood. As much as she didn’t want to, she had decided she needed to take Lydia to Gerdur. She had more powerful potions and salves that would heal Lydia’s arm better than what they had on them. They also needed to return the Golden claw to Lucan. They made their way down the side of the mountain and walked along the edge of the lake. Insects were in full swing of their nightly song and every now and then they could hear a splash of a fish in the lake. It was very peaceful. A far cry from what they had just been through back at the barrow.

    They continued along the lake until it narrowed and turned into the White River. Across the other side Wyldfyre could see a small hunters camp, the fire was still blazing. They stripped off their armour and tied it together with leather strips. Then they entered the water, in just their tunic tops and, holding their possessions above their heads, forded the river. The three male hunters were startled to see the two tall stunning females emerging from the river. Wyldfyre and Lydia received all kinds of offers, until the hunters noticed their armour and weapons and decided not to dance with death. They offered their fire instead and the women stood at it gratefully, drying themselves off, making small talk with them.

    They made their way back to Riverwood once they were dried and dressed. It was still dark when they passed under the gates but Wyldfyre lead Lydia through the streets to Gerdurs house all the same. She knocked on the door and waited. There was a faint murmuring from inside and lamplight spilled out from under the door. A lock was thrown back and the door opened slightly.

    “Buy the nine” said a voice from inside. The door opened wider and Gerdurs face came into view.

    “Wyldfyre? What are you doing here at this hour?” she clutched at the lamp, the light from it making Wyldfyre squint.

    “I am so sorry Gerdur, but we had nowhere else to go. My friend Lydia has been badly burnt and I can’t help her” Wyldfyre stepped aside to show Gerdur Lydia’s injured arm. Gerdur tisked and touched it tenderly. Lydia winced. Gerdur shook her head.

    “Well you’d better come in” she said “But go straight down to the cellar. I don’t want you waking the others” She ushered the women inside and handed Wyldfyre the lamp. Wyldfyre led Lydia to the cupboard and slid it out to reveal the ladder that led down to the hidden cellar. Climbing down into it brought back memories. Good and bad ones. Wyldfyre glanced over to the corner where the beds still lay, remembering her time here with Ralof.

    “So” whispered Lydia “This is where you and..?”

    “Yes and shush” Wyldfyre scolded as Gerdur appeared with her arms full of potions, salves and bandages.

    “Sit dear” she indicated to a chair for Lydia. “And you” she continued to Wyldfyre “can tell me how you two ended up like this”

    Gerdur was putting the finishing touches to her administrations on Lydia’s arm when Wyldfyre was just finishing her story. She shook her head.

    “That Lucan. I have a mind to tell him off for sending you two up there. Bandits! And Deathlords!”

    “There was only one Deathlord” Lydia protested. She was already starting to feel better, though Gerdur told her she would have a scar on her arm forever more.

    “One was enough” Gerdur countered. She gathered up her things and fussed about the room, shaking out the linens on the beds. She put Lydia in one and asked Wyldfyre to help her carry her healing supplies back up stairs. Wyldfyre checked Lydia to find that she was already asleep from the potions and followed Gerdur upstairs. She put the supplies on the table as Gerdur stirred up the fire and placed a kettle on to boil.

    “It’s been a long time” she finally said. Wyldfyre sighed.

    “I know. I’m sorry I left like I did. And I’m sorry I never came back.” Wyldfyre knew Gerdur would know she meant that she was sorry for leaving Ralof. Gerdur handed her a steaming cup of aromatic tea.

    “He’s doing fine you know” she said kindly. Wyldfyre smiled at her gratefully. She understood, and Wyldfyre was relieved. She took a sip of the tea she suspected had healing properties to it, there was a slight bitterness to it. It warmed her body.

    “He was a little grumpy when you left. But after he got word of Ulfric’s movements he seemed to forget, and then he left as well.” She sighed as she sat down next to Wyldfyre. “I still worry about him. Out there, fighting. I worry that someday I will get a letter from a courier telling me that he has fallen in battle. I worry that I may never even get that letter, to forever wonder what happened to my brother.”

    “I’m sure he will be fine” Wyldfyre tried to reassure her “He is a great warrior”. Gerdur nodded, then patted Wyldfyre on the knee.

    “So what have you been doing since you left here for Whiterun?”. Wyldfyre told her the whole story. The wolf in the clearing, fighting the giant and meeting the Companions, her visit at Dragonsreach. Her training at Jorrvaskr and her first job at Halted Stream Camp. The magic she had learnt. Then the Dragon attack and the Dragonborn revelation. And the summons from the Greybeards. Her status as Thane and her plans to buy Breezehome. It all just came spilling out from inside her. She was so tired from her ordeal and overwhelmed at the emotions she had had to keep bottled inside her. She also told her about Farkas and the way she had left him after their last talk. Wyldfyre was worried that Gerdur would be annoyed at her for finding love so soon after her brother, but instead she was sympathetic.

    “I find it strange that he reacted in that way. If what you told me is correct, it sounds like he was crazy about you.” She tapped the side of her jaw, pensive.

    “What is it?” Wyldfyre asked her. Gerdur looked reluctant to tell her.

    “I don’t like repeating gossip, but I have heard a lot of strange stories about the Companions. Especially the members of The Circle.”. Wyldfyre sat up in her seat.

    “Like what?”

    “Well, it’s silly. And conflicting. Some say they aren’t normal. Not human. Others say that they are, but with super strength. Others say they worship strange gods and have heard growling and baying coming from the mead hall.” She shook her head “It’s all just silly crofters talk. You know how folk get, with nothing better to do.” Wyldfyre looked worried. Gerdur cursed herself for saying anything at all. She took Wyldfyres empty mug from her and refilled it.

    “Don’t worry about it dear. I’m sure once you go back he will have realised what a dummy he has been to let you go.”

    “Do you think so?” Wyldfyre asked earnestly. Gerdur handed her back the steaming mug.

    “I am sure of it. Now drink your tea”.
    By the time Wyldfyre woke in the morning, Gerdur and her family had left the house for the day and so Wyldfyre quietly got up and had a quick breakfast. She left Lydia asleep and walked around to the Riverwood Trader to give Lucan back his claw. He was extremely grateful and astonished that the woman had made it out of the barrow alive. He handed Wyldfyre a coin pouch and told her that if she ever needed anything to just come and see him. Wyldfyre thanked him and returned to Gerdurs house. Lydia was up and examining her arm. Wyldfyre felt guilty looking at the nasty scar the burn had left behind. She crossed the floor and touched the shiny skin.

    “How do you feel?” she asked her friend. Lydia shrugged.

    “I feel fine. It, feels fine.” She stared at her arm and flexed her fingers. Wyldfyres eyes felt hot and tears threatened.

    “I am so sorry Lydia” she fretted. Lydia looked astonished. She suddenly shocked Wyldfyre by embracing her tightly.

    “It wasn’t your fault! Please stop blaming yourself.” They parted a little awkwardly. Lydia chuckled.

    “I’ll know next time not to get between you and an enemy wont I?” Wyldfyre nodded, smiling slightly. She fixed Lydia something to eat and they put on their armour. Wyldfyre looked through the pieces of armour they had found in the chest.

    “Lydia, these pieces of armour we found. Is there anything you want out of it before I sell it?” Lydia rummaged through the pieces, mostly gauntlets and bracers. But they were all too light for her as she favoured heavier, steel armour.

    “Not really” she picked a set of leather gauntlets, much like what Wyldfyre was already wearing. She wasn’t skilled in magic at all but she could still feel a magic emanating from them. She handed them to Wyldfyre.

    “Feel that?”

    “I do” Wyldfyre answered her. “But what kind of enchantment is on them I can’t tell” she peered at them closer.

    “Are they glowing slightly red?”. Lydia nodded. Wyldfyre wished she could tell what sort of enchantment was on the gauntlets. Maybe the wizard at Dragonsreach could tell her. He had an enchanting table in his rooms. She packed the gauntlets back into her satchel and gathered the rest up.

    “Let’s go talk with the smith”. And they left the house.
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  4. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR: Striking out on one’s own.

    After bartering with the Riverwood smith, who introduced himself as Alvor, Wyldfyre and Lydia left Riverwood with more coin and gems than they were comfortable travelling with. They sat down in the clearing Wyldfyre had discovered previously, deciding what to do next. Wyldfyre shook her head.

    “I’m just not ready to go back to Whiterun. But we can’t carry all this stuff with us.” She sat there thinking. It was Lydia who came up with a suggestion.

    “How about I go back to Whiterun, finalise the purchase of your house and we can store it all there? Safe and secured. I can even give that stone to Farengar.”

    “I can’t ask you to do that on your own” Wyldfyre said to her.

    “Of course you can. You are my Thane and I am your Housecarl, after all. It’s my job to handle matters such as this. I may even be able to beat that Steward down a few septims” . After arguing about it for a while longer, Wyldfyre had to admit that it was the best plan. She told Lydia where to find her chest at Jorrvaskr and gave her the key. She also told her not to tell Farkas anything if she should bump into him.

    “Don’t let him or his brother intimidate, or, sweet talk you into telling.” She warned. Lydia nodded and shouldered her bulging satchel.

    “I probably won’t be back until evening” she called “Keep a fire for me”. Wyldfyre watched Lydia slip through the trees and then she was alone in her clearing again. She stretched out on the grass and closed her eyes, enjoying the peace. She had some decisions to make. She needed to decide what to do next. She was sure Lydia would have some suggestions but she also still wanted to make the journey up the seven thousand steps to see the Greybeards. It wasn’t too far of a journey to Ivarstead, Lydia has assured her. They would cut through the mountain, past Helgen and down into that part of the country called the Rift. The journey would take them a full day.

    Wyldfyre wasn’t sure whether she wanted to go to High Hrothgar just yet. Even though she was dying to know what being the Dragonborn was all about. She was buoyed by the excitement of her quest into the Barrow and felt restless. This was what she had in mind when she found herself in Skyrim. She wanted to earn her way around the Province, discovering new places and people, trying new things that her sheltered former life had restricted her from doing. She missed Farkas, but she was still too hurt and angry to return to Whiterun.

    But there was something else keeping her away from Jorrvaskr. It was an urge Wyldfyre had started to feel after she had absorbed that dragon’s soul. There was a deep primal urge inside her that called to her. It wanted freedom, it wanted to roam, it wanted blood and sex and at times it almost overwhelmed Wyldfyre. It scared her. But it also excited her and she didn’t want to ignore it. She wanted to be free.

    Wyldfyre suddenly sprang up and, grabbing her dagger out of its sheath, flung it hard at the nearest tree. She growled in frustration. A deep guttural growl. Wyldfyre stilled. I growled? Where did that come from? She shook her head and pulled the dagger from the tree, scolding herself for making it blunt. She peeled off her armour and busied herself with sharpening the steel. As she worked she could sense someone watching her. She continued sharpening the stone, careful not to alert the watcher that she was aware of their presence. The stranger was off to her left, hidden behind a bush. Wyldfyre slowly passed the stone over her blade. She was all too aware of her vulnerable state of undress in just her tunic and fur boots.

    She was also aware of the watchers intentions. She could feel malice come off him in waves. Yes the watcher was a male, that much she could sense. How she could detect his intentions she could not fathom, but she was grateful she could all the same. She needed to figure out what to do and quickly. She turned her back on the stranger and pretended to be unaware of the inherent danger she was in. Her heart beat frantically. She did not know what sort of weapons the man had. If he had a bow then she was extremely exposed in the clearing. A gleaming white target.

    She stood and walked over to her satchel, bent over and placed the sharpening stone back in it. A twig snapped behind her and the hairs on her arms stood up on end. She breathed out slowly and gripped the dagger tightly.
    The attack came in a rush and Wyldfyre whipped around in time to see a fur clad man running at her with a dagger in his hand. Just as he swung it down she stepped sideways and brought her own dagger up catching him in the ribs. His dagger missed her, but her own newly sharpened steel plunged into his flesh. He gave a gasp and his momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground. Wyldfyre had to release her blade to stop herself from falling under the man as he rolled. She caught herself and landed on top of the man, straddling his body. She sat there on him as he breathed heavily.

    “That didn’t go as you planned, did it?” she asked him in a conversational tone.

    “You WHORE!” he spat at her. Struggling to free himself from the grip of her legs. Wyldfyre shook her head.

    “Now now” she scolded “You deserve what you got. Attacking an armed woman.” She peered down at him.

    “I know what you wanted to do to me” she said to him, her voice suddenly quiet and deadly.

    “Go to Oblivion! SheBitch!” He hissed through gritted teeth.

    “You first” she growled. Wyldfyre gripped her steel blade and sliced the man open. He howled and then was silenced.

    Wyldfyre was shocked to her core. She sat there on the dead man’s body staring at her dagger. It was wet and slick with blood. Splatters of the blood were now staining her tunic. She scrambled away from the body. Horrified at what she had done. She could not understand why this kill affected her in this way. She had killed bandits before with no hesitation, but this man was different. Yes he wanted to rape and kill her and she had to defend herself, but she had enjoyed it. She had enjoyed the terror she felt when she was being watched. The feeling of power she felt when she knew the moment when the stranger was going to attack. The pleasure of ripping her blade through his body and seeing the light extinguished from his eyes. What was wrong with her? This was not her.

    It was nearing on twilight and Wyldfyre left the clearing to wash her dagger, hands and tunic in the river. As she watched the red stained water drift away she decided that she could not bear to have company with her any more. She needed to work out what was going on with her and she needed to do it alone. She crossed back to the clearing and gathered up her things, putting her armour back on. She stocked up a fire and wrote a quick note to Lydia, explaining the body, saying how sorry she was for leaving and that she should go back to Breezehome and wait for her there. Wyldfyre felt horrible for leaving Lydia, but she felt it was the best for both of them while she was feeling this way. It was wild and reckless and dangerous and Wyldfyre could not bear the thought of something happening to Lydia because of her. She tucked the note under a rock along with the amethyst amulet and left the clearing.

    Wyldfyre had no idea which way to go so she just continued through past Riverwood and headed up the road that lead to Helgen. She figured that she should at least find Ivarstead. As the sun went down the night time insects sprang to life and Wyldfyre walked along the road to a chorus of chirping. She knew it was not a good idea to be out on the road after dark but she didn’t want Lydia to disobey her order and try to catch up with her. She took her bow off her back and held it, just in case she needed it quickly. All her senses were alert and her footfalls seemed overly loud and heavy.

    She soon came to the Guardian Stones and turned down to the right, taking her down to the banks of the White River. She scanned the bank and found what she was looking for. The camp fire of the hunters was just up ahead. Wyldfyre pressed on, making as much noise as she could so as not to startle the hunters. She could see one at the fire, stirring a large pot. Smells from the pot came wafting down to her and she suddenly felt very hungry. As she approached the camp the hunters, ever alert, looked up.

    “Ho! Traveller” one of them greeted her. They relaxed when they could see that Wyldfyre was no threat to them.

    “Ah!” exclaimed another “It’s one of the bonny river maidens that graced our camp the night before”

    “Evening” Wyldfyre stopped before them. “Might I join you by the fire?”

    “Of course lass” said the eldest of the trio, a large man with a blonde beard and bare chest. “Pull up a log, we were just about to eat. Hungry?” Wyldfyre dumped her satchel and sat next to a young hunter, not quite ready to shave yet. He blushed when she smiled at him.

    “Ravenous” she replied. She was handed a bowl of thick stew and a hunch of bread.

    “Where is your friend? The brunette” the third man asked her. He was toned and had a couple of grey touches to his otherwise black hair. Wyldfyre swallowed the delicious stew.

    “She had to go home. I am going on alone”. The two elder men exchanged a look. The eldest spoke.

    “That’s a bit risky, isn’t it lass?” he asked her “Skyrim is not the friendliest place for a young lass to be travelling alone”

    “I can handle myself” Wyldfyre assured them.

    “I have no doubt about that” he answered her “But still, it’s a lonely place out there on the road”.

    “I know” Wyldfyre nodded. The black haired man handed her a bottle of mead “Thank you. I know what you mean. But it’s my choice for the moment”. The older man nodded knowingly. They continued to eat in companionable silence. After the meal they sat around the fire, drinking and telling tales. Wyldfyre was fascinated by their stories. The hunts they had been on. She told them about the sabre cat that had injured her leg, and then it became a show and tell of all their various scars, each one trying to outdo the other. They all laughed when the youngest, well into his cups, tried to show Wyldfyre a scar he assured her was on his left buttock cheek, but failed miserably and fell over. His father, the blond bearded man, helped him to his bedroll. The other man decided to turn in for the night as well.

    “Poor Rorik. His head will be sore in the morning” The blond man, known as Odfel, shook his head as he sat back down at the fire. He slid over closer to Wyldfyre who was staring pensively into the flames. Wyldfyre had stopped drinking a long time ago and was lost in her thoughts. He tapped her on the leg.

    “Don’t let those thoughts run away with you lass” he smiled at her. She broke out of her revere and smiled back. She looked out across the lake. The moon was now out fully and it shone on the water, leaving silvery ripples on tiny wavelets. She wondered how cold the water was and asked Odfel.

    “Cold enough” he said chuckling. Wyldfyre stood and shucked off her armour, startling Odfel. She peeled off her boots and ran lightly down to the lakes edge, the firelight only just finding her figure. Odfel was even more shocked when she peeled off her tunic and threw it back up the bank. She stood there in all her glorious nakedness. Odfel could not believe his eyes and thanked every god he could recall at that moment.

    “Want to find out?” she called to him. It took him seconds to shed his clothes. Wyldfyre laughed and plunged into the lake, squealing at the cold as it hit her naked body. Odfel plunged in after and he to gasped at how cold the water was. He waded over to Wyldfyre and grabbed her by her waist, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around him, her pert nipples rubbing against his chest. He kissed her hard and she returned the kiss with a ferocity that left them both almost breathless. He carried her out of the water and laid her down on the bank and they had hard urgent sex there beside the waters of Lake Ilinalta.
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  5. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    adult content


    Wyldfyre shared Odfels bedroll that night. She laid there in the darkness, staring up at the roof of the hide tent, as the man next to her snored softly, his arm draped over her. She scolded herself for sleeping with Odfel. How could she have done this to Farkas? She has been gone not two days from him and she is with another man? She blinked back tears. Then got angry at herself for being so emotional. It didn’t matter. Farkas is probably back there counting his luck that I have left. He can go back to his single life of fighting and his Brother and the Companions and his precious Circle. She hoped Lydia didn’t have any trouble clearing out her chest at the mead hall.

    She rolled over towards Odfel and he stirred in his sleep and then became fully awake as he felt her hands on him under the furs. I can do whatever I want Wyldfyre thought to herself as she pleasured the man. Whomever I want.

    Wyldfyre was up and already dressed when Odfel crawled out of his tent the next morning. He gave her a wink as he went off into the bushes to relieve himself. Wyldfyre turned her attention back to the Guardian Stones she could see above the camp. She needed to go back past them and head for Helgen if she was going to pass through the mountain to get to Ivarstead. Jervar, the black haired man had told her over breakfast which roads and paths she needed to take, giving her a few tips to make the journey a bit safer and faster. The trio of hunters knew the area well, having come from Falkreath.

    Wyldfyre picked up her satchel, now a little heavier due to the furs and food she had bought from Jervar. He had also given her a couple of bottles of mead, for no extra cost. He jokingly said it was payment for showing his poor widowed friend that he was still a young, virile man. Wyldfyre thanked him all the same. Odfel walked back into the camp, eyeing Wyldfyres pack, the furs tied to the outside of it.

    “You’re off then lass?”. Wyldfyre nodded.

    “Thank you for letting me stay for the night” she said to him. Odfel smiled and winked at her.

    “Any time lass” he chuckled. “No, really. Any time” Wyldfyre laughed and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

    “Careful out there” he urged her. Wyldfyre nodded and walked out of the camp.

    “Good hunting” she called back over her shoulder. As she walked away she could hear Odfel whistling to himself. She climbed back up the steep embankment and passed the Guardian Stones, and then turned south to Helgen. The going was easy along the road and Wyldfyre felt at peace again. She had gone over last night in her head a dozen times and concluded to herself that even if she had not left Farkas like she did, she still would have slept with Odfel. She could not explain this desire that had suddenly awakened in her. She only knew she had to feed it or it would consume her. She desperately needed answers she could not find herself. She needed to know where these primal urges were coming from. She needed the Greybeards.

    It was mid morning when the gates of Helgen were within view. Wyldfyre had an urge to go inside the town and look around but she stopped herself when she saw two burnt corpses impaled on spikes adorning each side of the gate. She was not sure what now resided within the ruins of Helgen but it could not be good for a lone woman to venture into. Primal urges or not. She turned onto the road that pointed east and continued on. After a while she started feeling hungry so looked for a place to stop for lunch. As she was scanning the roadside she heard a horse wicker and spied a patched mare standing in a clearing. As she neared the horse she could hear voices and the tapping of a hammer on an anvil. Wyldfyre slowed and she could see a few large tents through the trees. She then saw a flash of blue and suddenly remembered that this area had a Stormcloak encampment.

    Wyldfyres heart fluttered a little. Would Ralof be here? Should she just move on? Wyldfyre was greeted by a woman guard in an enclosed helmet and directed to the largest tent where the leader of the camp, Thorygg Sun-Killer studied a map. He looked up when Wyldfyre entered.

    “Well met kinsman” he greeted her. “I am Thorygg. What can I do for you?” Wyldfyre smiled at the huge imposing man nervously. He had the typical blond Nord hair that he wore slicked back with plaits on either side. He was clad in the Stormcloak officers, bear armour.

    “I am just passing through and wondered if I may sit by your fire for a spell.” She answered him.

    “Of course” he said, distracted by the large map in front of him. Wyldfyre studied the map. It was of the entire province and had little red and blue dots all over it.

