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Destiny

The Fox
WOW! and thank you so much for reading :)
Thank you for writing it ^.^

Στάλθηκε από το ST15i μου χρησιμοποιώντας Tapatalk 2
 

shadowkitty

Mistress of Shadows
CHAPTER EIGHTY: HONOUR

Driftshade Refuge sat in a snowy valley, south-east from the small sea-side village of Dawnstar. It had been snowing heavily when Wyldfyre and Vilkas had arrived at the old fort at midday. But now, in the fading light of the evening, the moon shone bright and clear as the two Werewolves exited the ruin, covered in blood that was not their own. Firstly one and then the other began to shimmer and return to their human forms. Wyldfyre turned away and quickly put her armour back on as Vilkas did the same. As they dressed, neither of them spoke of the massacre they had just delivered to every single Silverhand member inside. Although her grief had fuelled her anger and set her on a terrible rampage of revenge and destruction, Wyldfyre felt that what they had just done was terribly wrong. They had arrived at the fort in record speed, deciding to take it in their beast forms. No-one inside had a chance of defending themselves; faced with two Weres maddened by grief. Wyldfyre shuddered as she remembered their screaming and the blood lust that came over her. She would have lost herself to it, if it had not of been for Vilkas snapping her out of it.

“We should not have done this” she said then, strapping on her sword, pulling the belt tighter than necessary. Vilkas remained silent for a moment.

“It’s done now” he answered her. “We need to get back for the funeral” They both left with no further word to each other and soon they parted ways, feeling the need to be alone with their thoughts. Wyldfyre wandered through the wilderness, her instincts alone driving her horse back towards home; while she let her thoughts wander. With Kodlak gone who would lead the Companions? Who would guide the circle? She felt waves of guilt wash over her. She felt guilty for not being at the Mead Hall when the Silverhand attacked. She also felt a terrible remorse for what she and Vilkas had just done. Most of the Silverhand members back in that fort had not even been responsible for the Hall attack. Not that they were innocent, for she and Vilkas had come across many dead or dying Weres inside the fort when they stalked through its hallways and rooms.

She struggled with herself, sometimes seeing perfect logic in what they had done, and at other times crying out loud for her part in the slaughter. Would Aela have reacted in this way? Or would she have left that fort in high spirits, gladdened at the revenge she had delivered in Kodlak’s name? Wyldfyre felt sick to her very core, vowing that she would never change into that beast again. She kicked her horse into a run, letting her cloak flap open and the chill wind bite at her like Ice Wraith teeth. She needed to feel pain, she deserved it.

*****​
It was night time when she reached Whiterun. Opening the gates she was surprised to find everything still looked the way it did before. Like nothing had changed. She frowned as she walked along the busy street back up to the Hall. Once or twice she received a nod from passersby as they offered their condolences. She hated seeing the sadness they expressed not reaching their eyes and so she hurried on to the Hall before she said something she would later regret.

“Welcome back sister” Aela greeted her inside the Hall. They embraced and Aela studied Wyldfyre for a moment, narrowing her eyes at the pain she found on her shield sister’s face “It’s done” she simply said, as if that would make Wyldfyre feel better about it. She left Aela and went below to the dorms. She walked slowly to her and Farkas’s room but then slopped as she passed by the door that lead to Kodlak’s rooms. Checking to see no-one was about she carefully pushed open the door and slipped silently in. Someone had kept the candles burning in the Harbinger’s rooms and Wyldfyre stood there, breathing in the musty smells of old books and smoke. She ran her fingers over the books that Kodlak had stacked in a bookshelf over the years, most of their covers worn with repeated usage.

She made her way into the second room, the bedroom and here she faltered, drawing in a shuddering breath. The covers of the bed were drawn down, waiting for the Harbinger to slip in between them. On the table beside the bed was an open book and a quill resting on its pages; as if Kodlak had been writing in it when the Silverhand had attacked. She moved over to it and picked up the book, removing the quill; its tip now coated in dried ink. As Wyldfyre read the book her eyes widened and she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. The old, leather bound book was Kodlak’s personal journal and he had written about her. Her eyes filled with tears as he wrote of their first meeting and then his fondness for her and the other members of the circle, his fears for them all while they still had the beast blood inside them and his indecision about asking her to go to the Glenmoril Witches.