    “How goes the war” she asked Thorygg. He sighed.

    “Slowly. We have not seen any action since Ulfric himself turned up here a couple of months ago.” Wyldfyre looked up at him.

    “Then he was here?” she asked “He made it out of Helgen?” Thorygg looked wary, his hand slowly going to the hilt of his sword.

    “How do you know this?” he asked her. Wyldfyre backed off a step and held up a hand.

    “I was at Helgen when the dragon attacked. I was a prisoner of the Imperials along with Ulfric and his men. We escaped together through the keep.” She explained quickly. Thorygg took his hand off his sword and visibly relaxed.

    “Yes that dragon attack might have just saved Ulfric’s life that day.” He looked at her “Yours as well” Wyldfyre nodded.

    “But a lot of innocent people lost their lives that day to” he looked pensive.

    “Yes” She agreed. She hesitated before asking her next question.

    “Have.. have you also seen a Stormcloak by the name of Ralof?” Thorygg suddenly smiled, realisation growing on his face.

    “Ah! I should have known as soon as I saw you!” he laughed. Wyldfyre blinked.

    “I’m sorry?”

    “So you are the fierce red girl he kept going on about when he first got here. At night when he was well into his cups he would talk about you. How he went on and on” he shook his head and chuckled.

    “Oh” Wyldfyre said, embarrassed, her face reddening.

    “Don’t be worried. Ralof was a complete gentleman and never gave away the gritty details, much to some of his comrades’ disgust. Whatever happened between you and him is still a mystery.”

    “Thank you” she signed with relief.

    “Though as soon as the men out there” he cocked his head towards the tents opening “find out who you are, they are going to be all over you like flies.”

    “I’ll keep that in mind” she thanked him “So, do you know where Ralof is now?” Thorygg shook his head.

    “Not his exact location. Ulfric put him under the command of Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric’s second in command. I would imagine that Galmar is keeping him busy”. Wyldfyre sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. A reunion at this point in time would not be at all good for Wyldfyre, or Ralof. She knew she would not be able to help herself. Ralof was her first lover in Skyrim after all. Thorygg looked at Wyldfyre.

    “You know, from what I heard about you, I understand you are a decent fighter. The Stormcloaks could use someone like you. Ever thought about joining the fight?” Wyldfyre smiled.

    “Perhaps one day, but I have more urgent business to attend to. For now I will be glad to just share your fire”. Thorygg nodded and Wyldfyre left the tent, sure that she had just dodged being recruited. She joined a group of soldiers seated around the camps main fire and listened to their conversations. Most of them were complaining about how bored they were. Some wanted to go home, others missed their families. Wyldfyre spoke to one young woman who told her about her home back in Windhelm. She had left her parents home to find adventure and was so passionate about Ulfric Stormcloak, Wyldfyre had a hard time getting a word in.

    After she had eaten she left the camp and continued along the road as it slowly wound its way up into the mountain. It started to get cold and soon a light snowfall was dusting the ground. As Wyldfyre made her way through the twisted paths that at times were merely cracks in the rock, the snow grew heavier. Wyldfyre started to shiver and untied one of the furs from her satchel, using it as a cloak, drawing it tightly around her body. She decided once and for all that she really disliked snow. She was glad it didn’t snow in Whiterun.

    Along the snowy mountain pass she met a female hunter who had a pretty patched horse. They exchanged greetings but continued on their own way, each not wanting to stop in this bad weather. Wyldfyre saw a white fox darting across the path before her. It too was eager to get out of the weather. As the path rounded a corner it suddenly started to decline and Wyldfyre realised that she was now making her way down into the Rift. She could feel the air warm slightly and the snow stopped falling. She took off the fur and shook it out. It was damp and would need to be dried by a fire before she rolled it up again. Her fur boots were also soggy. She decided that if Ivarstead had an Inn then she would stay there for the night instead of sleeping on wet furs. She was guessing she would need a full day to scale the Throat of the World anyway, and it was getting late on in the day. She had spent longer at the Stormcloak camp than she thought.

    Soon she was down from the mountain pass and back on flat land and the road wound through trees ablaze with orange and red leaves. The whole countryside looked like it was on fire. A vast difference to the snowy landscape she had just come from. The sun was starting to sink but she felt its warm rays on her face. She saw a small village up ahead and crossed a stone bridge and entered Ivarstead. It was a very small village, with a few stone and thatch buildings and a saw mill. The first building to her left had a sign on the front of it that said “Vilemyr Inn” perfect she smiled. She entered the Inn and looked around. She almost thought that there was no one in there until a movement at the far end caught her eye. A man stood behind a large counter, wiping at the counter top.

    “Evening traveller” the man greeted her as she approached.

    “Evening” Wyldfyre smiled at him.

    “What can I do for you?” he asked her. He had seen the likes of her before. She was most likely a pilgrim just passing through to make their journey up the seven thousand steps. Wyldfyre pulled out a few gold coins.

    “I’d like a room for the night, a hot meal and a bottle of mead please” she said placing the coins on the counter. The man grinned, happy that he had a customer.

    “Certainly! You can have the first room to the right. Put your things in there and settle down at a table and I’ll bring you your meal”. She started towards her room but turned back to the man.

    “Oh! I almost forgot” she showed the man her fur and boots “Is there somewhere I can dry these? I’ll be needing them tomorrow most likely” He took the fur from her and she kicked off her boots and handed them over to him as well.

    “Of course, let me look after it for you”. Wyldfyre thanked him gratefully.

    The room Wyldfyre had for the night was surprisingly comfortable. The bed especially and Wyldfyre woke refreshed after a good night’s sleep. She had asked the Inn keeper, Wilhelm, to wake her early and he tapped on her door just after sunrise. Wyldfyre had a quick breakfast, dressed quietly and gathered her supplies back into her satchel, tying the now dried fur back with the other one. She waved to Wilhelm as she went through the door.
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  6. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYSIX: Change of plans

    Ivarstead was a quiet little village. When Wyldfyre stepped out of the Inn early that morning the locals were already stirring, including a couple of ruddy coloured hens. They scratched at the dirt, kicking up dust that wafted away on the slight breeze. She turned left and walked down the middle of the road that ran through the village. A farmer and his wife were tending their small crops. Guards patrolled the road, nodding to Wyldfyre as she passed them. She could see the stone bridge that she needed to cross to get to the foot of the mountain. The bridge forded a gushing river that spilled down into the valley below. Two men were on the bridge deep in conversation. They looked up when Wyldfyre approached them.

    “Ah!” exclaimed the Bosmer cheerily “Another pilgrim to take the journey of the seven thousand steps.”

    “Morning” Wyldfyre nodded to them. The other man, balding with a tied off beard greeted her and asked how far she was going to go.

    “All the way to High Hrothgar” she answered him. The two men exchanged a look. Wyldfyre noticed it. “Why?” she asked.

    “It’s just we have been getting a lot of pilgrims passing through here. All ready to climb the mountain. But they always come back. At least, the ones who survive”

    “What happened to them?” she asked worried. The Bosmer sighed.

    “The Seven Thousand Steps is not what it used to be. It’s in disrepair, extremely treacherous. Not to mention the other dangers.”

    “Like what?”

    “Packs of wolves, Ice Wraith, snow bears, and one very large snow troll” said the other man. Wyldfyre almost didn’t believe them. She had no idea what an Ice Wraith was, or a snow troll. She asked the men.

    “Ice wraith” answered the Bosmer “nasty creatures they are. Some say they are elemental beings of the snowy regions. They are fast and can deal a great amount of damage. They hover in the air and come at you from all directions. You only want to have to deal with one of them at a time. As for the snow troll, well it’s much like a normal troll”

    “A normal troll?” Wyldfyre asked “I don’t even know what a normal troll is!” The Bosmer looked surprised.

    “Oh, pardon me, I didn’t realise. Well a troll.. hmm how would you describe them Klimmek?” he asked the older man. Klimmek scratched at his beard.

    “A troll… well a troll is a great beast who walks on his hind legs like a man. But he is bigger than a man and ten times as strong. They are quick to, use their long arms to pull themselves along when they want to come at you really fast.” Wyldfyre was horrified.

    “Go on” she swallowed.

    “Not much left of a man who has dealings with a troll. They will rip you to shreds and then take you back to their lair to eat you.”

    “They eat people?” Wyldfyre exclaimed. Suddenly, the journey up the mountain, alone, did not look so wise. She wished she hadn’t been so hasty leaving Lydia behind. Then again, she would not have wanted Lydia to be in this kind of danger. Wyldfyre looked up at the mountain disappointed. Klimmek understood her expression. He put a hand on her shoulder.

    “Hey, don’t be disappointed. You are not the first to come here with high hopes only to turn away. I’m sorry for ruining it for you, but I just don’t like the thought of a lady going up there on her own.” Wyldfyre looked a little annoyed at that, “Even if they can handle themselves in a fight” Klimmek finished.

    “A fight against a person” the Bosmer agreed, nodding.

    “I fought a dragon” Wyldfyre interjected. Klimmek raised his eyebrows.

    “Really now?” he said, not believing her. Wyldfyre signed.

    “Not on my own though”. Klimmek and the Bosmer smiled at each other, clearly not believing the dragon story. Wyldfyre was sure news of the dragon attacks would have reached all of Skyrim by now. She was not sure what to do. Face the terrors of the mountain alone and probably get herself killed. Or wait to find someone to accompany her and have all the questions she wanted answered to be left just as they were. Unanswered. She needed to reach High Hrothgar, but she needed a guide. Someone who had been there before and lived to tell the tale. A warrior.

    “I think I need a drink” she sighed.

    “Well allow me to escort you to Vilemyr Inn and I can help you drown your sorrows” Klimmek chuckled heartily.

    “Gwilin, care to join us?” he asked the Bosmer. Gwilin sighed.

    “Sadly no, thank you Klimmek. Temba will have my hide if I am late for work. Have one for me though. My lady..” he nodded to Wyldfyre and walked back up to the mill. My lady? Wyldfyre smiled. She thought she was anything but a lady.

    Wyldfyre sat brooding in her room at the Inn. She had delighted Wilhelm by renting it for another night. She had drunk a few bottles of mead with Klimmek until he had stumbled out the door and Wyldfyre had closed herself off in her room, remaining there for the rest of the day. She was angry at her plans being dashed. She had badly wanted to reach the temple at the peak of the mountain, meet the Greybeards and have all her worries wiped away. Now she was left bitter and angry and wondering what to do next.

    She needed to find a warrior but where to start looking? She had no idea how to get to any other towns and cities in Skyrim. She had no map, no local knowledge at all. First thing she needed to do was to find a map, or someone who could tell her where she should go.

    She missed Farkas. Not just because he was probably the exact type of warrior she needed, but also because she simply missed him. She missed his funny looks when he was trying to understand something. The way she sometimes caught him looking at her. She missed their nights together. Wyldfyre flopped down onto her bed and sighed. It was quiet in the Inn and soon she dozed off.

    She awoke with a start when someone knocked on her door. She opened it up a crack as she was not dressed. It was Wilhelm.

    “Sorry to bother you miss, but it is getting to that time when I prepare the meals for the evening. Will you be eating out here tonight?”

    “Yes, thank you” she answered him “I’ll be out shortly” Wilhelm started to walk away when Wyldfyre called him back.

    “I don’t suppose you know anyone here who has a map of Skyrim they could part with?”. Wilhelm looked thoughtful for a moment.

    “Well I’m not sure about anyone here, but I do have a chest of things people have left behind when they have stayed here. I think I may have seen a map of some sort. After supper I can show you the chest”

    “Thank you Wilhelm.” She smiled at him. Wilhelm blushed. Wyldfyre closed the door and dressed in a tunic and simple soft suede pants. She didn’t see the need for armour inside the Inn. She put her fur boots on though, so she could at least have her dagger handy if needed. She then left the room, locking it and sat over by the bar. Wilhelm placed a steaming plate of hot stew in front of her and a trencher of bread. He also gave her a tankard of mead. He had picked up on Wyldfyre’s fondness for the sweet honey drink. They chatted while Wyldfyre ate. Wilhelm told her all about Ivarstead, and the goings on in the small village. She learnt some very interesting things. Temba Wide-arms, who worked the mill, was having a problem with bears destroying her merchandise. There was a love triangle between Klimmek, Bassianus Axius, and the pretty farmers’ daughter Fastred.

    One thing that really interested Wyldfyre was the old nord ruin that sat right next to the village. Wilhelm insisted that the ruin was haunted, claiming that he himself had seen the ghost wandering around the grounds.

    “I have not been up there ever since” he shivered. Wyldfyre smiled at the man, thinking it funny that he seemed so afraid. Country folk were such a superstitious lot. She took a swig of mead.

    “I could go check it out if you want?” she asked him. He raised his eyebrows.

    “Really? You would go into Shroud Hearth Barrow on your own?”

    “Yes” she shrugged.

    “Don’t take this the wrong way but what can you do against a ghost? Not to mention the other terrors that probably lurk inside the depths of the barrow.”

    “I can handle myself” She bristled. Wilhelm held up his hands.

    “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that a man went into that barrow, just like yourself and he has never been seen since.”

    “A man?” she asked.

    “Yes, a Dunmer by the name of Wyndelius Garathian came in here about six months ago asking about the barrow. He never came back out. I suspect the ghosts got him.” Wyldfyre looked thoughtful.

    “All the same, I think I will have a look. It sounds like an interesting place to explore and I need a distraction.”

    “Distraction from what?” Wilhelm questioned her.

    “It’s not important” she said vaguely. She finished her meal and pushed the plate away from her. “That chest?” she asked him.

    “Ah yes, follow me” He led her down the stairs behind the bar to a large storeroom filled with barrels and kegs of ale. There was also a small pallet bed in the corner that Wyldfyre assumed was were Wilhelm slept. A small kitchen area was in the opposite corner, the hearth fire crackling merrily. Wilhelm showed her the chest and left her to it. She knelt down and rummaged through the lost belongings. She found a few items that she could use including a health potion, two empty coin purses and a woman’s tunic top that was still in pretty good condition.
    In a small satchel she found what she was looking for. An old faded rolled up map of Skyrim. It didn’t have every settlement and village marked on it, but it had the major cities and bigger towns and all the roads. Its previous owner had marked a spot on it near a city that was called Solitude. She wondered what was at that spot. She rolled up the map and stowed it away in her satchel along with the rest of the items. She returned to her room and dressed in her armour, packing everything else and strapping on her sword, bow and arrows. She had decided she would enter the barrow straight away. Day or night had no meaning inside the Nord ruins. After purchasing some food, she promised Wilhelm she would return and let him know what she found in the barrow.

    She walked past a house and turned right, up the path to the barrow. The part of it that was above the surface was a small domed structure. Wyldfyre entered the building and found herself walking in a circle. The walls of the barrow were lined with open aired coffins. Wyldfyre continued around until she found a large steel door that was heavy when she pushed against it. There was an old spiral stair that she had to descend. It opened out into a burial chamber were the dead lay silent. Wyldfyre took out her bow and notched it anyway. She knew all too well that just because these people had died centuries ago, didn’t mean that they would be content to rest quietly.
    She entered another tunnel that had an intersection that could go either left or right. Wyldfyre went up the right branch and found the way blocked by a heavy steel gate. As she searched for a leaver to open it there was suddenly a blue glowing form of a man on the other side of the gate. Wyldfyres hairs stood on end and she backed up a few steps. This was not like anything she had encountered before. The ghost moved forward and peered at her.

    “Leave this place” it wailed at her. Wyldfyre, on instinct loosed an arrow at it.

    “Nuagh!” the ghost yelled. It turned and ran off, out of sight. Wait, Wyldfyre thought, lowering her bow. That was a yell of pain. Since when do ghosts have pain? There was more to this than a simple haunting and Wyldfyre was determined to find out. She could not find a way through the gate so turned and went down the left tunnel which ended in a small chamber with a leaver on the wall. Wyldfyre threw it back and the gate opened. She hurried back down the tunnel and followed the path the ghost had taken. Another gate blocked her path but this time the leaver was right next to it. She went through and descended some stairs to a steel door. There was lamp light under the door, coming from the other side. Wyldfyre took out her sword and slowly opened the door. It made a loud scraping sound and so, with sneaking out of the question, she barged through the door to find an arrow pointing straight at her heart.
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  7. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN: The Truth revealed

    “Not another step” a man’s voice threatened. Wyldfyre looked up from the arrow tip and saw the glowing ghost, standing there with the bow in his hands. So not a ghost after all, but a clever trick, Wyldfyre mused to herself. She noticed the man was a Dunmer.

    “Wyndelius?” She asked. The dark elf looked confused for a moment then enraged as he shook the readied bow at her. Wyldfyre tried to dodge the arrow, sure he was going to shoot her.

    “THERE IS NO-ONE HERE BY THAT NAME! I AM THE CARETAKER!” he screamed at her. He then went off on a tangent, mumbling to himself about a claw.

    “I will find it, oh yes! I will find the claw and when I do the treasure will be all mine! But no, I can’t take the treasure, I am the care taker and I must protect it. Protect it from those stupid villagers. I did. I fooled them. I fooled all of them. Except for this one. Why is she here? Is she here to take my treasure? Does she have the claw? I will kill her and search her..yes. The caretaker will keep the claw”. He’s mad, Wyldfyre thought to herself, suddenly growing a little afraid at the mad mans ravings. Wyldfyre edged around the wall while the elf was distracted, over to a table where she could see a battered journal. Sitting next to it was a blue potion vial. Wyndelius saw her looking at it.

    “That’s mine!” he shouted, flinging his bow to the side and rushing over to pick the vial up.

    “What is it?” Wyldfyre dared to ask him as he cradled it gently.

    “It’s mine..all mine. My Philter of the Phantom I call it. You can’t have it!” he shoved it into a satchel. Wyldfyre assumed it was what was making the elf glow blue like a spirit. She slowly reached for the journal and flipped it open. She didn’t have time to read it though because the elf rushed up to her again, holding a dagger. Wyldfyre held up her sword and the elf skidded to a stop. He glared at her.

    “Where is it?” he demanded.

    “Where is what? I have no idea what you want” she tried to calm him.

    “THE CLAW!” he screeched “The Sapphire Claw that opens the door! I want it!” he stepped closer. Wyldfyre menaced him with her sword.

    “I do not have the claw and even if I did I would not give it to you” Wyndelius’s eyes bulged and he rushed her, his dagger swinging wildly, blinded by his madness. Wyldfyre stepped to the side and the elf stumbled past her. He reeled around to come at her again.

    “I will kill you!” he grunted. Wyldfyre was suddenly very irritated with the mad elf. She slashed him across his left leg as he rushed past her. He yelped in pain but still came in to attack her again. This time more focused on trying to slash at her throat. Wyldfyre discarded her sword and in the second while she was unarmed, the elf dashed in and sliced her on the exposed part of her neck. She stumbled backwards and he flung himself at her just as she reached for her steel dagger from her boot. She plunged the knife up as hard as she could and the elf stopped. He stepped away from her, looking down at the knife protruding from his chest with surprise. He gave an odd insane chuckle and then fell to the ground dead.

    Wyldfyre winced in pain. The wound on her neck was reasonably deep, and blood poured from it. She found an old linen wrap on a shelf in the small room and pressed it to the wound. She fished the small healing vial she kept inside her armour and drank it. The wound partly closed up but was still bleeding. She needed to go back up to the surface and tend to the wound before she went further into the barrow. She also needed to take Wyndelius’s journal back to Wilhelm, to show him that the barrow was not haunted after all. She would also ask him about the Sapphire Dragon Claw the elf raved about.

    She gathered up the journal and the Phantom potion, pulled her dagger out of the dead elf’s body and made her way back out of the barrow, glad that she had not ventured too far into the ruin. She stumbled wearily up the steps of the Inn and pushed open the door. Wilhelm looked up from the bar, a shocked expression on his face when he saw the state of her.

    “What happened?” he exclaimed, taking her satchel and her weapons from her. He led her to her room and Wyldfyre sat down heavily onto the bed, wincing as Wilhelm unbuckled her armour. He gently slid off her cuirass and frowned at the wound on her neck.

    “I ran into a little bit of trouble” she answered him. Blood had soaked into the soft leather undergarment she wore under her armour. Wilhelm stopped.

    “Wyldfyre, you um, need to take this off as well” he blushed. She nodded and he helped her out of it. She didn’t care if he saw her half naked at this point. He set the undergarment aside with her armour as Wyldfyre covered her breasts with one of her furs. Wilhelm left the room and came back with a bowl of water and some white linen bandages as well as a needle and thread. He also had a bottle of Black Briar Reserve which he kept for medical emergencies such as this.

    “I’m sorry I don’t have much, but I can clean it up at least”. He sat next to her and handed her the bottle of reserve. Wyldfyre took it and uncorked the bottle, having no idea how expensive it was. She poured a bit of it over her wound, biting her lip with the stinging pain. She took a swig from the bottle and gasped as the fiery liquid went down her throat.

    “There you go” Wilhelm smiled at her “Just keep drinking that and it should take at least some of the pain away while I do what I need to.” He wiped the blood off her neck and chest and then took up the needle and thread. Wyldfyre took another hearty swig, feeling the effects of the potent brew already start to dull her senses.

    “Don’t move” Wilhelm warned her. He inserted the needle into her skin and Wyldfyre screamed. She gripped Wilhelm’s leg in a death grip and he too winced in pain.

    “Wyldfyre I can’t do this if you keep holding me that tight” he winced. Wyldfyre removed her hand and grabbed the end of the bed instead.

    “Keep going” she said through gritted teeth. As Wilhelm stitched she distracted herself by telling him what had happened inside the barrow. He cursed when he had found out that the whole village had been fooled.

    “I don’t believe it” he shook his head. He leaned into Wyldfyre and bit off the end of the thread. “There you go. It’s not pretty, but that should keep it together while it heals. Just don’t go doing anything too strenuous for a while.” Wyldfyre nodded.

    “I mean it!” Wilhelm warned her. He felt sorry for this troubled girl and had taken her under his wing. “At least stay here tonight and we can see how you feel tomorrow” Wyldfyre agreed and Wilhelm gathered up the blood soaked rags and left her. She finished off the reserve, sculling it and immediately felt like she wanted to faint. She lay down and was soon asleep.

    Wyldfyre woke in the morning with a throbbing head and a sore neck. She regretted drinking the whole bottle of the wine. She would have to fix Wilhelm up for the wine and the room. As she swung her legs off the bed she realised she was no longer wearing the bottom part of her armour, as she was when she had fallen asleep. Someone had taken off her clothes and dressed her in her tunic while she was out. She pulled on her soft suede pants and boots and padded out to the main hall of the Inn. A pretty blond woman was sweeping the floor and looked up when Wyldfyre entered.

    “Oh! You’re up. Thank the gods. Wilhelm was starting to get a little worried.” Wyldfyre looked around the room.

    “Where is he?” she asked the woman who was staring at her.

    “Oh he is down at the mill buying firewood. But he won’t be long. Shall I fetch him for you?” Wyldfyre shook her head.

    “No, it’s fine. I’ll speak to him when he comes back.” She wandered over to the bar and sat on a stool. The blond leant her broom against the wall and went behind the counter.

    “What can I get you?” she asked Wyldfyre. Lynly was fascinated by this woman. Wilhelm had seemed so worried about her. But by the looks of her armour and weapons she saw last night when Wilhelm asked her to undress her, she could probably handle herself. She never saw Wyldfyres eyes when she was asleep but now she saw they were the most amazing green and her flaming red hair was glorious. Not to mention her body, which she couldn’t help but peek at when she dressed her. The woman now sat across from her and frowned.

    “Why are you staring at me?” Wyldfyre asked. Lynly blushed furiously. She busied herself with polishing a tankard.

    “I’m sorry. It’s just we don’t get many people in here” she said lamely. Wyldfyre knew she was lying but couldn’t be bothered asking why. She grimaced as she scratched at the bandage on her neck. The stitches were starting to irritate her.

    “Can I just get some breakfast please?” she asked the woman, who nodded enthusiastically and hurried off. Just then Wilhelm entered the Inn, carrying an arm load of wood. He smiled when he saw Wyldfyre.

    “Ah, you’re awake. Good to see. How are you feeling?” He said as he dumped the wood, making a noise that made Wyldfyre wince. Her head was killing her.

    “It itches and my head throbs” she complained irritably. Wilhelm chuckled. He came back around the side of the bar and started to unroll the bandage.

    “Well that can be expected. You drank a whole bottle of Black Briar Reserve. No wonder you have a sore head.”

    “Black briar Reserve? That sounds expensive” she fretted, letting him take a look at his handy work, grateful to get the bandage off. The wound had not bled too much during the night. Satisfied, Wilhelm re-bandaged it, much to Wyldfyres consternation.

    “You need to leave it on for a few days, so it doesn’t get infected. And yes the Reserve was expensive, but I kept it for emergencies” he shrugged.

    “I will fix you up for it” Wyldfyre promised “And for the room”. Wilhelm shook his head.

    “Nonsense. The Reserve is of nothing. And as for the room, you can stay as long as you like, no charge.” Wyldfyre tried to protest, but Wilhelm held up his hands.

    “After what you have done for us, it’s the least we could do. In fact… wait here” he went down into the cellar and came back up carrying something wrapped in linen.

    “This is for you” he presented the bundle to her. She took it and unwrapped it and found a beautiful Dragon claw made from a deep blue stone. The Sapphire Claw. She looked up to Wilhelm, grinning.

    “You had it all along?” Wilhelm chuckled.

    “Of course I did. I have lived next to those ruins for a long time. Did you think I did not go exploring myself? Well before the ghost that is” he rolled his eyes “I knew what the Dunmer was about and I wasn’t going to give it to him. But you.. well it only seems natural to give it to you Wyldfyre”

    “I can’t possibly accept it” she said, though she dearly wanted to take it into the ruins. She couldn’t take it from Wilhelm, whom obviously treasured it. But he pressed it back into her hands.

    “Please. Take it. You deserve it”. Wyldfyre nodded, touched at his gift. Lynly came up the stairs with her breakfast and Wyldfyre discreetly wrapped up the claw and put it down at her feet. She thanked the woman and started eating, while Wilhelm went back to sorting out his fire wood. Wyldfyre remembered something she wanted to ask Wilhelm. She coughed.

    “Um, about last night. This morning I woke up in just this” she plucked at her tunic top.

    “Oh that was me!” exclaimed the woman. She blushed as Wyldfyre studied her. Wilhelm spoke.

    “I saw you asleep there in your armour and so I got Lynly here to get you out of it.”

    “I hope you don’t mind” Lynly asked shyly. Wyldfyre smiled back at her, thinking the blonde woman to be rather pretty. She was very feminine in her soft flowing dress. Wyldfyre felt a little awkward in her tunic top and pants and scars. Lynly sighed and wandered away, fetching up her broom again. Wyldfyre was not sure but she thought that sigh of Lynly’s was one of longing. She turned her attention back to her breakfast. When she finished she went back to her room and closed the door. The darkness and quiet was soothing for her head and she took off her boots and pants and lay back down on her bed. She pulled out her map and studied it.

    She had dozed off again and when she woke her head was no longer hurting. She also craved a bath. She wanted to wash the grime of the last few days off her. She briefly considered taking a dip in the nearby river but decided not to for two reasons. The first one being it was way too cold and flowed too quick. The other reason being that the locals probably didn’t look on naked people in their river with favour. Wyldfyre sort out Wilhelm and asked if he had a bath.

    “Yes I do. It’s not huge but you will fit in it fine. I’ll heat up some water”. The bath was in a small room off the main cellar and by the time Wilhelm was done it had been transformed into a mini stream room, like what the Companions had. She lowered herself into the bath and sighed as the hot water soaked into her bones. Wilhelm had given her strict instructions not to get her stitches wet so she could not immerse herself fully. She was relaxing in the tub when she heard a knock on the door.

    “It’s me” said Lynly. Wyldfyre invited her into the room and she slid in quickly so none of the heat could escape. She was dressed in just a tunic and was holding a bucket and rose scented soap.

    “I was thinking..um.. that I could wash your hair?” she asked Wyldfyre shyly. Wyldfyre nodded and Lynly knelt down behind her. She poured water over Wyldfyres hair and lathered up the rose soap, massaging it into her scalp. Wyldfyre closed her eyes, remembering a time when she and her fellow female clan folk washed each other’s hair in the lake.

    “I was wondering if I could ask you a question” Lynly asked her after a while.

    “Uh huh” Wyldfyre nodded. Lynly washed the soap out of Wyldfyres hair, delighted at being able to touch it.

    “Where did you come from?” she asked. Wyldfyre opened her eyes. She was not expecting this question from a stranger.

    “That’s kind of personal” she answered the woman. Lynly’s hands stilled in Wyldfyres hair. She silently cursed herself.

    “I’m sorry. I was just curious. You seem so confident and, well your armour, and weapons and you went into that barrow all by yourself.. I just wanted to know you better” Wyldfyre was uncomfortable with her questioning.

    “It’s not something I like to talk about” she explained “It’s complicated and too hard”

    “I understand” Lynly assured her, relieved that Wyldfyre didn’t throw her out then and there. She felt Wyldfyre relax again and continued washing her hair.
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  8. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    It was the next day and Wyldfyre was just strapping on her armour in her room when she heard a deafening roar that made her heart drop.

    “It can’t be!” she cried aloud. She heard faint screams and yelling as she hurriedly finished dressing and belted on her weapons.

    “Dragon!” someone shouted. Wyldfyre grabbed up her bow and notched it, then raced out the door of the Inn, ignoring Wilhelm’s shouts for her to stay indoors. She held up her bow and scoured the sky for the dragon. People were running for the nearest shelter and the Guards ushered them to safety. They milled around in a group, clearly not knowing what to do next. Wyldfyre ran down to the frightened group of soldiers and shouted orders at them.

    “You!” She shouted at one young guard “We need to get the citizens inside the Inn and down into the cellar. GO!” He ran off to carry out her orders.

    “The rest of you. Keep watching the sky. Hit it with everything you have got. Don’t stop until we bring it down to the ground. Be careful once it is grounded. It can still get you with its shout or its tail. Understand me?” they nodded nervously “When I engage the dragon do not get in between me and it unless you want to get blasted by fire or ice” She then positioned the other guards in strategic places around the village. She stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the dragon to return. She heard it roar again behind her and she whipped around in time to see a blast of fire spewing from its mouth.

    It directed its flame at the house across from the Inn and the dry thatched roof set ablaze immediately. Wyldfyre loosed a couple of arrows at it as it passed by her. She saw a guard across from her doing the same. The dragon roared and turned to pass over the village again, blasting fire at another house. Again Wyldfyre and the guards loosed arrow after arrow at it. The dragon swept over the village, doing a wide arc over the raging river and landed on top of the mill, the wooden roof creaking under its weight. Its red scales gleamed in the sunlight and it peered at the guards who were still bravely shooting it with arrows. It blasted fire in the direction of two guards, who tried to escape its flames.

    “Take cover!” Wyldfyre yelled down to them. One of the guards made it underneath the mill but the second was not so quick and died a fiery death. Wyldfyre was appalled at the sight of the burnt corpse, remembering the horror of the Dragon attack in Helgen. She could not let this dragon destroy this village she had grown so fond of. She let her rage build up inside her and shouted at the dragon.

    “FUS!”. Her shout did nothing but kick up dust in front of her, the dragon being too far away, but it got its attention. She stood there boldly as the dragon eyed her, snarling as it realised what she was.

    “Finally” it said “A real challenge” Wyldfyre loosed an arrow at it and it struck it in the neck. It growled at her, showing her its teeth. Wyldfyre stood there even though inside she was terrified.

    “Your move” she said to it. It raised its wings and took off from the roof and went high up into the sky before it turned and plummeted towards her. Wyldfyre stood her ground. She lowered her bow and raised her hands building up a frost spell. Icicles dripped from her fingers as she built up the spell, waiting for the right moment to release it. The dragon pulled up before it smashed into the ground and blasted its fire at her at the same time that Wyldfyre released her spell. Her frost countered any fire damage she would have sustained and she managed to hit the dragon with it as it passed over her head. It hit the roof of the Inn, raining thatch down below into the hall. It turned and came at her again. Wyldfyre hit it with more frost as it tried to burn her to death. She could feel the ground around her start to heat up but she remained in the middle of the road.

    “This is the kind of distraction I would love, to give me a chance to hit it with some arrows!” she shouted at the guards, who had been standing there with their mouths open, watching this lone woman fight a dragon. They quickly recovered and set about shooting every arrow at the beast. The dragon roared in frustration, coming around again to attack Wyldfyre, who it saw as its only threat now. Just as it was about to blast her again with its fire, Lynly raced out from the shelter of the Inn. She thought Wyldfyre was in real danger and unthinking, jumped in front of her and the dragon.

    “Lynly!”Wyldfyre shouted “RUN!” but she was too late as the dragon breathed its fiery breath and Lynly was swallowed in flames. She died screaming. Wyldfyre had to jump to her left, rolling along the ground to avoid the flames. She raised her head and looked in horror at the burnt body of Lynly.

    “Why did you do that?” she shouted at the corpse, grief clutching at her heart. A rage so terrible exploded inside her and she scrambled to her feet and grabbed a spear off the nearest guard and flung it wildly at the dragon. She was surprised when it pierced the dragon through the neck, causing it to buck in mid air. It turned and landed heavily in the centre of the village. Wyldfyre drew her sword.

    “Have at it!” she screamed, and the guards rushed in to hack and slash at the flailing dragon. It thrashed about, swinging its tail about wildly. A guard was knocked sideways and another sent flying through the air. Wyldfyre ran over to it, and stopped in front of its head. Green eyes met black and a great mental battle ensued. Wyldfyre struggled under the Dragons tremendous power. It picked its way through her memories, seizing on her most horrific ones and tried to bring her down. Wyldfyre tried to block the dragon from delving deeper into her mind.

    Another guard was injured by its tail and she pushed the dragon out of her head with a new ferocity. It blinked, surprised at her power and then tried to bite her in two. She raced past its snapping jaws and jumped onto its neck, bringing her sword down through its thick skull. She turned the sword dealing it the death it deserved. The dragon sighed and slumped to the ground. Wyldfyre stood over it, and pulled out her bloody sword. The guards and villagers all came out to gasp and peer wide eyed at the dragon and then at Wyldfyre.

    “Stand back” she warned them, her sword in her hands, dripping blood, they did exactly what she told them. The dragon’s body started to disintegrate before their eyes and a great mass of glowing lights left its body and raced around Wyldfyre before entering her body. She stood there with her eyes closed until the process was done. She felt the new dragon soul inside her and she almost snarled with triumph. She opened her eyes and glared at the villagers, who looked nervously at her. She then saw Wilhelm kneeling over the body of Lynly and her blood boiling rage subsided. She dropped her sword and stumbled over to Wilhelm. He was sobbing.

    She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his arm. He held her hand and they mourned together.

    “Why? Why did she do that?” Wyldfyre sobbed. Wilhelm signed and covered Lynly with a linen sheet.

    “She was very fond of you. I guess she thought she was protecting you”. Wyldfyre was distraught and angry at the same time. She barely noticed the other villagers racing past them, until she realised they were trying to put out the fires on the two houses. Wyldfyre got up and helped douse the flames.

    It was hard work but they managed to get the fires under control. The first house had lost its roof completely but the second house only had mild damage. The family who had lost their roof were housed in the Inn until their roof could be repaired. Wyldfyre admired the spirit of the villagers. They had seen a horror beyond belief but were now banding together and helping out those who needed it. They buried Lynly’s body beside the river at a spot she liked to go to. The ceremony was simple, Wilhelm saying a few words. The body of the guard was later sent back to his home town of Riften for his family to claim.

    A few days later and Wilhelm watched Wyldfyre as she swept the floor. She had been sweeping the same spot for longer than needed, staring pensively at the floor. He sighed, knowing what he had to say to her would break his heart.

    “Wyldfyre” he called her over. She sat at the bar, head in her hand. “You need to leave” Wilhelm said bluntly. Wyldfyre sat up, a hurt look on her face.

    “You don’t want me hear any more?” she asked him saddened.

    “No” he assured her “It’s not like that. I am doing this for you. Staying here, after what happened. It’s no good for you.”

    “But you need my help here” she protested “Now that Lynly…”. He put a hand on her shoulder, looking into her brilliant green eyes that shone with tears.

    “I’ll be fine love. It’s you I am worried about. You need to get out, do something. Start living your life. It’s what Lynly would have wanted”

    “It’s my fault!” Wyldfyre cried. “It’s my fault she’s gone” Wilhelm shook his head, coming around the bar to embrace her.

    “No, you can’t think that. It’s no one’s fault but that dragon. And you dealt with it. You honoured Lynly by slaying the dragon. Please, love, for me, can you stop blaming yourself?” Wyldfyre nodded, giving Wilhelm the answer he wanted. But inside she was tearing herself apart. Wilhelm was right about one thing. She needed to leave this place.

    “I guess I could go back into the barrow” she said. Wilhelm stood back.

    “There you go” he nodded with approval “You have the Sapphire claw now, who knows what you will find in there” he winked at her, causing her to smile and swipe away tears.

    “Alright” she said “I’ll go pack my things.” She gathered up her belongings and dressed in her armour. She shouldered her satchel which contained the dragon claw. She left the Inn to find Wilhelm waiting for her out on the landing.

    “Thank you for everything Wilhelm” she said as they embraced. Wilhelm sighed.

    “I can honestly say I will be sad to see you go love. But you need to do this.” Wyldfyre nodded and kissed him on the cheek. She went down the stairs.

    “Goodbye love” he called to her.

    “Good hunting Wilhelm” she called back. She made her way to the Barrow, pushing open the door and smelling the musty dampness that seemed to go with these ruins. She confidently walked through the ruin up to the small room that Wyndelius had stayed in. In her haste the last time she was here, she never noticed the other door to the right. It was a large steel door and Wyldfyre needed to put her shoulder into it to make it move. She was in a familiar looking long vaulted corridor, and Wyldfyre’s heart fluttered as she realised that there was a dragon key door at the end. She took out the claw and studied the carvings on it. It bore a moth, an owl and a wolf. She set the claw down and turned each round puzzle section to its corresponding animal. When the last one was clicked into place Wyldfyre inserted the claw and the great door ponderously lowered into the ground.
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  9. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    Hello readers! I am so glad you have enjoyed reading Wyldfyre's adventures. Please allow me to digress and indulge myself in posting a little something I have had in my mind. Just a couple of side stories on Lydia and Farkas. Feel free to let me know if you want more chapters on these two. Don't worry! Wyldfyre will return for chapter twenty-nine, when she delves into the depths of Shroud Hearth Barrow.
    But before that.....


    Lydia was humming to herself as she made her way back to the clearing where she had left her Thane. She had successfully purchased Breezehome and had negotiated the decorating and furnishing with Proventus, who had at first tried to overcharge her. She beat him down a few hundred septims and had left Dragonsreach with the deed and keys in her hands. Servants followed her to the house and she directed them as to where all the furniture should be placed. She took great joy in placing her own things that she didn’t want to carry with her, in her own room, filling one drawer with sacks of coins, and storing the strange glowing gauntlets in the wardrobe.

    She put the carved dragon stone in another draw, keeping it for Wyldfyre to take to the court wizard. Lydia checked over the top floor before she left, eyeing off Wyldfyres large double bed with a little envy. She grabbed a sack and then made her way to Jorrvaskr to collect Wyldfyres things. She was met inside the door by Aela.

    “Lydia” Aela greeted her “Wasn’t expecting to see you here” she sniffed the air oddly “Wyldfyre not with you?”

    “No and I prefer that you pretend you didn’t see me here. I’m here for her things”. Aela raised both her eyebrows.

    “So Farkas really hurt her” she shook her head “What an idiot. Do you need me to help?”. Lydia shook her head.

    “Thank you but I would like to just be in and out before Farkas finds…….”

    “LYDIA!” someone yelled from across the room. Farkas, in his full wolf armour stormed over to her, making her back up into the wall.

    “Where is she?” he demanded.

    “Hey! Easy!” Aela shouted at him. She stood in between Farkas and Lydia. Lydia shook but answered him.

    “I’m not telling you! You are so thick. Letting her go like that. She is the best thing that has probably happened to you and you blew it”. Farkas menaced her but she stood her ground, Aela shoved him in the chest.

    “Back off Farkas. Leave Lydia out of this” Farkas glared at Aela but she didn’t back down.

    “Farkas!” a deep voice called from the other side of the room. It was Kodlak Whitemane. Farkas immediately stepped back and Lydia slipped past the two Companions. She found the room Wyldfyre had given her directions to, and unlocked the chest with shaking fingers. Farkas had scared her more than she would admit out loud. Lydia groaned when she saw how much Wyldfyre had stored in her chest. She would have to make two trips at least. She proceeded to load up the sack and took it back to Breezehome, securing it all in a chest and locking the house.

    She decided she would go back for the rest of Wyldfyres things when they got back to Whiterun together. Lydia didn’t want another encounter with Farkas. Lydia made her way to the clearing just on dark and just made out the fire light through the trees that would have otherwise been obscured if you didn’t know what you were looking for. She picked her way through the tree and came out into the clearing only to find Wyldfyre nowhere in sight, and a dead man. Lydia panicked and called out to Wyldfyre, searching the area for her. She came back into the clearing and searched the man but nothing was on his body that identified who he was. Lydia figured he had tried to attack Wyldfyre and failed, given the enormous opening from his stomach up to his chest. Wyldfyre had ripped this man right open. Lydia was shocked. She then spotted a note under a rock and picked it up. Something fell out of it and Lydia picked the object up. She turned it over in her hands and in the firelight she could see it was the silver and amethyst pendant that Wyldfyre had found outside Bleak Falls Barrow.
    Lydia grew even more alarmed as she unfolded the note and read it:


    I am so sorry for not being here when you return. But something is happening to me. Something I can’t explain or control. Ever since that Dragon soul. You would have found the body by now. I had to do it Lydia. I had to.
    I hope you didn’t have too much trouble in Whiterun, but now my friend I must ask something more of you. Please, for the love of the All Maker, please DO NOT come after me. Whatever this thing is, I need to work it out. Alone. I couldn’t bare it if you got hurt because of me. Go back to Whiterun and wait for me in our home until I return. I WILL return. But not until I make things right. The Amethyst is yours as a token of my love and friendship.


    Lydia sat down on a stump and stared off into space. She felt an all too familiar feeling of abandonment in the pit of her stomach. Her Thane had left her. Her friend. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to obey her Thane, but find her friend. Why had she left her? What could she mean by her letter? Something is happening to me, what does that mean? She wondered. Lydia stared down at the note, trying to find comprehension that wasn’t there. She slipped the pendant around her neck and then looked at the dead man with unease. She dragged him out of the clearing and down to the river where she found a spot in the muddy bank and started to dig.

    She dug for an hour, letting her hurt and frustration out, until she had a shallow hole big enough to bury the body in. She hefted the body into the hole and covered it with the sloppy muck, scattering leaves and twigs over the mound. She was filthy and exhausted by the time she finished and wearily trudged back to Breezehome. She sighed as she shut the door, looking around at the empty house. She then set about to stoking up the main pit fire to get some warmth back into her aching bones.