She read on and on, into the night, her eyes growing drowsy. The last thing she read before exhaustion overcame her was an entry where Kodlak described in detail how the witch heads could be used in a ritual of cleansing. But her dulled senses did not fully understand what she had just read. She took the book back to her room and shed her clothes before slipping under the covers and snuggling into a sleeping Farkas, who woke enough to kiss her forehead and pull her closer to him. She did not feel comforted though.

*****​
Wyldfyre stared into the flames, not daring to look upon the funeral pyre that was the final resting place of Kodlak Whitemane. Eorlund had delivered his Eulogy and now the crowd was thinning out as one by one, people left to go back to their daily lives. The Skyforge seemed to be alive as the flames leapt up the sides of the pyre, like somehow Kodlak’s spirit gave it a new strength. She looked up when Aela spoke.

“Brothers, Sister, let us retire to the Underforge” She led the way as the circle members filed into the sacred chamber underneath the Skyforge.

“That was all right” said Farkas “I guess, as far as funerals go” he sat against one of the stone alters, Wyldfyre noticing his leg still gave him some trouble.

“Was it though?” Vilkas asked, pacing back and forth “Was it really what Kodlak would have wanted?”

“What do you mean?” Aela asked, frowning.

“He did not want to die with the beast blood in him!” Vilkas spat out angrily “We all know this”

“He feared for all of us” Wyldfyre sat up, still clutching Kodlak’s journal. She had read it again that morning and was now even more sure of what she had to do. She just had to convince the others. She stood and held up the book. “Inside these pages are Kodlak’s true thoughts on this and he did not wish to be a slave to Hircine for the rest of his spirit life” Vilkas had stopped pacing and she had all their attention. “I know what it is like there and I do not want to go back, so why should we condemn our Father to it?”

“But to be chosen by Hircine is a blessing!” Aela stated. Aiden nodded in agreement and Wyldfyre shook her head.

“You can’t possibly think that Aela? Brother?”

“I do!” Aela said heatedly. “I long for the day when my death takes me to his hunting grounds. It is how it should be.”

“Aela, I don’t think you would be saying that if you knew....”

“Well, not all of us have the luxury of that experience, or a choice, Dragonborn” Aela narrowed her eyes at Wyldfyre.

“Hey, back off Aela” Farkas came to stand by Wyldfyre’s side and the room went quiet. Aela immediately regretted turning her grief on her Shield Sister.

“Sister, I..” Aela stepped forward.

“I didn’t ask you to do a deal with him” Wyldfyre said quietly, her lip trembling.

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just...” Aela struggled with what to say as Aiden placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Wyldfyre took a deep breath and continued on.

“We know Kodlak’s wishes and I think we should fulfil them.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Vilkas asked her.

“In here” Wyldfyre held up the journal “Is a detailed ritual in cleansing the beast blood from someone. And it just so happens that I have the main ingredient.” She turned to Farkas and gave him an apologetic look “When you went back to Whiterun, Azaril and I went on a secret mission. Kodlak himself asked me to fetch them for him”

“Fetch what?” Vilkas asked, stepping forward, intrigued.

“The heads of the Glenmoril Witches” she smiled at them all.

*****​
“OW!” Wyldfyre gritted her teeth as the flat of Azaril’s practice blade found her shin.

“Sorry My Lady!” he apologised to her for the tenth time. Wyldfyre had found some time with the newest member of the Companions and they had been sparring in the practice yard for an hour. Azaril had proven himself to be a skilled swordsman, far more skilled than Wyldfyre and she now bore many bruises from his expert sword wielding.
After the meeting in the Underforge it had been decided that the Circle would travel to Ysgramor’s Tomb to perform the cleansing ritual for Kodlak. None of them knew if it would work on a spirit, but they were all willing to try. Wyldfyre also raised the idea of it not only being an opportunity for Kodlak, given that she had more than one witches’ head.