    Lydia went up to the Dragonsreach soldiers barracks where she used to live and used the bath there before returning to Breezehome and making a light meal before turning in for the night. She lay in her room, staring up at the ceiling, a small tear escaping from the corner of her eye. She was sure Wyldfyre had not left her callously, but had indeed left for a very good reason. She only wished she had shared her feeling with her, so they could have worked it out together. Lydia hated feeling abandoned. Even if this time it was out of love. It was still someone leaving her, again. Before she drifted off to sleep she realised that she would have to go back to Jorrvaskr again, sooner than she had wanted.

    On her second trip to clear out Wyldfyres chest the next day, it was Vilkas who next ambushed her. He stood leaning against the doorframe as she packed Wyldfyres gold ore into a sack. This is going to be fun to lug home. She cursed. She glanced up at Vilkas. Damn he looks good. No! Focus Lydia.

    “I can’t tell you where she is” she said to him. Vilkas cocked an eyebrow, even though Lydia was no longer looking at him.

    “Oh really? And you think that I could not make you tell me?”. Lydia’s hands stilled. She straightened up and glared at Vilkas.

    “Is that a threat?”. Vilkas chuckled which made Lydia even angrier. She had had enough. She had been abandoned by her Thane and friend, bullied by Farkas and now his brother was having a go at her. She was tired from the digging she had done back on the riverbank, and mentally exhausted from the arrangements she had to make buying Breezehome from that damned steward, who tried to rob her Thane blind. Lydia was having a bad day. But instead of getting angry and hitting the first thing she could reach, which was Vilkas, she sat down heavily on Wyldfyres bed and bawled. Lydia was ashamed with herself. Vilkas was alarmed. He came to her, sitting beside her and awkwardly pat her on the back.

    “There there” he soothed “I didn’t mean it. You know I like to joke around sometimes?” Lydia looked at Vilkas, who had clearly not had to deal with a crying woman very often.

    “You are right” he nodded “Not the best time for a joke. I see that now”. He looked so earnest that Lydia gave him a small smile in between sniffles. Vilkas took that as a good sign. “Besides, It’s my brothers own fault he’s been stuck inside the hall. After the way he carried on when your red headed friend took off like that, the old man had no choice but to keep him confined.” Vilkas shook his head “Idiot”. Lydia smirked. Vilkas went on, trying to get more smiles from the pretty brunette.

    “I mean smashing chairs is one thing, but crying?”

    “No he didn’t?” gasped Lydia.

    “Well no, he didn’t cry. But I swear he nearly did”. This time Vilkas was rewarded with a laugh from Lydia. He liked her laugh. Loud and musical. He put his arm around her as she swiped the tears off her cheeks.

    “I have a confession to make” Lydia said softly.

    “Oh I like confessions” said Vilkas. Lydia looked at him.

    “I am being serious Vilkas.” She swallowed “The reason you can’t get me to tell you where Wyldfyre is. Is because I don’t know”. Vilkas blinked.

    “What do you mean? You two went off together. Aren’t you just here to get her stuff?”

    “NO!” Lydia exclaimed “She left me ok! I went back to where we were camped and I found…” she stopped herself just before mentioning the dead man.

    “You found what?” Vilkas asked her. Lydia hesitated before answering him.

    “I found that she had gone. She left me a note and this” she touched the silver and amethyst amulet around her neck. Vilkas sighed.

    “I see. Well it’s not your fault. I am sure whatever happened to make her leave, was for a good reason. She wouldn’t just leave like that. Would she?”. Lydia shook her head sadly.

    “I don’t know Vilkas.” She stood up and hefted the sack onto her shoulder. It weighed enough for it to be uncomfortable. Vilkas took it off her, throwing it on his shoulder like it had a bunch of feathers in it instead of rocks.

    “So, where are we taking this then?” he asked Lydia as they headed up the stairs that led up to the main hall.

    “Breezehome” Lydia replied “Wyldfyre bought it yesterday. Well that is, I bought it with her money”. They made their way through the hall, with a dozen eyes upon them. Lydia was glad to be once again out in the fresh air. Jorrvaskr always gave her the creeps. They chatted as they walked through the Gildergreen square and down into the market district. Vilkas stopped to buy a few bottles of mead.

    “To drown our sorrows in” he had explained to Lydia. She was not easily fooled though. She knew what a lady’s man like Vilkas bought mead for. The fact that she wasn’t annoyed at all didn’t bother her one bit. They came to Breezehome and Lydia let Vilkas inside. He dumped the ore into a chest that Lydia directed him to. She busied herself in the small kitchen area as Vilkas looked around the ground floor of the house. He peered into the room beside the kitchen. It had two small pallet beds. Children’s beds. Vilkas raised an eyebrow. Ah brother, he mused, you are a fool indeed. He turned back to find Lydia pouring them both a tankard of mead.

    They sat by the fire and talked into the night. Lydia was feeling the effects of the mead and it made her open up a little about herself.

    “I guess I should say sorry for being such a blubbering mess today. It’s just that I’ve had people I love abandon me before and I felt pretty awful, and after Farkas all but bit my head off, well…”. Vilkas winked at her, making her feel like a giddy teenager.

    “Hey, I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry about it”.

    “There is a lot more to you than what you show” she looked at him. Vilkas smiled at her again.

    “Don’t tell anyone that either” he laughed. They both drank in silence until Lydia set her empty tankard down. She took a deep breath for courage and looked at Vilkas.

    “I..um.. need to change out of this armour. Want to give me a hand?”. Lydia groaned inwardly at her bad pick up line. Vilkas didn’t seem to care though because he stood and offered her his hand. She led him up the stairs to the top floor, but instead of entering her room, she took him into the main bedroom with the large, double bed. Wyldfyre is not here to use it she mused, and I think I deserve it.

    He could smell evening on the air and Farkas grew restless. He was tired of sitting in this dingy, dark room listening to the others drone on and on about things he either didn’t understand, or didn’t care about. He was mad as hell and all he wanted to do was run. Run under the silver moon. Run until his lungs burned. But the old man had not let him out for days. Farkas had almost torn down the entire mead hall in his fury and grief, when Wyldfyre had first left. He would have gone off searching for her if it had not been for the Harbingers intervention.

    “Let her be” he had said to him “She will return when she is ready.” Farkas nearly went anyway until Kodlak had pulled rank on him and had ordered him to stay put. Farkas, out of respect and a certain level of fear, obeyed him. He had sat down in his room, brooding and running an old tunic of Wyldfyre’s through his large calloused hands. If he could get out then he could track her, he could cover a lot of ground if he…

    But that evening, a light shower had passed overhead and Farkas was worried that all traces of her were perhaps washed away. Still he wanted to try. She had left so suddenly. Farkas was confused and alarmed by their last conversation. She had just come back from slaying that dragon and they had talked about a lot of things. She had revealed her terrible past to him and then had suddenly thrown marriage and houses at him. Farkas admitted to himself he had not reacted very well at all to her sudden proposal. It was the damned Circle and their secret that was not his alone to tell.

    He was just so torn between his love for this woman and his commitment to The Circle. If he had just told Wyldfyre then and there why he hesitated instead of sitting there like a stunned rabbit, it would have been so much easier. Instead he had let her leave and she had not been seen since. Her housecarl had returned two days later, clearing out Wyldfyres chest. But not even Lydia could tell him where she was. Or so his brother had informed him. It seemed Wyldfyre had abandoned her as well. What was she thinking? Out there, alone, Farkas had fretted. He was just so angry at himself. Not even his brother’s jokes or Aela’s attempts could pull him out of his dark mood.

    He sat in the Harbingers room now, along with Vilkas, Aela, Skjor and Kodlak. Skjor was telling Kodlak about a possible lead on the Silverhand. A group of people bent on making the lives of the companions as hard as possible. Farkas only half listened as Skjor and the old man argued about whether they should take action or not. Naturally Skjor wanted to go in with swords blazing, so to speak. Kodlak thought otherwise. Farkas was pulled out of his revere by the sound of chairs being scraped back and found that the meeting was over. He stood, stretching his body and set the chair back against the wall. As the others filed out of the room, Kodlak put a hand on Farkas’s shoulder.

    “Stay a while son” he asked. Farkas took a seat at the table where Kodlak spent most of his time, pouring over old dusty books. Farkas could never see why the things fascinated the old man so much. Kodlak poured himself a tankard of wine and one for Farkas. Farkas took a deep drink. Kodlak studied the young companion, feeling his hurt. It shone off him like a beacon.

    “How are you feeling today” he asked him. Farkas shrugged.

    “Ok I guess” He studied the table top, not wanting to look into the Harbingers eyes. Kodlak had an eerie way of finding out things from you just by staring into your eyes. Farkas had learnt that years ago. Much to his dismay. It was impossible to keep anything from the old man. Especially when you had done something wrong. Farkas and his brother had been in trouble many times, even after they thought they had gotten away with it.
    Kodlak looked at him now and sighed. He supposed it was time then.

    “Farkas, you may leave Jorrvaskr” Farkas looked up hopefully, and Kodlak held up his hand “On one condition”

    “Yes Sir?”

    “You will not leave the hold”. Farkas had not expected that and he tried to protest.


    “Am I making myself clear?” Kodlak glared at him. Farkas slumped, deferring to his leader.

    “Yes”. Kodlak nodded. He might obey my order he might not.

    “Good.” He smiled then “Go find her son”. At that Farkas leapt from his seat, a renewed energy awakened in him. He headed for a secret place known only to the other members of The Circle called The Underforge. It lay behind a stone door under the Skyforge and it was here that the circle members met for their night missions and rituals. Farkas slipped through the door and felt instantly at peace. He liked the Underforge. It was silent and away from the noises of everyday life. He stood in front of the empty fountain that was used in the sacred ritual and shed his weapons and armour, dropping them to the floor. He and breathed in and out slowly, not feeling the cold even in his nakedness.

    Suddenly his body started to shimmer and convulse. Farkas felt the terrible pulling and snapping of his bones and muscles as his body transformed into the other. His legs snapped and grew longer as did his arms, the bones knitting back together. His body thinned out and his shoulders widened. His skull cracked and moved under his skin that was also changing. It turned black and grew course black hair. His jaw protruded out and great fangs ruptured out of his gums where small human teeth once were. Sharp claws replaced fingernails and his vision and hearing suddenly grew in clarity beyond what anyone could fathom.

    Farkas endured through the pain until his transformation was complete. He felt strong in his other form. He sniffed the air and let out a jubilant howl as he raced through the tunnel that lead into the wilds of Skyrim. Primal urges took over his mind and he wanted nothing but the thrill of the chase. He stretched out his limbs and ran as fast as he could, bounding over rivers and rocks, sniffing the night air as he sped through thickets of trees. The ground beneath him was a blur as he raced over the plains of Whiterun Hold.

    Something in the wind caught his attention and Farkas turned to the right, following the trail. It was a small animal, a rabbit and it was just up ahead. A new urge took over Farkas and he slowed his pace and began to hunt. He followed the rabbits trail up a small game path, into a thick crop of trees. He stopped his wild pace and slowly padded through the brush, winding between thick tree trunks, smelling the rabbit. It was not far ahead and Farkas could feel the excitement of the ensuing kill growing in the pit of his stomach. He let out a silent growl as he approached a clearing. Yellow eyes shone brilliant in the night as they watched the rabbit snuffle at a discarded apple.

    The smell of the rabbit was irresistible to Farkas, but he could also detect human smells in this clearing as well. Two, one being familiar to him, the other not. He could also smell blood. A lot of blood. Farkas watched the rabbit and, just at the right moment, leapt forward with a guttural growl and pounced on the tiny animal. It gave one squeal and then was silenced as Farkas ripped into its flesh, his claws almost peeling the skin off its body. Farkas could feel the hot blood from the rabbit go down his throat. He smashed tiny bones with his teeth, and devoured the animal’s still warm heart.

    After Farkas had fed, he sniffed around the clearing. One scent he picked up of a man whom he did not know. The blood also belonged to him. What had happened here? Another scent he found was of someone he had recently met. A name came to his fogged mind and he saw an image in his head of a brunette woman in steel armour. The housecarl had been here and if she was here then…he searched wildly around the clearing until he found what he was looking for. My mate! She was here! He would know that scent anywhere. Even if the beast blood overtook him and he was severed from his human life forever, he would still know the smell of his love. Farkas would have grinned if he could. Instead he followed the scent until he came to a place where humans dwelt.

    He watched the village from afar. People were still out and about. Walking home from work or ducking into the Inn. A blond haired boy ran by with a great shaggy dog following behind. As much as Farkas wanted to enter the village and kill everything in sight, he was in control of his animal urges so he made to circle around the whole village. As he turned he caught her scent again, but not going into the village. She went up the mountain. Farkas followed the scent until an old ruin came into sight. He knew this place, but the human name would not make itself known to this form he was in. Farkas followed the scent of the two women until it stopped just outside the door.

    He decided not to enter the ruin until he was sure that his mate had not come out so he scaled down the other side of the mountain looking for the ruins back exit. As he loped along he left large imprints in the snow. His breath steamed as he searched the mountain for the exit. Finally he found the door, embedded into the rock face. Farkas put his nose to the ground. It was very faint, after a light snowfall but he found his mates scent again and tracked it down the mountain. He was worried about how faint the scent smelt. His mate would have passed by here days ago, and he had no idea where this trail ended.

    Even if he did finally catch up to her, how was he going to explain his turning up out of the blue, naked? He had not thought that out when he was back inside the Underforge. His urge to get out and find her too great for any reasonable or practical thought. He certainly couldn’t make his presence known to her in his present form. As he knew his mate well she would not hesitate one second before she put a sword through his heart. Farkas could not communicate with her like he could with the others in The Circle when they were also in their beast form. His mate would be frightened and then only concerned with self preservation and killing him.

    No, even if he did find her tonight, Farkas could not reveal himself until he could find some clothes. And then what? What was he going to say to her? He needed to apologise for starters, but after that? He was forbidden to tell her the truth about the Circle. Kodlak had made that clear when Farkas had begged him. What could he possibly say to her to explain the way he had acted before she left? Farkas shook his shaggy head and continued tracking the scent. His mate and her friend had come down the mountain towards the shore line of the lake.

    Farkas followed along the shore until he lost the trail. Panicking, he doubled back to make sure he hadn’t missed it. He did it two, three times but the scent ended the same. Lost at the edge of the lake. His mate was lost to him. Farkas paced up and down the shore and let out a howl of frustration into the darkened night.

    Across the lake, a group of hunters looked up nervously from their evening meal.
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  10. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER TWENTYNINE: Shroud Hearth Depths

    Wyldfyre unsheathed her sword and descended the stairs into a chamber that held a single sarcophagus. She tried to sneak past the draugr inside it, but something triggered it and it started to climb out. Wyldfyre didn’t want to engage the draugr in battle so she swung her sword as hard as she could and took off its head, which went flying off to land with a dusty plunk on the ground. The rest of its body fell backwards, back into the coffin it was trying to climb out of, minus its head. Wyldfyre found it a little amusing. She checked the body and found a few coins. She passed under a gate and came to an old wooden spiral staircase. As she neared the top she could hear a strange creaking and rattling of bone on bone.

    Wyldfyre gripped her sword and peeked over the top of the stair. Before her, in a small room was a skeleton. It swayed back and forth, making the rattling noises Wyldfyre heard earlier. It gripped an old rusty sword in its bony fingers. Wyldfyre leapt up from the stairs, taking the skeleton by surprise. She hit it with her sword and the whole skeleton crumbled to the ground. They appeared to be much more fragile than the draugr. Beyond the small room, a number of wooden walls obscured her vision to the chamber below. Wyldfyre moved quietly up to one and peered through the cracks in the wood. The chamber below appeared to be some sort of bath. In the centre was a large round pit with several skeletons in it.

    The shallow pit was a quarter full of that shiny flammable liquid that Wyldfyre had come across before. She could see oil lamps positioned conveniently over the pit. Wyldfyre smiled to herself as she took out her bow and fired an arrow at the oil lamp. The pit erupted into flames and every skeleton crumbled to the floor. So far the barrow had not given Wyldfyre much of a challenge and she was starting to wonder if there was anything worthwhile in this old ruin. She made her way further into the ruins, encountering only two more draugr. She came into a large chamber with a waterfall and a river running through it. Wyldfyre could see two platforms, one on either side of the chamber. The left one did not have any access to it so she went up the stairs on the right to find another draugr. This one tried to freeze her to death and so she countered with her flames. Burning the draugr until it no longer stirred.

    She was in a room with four of the small domed pillars with animal carvings on them. Wyldfyre had to search the next two rooms to find the key to the stones, having to step on a pressure place to activate four rolling doors in the wall that revealed the carving behind them. She went back and turned the stones and stepped onto another pressure plate that lowered a bridge to the left platform. The bridge creaked and teetered before it hit the other side with a loud boom, sending centuries of dust flying everywhere. At the same time a gate on the other side also opened and Wyldfyre continued over the bridge, past a swinging gate trap and finally made it to a large double wooden door.

    Wyldfyre steadied herself before she opened the door. This was it, the last chamber, she just knew it. She opened the door to find she had come to a massive chamber with one large raised dais at the back of the room with a few smaller ones on either side of it. There were sarcophagi on each dais and as Wyldfyre ventured into the room they burst open one by one. Draugr with varying types of weapons climbed out of their coffins and Wyldfyre now understood why the rest of the barrow had been relatively easy.

    None of the draugr had seen Wyldfyre yet so she ducked behind a stone pillar and took out her bow. The chamber had deep pools on either side of it, where water flowed into them. Just how deep the pools were she wasn’t sure. She wondered if draugr could swim and so she picked out one of them that was separated from the rest and as it faced away from her, shot it with an arrow. The draugr stumbled forwards and toppled into the pool below. The splash it made was not heard over the noise of the waterfalls. Wyldfyre spotted another draugr perilously close to the edge of the dais and shot it as well. It too followed its companion into the watery depths below.

    Wyldfyre was enjoying the sport until the other draugr started to notice their missing comrades down in the water. One looked around the room, searching for its enemy. Wyldfyre ducked down behind the pillar and waited for a few seconds before targeting another draugr. This one did not fall and it turned and angrily waved its sword above its head. It started to head in Wyldfyres direction, with two more following it. Wyldfyre shot arrow after arrow at them as they advanced on her position. The first one she had shot finally fell but the other two continued, ignoring their fallen ally. Wyldfyre set her bow down and drew out her sword and rushed the two draugr, plunging her sword into the closest one. She whirled about, her momentum tearing the sword from the draugr and it tumbled to the ground. The second draugr wielded a mace and swung it at her.

    Wyldfyre had to go on the defensive and blocked the mace blow. It hit her sword hard and she stumbled back a little. She swung her sword while the draugr was recovering from its own swing and her sword bit deep into its ribs. The draugr still tried to swing it’s mace but Wyldfyres sword had got stuck inside its bony body. She wrestled with the sword and the draugr staggered to the side, nearly knocking Wyldfyre over with it. She was finally able to wrest the sword free and slashed it across the neck, almost severing its head from its body. It went down finally, its mace clattering along the floor.

    Something whistled past her head and clattered off the wall behind her. Wyldfyre saw it was an arrow and realised one or two of the draugr had bows on them. She ducked behind the pillar again and took up her bow. She searched for the archers. One was on the furthest dais on the left and it was methodically firing off arrows in her direction, as was the other that was on the right side on the second dais. Wyldfyre was pinned down by the archers and could not move until she took them out. She found a position she could kneel in without being hit and lined up the closest draugr. She hit him in the leg and he went down on one knee, dropping his bow, which fell off the edge. No longer able to fire arrows at her, the draugr simply knelt there on its dais, angrily waving its arms at her.

    The second one proved to be more of a challenge as another draugr, armed with a steel greatsword was making its way to her hiding spot. She quickly notched an arrow and fired it at the draugr archer but missed it, her arrow falling uselessly into the pool below. She steadied herself, all the while aware of the advancing draugr, and loosed another arrow. This one rang true and it hit the draugr in the head. It staggered back, miscalculating how close to the edge it was and it toppled into the pool.

    Wyldfyre could not sit there as the draugr with the greatsword was then upon her. She knew her small sword would not stand a chance against the longer sword of the draugr, so she abandoned both her weapons and concentrated on producing the hottest flame she could muster. She blasted the inferno at the draugr who suddenly turned and started to run back up the middle of the chamber.

    “Oh no you don’t!” Wyldfyre called after it. She left her hiding spot and raced after the burning draugr as it shuffled along the stone floor. It seemed to be trying to make its way to the water. As it got to the edge it stood there, seemingly unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to go in or not.

    “Here, I’ll help you” Wyldfyre grunted as she kicked the draugr in the back and it went head first down into the pool. That was strange Wyldfyre thought to herself. I thought Draugr didn’t feel pain. I guess they have a little more self preservation in them than what we first thought. She looked down at the other draugr, bobbing around in the pool, unable to escape the sheer walls. The scene would have been comical if Wyldfyre didn’t feel a little sorry for the poor lost souls. Bidden to an eternity of unrest in this forsaken place. They were hero’s of old, fathers, mothers and children, and deserved a peaceful rest.

    “I’m sorry” she whispered to them. She left them and made her way up to the main dais with a large sarcophagus in the middle. As Wyldfyre approached, the lid burst open and another draugr rose from its sleep. This one was not a Deathlord like Wyldfyre was expecting. But it did have a power emanating from it. As it pulled itself out from its coffin, Wyldfyre wasted no time and loosed a couple of arrows into it. It barely noticed them as it stood to its full height. It was slightly taller than Wyldfyre and it carried a greatsword which she eyed nervously.

    She backed away down the stairs she had just came from, not wanting to have the draugr knock her into the pools below where a hoard of angry soggy draugr awaited her. She remembered the last fight with the Deathlord of Bleak Falls Barrow. It had known her Fus shout, but with two more words that she did not understand. The three words said together made for a shout powerful enough to knock her off her feet and send her flying. Wyldfyre did not want that to happen again so she stayed as far away from this draugr as she could. She continued firing arrows into it as it came after her, its greatsword whistling through the air.

    Suddenly the draugr stopped and shouted at her, Wyldfyre braced for impact but instead she felt a mind shattering numbness to her arm that caused her muscles to spasm and she dropped her bow. This was different, and alarming. Wyldfyre did not have any time to pick her bow up, as the draugr had shuffled towards her quickly while she was caught up in its shout. She could only hold up her hands and bring forward her fire spell. As it advanced on her she blasted it. The flames licked at its century’s old steel armour, burning away the rotten leather. As it approached Wyldfyre, she had to keep backing up. The Draugr’s armour started to fall off, no longer being held on by the leather straps. As its cuirass fell to the ground, the draugr stood on it and its footsteps faltered for a few seconds.

    Wyldfyre took that opportunity to unsheathe her sword and took a mighty swing at it, slashing it across its belly. Wyldfyre was repulsed as dust and dead moths fell out of the cavity she had made. The draugr growled something incomprehensible at her and swung its greatsword. It was slow and she was able to dodge it. It stopped moving and she had a feeling it was going to try to disarm her again. Without thinking she shouted back at it.

    “FUS!”. Her shout staggered the draugr a little and stopped it from making its own shout. Wyldfyre slashed at it again, this time across its neck. She sliced into its neck half way and the draugr stopped in its tracks. It tried to swing its sword at her but Wyldfyre poked it on its head with her sword and its head fell back off its shoulders. It dropped its sword, its arms were flailing around trying to right its own head back onto its neck. Wyldfyre sighed and raised her hands, blasting it with fire and putting it out of its misery.

    Wyldfyre took a minute to catch her breath. It was over. She was surprised that she had come out of this one relatively unscathed. Not counting her slashed neck from Wyndelius. She had done it. And by herself as well. She gathered up her weapons, sheathing her sword but keeping her bow out just in case there was anything up ahead. She went up the ramp at the back of the chamber and through a small tunnel, disappointed at not having found a chest, until she came out into another large chamber and saw something that made her smile. One very large chest and across a bridge was another word wall. She could hear the chanting as she approached but she stopped at the chest first, which contained a lot of gold and some small potion vials. There was also a sword made from a strange yellow metal. It was very heavy and Wyldfyre didn’t really want to carry it so she left it. She took the gems she found though.

    Wyldfyre crossed the bridge to the word wall and felt it enter her as she stood there. The dragon soul inside her found the word and devoured it. She learnt the word and found it to be one that soothed wild beasts. As her vision cleared she swayed slightly. The absorption of the word made her a little dizzy. She took a bottle of mead out of her satchel and took a large swig, stoppering the cork and storing it away. She crossed a bridge to her right that lead her through a tunnel and then another until she came to a stone door that when she pulled on the chain and it moved away she was amused to find herself back inside the small room that the mad elf had been hiding out in. To think that he was so close this whole time, she laughed.
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  11. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    It was close on morning by the time Wyldfyre was free from the Barrow. She had decided she would leave Ivarstead, but first she wanted to give the Sapphire Dragon Claw back to Wilhelm. She entered the Inn to find no-one in the main dining hall. Wyldfyre went down the stairs behind the counter and saw Wilhelm at his cooking pot. He looked up surprised when he heard someone, then smiled when he saw it was Wyldfyre.

    “You made it back!” he exclaimed, embracing her. Wyldfyre took out the claw from her satchel and handed it to Wilhelm.

    “I would not have made it without this. Thank you Wilhelm.” Wilhelm shook his head.

    “No, I said you could keep this and I meant it” He tried handing the claw back. Wyldfyre sighed.

    “How about you keep it here for me and I will get it when I come back?” She bargained. Wilhelm looked at her and laughed.

    “Oh! All right! You stubborn girl. I will keep it here for you, safe and sound. At least this gives you an excuse to come back now doesn’t it?” He placed it in a chest and locked it.

    “I don’t need an excuse” she said. “I WILL return. One day.” Wilhelm nodded, and then bid Wyldfyre to sit and share his evening meal. Wyldfyre was grateful to be able to dump all of her gear and take off her armour. She sat with Wilhelm, eating a hearty beef stew and regaled him of her exploration of the Barrow. Wilhelm raised his eyebrows during the story a number of times. He frowned when she mentioned the word wall.

    “Word wall?” he asked her.

    “It’s hard to explain. You remember the way I absorbed the dragons soul?”. Wilhelm nodded. “Well it seems that the word walls are somehow connected to me being Dragonborn. They are covered in strange writing and whenever I approach one, a word enters me.”

    “It enters you?”

    “Like the dragon soul. And I learn the word with the help of the dragon soul inside me. Like I said, it’s hard to explain. That’s why I wanted to go up the mountain to the Grey Beards. I needed answers.” She stared down at her empty plate, pensive. “I guess I will have to wait until I can find someone to take me up there”. Wilhelm sighed, and put his hand on her shoulder, not quite understanding her need but knowing it was important to her, all the same. Wyldfyre did not tell him about her other desire. The one that burned inside her even now, that made her feel things she could barely control. The dragon souls inside her stirred and she shifted uncomfortably. Wilhelm, sitting beside her was starting to become an enticing prospect.

    Wyldfyre shook herself, and stood to break the contact with Wilhelm. She busied herself with the empty dishes to disguise the inner battle she was having. She needed to leave before she did something she regretted. She pulled on her armour and bid Wilhelm farewell again, promising to return as soon as she found her warrior. She headed out of town and started along the road south east that lead to the city of Riften. Wilhelm had told her it was a good place to start her search and she was curious to see the city built on a lake.

    The day was turning warm and Wyldfyre soon felt uncomfortably hot in her armour. Wilhelm had warned her that the road to Riften was full of beasts and bandits so she kept it on and remained vigilant. As she passed under the orange and red trees her thoughts wandered back to her own small valley. There were never trees of this colour. They were forever green and grew so close together that dark shadows played amongst their twisted roots. Wyldfyre missed the dark forest. Everything was so bright here. Bright and uncertain and savage. As am I, now she mused to herself.

    She followed the road that wound through the continuous groves of trees. Sometimes she could just make out the lake to her left. It sparkled and shone in the sunlight like a great jewel. Wyldfyre met no-one on the road and she saw no beast apart from one bear in the far distance and a great shaggy beast loping through the trees on its hind legs. Wyldfyre wondered if the beast was one of the trolls that Klimmek had told her about. She was glad it was way off in the distance, whatever it was. Accomplished as she was at hunting and fighting, a troll was new to her and she had no idea how to take one down.

    The road led her past a small mill where a young boy stood feeding a couple of scrawny chickens. Wyldfyre saw no sign of the boy’s parents. She continued past the mill, looking out onto the lake where a small island stood in the middle. Strange small thatched huts stood in a row on one side of the complex. Further along the road a path lead off to the right. Wyldfyre stopped and surveyed the path. It led to a stronghold of some sort, surrounded by a palisade of thick tree trunks. Wyldfyre could see someone patrolling one of the towers that stood over the barricade. She decided to press on to Riften. She could see the city now. Part of it was built over the lake. A small cluster of buildings stood on thick pylons, two small boats and one larger ship was moored to the docks. Wyldfyre had never travelled on a boat before. She couldn’t imagine it to be pleasant at all.

    She finally came to the city gates which was a large double wooden door set into a massive stone wall. It towered over Wyldfyre, casting long shadows across the ground. Wyldfyre approached the guard with caution. He stepped forward.

    “Halt! What business do you have here in Riften?”. Wyldfyre glared at him, as the dragons stirred inside her.

    “My business” she answered bruskly. The guard held his long pike in front of her, barring her way.

    “And just what kind of business is that?”.

    “Companions business, now stand aside” she said through gritted teeth. She hated throwing the name out there, but she had no other good enough reason for the guard to simply let her in. He stood back and stammered.

    “Oh. Sorry. Hail Companion. Go right in.”

    “Thank you” she murmured and slipped through the gate into Riften. Wyldfyre was immediately aware that the city of Riften had a peculiar odour to it. It smelt like dampness. Like the lake it had been built upon had permeated itself into the very stone of the buildings. Wyldfyre walked through the city and came upon a bustling circle of market stalls surrounding an old well. She slowly browsed the stalls until she came to one selling jewellery. Wyldfyre stopped short when she noticed the vendor. What had Ralof called them? Argonian? The only way Wyldfyre could describe the creature before her was a half human half lizard. His skin was smooth and a mottled green that shimmered slightly in the sun. His head was reptilian in shape and he had strange ribbon like spines that streamed down the back of his head. He wore a simple blue merchant’s tunic.

    "Jewellery with legendary Argonian craftsmanship!" He called. Wyldfyre was shocked to hear his voice. It was smooth and well spoken. She approached the Argonian with great curiosity.

    "Greetings friend. Can I interest you in some fine jewellery?" He asked her. Wyldfyre smiled at him and inspected the jewellery in the display cabinet. The pieces were impeccably made.

    “These are beautiful pieces” she said to him. The Argonian smiled, showing rows of tiny sharp teeth.

    “I thank you. I am one of the last true Saxhleel Jewellers in all of Tamriel”. Wyldfyre looked at him, not understanding the term. The argonian sighed.

    “Sadly, it’s becoming a dying art. And with all the troubles I have had, I don’t know how long I can continue”

    “What sort of troubles, if you don’t mind me asking?”

    “Bandits have made gathering raw materials hazardous. The roads to the mines and other cities are crawling with them.”

    “I saw no bandits on my way here from Ivarstead” Wyldfyre said. The argonian raised his spiked eyebrows.

    “You were lucky then. The last time I tried to leave this city I was nearly killed by a group of them. I dare not go out again, and my stocks are so low”.

    “Can’t you hire someone to travel with you? A body guard of some sort?”. The argonian chuckled.

    “Just because I sell the finest jewellery in all of Skyrim, does not mean I am a rich man”

    “Oh” Wyldfyre blushed “I am sorry, I did not mean to offend you”. He held up his hand and smiled at her.

    “Don’t worry about it. The assumption was reasonable. Say, I don’t suppose you could get me the materials I need. Do you?” he looked at her hopefully. Wyldfyre thought about it for a while before answering him.

    “I guess I could. I have other business in the city, but I certainly could look for you”. The argonians face lit up.

    “Oh I thank you my friend. By the way, my name is Madesi”


    “A pleasure it is Wyldfyre” he bowed to her graciously. “I will write down for you what I need.” He disappeared behind his counter for a minute and then stood up and handed her a small piece of parchment. Wyldfyre checked the list. One gold ore, a mammoth tusk and two flawless sapphires. The gold ore was not a problem for Wyldfyre. She smiled and pulled a chunk of it that she had brought with her from her stash. She placed it on the counter and Madesi’s smile grew wider.

    “Well!” he exclaimed “that was fortunate”. Wyldfyre nodded in agreement. She looked at the list again.

    “Sapphires? I’m afraid I don’t have any of those on me. Nor the Mammoth tusk.” Madesi waved his hand as he placed the gold ore under the counter.

    “That is fine. I have enough to keep me going for a while. Just if you come across any I would be very grateful.” He handed her a large amount of coins for the gold ore. Wyldfyre looked at the coins and gave more than half of it back to him.

    “You gave me too much” she said simply. In truth, he had not given her enough for what the ore was worth, but Wyldfyre couldn’t bear to take money from the struggling argonian. Still, she suspected he would be offended if she had just given him the ore so she pocketed the few coins left. Madesi nodded and smiled at her.

    “You are most generous. I thank you. Please if you want anything, come and see me”. Wyldfyre bid Madesi goodbye and continued on through the market. A large man was shouting something about a miracle cure when he spied Wyldfyre in the crowd. He gave her a wink that set her heart lurching. He continued on with his spiel. When it was over the crowd dispersed, some of them buying the potion bottles from the man, others muttering as they walked off. Wyldfyre walked away then felt someone beside her.

    "Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying. Eh, lass?" Wyldfyre turned her head to see who had spoken to her. It was the man from the stall. She stopped in front of a meat wagon parked next to what looked like an Inn.

    “What’s that supposed to mean?” she glared up at him. He smiled down at her, trying to be charming. He looked around and found people staring at the pair so he steered her into the Inn. Wyldfyre was about to draw her sword on him for touching her but she felt her insides lurch again when his hand touched her bare skin. She started to panic and struggled out of his grip. He led her over to a dimly lit table in the corner of the Inn.

    “Let go of me” she hissed through clenched teeth. Something in her eyes must have warned the man because he dropped his hand.

    “I’m sorry, but you kind of attract attention. And attention is the last thing I need for what I am about to tell you”. He indicated to a chair and Wyldfyre, against her better judgement, sat down, her leather armour creaking. The man, dressed in a long merchants robe, sat across from her. He waved to another argonian behind the bar and she brought over two tankards of mead. The man paid the argonian woman and pushed one of the tankards towards Wyldfyre. Having trekked all day, Wyldfyre found she was very thirsty so she downed the whole tankard. She placed the empty tankard on the table, as the man watched her, amused.

    “Now. Talk” she said to the annoyingly handsome man.
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  12. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: The Thief and the Mage

    The man smiled at Wyldfyre.

    “Straight down to business eh lass?” he chuckled. He took a sip of mead as the bar maid placed another tankard in front of Wyldfyre. She had not seen the man order it but she drank it anyway. This time more slowly.

    “Well now. I guess I should introduce myself. The names Brynjolf and I have a business proposition for a lass like you”.

    “What sort of proposition?” Wyldfyre asked, suspicious.

    “One that would indeed be very profitable. For all those concerned.” he smiled at her, as if that was all the convincing she needed.

    “Go on” she said.

    “Well I can’t give away too many details here” he looked around the Inn and leaned in closer “Too many ears, if you get my meaning”. Wyldfyre knew just what he meant.

    “If you mean that your proposal involves crime of some sort then I’m not interested” she made to leave but he put his hand on hers, again. Wyldfyre was disturbed at how much his touch affected her. She frowned and he removed his hand again.

    “It’s not like that. All I need you to do is plant something on someone, and I will take care of the rest.”

    “You are setting someone up? Why?”

    “That’s none of your concern. Just know that the person deserves what is coming to him.”

    “That’s not a good enough answer for me” she said to him. He sat back in his chair, analysing her to the point where Wyldfyre shifted in her seat.

    “Well that’s all I am going to give you” he said “Look, if you are interested in making an insane amount of coin then meet me at my market stall tomorrow. It will be worth it, I promise you” He stood up and placed a handful of coins on the table. Wyldfyre watched him leave, frowning at his departing back.

    “I’d be careful of that one if I were you” a male voice said behind her. She turned to face a good looking man with dark hair, dressed in robes. Wyldfyre groaned inwardly.. will they just leave me alone? She sighed as he slid into Brynjolfs vacant seat.

    “And why is that?” she asked him.

    “I hear he is involved with the Thieves Guild. Nothing good can be gained from associating with the likes of him” he nodded sagely. Wyldfyre should have guessed that Brynjolf was involved in some sort of organised criminal gang. The man across from her held out a hand.

    “The names Marcurio. I am an apprentice Wizard, and an arm for hire. I live here at the Bee and Barb.”

    “You live here at this Inn?” she asked him, not daring to take his hand. He slowly retracted it, looking slightly puzzled.

    “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It keeps me close to the action and potential customers. Plus it’s cheap and Talen Jei and Keerava keep it tidy and homely.”

    “You said you are a wizard for hire?” she asked him, curious.

    “Yes, I have been hiring myself out to folks who need protection. Travelling from one town to another, that sort of thing. People generally go for mercenaries, but they are an untrustworthy lot. Whereas I will get you there in one piece and not slit your throat in the wilds to steal your coin purse.” He spoke with a kind of arrogance that slightly annoyed Wyldfyre.

    “I see” she nodded. She wondered if he had ever journeyed up the Throat of the World, and so she asked him.

    “To be honest, no. But I have heard it is a perilous journey to take. Especially alone” he cocked his head to one side. “Are you planning on making that journey?” Wyldfyre sighed. She ordered another tankard of mead and one for her new companion.

    “I was. But I don’t think I can make it up there on my own, and I really need to see the Greybeards.” Wyldfyre did not drink her mead. Marcurio took a swig of his, and set the tankard down.

    “So, then you are looking for a guide? I could take you. For a small fee of course” Wyldfyre looked at Marcurio, sizing him up. Even though he wore robes she could tell he was well built. But he carried only a dagger at his waist. A dagger would be useless against Ice Wraith and trolls and bears.

    “I’m sorry but I don’t think you are what I am looking for. I need a warrior. With real weapons” she pointed to his dagger. Marcurio sat back. But instead of being offended he smiled at her.

    “That’s understandable. You have not seen what I am capable of, so I will let that go. How about a demonstration?” he winked at her. Wyldfyre thought about it before she answered him.


    “Good!” he exclaimed as he rose from his chair. “But not here. I’m afraid it would be much too dangerous”.
    Wyldfyre grinned at his statement as she stood, the mead going to her head.

    “You are really that good?” she asked him. Marcurio nodded, not noticing her smirk.

    “I could probably burn down the entire town if I wanted to.” He answered her. She followed him out the door of the Inn and past the market. Wyldfyre stole a glance over to Brynjolf's stall and she caught him watching her, a frown on his face. They went through the gate Wyldfyre had entered the city through and walked along the lake side. The day was drawing to an end and Wyldfyre fingered the hilt of her sword nervously, hoping that Marcurio was who he said he was and was not leading her into some sort of trap. As they walked along he chatted on endlessly to her about his accomplishments in his mastery of magic. After a while he stopped and turned back towards the city.

    “I think we are far enough away” he said as he drew his sleeves back and held out his hands. “Prepare to be amazed”. Wyldfyre thought this mage was a tad in awe of himself, when he let loose a blindingly bright spark from both of his hands that was so powerful, it blew a tree apart a fair way down the bank of the river. Bark, leaves and chunks of wood rained down onto the muddy bank.

    “Wow!” Wyldfyre said, impressed.

    “I told you” Marcurio answered, crossing his arms and looking smug. As impressed as she was, Wyldfyre really wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, and, fuelled by the mead in her belly, turned to him.



    “FUS!” she shouted at him. Marcurio, completely taken unawares, was pushed back by her shout, stumbled on a tree root, and fell into the lake, backside first. Wyldfyre burst into a fit of giggles as he splashed and spluttered out of the water. He stood there gasping at her, his robes dripping.

    “What” he panted “Was THAT?” It was her turn to look smug.

    “Dragon shout” she answered him simply. She turned and walked back to the city. Marcurio ran to keep up with her, barraging her with all types of questions. They made their way back to the Inn and Wyldfyre accepted Marcurio’s offer of a place to sleep. He opened the door to his room on the top floor of the Bee and Barb. He let her pass and closed the door.

    “It’s not much, but it’s home” he said. Wyldfyre took in the room. It was bigger than she thought it would be and Marcurio had made it homely and warm, throwing a rug on the floor and cleaning out the small fire place. He lit it now and pulled off his robes to dry them. Wyldfyre turned around, but not before catching a glimpse of his finely toned back. She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to calm her inner self. The fire crackled as she dumped her things on the floor and sat down at the small table. Marcurio sat at the table as well, thankfully dressed in a tunic top and pants.

    “So what did that fellow want with you anyway?”

    “He wanted me to set someone up down in the market. I don’t know who, but I told him I wasn’t going to do it.” Marcurio nodded.

    “I’ve heard of them doing this kind of thing. It’s how they recruit new people into the Guild”

    “Well they won’t be recruiting me” Wyldfyre said. Marcurio smiled at that.

    “How about I see what Keerava has cooked up for dinner?” He stood and left the room leaving Wyldfyre alone. She took off her armour, glad to be rid of it and shed the undergarments as well. She found a basin of water and washed herself with a cloth. Before she dried herself she picked up a shiny plate and tried to examine her slashed neck in the reflection. It was somewhat distorted but what she could see it was healing well. Wyldfyre stood there in the room, examining her neck, when she heard a noise behind her.

    “OH!” She whirled around and found Marcurio at the door with a tray of food in his hands. His eyes bulged as they travelled down her naked body. Wyldfyre snatched up her tunic top and pulled it over her head. Marcurio swallowed and put the tray down onto the table.

    “I’m er, sorry. I should have knocked” he stammered. Wyldfyre was slightly amused by his embarrassment and shrugged, as she stood there in just her top that barely covered her thighs.

    “Don’t be. I should have probably waited, but I took off my armour and felt so..”. Marcurio swallowed again, knowing what she was about to say. He indicated to a chair and Wyldfyre sat down and looked at the meal he had brought. It was a mix of vegetables in a thick broth with a trencher of dark grainy bread. Wyldfyre ate the delicious soup while Marcurio chatted in between bites. They talked well into the night, before Wyldfyre rolled out her furs and stretched out on them. Marcurio insisted she sleep in his bed and he sleep on the floor but Wyldfyre convinced him she was perfectly fine in her furs. He blew out the candle and they both lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how close the other was and not daring to do anything about it, for completely different reasons.

    Wyldfyre awoke somewhat groggy, for a moment forgetting she was in Marcurio's room. She glanced over to his bed to see that it was empty. She sat up and looked around the room. He was at the table eating. He smiled widely when he saw she was awake.

    “Morning sleepyhead” he greeted her cheerily. Wyldfyre narrowed her eyes at him.

    “Are you always so happy in the morning?”

    “I am when I have a new adventure in front of me” he replied.

    “Oh and what might that be?” she asked him, a little disappointed that he was leaving.

    “I am going to be your guide to the top of the world!” he exclaimed.
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  13. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    Adult content

    CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Temptations

    Marcurio hummed merrily to himself as they walked to the smith that stood behind the markets. Wyldfyre had argued with him all morning about his announcement, but he could not be swayed, even when she said she would not be paying him. He still insisted in travelling with her. She eventually gave in on the condition that he buys some armour and better weapons. Marcurio had argued that his magic was all he needed. But eventually an agreement was reached on the armour and one sword. They now threaded their way through the market to see Riften’s smith. A man by the name of Balimund that Marcurio knew well. Wyldfyre avoided looking over to Brynjolf’s stall and stood back as Marcurio greeted a large blond haired man wearing a blacksmiths apron. He nodded to Wyldfyre and she approached.

    “Pleased to meet you” Balimund took her hand and shook it. His hand was large and calloused and Wyldfyre’s whole arm shook with his strong hand shake. “The lad here tells me that you are in need of some armour?”. Wyldfyre nodded.

    “Yes, something light for easy travel, but hardy.” Balimund stroked his moustache.

    “Hmm..” he hummed as he sized Marcurio up. “I have a few good pieces inside. We might find something to fit. Follow me.” He led them inside the smith where he showed them to a large table piled with armour of all kinds. Marcurio picked through the pieces gingerly, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

    “Why does it all smell so, …?”

    “Sweaty?” Wyldfyre finished for him. She shrugged. “Armour is hot and you sweat in it. Sweat seeps into the leather, gives it that personal touch I guess”. Balimund chuckled and winked at Wyldfyre. Marcurio held up a leather gauntlet and sniffed it. He pulled a face and dropped it back onto the pile.

    “Err. Does it have to smell like an entire Orc stronghold had a go at it though?”. Wyldfyre sighed.

    “Just find something” she mumbled and wandered off to look at some arrows. After an hour of whining and fussing, Marcurio had finally picked out a full set of Scaled armour. He let Balimund fit it to him and check it over, making note of where it needed to be loosened or tightened. The boots were a tight fit as well. Balimund told then it would take a few days for him to adjust the armour and that he would let them know when it was done. He was also going to fix the hilt of a steel sword Marcurio had picked out. As they walked back to the Inn, Marcurio was quiet. Wyldfyre glanced over to him and he seemed to be deep in thought. She was about to say something when he looked at her.

    “So, this means we will be staying in town for a little while longer?” Wyldfyre nodded.

    “So it would seem” she wondered when he would get to the point. He did.

    “The er.. sleeping arrangements we had last night?”

    “I was thinking of getting my own room” she answered him. He seemed to slump a bit.

    “Oh, well, um yes that is probably for the best”.

    When they arrived back at the Inn, she put down some coin for the room across from Marcurios. She gathered her things and opened the door to her home for the next few days. It was smaller than Marcurios, but it had a bed and a table and suited Wyldfyre fine. She sat at the table and looked out over the town of Riften. She was restless and so went out for a walk. As she left the Inn a familiar figure fell into step beside her.

    “So you have chosen to ignore my generous offer lass?” he asked her quietly. Wyldfyre continued walking and they left the circle of markets.

    “Brynjolf” Wyldfyre said “I do not wish to do as you asked.”

    “Even if it means making more coin than you’ve probably ever seen in your lifetime?”

    “Yes” she glared at him “Go find someone else to do your dirty work”

    “You are passing up an opportunity of a life time” he said to her. Wyldfyre stopped and looked at him. Passers-by stared at the couple. A girl in steel armour with a red tattoo on her face glared at Brynjolf. A young man followed her closely. Wyldfyre lowered her voice.

    “By committing a crime? I am no thug for hire” she hissed at him, dearly wanting to FUS him off the boardwalk and into the canal below. Instead, she strode off, leaving that man behind her. She turned and headed back for the Inn, her pleasant walk ruined. As she stomped up the stairs to her room, she met Marcurio.

    “What’s wrong?” he asked her, observing her stony face. Wyldfyre growled, and told Marcurio of her second run in with Brynjolf. Marcurio was sympathetic. Then he brightened up.

    “Hey I know, let’s get out of the city for a while, and see the countryside?” Wyldfyre was hesitant at first.

    “Come on” he urged her “I know a great place along the lake where we can relax and swim, and no-one will bother us. Especially pushy thieves”. Wyldfyre smiled and nodded.

    “Alright, lead the way”

    “I must admit, this is a pretty nice place you have found here” Wyldfyre said later as she relaxed under some shady trees. She had taken off her armour and was wearing a tunic top and her soft suede pants. They had no reason to worry as the spot that Marcurio had taken them was so excluded, no one would have come upon them. As it was they had had to scale down a cliff face to get to it. Wyldfyre had cursed Marcurio on the way down as she scraped herself on the rocks for the third time. But in the end it was worth it. The little cove had just the right amount of sunlight and shade and led to a part of the lake that was fresh and clear. Wyldfyre and Marcurio had discarded their armour and robes as soon as they had got there and they now lay back on the grass. Wyldfyre watched the trees above her swaying gently in the breeze.

    “Hungry?” Marcurio asked her. She sat up to find he had pulled out a small lunch from his satchel. They munched on apples and cheese and chased it down with a bottle of mead they shared. Wyldfyre lay back down and soon drifted off. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep when she woke to find Marcurio staring at her. She lay there silent as he blushed and turned away. Wyldfyre sat up and he turned back to her. He looked like he wanted to say something but instead he reached out and touched her hair. Wyldfyre slightly recoiled from his touch. His hand came away and in it was a leaf.

    “You had this in your hair” he said to her shyly. Wyldfyre relaxed, inwardly scolding herself for being so on edge. Marcurio looked out over the lake and then stood suddenly. He began peeling off his tunic and pants.

    “Up for a swim?” he asked her, and not even waiting for a reply, he charged off, naked, into the water. Wyldfyre was so torn. She desperately wanted to keep the arrangement between herself and Marcurio purely plutonic, but the restless souls inside wanted otherwise. She had felt terribly guilty for sleeping with the hunter when she had left Lydia that night and she was determined to not give in to that side of her again. But she wanted Marcurio badly. Not because she had formed any sort of attachment to him. He was merely a male in her presence right then and now and her desire to find a release was overpowering.

    Wyldfyre was shocked at the way her thoughts seemed to go when she felt like this. She had not seen Farkas as just a means to an end, nor Ralof for that matter. Ever since she had consumed the dragon souls she had felt, different. Like a part of her had awakened that she had not even known was in her. It was frightening yet exhilarating. Wyldfyre fought for control even now, even though she desperately wanted to give in. She turned away and lay down again, closing her eyes and thinking of anything but the naked man in the lake.

    She wasn’t even aware that she had fallen asleep again when she started awake by a light touch on her cheek. Marcurio lay next to her, still dripping from his swim. She blinked as he traced a finger over her tattoo. Wyldfyre breathed deeply, not daring to move. Marcurio was propped up on an elbow and he stared down at her.

    “You are so beautiful” he whispered to her. Wyldfyre tentatively reached out a hand and touched Marcurios face. It was cold from the breeze. She slid her hand down across his shoulder and felt the muscles tense under her touch. Her primal urges awakened inside her and she pushed Marcurio over onto his back, straddling his body. She pulled off her tunic and bent down to kiss him deeply, as his hands explored her body. She stood and peeled off her pants and observed Marcurios arousal. She crouched on all fours, crawling towards him like a cat after her prey and devoured him. It wasn’t enough for her though, so she crawled up his body and guided him into her as his mouth found her breasts.

    Wyldfyre floated on the surface of the lake, her hunger sated for now. Their coupling had lasted for a while and Marcurio was now fast asleep on the grass. She was content to let him sleep as she enjoyed the peace and serenity of the lake. She turned over and dived down in the depths below, swimming down along the lake bottom. She swam until she thought her lungs would burst and she exploded when she reached the surface. She turned back to the lake shore to find she had swum a long way out with just that one breath. Longer than anyone she had know could do so. How did I do that? She marvelled. She could see Marcurio at the lake shore, a hand shading his eyes, scanning the lake in search of her. She swam back to the shore and stood up, water dripping from her naked body.

    “Where did you come from?” he asked her, surprised. She walked back up the bank to their little camp. “I couldn’t see you anywhere” he added. She shook out her wet hair and dropped down onto the grass.
    “I was just swimming” she answered simply. He came to her and lay beside her, sliding his hand over her wet curves. Wyldfyre sighed with pleasure as his hand made its way between her legs and he gave her exquisite release again.

    It was nearing on dusk as they walked back to the city. The guards grumpily let them back in and they made their way back to the inn. Wyldfyre observed that Brynjolfs stall was now vacant, and she smiled. They dumped their gear in their rooms and went down for the evening meal. Keerava, the female argonian put plates of the same vegetable soup in front of them, as well as a trencher of white bread and two bottles of mead. They ate in companionable silence before Wyldfyre excused herself and retired to her room. She wanted to be alone for the rest of what remained of the day.

    The next day Wyldfyre went exploring the city of Riften. She found a shop in the lower section of the city that sold all sorts of herbs and potions. She bought a couple of small health vials. She also found a temple devoted to the worship of the god Mara. She found out from one of the disciples inside that Mara was the god of love and this temple was popular for wedding ceremonies. On a whim, she bought an amulet of Mara, a trinket one wore to let others know they were looking to be wed. Wyldfyre didn’t know why she bought it, thinking of Farkas back in Whiterun, who had probably already forgotten about her. She shoved it into her satchel, making sure it was right down the bottom.

    She was coming out of the temple when she saw Brynjolf walking through the court yard towards the back where the cemetery lay. Curiosity got the better of her and she followed him, keeping close to the shadows. He walked through the cemetery, seemingly not interested in the grave stones. Wyldfyre crept closer as Brynjolf stopped and looked around, and then ducked into a small Mausoleum. Wyldfyre heard a scraping noise and edged closer to the entrance until she could see inside. Brynjolf had disappeared. How? Wyldfyre searched the small structure until she came upon a piece of stone carving on the coffin that looked a little loose. She pressed it and jumped back as the floor slid away under the coffin. It revealed a small stairwell leading to a trapdoor in the floor. So that’s where he went she mused. Wyldfyre was about to go down the stairs when a hand grabbed her arm.

    “Not a good idea lass” Wyldfyre spun around and swung her arm at him, her fist collecting with his jaw. Brynjolf grunted and staggered back. But he still blocked her exit, so she stood there glaring at him with her hands on her hips. Brynjolf massaged his jaw.

    “That’s a good arm you’ve got there” he chuckled.
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  14. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    Adult content


    Wyldfyre moved forward, trying to get Brynjolf to move out of her way but he wouldn’t budge. He irritated her with his smooth ways and the way she felt when she touched him. Except for her punch. She had thoroughly enjoyed that. He was too close for comfort now so she had to take a step back.

    “How did your crime go?” she asked him icily. Brynjolf leant against the stone doorway studying her. She did not like the way he looked at her. Like he knew everything about her.

    “It didn’t” he frowned for a second “It doesn’t matter. The job will still be there tomorrow”. Wyldfyre liked that his plans didn’t work out. She glanced back to the trapdoor and turned back to the man, blocking her way.

    “I guess that is the entrance to your hideout?” she asked him. Brynjolf smiled.

    “And what are you going to do with that little piece of information?”

    “Nothing” she shrugged “If you leave me alone”. He raised his eyebrows. He was just so impressed with this fiery little cracker, not to mention his other desire for her.

    “Blackmail is it then lass? Well” he shrugged also “I can live with that. But just one more thing before I let you go”
    “What?” she frowned at him.

    “I meant what I said yesterday. You are passing up an opportunity here to make a lot of coin. It could set you up for life. You could give up the hard life you obviously are living now. Settle down…”

    “What makes you think I WANT to give up this life? I happen to like it right now” she argued.

    “Really?” he raised his eyebrows. “You know. I see a lot of people pass through this town. No one who stops here is ever happy with their life. This is where they come to wallow in their misery or to escape from something” that stirred Wyldfyre a little and he noticed it. “Ah I thought so. You are running away from something, or someone. But it doesn’t have to be like that. We are a family down there” he pointed to the trapdoor “And we look out for each other. Think about it” he stepped away from the door, letting her pass. She slipped out of the mausoleum and as she walked away she said over her shoulder..

    “I’ve thought about it. And my answer is still NO”. She walked back through the town, worked up by her encounter with the Thief. She was annoyed at herself for letting him get to her. He knew just what to push with her and she didn’t like it one bit. If she had not of been waiting for Marcurios armour to be finished she would have left town already. But she was stuck here until then. She walked for a long time, before she noticed she had left the city behind her and was heading for the small cove that she and Marcurio had been at the day before. A swim in the cool waters of the lake seemed like a nice idea to her so she hurried along to the spot where she had to scale down the cliff face.

    When Wyldfyre made it in to the cove, she peeled off her armour and underclothes and plunged, naked, into the lake. She swam for miles, enjoying the icy freshness. She began to test how long she could swim under the water before needing to resurface for air. She was amazed at how far she could go and wondered if this was yet another side affect from consuming the dragon souls. Could dragons breathe underwater? There was just so much she didn’t know. Being Dragonborn was not much good to one who didn’t even know what it meant.

    Swimming had calmed her down and she now floated on the surface of the lake, watching the clouds drift by. Gradually more and more clouds began to gather and they were grey and threatening. Before Wyldfyre knew it, it had started to rain. The rain pelted down onto the surface of the lake, making little stinging droplets that stung when they hit her skin. The sky overhead was lit up by a bolt of lightning and the ensuing rumble was incredibly loud. Wyldfyre didn’t think being in the lake was such a good idea so she swam back to shore and put on her tunic, which had been lying out in the weather. It was soaking and stuck to her skin. She stored her armour under a small rocky outcrop at the back of the cove and waited out the storm under the trees.

    She could be forgiven for not hearing the noise behind her, given the storm that raged around her. Wyldfyre did not even here the man creep silently up behind her as she was struck on the head and fell into darkness.

    Wyldfyre came too, slowly and opened her eyes. Her vision was foggy but she could see she was in a small dark room. The walls were carved or natural rock. She tried to sit up but found that she was bound hand and foot to a narrow pallet bed. Panic clutched at her heart. She was wearing nothing but her tunic, her weapons and armour she assumed were back at the cove. Wyldfyre turned her head and surveyed what little of the room she could see. It wasn’t a room, but a small cave. She could just make out a rough doorway that led out to a larger chamber. Her foggy vision made out two or three figures walking around.

    She tried to struggle against her bindings but whoever had tied them had done a good job. She could do nothing but lie there and wait. Where was she? Who had captured her? And what were their intentions. Wyldfyre’s heart beat frantically as these questions swirled through her head. She then thought about using a fire spell to free herself from the ropes but she was scared of alerting her captors. She debated with herself until she finally decided she had no choice and so concentrated all her will on the fire. Flames flew from her palms but try as she might, she could not direct the flames towards the ropes. Her captors had probably anticipated her use of magic so had tied her hands with her palms facing upwards.

    Wyldfyre knew she was in trouble if they had thought of that. Her captors were intelligent, which was even more frightening. She struggled again until she heard someone enter the room. She froze, expecting the worst. A cold hand ran up her leg and stopped on her thigh. Sharp nails traced over the sabre cat scars she had there. The person tsk-tskd.

    “Nasty” purred a woman. Wyldfyre looked down and saw a woman in hooded robes peering down at her leg. She traced the scar again, this time pressing her nails in hard. Wyldfyre bit her lip to stop herself from showing any pain. The woman looked at her and Wyldfyre could see her glowing orange eyes under her hood. She felt a chill run through her body. This woman was not human. She moved her hand up Wyldfyres body, sliding her tunic top up, watching Wyldfyres reaction as she did. Wyldfyre chose to keep her face calm. The woman peeled her hood back and Wyldfyre studied her face. Her eyes were gleaming and cruel and she had a blood red marking from her lips down her chin. Wyldfyre suspected that the marking was real blood.

    The woman continued touching Wyldfyres body, sometimes scraping it with her sharp nails. She cut the tunic with a gleaming dagger, down the front to reveal Wyldfyres breasts.

    “Lovely” she said. Her voice, even though it was smooth and rich, was full of menace. Wyldfyre didn’t know what this woman was but she knew she was dangerous and that she was in real trouble. The woman traced a nail over a nipple and Wyldfyre tried to struggle away from her touch. This only excited the woman more and she nicked the smooth flesh of one breast with a nail. Blood pooled and began to drip down onto the fur under her. The woman bent down and as Wyldfyre watched, horrified, lapped at the wound. She pulled herself away and looked at Wyldfyre with surprise.

    “What are you?” she asked her, and then started suckling at the wound again, drinking in Wyldfyres blood. The pain was intense and Wyldfyre cried out. The woman seemed to grow even more aroused as she clung to Wyldfyres breast. Wyldfyre tried to throw her off, but her bindings were too tight. Suddenly the woman was torn from Wyldfyre and thrown across the room, hitting the wall with a crunch. She lay there stunned for a second before she scrambled to her feet, enraged at her attacker.

    “How dare you!” she screeched, Wyldfyres blood dripping from her lips. Her attacker stood in front of Wyldfyre so she could not see who it was but a male voice spoke.

    “You know better than to taste of the Masters new children Kirana” he said. His voice had a tone of authority and Kirana submitted reluctantly. She walked over to Wyldfyre and stroked her neck.

    “I didn’t bite her. I couldn’t help myself Lovan. She is just so lovely. And she tastes like nothing I have ever had before”. The male turned and studied Wyldfyres naked and bleeding body. He covered her with her ruined tunic.

    “Be that as it may, if the Master had discovered you in here feeding off his newest offering then you would have been reduced to ashes in a second.” Kirana slumped and walked out of the room.

    “She will be ruined when he finishes with her” Wyldfyre heard her say. The male looked down at her, his eyes glowed orange and he gently touched her lips before stepping away.

    “The Master will be here soon. You will know a new pain, I do hope you are strong enough” and he walked out of the room leaving Wyldfyre alone and terrified. She lay there dazed and desperately tried to think of a way to escape. Her bound hands were the real problem, if they had of been pointing the other way she would have been able to use her fire. She dozed off for a few minutes before being woken with a start at a noise out in the larger chamber. It was the scream of a woman. She sounded like she was in tremendous pain. Then all of a sudden her screams were silenced. Wyldfyre struggled with a renewed panic when she heard someone laughing manically.
    For what seemed like hours she lay there until the room was lit up. The man who had stopped Kirana before entered with a candle and placed it on the table beside her bed. Wyldfyre dared to speak to him.

    “Please” she begged in a croaky voice “water”. Lovan studied her before leaving the room and entering a minute later. He held a tankard to her lips and Wyldfyre drank deeply from it. The man put the tankard on the table and left the room. Wyldfyre was confused at his small show of kindness before she realised that they were keeping her alive for a reason. The Master, the man had said, with a note of reverence and fear in his voice. Wyldfyre was for him, and if she died before he had his way with her then they would pay.

    Suddenly the room was colder and a figure stood over her. Waves of pure evil emanated off the man who was peering down at her. He held out his hand to her and she felt her life force drain from her body for a second before he pulled back his hand. He closed his eyes and lifted his face in ecstasy.

    “Kirana was right” he said as he looked down at her, his voice deep and smooth “you are something special. My my, what have they captured for me?”.

    “Who are you?” Wyldfyre asked him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and dragged a chair over to the side of her bed, sitting on it elegantly. He preened his nails and smoothed down his hair.

    “I am Lord Manval, Master to this small brood. But my dear, what I want to know is, who you are?”. He stroked Wyldfyres hair in a way that made her stomach clench in fear.

    “I am no one” she answered him. He threw his head back and laughed.

    “Oh come now. I know you are no ordinary human. I can sense it in you. There is something else. Something, powerful.” His eyes grew terrible as he leaned in towards her “Tell me who, are, you?”

    “I am no one” she answered him again. He smiled. Lifting her tunic top to study her body, his eyes raked over her stomach before resting on her breasts. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the wound on her left breast. Wyldfyre felt a terrible anger wash over him.

    “Who did this?” he demanded. Wyldfyre did not hesitate to tell him. Glad to have his anger directed at someone else.

    “It was the woman, Kirana” she said. He rose from his chair, and bowed to her.

    “If you would excuse me for one moment” he said politely as he glided from the room. Wyldfyre soon heard a woman’s voice out in the chamber.

    “No, Master! Please I beg of you…!” There was a scream and then silence. Wyldfyre expected Lord Manval to return immediately but another hour passed before she felt his presence once again.

    “Now” he said as he seated himself again “Where were we? Oh yes, you were just about to tell me who you were?”

    “No I wasn’t” Wyldfyre answered him boldly. She knew her situation was hopeless, but she wasn’t going to give in. Lord Manval narrowed his eyes at her.

    “Well. That can wait for now. Soon you will tell me, you will tell me everything, willingly.”
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  15. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    Wyldfyre could not tell how many days she was in the cave. At one stage they had fed her and gave her more water, but she was growing weak and sore from lying on the hard bed for so long. Occasionally Lord Manval would come in and sit in his seat and ask her questions, endless questions that seemed to go around and around. Who was she? Where did she come from? What was her name? What was she? Wyldfyre was so weak and dizzy that at times she slipped up and gave away a bit of information she did not intend to. Lord Manval soon learnt her name and delighted in using it whenever he addressed her. It was a kind of torture that Wyldfyre was not accustomed to.

    She had faced physical torture before. It was pain upon pain that she could bear. But the Lord's endless questioning and mind tricks played with her head and made her doubt herself. Doubt the reality she was in. He had revealed to her that they were Vampires and he was over five hundred years old. He intended to turn Wyldfyre into a vampire, but he would not do it until she requested it. Until she did it willingly. Another form of torture. He told her that she would, in the end, beg for it.

    “It will be the sweet release you so dearly crave. I feel that primal desire inside you. Imagine what you could feel as vampire? All senses heightened a hundred times more. Imagine the ultimate pleasure you could have if you just ask for it.” Wyldfyre remained silent and defiant, and Lord Manval grew more and more impatient.

    The next day Lord Manval barged into the room, frightening Wyldfyre out of her dazed state. He slammed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her into the bed. His face was right up to hers as he hissed at her, his eyes flashing dangerously.

    “Ask me!” he screeched “Ask me! And I will give it to you!” he shook her. Wyldfyre lay there in silence. He ripped his hands away, scratching her deeply as he did so. His eyes dilated at the smell of her blood and he stilled, his nostrils flaring. Wyldfyre felt a chill like no other creep through her body as he slowly moved back towards her. His mouth opened to reveal a large set of sharp fangs. He crawled onto the bed and up her body until he came to her neck where he had scratched her. Wyldfyre was terrified beyond belief. He sniffed at her blood and then laved at it before he pulled back. His eyes focused again and he seemed to realise what he was about to do. He leaped off her body and wiped his mouth, then staggered out of the room.

    Later, Lovan wiped at her neck wound. He dipped a cloth in water and washed away the dried blood, his nostrils flaring at the delightful smell.

    “You should give him what he wants” he said to her quietly. Wyldfyre blinked back tears as she endured the vampire’s ministrations. The wound stung terribly.

    “I can’t” she sobbed, swallowing thickly. Lovan touched a tankard of water to her lips and she drank from it.

    “Please” she begged him “Please let me go”. Lovan sat back, unable to look her directly in the face.

    “I can’t” he echoed her. “He’d kill me” Wyldfyre studied the vampire. He was young when he was turned and had that youthful charm to his face. There was no malice in his eyes. She tried to reach out to his humanity.

    “Please, I don’t want to be a vampire. I have a home, People….” She swallowed “people who I love. I want a family, children. I don’t want Lord Manval.” Lovan studied her, frowning. He continued to wash her wound.

    “This is deep” he said, trying to avoid her pleas. Wyldfyre nodded.

    “How come my blood doesn’t affect you the way it did Manval?” she asked him. He wrung out the cloth, staring into the bowl as the blood mixed with the water.

    “It’s complicated” he said.

    “I’m not going anywhere” Wyldfyre answered him. He sighed and looked at her, sadness on his face.

    “I was turned by Lord Manval, many years ago. Right after he and his brood slaughtered my family before my eyes. He made me watch as they raped my sisters and then drained them dry. I was beyond heartbroken. After I was turned I killed his brood. Lord Manval kept me alive, not out of pity but to torture me forever more.”

    “So why haven’t you fed from me, like Kirana did?”

    “Because I hate feeding from humans. I do it to survive but not to revel in it like most vampires do. They are sadistic and take sick pleasure in the gore, but I don’t find it appealing at all.” Wyldfyre nodded, understanding.

    “Don’t get me wrong, your blood seems to be intoxicating, and it would be very easy for me to lean over right now, but I can’t feed from you. I just, can’t” he shrugged.

    “Then let me go” she said to him. “Come with me if you want, we can escape here, and you can be free of him”

    “That will never happen” Lovan sadly shook his head. “I am bound to him as my Master. There is nowhere in Skyrim that I can go without him finding me”

    “You are right about that” said a voice from the door. Lovan turned to see Lord Manval standing there, his eyes flashing dangerously. Lovan stood and looked at Wyldfyre with pity in his eyes before he hurried out of the room. Manval watched him leave before he turned back to the room. He walked in and stood slightly away from the bed, appearing to not want to be too close to Wyldfyre. She glared at him. He chuckled and sat down on his usual seat.

    “You do have a fire within you. You will make a grand vampire Wyldfyre.” She glared at him harder.

    “I will never ask for it” she said to him. He waved her off.

    “Yes I think I have decided you will also be my wife.”

    “Your wife?” Wyldfyre asked incredulously.

    “Yes. You should feel honoured. I have only had two wives in my life time. Sadly they each did not last terribly long. I had to kill them you see. But I think you are much stronger. You will need to be, to be my wife. I want the Mother of all vampires and you fit that perfectly. Now, tell me what do you want?” he leaned down towards her.


    “TELL ME! What you want!” he hissed.

    “I want you to burn in Oblivion!” she spat at him. Manval stood and smiled at her, then calmly walked out of the room. Wyldfyre realised how mad this centuries old vampire was when he returned dragging Lovan in with him by his hair. He dragged the young vampire up to her bed and roughly shoved him onto her. Lovan looked into her eyes, fear across his face.

    “SAY IT!” Manval shouted. He placed one of his sharpened fingernails at Lovan’s neck. It pierced the skin and droplets of blood fell on to Wyldfyre.

    “SAY IT! Or I will end this one’s life!” He slowly dragged his nail across Lovan’s neck, making the cut deeper. Blood poured from the wound onto Wyldfyre. Lovan looked into her eyes and shook his head ever so slightly. Wyldfyre was in turmoil. She wanted to save Lovan, who had been kind to her and was not as bad as the others, but he was also still a vampire and she did not want to become one herself. His head shake indicated to her that he was prepared to die for her. But why? He barely knew her. Manval growled in frustration and shook Lovan, splattering blood everywhere.

    Wyldfyre was about to give in when Lovan looked at her and whispered so softly that only she could hear it.

    “For my sisters”. Wyldfyre nodded and gathered herself before looking into Manval’s eyes.

    “No” she said, and with a howl Lord Manval tore out Lovans throat, spilling his lifeblood.

    Wyldfyre was left alone for days after that. She wept quietly. For herself and for Lovan, his torn body still laying on the floor beside her bed. His blood covered her body and she was sick at the smell of it. It dried on her skin making it itch all over. At one stage during her exile a vampire she had not seen before stood over her and threw a bucket of water on her, to wash off all the blood. It was icy cold and she was shocked to her core. She shivered there while the vampire leered at her and laughed. He then left without a word and she was alone again. She started to feel ill, lying there in blood and filth, and a fever started to rise. She was shaking and fell in and out of unconsciousness, unable to take in any water or food the vampires offered her.

    She could hear them discussing her. It seemed Lord Manval was away and the vampires were worried she would die. One suggested turning her and the others told him that he was mad to even suggest it. Wyldfyre fell asleep while one of the vampires stood there staring at her with hunger in his eyes. She did not care anymore. She did not care if they drained her dry and she passed on to the next world in her sleep. She only wanted it to be over.

    Wyldfyre woke to the sound of a commotion. Or at least she thought it was. She heard screams and loud banging noises, flashes of brightness, the clang on metal on metal. People were running and screaming. Her vision was foggy and she could not see very far into the cavern. She was afraid that Lord Manval had returned and was angry at the vampires for letting her get so ill. She cried when she thought she would have to face his torture all over again. Or that he would simply turn her before she could die. Suddenly, someone was in her room and was trying to untie her bonds, which had cut deeply into her wrists. They were moving her? Who was it? She tried to struggle but a voice hissed in her ear.

    “Not a sound or I will drain you, human”. It was a vampire. What was happening? Wyldfyre panicked and tried to fend off the vampire who had brought out a dagger to cut away at her ropes. One of her hands was free and she beat at the vampire, too weak to muster up any flames. The vampire smelled her blood and its pupils dilated and he dropped the dagger and grabbed her hand. He pressed her back into the bed and leaned in to bite her.

    Wyldfyre waited for the fangs to finally pierce her skin, to end her torture and suffering but the sweet release of death never happened. The vampire was suddenly not there anymore. He was replaced by someone in armour who knelt down and tenderly touched her face. Marcurios face came into view.

    “It’s alright. I’m here” he said soothingly as he kissed her forehead “I found her! Brynjolf! Delvin! I found her!” Wyldfyre was wrapped in furs and lifted off the bed and carried out into sunlight that she thought she would never see again. She saw Brynjolf's face before she fell into darkness.
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  16. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: The Thieves Guild

    Fleeting visions of terror crossed Wyldfyre’s dreams. Lord Manval looming out of the darkness. Draugrs, shuffling towards her with mouths open. Farkas lying in his favourite pool, his head tilted to the side, his throat sliced open. Bubbling water turning into blood. Wyldfyre tossed and turned during her fevered sleep, crying out. Every time she was racked with the terrible visions, someone beside her would hold her hand and smooth her forehead. Wyldfyre was too fevered to recognise who it was, or where she was. All she did know was that someone was with her and never left her side.

    She awoke slowly a few days later, blinking her eyes to try to force them open. As her vision cleared she found she was looking at a carved stone ceiling. She was lying in a blessedly comfortable bed, and the room was warm instead of the cold dampness of the cave. She also smelt like rose petals. A figure sat beside her and for a fleeting moment she thought it was Lord Manval, before he moved into the candlelight and she saw Brynjolf's face. She frowned. Brynjolf?

    “Where am I?” she whispered, barely audible. Brynjolf took a cloth and placed it over her forehead. It was cool. He looked relieved. Why does he look relieved?

    “Aw lass” he sighed “So you’ve decided to join us back in the land of the living?” Wyldfyre was still a little dazed and confused.

    “Why are you here?” she asked him. He took the cloth off her forehead and looked at her.

    “Where else would I be?” he answered her. He took a small vial off the table beside him and emptied the contents into a tankard, before holding it up to her mouth. She drank the water that had a peculiar taste and sank back down onto her pillow feeling drowsy again. She lifted her arm which felt heavy to her and touched Brynjolf's face, and he covered her hand with his.

    “You look tired” she said to him, before falling asleep again. The next day Wyldfyre woke and found she was alone in her room. Panicking because she was alone again, she sat up, her head swimming, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She discovered that she was wearing clothes again and stood shakily to her feet. Just as she righted herself the door opened and Marcurio came in, a worried look on his face that turned to joy when he saw her. Wyldfyre was glad to see him to and he rushed to her and embraced her tightly. Wyldfyre looked over his shoulder to see Brynjolf hovering in the background with an odd sad look on his face. Marcurio closed the door and guided Wyldfyre back to her bed, sitting her down and taking the seat next to it.

    “I came as soon as Brynjolf let me know you had woken up” he said, still holding her hands. Wyldfyre was still confused.

    “Wait, what do you mean? Where am I?” she asked him. Marcurio brushed her hair out of her face.

    “You are in Riften. Well, down below it to be exact. When we brought you back they brought you down here to their healer. Brynjolf and I were afraid that the Master vam…”He stopped short “We thought it would be safer for you down here.” His face then grew stony “They wouldn’t let me down here, or I would have been with you”.

    “I’m in the Thieves Guild?” she asked. Marcurio nodded.

    “Yes. Brynjolf said you were in a bad way. If it hadn’t of been for the skill of their healer, you might have died. They used countless bottles of potion on you, but you still had to break out of the fever you had developed.”

    “How did you find me?”

    “Well when you left Riften I saw you but chose to leave you be. That’s the last mistake I’ll ever make. When you didn’t return after the storm I decided to go out looking for you. I went to our cove and found your armour, and I knew something had happened, that you were in trouble.” He looked at his lap “I’m not ashamed to say that I needed help and asked Brynjolf. He gathered up a group of people and we set out searching for you.” Wyldfyre reached for the water jug and Marcurio grabbed it for her, placing it into her hands. She drank from it deeply as Marcurio continued.

    “We searched just about every god forsaken hole in the ground before we got lucky and came across the cave where we found the vampires. We rushed them unawares and that’s when I found you.” Wyldfyre lowered the jug. She was afraid to ask her next question.

    “The Master Vampire?” Marcurio looked at her, clearly in turmoil. He shook his head.

    “I’m sorry my love, but he wasn’t there when we attacked.” Wyldfyre ignored his term of endearment.

    “So he is still out there” she said. Then she remembered something. “Wait? Were you in armour?”

    “Yes” Marcurio blushed “The smith let me know it was ready just after you first left, and I thought I’d need it so..” he shrugged. Later, a blond haired woman brought in a tray of food. She left without a word to either of them. Wyldfyre ate the steaming bowl of clear soup like she had not eaten for years. Marcurio stayed with her, chatting about things that had happened in Riften while she was away. She started to feel better with the food in her belly. As she sat there she looked around at the walls of the room and suddenly felt like they were closing in on here, like the roof of the cave she spent so long staring at. She needed to get out into the open air. Marcurio saw her face.

    “What’s wrong?” he asked her, worried.

    “I need to get out of here” she said, suddenly very agitated “Marcurio, please, get me out of here”

    “Alright. Wait here” He nodded. He left the room and was back moments later with a pair of soft suede pants and shoes for her. As Wyldfyre slipped them on she heard Marcurio arguing with Brynjolf. The later gave in and Marcurio came back and put his arm about her waist to support her. She stopped at the door and looked at Brynjolf.

    “Marcurio, can you give us a moment?” Marcurio nodded and reluctantly moved off a few paces. Brynjolf walked into the room and closed the door. He took Wyldfyre in his arms to steady her.

    “Thank you” she said to him, finding comfort in his arms.

    “For what lass?”

    “You know why.” Brynjolf looked down into her eyes and then he took her completely by surprise by kissing her. Her surprise ended when she wrapped her arms about his neck and gave in to the kiss. It was deep and passionate and left them both breathless when they parted. Brynjolf frowned.

    “I..” was all he could say. The door opened and Marcurio stood there. Wyldfyre, dazed, walked unsteadily to him and he helped her walk through the tunnel that led to a large open chamber with a circular water course running through it. All along the sides of the chamber were beds, and cooking fires and tables. A number of people were gathered in different places, tending to fires, eating a meal, talking quietly. One was practising his archery skills on a stuffed dummy. They all wore a similar black leather hooded armour. Some of them watched her with interest as she passed by.

    “Welcome to the Thieves Guild” Brynjolf said behind them. Wyldfyre looked around the great chamber. High up, in the middle of the ceiling, she could make out a small piece of darkened sky and a wooden structure.

    “Is that…”

    “…The well in the market? Aye it is” Brynjolf answered for her. Marcurio steered her towards an alcove with two of the thieves standing there, waiting for them.

    “Wyldfyre" Brynjolf indicated to a bald man “This is Delvin. He assisted in your rescue”

    “Good to see you back on your feet love” he nodded to her. Wyldfyre smiled and thanked him. The blond haired woman next to Delvin nodded her head. Wyldfyre recognised her as the woman who had brought in her food.

    “And this is Vex, one of our best” Brynjolf introduced her. Wyldfyre nodded back to her, not liking the sour look on Vex’s face. They continued through the alcove to a wooden ladder that Marcurio had to help Wyldfyre up. They made it through the trap door and Wyldfyre saw that they were in the mausoleum in the cemetery. Wyldfyre was already tired from the effort of the climb and so they waited on the stairs for a few moments. In the meantime, Brynjolf had come through the trapdoor as well.

    “Need a hand?” he asked Marcurio who flashed him an angry look.

    “No thank you” he said a little too bruskly. Wyldfyre shot him a look and he turned to Brynjolf. “I’m sorry. I am grateful for what you have done for Wyldfyre. But I think we can manage now”. Brynjolf studied Wyldfyre, whose face turned red when she thought about their kiss. He nodded.

    “Probably best we don’t cause a scene anyway”. He took Wyldfyre’s hand and kissed the back of it before melting away into the city. Marcurio held on to Wyldfyre as they made their way back to the Inn. They stood for a moment in the fresh air before entering the Inn. She had to rest before taking the stairs up to their rooms and he helped her into her room. She noticed her armour in a neat pile on the floor.

    “Thank you for bringing it back” she said to Marcurio. He fussed over her until she told him she was tired and he left her.

    “I’m right across the hall if you need me” he said before closing the door. Wyldfyre lay there staring up at the wooden ceiling of the Inn. It was a big difference to the damp stone of the cave. The candle flickered, leaving shadows across the dark wood. Wyldfyre was suddenly afraid. She didn’t want to be alone. She went across to Marcurios room and slipped through the door. Marcurio woke with a start to find Wyldfyre climbing in to his bed.

    “Please just hold me” she begged him. He put his arm around her and drew her to him, holding her tightly while she cried softly. Wyldfyre was not sure what was wrong with her. She felt silly for crying like a child, but she felt something was missing. Something inside her was broken.

    Down in the streets below, Brynjolf stood watching. He had made it his mission to protect Wyldfyre, even if it was from afar. The Master Vampire was still out there and Brynjolf knew vampires well enough to know that this one would not stop until he had her in his possession again. Wyldfyre was still in terrible danger and Brynjolf was going to be there to stop it. Or die trying.
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  17. Brewman

    Brewman Do I look worried?

    Oct 25, 2013
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    As Wyldfyre walked through the doors I was half expecting to see the load screen come up lol
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  18. Brewman

    Brewman Do I look worried?

    Oct 25, 2013
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    What a little minx that Wyldfyre ;)
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  19. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    “Again!” Brynjolf ordered. Wyldfyre panted, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. They were down in the Thieves Guild Cistern in the training room. Brynjolf had taken it upon himself to getting Wyldfyre back into form with a strict training schedule. They had started off reasonably slow as Wyldfyre recovered from her illness. Today though, Brynjolf had decided to step it up with a bit of hand to hand training with Delvin. They were in the centre of the large room, dressed only in the tight fitting, soft leather training outfits of the Guild. Delvin had wrapped Wyldfyre’s hands in linen wrappings to protect them.

    Brynjolf was teaching Wyldfyre how to take out an enemy with just her fists, if she ever found herself in a situation again, without weapons. He had her sparring against Delvin, the seasoned thief more than a match for her. He seemed to be going easy on her before Wyldfyre pointed it out and now she was covered in bruises from his quick blows. Brynjolf oversaw the training, making Wyldfyre repeat moves over and over again. She learnt how to block punches, and deliver counter blows to her opponent. He also taught her how to use her legs, to balance herself and kick out at attackers. Wyldfyre received a heavy blow to the stomach from Delvin’s foot which sent her down, grunting as her elbow hit the floor.

    “I’m sorry love” Delvin said peering down at her. Wyldfyre rubbed her elbow.

    “That’s alright” she said wincing. Delvin held out a hand to her and lifted her to her feet again. He looked at Brynjolf.

    “I think the lass has had enough for today, don’t you think?” he asked him. Brynjolf shook his head.

    “No, she has got to learn Delvin. She can’t afford to be complacent.” Delvin raised his eyebrows.

    “Come on Brynjolf, you have been working her hard today. Give the lass a break”. Brynjolf glared at Delvin.

    “You can go if you want but we are staying here.” Delvin shrugged and walked out of the training room, throwing a sympathetic look at Wyldfyre as he left.

    “Suit yourself”. Brynjolf now stood in front of Wyldfyre and crouched, raising his fists towards her.

    “Again” he said. Wyldfyre crouched and tensed her sore muscles, unwilling to show how fatigued she was. If he wants a fight, he will get one she said to herself. They circled each other before Brynjolf suddenly lunged forward, landing a blow to her ribs. Wyldfyre danced away, hurting.

    “Too slow” Brynjolf lectured “And no counter, I was left wide open then.. Again” he ordered. Wyldfyre glared and approached him again, but she received another blow to her arm before she could duck and counter. She moved away, rubbing her arm.

    “Come on!” Move!” Brynjolf almost shouted. Wyldfyre was starting to get angry at his teaching methods. She was tired and sore and she wanted the day’s session to be over. She glared harder and a guttural growl sounded from her throat. Brynjolf blinked.

    “Well I don’t know what that was lass, but I like it. Get mad at me. Come on!” Wyldfyre lunged in and struck him in the ribs, he grabbed her arm and tried to twist it behind her back. She kicked out and hit him on the hip, sending him stumbling sideways. He released her arm, to regain his footing.

    “Good!” he urged her on. She lunged in again but this time he grabbed both of her arms. Wyldfyre struggled to free herself as he lifted her slightly off the ground. She started to panic, feeling like she was bound again. In her panic she did the first thing she could think of.

    “FUS!” she shouted at Brynjolf, but as he was holding on to her, when he stumbled back from her shout, he took her with him. They both went flying backwards, thankfully crashing in a heap on a pile of hay that was used for stuffing the archery targets. Wyldfyre and Brynjolf both lay there stunned for a few moments.

    “What in the name of the gods was that?” Brynjolf said sitting up. He peered down at her as Wyldfyre started to laugh uncontrollably.

    “What is it?” Brynjolf asked looking confused. Wyldfyre stifled her laughter. She reached up and pulled great wads of hay out of Brynjolfs normally perfectly combed hair.

    “You have hay in your hair” she giggled. Brynjolf smiled widely at her laughter. He had never seen her like that, it was infectious and intoxicating. He grabbed a handful of hay and tossed it at her.

    “So do you!” he laughed. She shouted in protest and flung hay back at him. Suddenly there was an all out hay war in the training room. They ducked behind targets. Giggling like children as they both tried to get the upper hand on the other. Wyldfyre rushed Brynjolf and he caught her hands in his. They stood there laughing and then suddenly they were in each other’s arms, kissing passionately. Brynjolf put her arms over his shoulders and Wyldfyre threaded her hands into his hair. His hands made their way down her back to her curved bottom and he pulled her in closer, their breathing quickening. Brynjolf lifted her up and walked over to a table, sitting her on it and she wrapped her legs around him, all the while both tasting each other, their kisses growing more and more desperate.

    “Ahem!” someone excused themselves at the door, making Wyldfyre and Brynjolf break away from each other. Brynjolf turned to the intruder and Wyldfyre saw Vex standing in the doorway, her usual sour look on her face.

    “We have a situation” she said and stood there, silent again. Brynjolf cleared his throat and looked back at Wyldfyre.

    “Well, that’s all for today. Um, I’ll see you same time tomorrow. You can make it home on your own?”. Wyldfyre nodded and Brynjolf left the room, followed by Vex who glared at Wyldfyre before she too departed. Wyldfyre sat there dazed and confused, but also highly aroused. She touched her lips that still burned with Brynjolf’s touch. She shook her head and quickly peeled off the training leathers. Donning her tunic and pants she made her way out of the cistern and back to her room in the Inn where she closed the door quietly. She sat on her bed thinking of the kiss. She almost sought out Marcurio to quench her desires but she had promised herself that she would not sleep with him again after his reaction at finding her. He had seemed so enamoured of her and she didn’t feel right in being intimate with him as she did not echo his feelings. He had questioned her about it once and she had been elusive, explaining vaguely that she was still too distressed by her capture. He had let it go then, keeping a respectable distance. Wyldfyre was trying to resist the restless souls inside her.

    She still caught the glances he directed at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She could tell he still desired her. She was seriously thinking of ending their agreement and moving on from Riften. But she was still desperate to see the Grey Beards and Marcurio had been the only one to fit her requirements. Brynjolf was a little more experienced in combat than Marcurio, and Wyldfyre would have preferred the thief to be her companion up the mountain. But Marcurios proficiency at destruction magic left Wyldfyre with no other choice. And Brynjolf would never leave the Guild.

    Wyldfyre was still hot and bothered. She left her room and walked through the city to the door that lead down onto the docks. She passed the Black Briar Meadery and down the worn wooden steps to the boardwalk that lead under the building. Looking around she peeled off her tunic and pants and plunged into the lake. It was not the most ideal spot for a swim. She could have been spotted by someone at any time, but she needed a release and lately she found that swimming, while it didn’t quench it entirely, was enough to get her by. She swam under the water for a time before she resurfaced and floated on her back. The cool afternoon breeze chilled her skin, so she lowered herself deeper in the water.

    Wyldfyre thought about leaving Riften. She knew if she didn’t leave soon she would have to have her way with Brynjolf. Her close proximity to him during their training sessions did not help at all. They needed to end immediately. Wyldfyre tread water in the middle of the lake. Her thoughts, as they always did when she felt lonely, turned to Whiterun and Farkas. She wondered what he was doing right at this moment. Had he searched for her when she left? Wyldfyre felt guilty for thinking like that. She no longer felt like she deserved his love, she had been so wicked since she had left. But she missed him desperately. She missed his touch, his smell. She wanted to go home.

    Wyldfyre heard a noise towards the lake shore and was shocked to see a tall creature lumbering down the back. She watched it, fascinated, as it bent down to take a drink from the lake. Its huge muscular body was covered in a course red brown hair. Wyldfyre felt bold enough to move closer to the shore to study the creature she assumed to be a troll. It indeed had long arms like she had been told and at the end of those arms were powerful paws with sharp claws. As she approached it looked up and saw her. She was shocked to discover that it had three eyes. Its middle eye blinked at her as its lips pulled back in a feral snarl. It stood to its full height and growled at her. Wyldfyre was stilled buoyed by her encounter with Brynjolf and so she moved even closer to the creature, her feet touching the lake bottom. As she walked out of the lake the Troll raised its arms.

    Wyldfyre stopped in water just up to her waist. The troll paced back and forth, snarling at her but it did not enter the water. They don’t like the water Wyldfyre observed. It pummelled its large fist on the ground frustrated at not being able to get to her. Wyldfyre moved forward further still until her knees were out of the water, not caring if anyone saw her in her naked state. She raised her hands and summoned her flames, shooting them towards the troll. It whimpered and scampered back. Interesting. Wyldfyre shot out some more flames, more intense than the first and the troll howled and lumbered away. Very interesting, thought Wyldfyre as she splashed back into deeper water.

    She swam back to the docks and pulled herself out of the water and dressed. Later that night in the Inn, she told of her findings with the troll to Marcurio who sat there quietly. Wyldfyre sensed something was wrong and she asked him.

    “What’s wrong?” he almost shrieked “What’s wrong? Wyldfyre, just a week ago you were taken by vampires when you went out into that lake on your own, and now you are telling me about trolls!” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. Wyldfyre flashed angry eyes at him.

    “I can handle myself” she held up her hand when Marcurio was about to protest “Yes I know I let my guard down that day, but I was careful today. I didn’t go to the cove. I’m not stupid” She sat back scowling. She slid her food away from her, no longer hungry. She had been absolutely ravished when she arrived back at the Inn, but now she had lost her appetite. Marcurio reached out and took her hand, Wyldfyre almost snatched it away but resisted.

    “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just worried”. Wyldfyre drank deeply from her tankard of mead, finished it and called for another.

    “Well you needn’t be” she said to him “Like I said. I can handle myself, and I won’t make the same mistake again”. The bar maid brought over another tankard and Wyldfyre and Marcurio stayed up late into the night, drinking and talking. It was very late when they both staggered to their rooms. Marcurio kissed Wyldfyre, trying to lead her into his bedroom and she shook her head.

    “I can’t” she said. He looked disappointed but said goodnight to her and entered his room alone. Wyldfyre lay down on her bed and tried to sleep. Sleep eluded her though so she got up and went to her table. She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill and ink and began to write. She poured her heart into the letter, sitting back and re-reading it when she was done. She left it on the table for the ink to dry and finally crawled into her bed. She did not know if she intended to send the letter, but at least it was written, and if anything happened to her, at least she knew he would know how she felt. Farkas would know that she loved him with her heart and soul.
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  20. shadowkitty

    shadowkitty Mistress of Shadows

    Jan 28, 2013
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    Time for the second chapters of Lydia and Farkas. Enjoy :) Oh and a little adult content in this one.

    Chapter two

    “You are mad, Brother” Vilkas paced around the clearing. Farkas had taken him to a large plot of land near Falkreath, just beside the lake. He had just revealed that he had bought the land and was intending to build on it. Vilkas didn’t seem very impressed with his idea. He kicked at a rock, sending it flying off the edge of the cliff.

    “What’s wrong with the Hall?” he demanded. Farkas sighed. He knew his brother would react like this. But he wanted to tell him all the same. For one reason he needed to explain his recent absences from Whiterun. The idea had come to him one night when he was out hunting in his other form. Gradually he had wandered further out of Whiterun hold in search for Wyldfyre and had come across this clearing beside Like Ilinalta. He remembered once when Wyldfyre had described to him her journey from Helgen and how she had stopped in a clearing beside the lake. She had told him she found it to be the most peaceful and lovely of places.

    Then Farkas had got the crazy idea in his head to buy the plot of land and build a grand house on it. Maybe if he did that, she would come back. She would forgive him for being such a lump and they could be together. Farkas had not even thought about how his secret would come into this whole fantasy he had built. All he knew was that he needed to do something to keep his mind busy. He could not bear to think about what Wyldfyre was doing out there in Skyrim. The dangers she was facing, the people she was meeting, the men… His vision would go red when he thought about the possibility of Wyldfyre being with another man.

    He knew what she was like just before she left, her appetites were insatiable and Farkas knew she would not have any problems luring men to her, as beautiful as she was. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was always there, in the back of his mind.

    “The Hall is no place to raise a family” Farkas argued. Vilkas raised his eyebrows.

    “What family? She is gone, Brother. She left you. You need to get over it and move on. She’s probably done just that” He stopped short when Farkas charged over to him.

    “She is my mate, and don’t talk about her like that” he growled at his brother. Vilkas stepped back, a little afraid of his brother’s ferocity. Farkas calmed down, and walked over to a stump and sat on it.

    “I’m sorry” Vilkas apologised. “But it’s been a while now, and no one has heard anything about her.”

    “I know” Farkas said “But I can’t give up. I have got to hope that she will come back. Otherwise, I’m going to lose it.”

    Vilkas worried for his brother. He had detached himself from the rest of the Circle since the girl’s departure, throwing himself into any job that came their way, and disappearing for days. At least he now knew where his brother was disappearing to. This new crazy idea of building a house and becoming a family man of all things. Still, he seemed happy here in this clearing, and Vilkas liked his twin being happy again, so he relented.

    “A family man eh?” he chuckled. “Never thought I would see the day when one of the Circle settled down.” He looked over to Farkas “What are you going to do about our, infliction?”

    “I don’t know” Farkas frowned “The old man has forbidden me to tell her. But I can’t do it. I can’t keep this big secret from her. It’s what made her leave in the first place. I couldn’t tell her.” He plucked at a piece of grass angrily.

    “Not to mention the children” Vilkas shook his head, amazed they were even having this conversation. He was defiantly NOT a family man. Farkas looked up at him.

    “What are you going to do, when the time comes?” Vilkas raised his eyebrows and laughed.

    “What do you mean, when the time comes? That will never happen, brother. I am not a settle down kind of guy.”

    “Oh come on” Farkas grinned at him “You and Lydia? You can’t tell me you aren’t crazy about her.”

    “I can”

    “Really? You spend more than half your time at that house, and talk about her when you are not”. Now it was Vilkas’s turn to become angry. He glared at his twin.

    “Careful brother, you don’t know what you are talking about”. Farkas grinned at him, knowing he had touched a nerve of his player Brother. Always the ladies man, but adamant he was just in it for a good time.

    “I know what I see” he left it at that. Vilkas turned and stomped off to look out over the lake, thinking long about what his brother had just said. Was he really that hooked into the woman? He had found himself thinking about her more and more each day, and not just in a sexual way. He wanted to just be near her. Hear her talk about her day, watch her make dinner for them, the way she hummed when she thought no one was looking. Her enticing smell. He even remembered her smell when he was in his other form. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew he was falling for her. Had fallen for her. He turned back to his brother and felt a new sympathy for him. His mate, his love had gone, and nothing could fix that.

    “This is a real nice place you have picked here” he said to Farkas, putting a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

    “Thanks. I could use a hand, with the building and stuff. I’m not too good on what to buy and all that”. Vilkas nodded.

    “Leave that to me. We will build your damned house” They both sat and enjoyed the sunset over the lake.
    A week later saw the brothers in tunics and pants, up to their elbows in stone and mortar, laying out the foundations for Farkas’s lakeside house. They were at the house whenever their commitments to the Companions would allow. Sometimes Lydia would even join them, rolling up her sleeves to pitch in. She had thought the idea of the house to be a fine one, agreeing that Wyldfyre would love it when she returned. Vilkas had hired a small gang of workers to help with the build and they were off collecting timber from the lumber mill that he had ordered a few days ago. Falkreath was not far from the plot and it would only take an hour or two for the men to bring back the timber. The brothers broke for lunch and lounged under a tree. Vilkas picked dried mortar off his arm.

    “It’s coming along nicely” he remarked. Farkas nodded.

    “Do you think we will get the poles up today?” They had dug out the holes for the massive support poles to go into. Vilkas looked to the sky, squinting at the sun. His beast blood allowed him to know exactly what the time of day was, as it counted down to the rising of the moon. It was still early afternoon.

    “Maybe one or two, if those workers get back soon” he answered Farkas. Farkas was pleased with their efforts so far. They had dug out the cellar and lined it with stone, bracing it with large logs, and fixed its roof in place which was now the floor to the back room of the house. The work would have been tricky for the two brothers, even given their inhuman strength, if it had not of been for the gang Vilkas had hired. He had managed to find a decent group of builders who were experienced enough and who also lived in Falkreath. Even still, the house was coming along quickly due to the brothers’ strength and being able to work at night unhindered.

    Farkas had not told Kodlak about the house yet. He had not found the right time to. Not only was he planning on leaving Jorrvaskr, he had also ventured out of Whiterun Hold. A move the old man had forbidden. Knowing Kodlak as Farkas did, he suspected the old man knew anyway. He obviously approved or Farkas would have known otherwise by now. Kodlak was not one to leave something go when he did not agree with it. The old man himself seemed distracted by something of late that kept him in his room, pouring over those dusty old books. When Farkas had brought it up with his twin he had merely shrugged it off.

    “You know the old man” he had said “Always reading those ancient texts.”
    They heard a horse whiny and the brothers got up to meet the gang of workers who had their load of timber on the back of a cart. The big old horse struggled up the slight rise and so everyone went behind the cart to push. When they got it to flat ground they started to unload the great logs. Each log needed four men, or two men and one of the twins, to carry it. They dumped a log near each hole that the brothers had dug earlier. Next they used ropes and the horse, with the aid of a giant A frame they had constructed earlier, to raise each pole and set it into its hole. It was a long slow process and everyone was sweating profusely by the time the pole was upright and level. They filled the hole with rocks and mortar to set the pole in permanently, leaving it tied with ropes attached to pegs hammered into the ground.

    They were able to do two more of the larger poles before Vilkas called a halt to the day’s work. The men waved farewell as they walked back into town. Farkas and Vilkas waited until the men were no longer in sight and then stripped off their shirts and started to set the smaller poles of the front foyer section of the house. Although the poles were still relatively heavy, it was not a great struggle for the twins to get them upright and in the ground. By the time the moon had fully risen, they had all of the front poles in the ground and setting in their mortar. Farkas stood back and admired their work.

    “A job well done tonight” he remarked to Vilkas. Vilkas surveyed the building and agreed that it was indeed going to be a fine house when finished.

    “You’ll be able to have me and the family over, with all that room” he joked, but secretly liking the idea. Farkas grinned at him, glad to be able to share this with his twin. The moon was brilliant and for a little moment, everything seemed perfect. He stood up and peeled off his pants.

    “Run with me Brother” he said, and his body started to change.

    As the two brothers ran off into the wilds, a silver-haired man stepped out from behind a tree where he had been observing the pair. Before he shimmered into his other form, Kodlak smiled.


    Chapter two

    Lydia sat up in bed, examining the scar on her arm. It had healed a little more since that night when she and Wyldfyre had left the barrow. It now resembled a crumpled piece of shiny parchment. She sighed. It could have been a lot worse she mused. The bed moved and a warm arm circled her waist, pulling her back down into the furs. Vilkas tucked her in beside him and nuzzled her neck, sending little jolts of electricity through her body. Lydia smiled as his hand began to explore her body and she sighed again, this time with the pleasure of his touch.

    It had been such a long time since Lydia had felt close to anyone like she did now. She had been abused and abandoned so much in her life that she had come to expect nothing more from people. In the past few weeks she had made a new friend and had taken a lover. Not just a lover but a Companion. One of the finest warriors she had known. He was also the best lover she had had to this date. Not that her past intimacies could be classed as lovers. They were far from it. Some of them had been beyond cruel. If she had not escaped when she did…

    She was broken out of her revere when Vilkas suddenly flipped her on to her back and moved his muscular body on top of hers. She laughed as he nibbled down her neck and she let him slide a hand between her legs, gasping as he reached her mound and breast at the same time. Lydia loved their morning ritual. Vilkas would be gone all night before crawling into her bed in the early hours where they would lay, in each other’s arms, content in each other’s company. Either Vilkas or Lydia would then initiate their love making, more often Vilkas. Lydia was surprised at his strength and his appetite seemed insatiable. She could not understand how he could be out all night, presumably doing Companions’ business, and still be so energetic when he came to her. Not that she was complaining.

    Lydia prepared them breakfast while Vilkas told her about the work they had been doing lately on Farkas’s house. She had loved the idea when Vilkas had first told her. She saw how much Vilkas’s twin missed her Thane and thought buying the land and building on it was the best thing for him. No-one dared to think of the prospect of Wyldfyre never returning. They were all content to assume that she would come home and Farkas and she would clear things up and all would be good in Skyrim again. She was preparing to go out to the house next week to help with some of the inside walls.

    They had heard conflicting reports on another dragon attack in Ivarstead, a small town in the Rift. Lydia had not been to the small village but she had heard that only two people had perished that day, thanks to the efforts of the guards and one red haired woman with a blue tattoo on her face. They all came to the same conclusion that it could only have been Wyldfyre when the story got to the part where the wild woman slayed the dragon and then ate its soul. Farkas’s grin almost lit the room when he had relayed the story to Lydia and Vilkas one day at the house in Falkreath. They were in the main bedroom, putting up the wood panels that served as walls. Lydia and Vilkas held the wall panel in place while Farkas drew home the large iron nails with a heavy hammer.

    “It’s got to be her” Farkas had said for the umpteenth time. Vilkas winked at Lydia.

    “Yes brother, so you have said. A number of times now. Of course it is her, who else would it be?”

    “No one that’s who” Farkas said as he picked up another nail. Vilkas and Lydia shared a secret smile.

    Lydia smiled at the memory, happy for Farkas. He was a lot nicer to get along with now that he had purpose again. She placed a huge breakfast in front of Vilkas who attacked it with gusto. After he was done he bid her farewell for the day and left Lydia alone in Breezehome. Lydia loved the little house and kept it neat as a pin. As she worked she remembered the day she had gone into Falkreath to find lunch for her and the twins and had come across the party of hunters they had met the night they had left Bleak Falls Barrow. They had recognised her as Wyldfyre’s companion and Lydia excitedly asked them if they had seen her.

    The eldest of the group had grinned in a way that had Lydia worried, and the playful punch he gave his black haired companion when he had also smirked confirmed her fears. He had done more than just see Wyldfyre. Lydia chose to keep this information to herself, not knowing how Farkas would take to the news. She could not understand what was going through Wyldfyre’s head to make her do such a thing. She had seemed uneasy and agitated when Lydia had left her in the clearing that night. Clearly the attack by that man whom Wyldfyre had left dead was enough to send her over the edge. She had not just killed him, she had just about ripped him to pieces.

    She was angry at herself for not going after her Thane. After hearing from the hunters and how close Wyldfyre had been, she was mad for not trying harder. She might have been able to convince Wyldfyre to return to Whiterun. How could she have just given up on her Thane, her friend who was clearly in desperate need of guidance? Lydia blamed herself for Wyldfyre’s disappearance. She knew it was illogical but she could not help it. Years of abandonment and abuse from people she had once trusted had made Lydia believe that it was always her fault. Wyldfyre’s departure was no different.

    Lydia was interrupted by a knock on the door. When she opened it a courier stood on the step.

    “Lydia?” he asked her. She nodded.

    “I have a letter for you, from someone by the name of Wyldfyre”.

    “By the nine!” she exclaimed as he handed it over. “Thank you!” she cried, surprising the courier by hugging him.

    “Err.. have a good day” he said and wandered off. Lydia smiled as she closed the door, then her smile turned to a frown when she saw the name on the letter, in Wyldfyres hand writing. The letter was for Farkas. She would have to wait to see what was in the letter until after Farkas had read it, and that was even if he wanted to share it. She tucked the letter inside her armour and left Breezehome, locking the door behind her. She made her way quickly through the streets of Whiterun, pausing briefly to chat with Ysolda who was standing in front of Carlotta’s fresh produce market stall. She bid farewell and hurried on to Jorrvaskr.

    She circled around the hall, hoping to find at least one of the twins in the training yard. She always felt uncomfortable entering the hall itself. As she rounded the corner she could see Vilkas training with the companion that was always in the Bannered Mare, drunk as a skeever. Lydia politely waited until they took a break before approaching Vilkas. He grinned when he saw her and grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him and landing a sweaty kiss on her lips. She beat him off, laughing.

    “Vilkas! I have a letter for Farkas” she said to him as she tried to wrestle out of his arms. Vilkas seemed to be in a playful mood.

    “Oh.? and why are you writing letters to my brother?” he chuckled, as she tried to wriggle free.

    “It’s not from me silly, it’s from Wyldfyre!” Vilkas stilled immediately.


    “Yes” she drew if out of her armour, a little crumpled from Vilkas’s overly enthusiastic greeting. “It’s her writing, she has written Farkas a letter”

    “Let’s read it” Vilkas said. Lydia punched him on the arm.

    “Don’t be horrid. Go get your brother” she scolded him. He chuckled and went to find his twin. Farkas bawled out of the door and rushed over to Lydia, she handed over the letter and he broke the seal and started to read, the worried look on his face deepening. Lydia and Vilkas stood there, waiting.

    “Well brother, what does it say?” Vilkas asked impatiently. Farkas did not look up from his letter, as he walked over to the small lookout and sat. Lydia was worried. The look on his face did not bode well.

    “He’ll let us know when he is ready” Vilkas said. Lydia looked at him, loving the caring side of him that occasionally came out. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply before they parted.

    “Want to come have a, bath?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Lydia had been down in the Companions bathing room once before when Vilkas had smuggled her in late one night. She knew that if she went down there, not much bathing would be happening. She briefly considered if before she shook her head.

    “As much as I would love to, I have to go see someone about some repairs to my house” she answered him. Vilkas put on a pouting face but Lydia laughed, kissed him again and left the training yard. She felt a little guilty for calling Breezehome “Her” house but she had spent more time in it than Wyldfyre. She had come to love the little house as her own. She had never even slept in the room that was supposed to be hers. She had even gone out and bought more furs and had a proper mattress made for the main bed, making it far more comfortable than it was before. She made her arrangements with the local builder and returned to Breezehome for lunch. Again she was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Farkas.

    “She loves me” he said grinning. Lydia let him in and sat as she watched him pace the room. He waved the letter in the air and Lydia itched to read it.

    “She said she loves me” he frowned then “But she..” Lydia waited. “She said that she has strayed” he looked down at her. Lydia swallowed, hoping to not show any signs that she suspected so already.

    “That does not mean she loves you any less” she told him. He sat on the chair next to her, and stared into the fire. Lydia shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at his brooding.

    “Maybe if you let me read the letter I could try to help you better understand it” she offered.

    “Huh, oh yeah” he said and absent-mindedly passed her the letter. Lydia read it, and then read it again. Relief washed over her.

    “Farkas, you have nothing to worry about. Wyldfyre is head over heels crazy for you”. The smile from her lover’s twin made her day.
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