There were mixed feelings about the matter. Aela and Aiden seemed completely against it, but Wyldfyre wasn’t so sure about the twins. Vilkas had left to talk it over with Lydia which left her with Farkas. He had not really been willing to talk about it, and had retreated down into the dorms for a bath. Wyldfyre knew he would come to her in time, after he thought about it, so she had left him and gone in search of the Dunmer.

“You don’t have to keep apologising every time you land a hit!” she exclaimed, rubbing at her shin. That last blow had hurt more than she would admit.

“I’m sorry!” he said again, then checked himself “Well, I er..”

“It’s fine” she waved it off and walked over to the under-covered area “I think I have had enough punishment for one day” She sat and took the pitcher of water, drinking deeply from it. Azaril took both their practice swords and placed them back onto the weapons rack, and then sat opposite her.

“You did well” he said.

“Ah don’t try to flatter me” she snorted “We both know I need more practice”

“Still, you are better than most Nords with a sword” he tried to reassure her “I have found, in my years, that Nords seem to be most efficient in swinging an axe or warhammer through the air, but lack a certain amount of..Finesse. Were as you, the way you handle that sword..”

“All right!” she laughed “Stop before my head starts growing too big for my body and explodes”. Azaril looked at her wide-eyed.

“I would never wish that upon you My Lady!” he said, completely missing her joke.

“I didn’t... never mind” she shook her head and chuckled.

“So when do you all leave?” He asked her after a moment’s silence.

“We’re not all going” Wyldfyre shook her head. “Farkas and Vilkas are coming. Aela and Aiden will stay behind and watch over the Hall until our return. As for when, well that’s up to the Twins. As soon as they get it together, we leave”

“They are having trouble deciding?” Azaril said in a hushed tone. He knew about the ritual. Wyldfyre nodded.

“I think it is difficult for them. They have had it for so long, it’s a part of them now. But I know Vilkas was talking about wanting another child with Lydia, I think he will decide to do it. Farkas... I’m not sure”

“What about you My Lady?” Wyldfyre sighed. What about me? She had been thinking of nothing else the past few days. While she liked the powers and super-human strength that came with having the beast blood, she didn’t like how it made her feel, and she definitely didn’t want to go back to the Hunting Grounds. There was also the matter of starting a family. Vilkas and Lydia had managed to produce a baby with half Were blood, but two Weres? It was impossible. She had been with Farkas now for a long time and they had not been careful and still she had not fallen pregnant. Not that she was trying. While she was so caught up in defeating Alduin, having children was out of the question, but now.. well, it was something she thought about more and more often.

“I don’t know Azaril” she said honestly “It’s something I have been thinking about. But it has to be a decision I make with Farkas as well.”

“There is also the matter of the Dragon Cultists” he reminded her.

“I have not forgotten about them” she said darkly. She could no longer put off finding the Cultists and this Miraak they worshipped. Now that Azaril had changed to her side, she had all the information she needed from the Dunmer. It would mean a long journey, leaving Skyrim and setting sail for a place called Solstheim. She was loathing going but she couldn’t risk anyone else getting hurt or killed because of her and those fanatics. Azaril was also keen to return to the Island. Still, she could do nothing until Kodlak’s spirit was set free. And that was not going to happen until Farkas and Vilkas decided what they wanted to do. Wyldfyre stood.

“This has gone on for far too long” she said with determination “It’s either yes or no, but I am going whether they are or not” She strode into the Hall and down into the dorms, calling out for Farkas. Having no answer she searched for him in her mind and found him down in the baths. After shedding her armour she padded barefoot down the halls and slipped into the steaming bathing room, finding Farkas in his usual spot; the furtherest pool in the shadows. She slipped into the hot water and sat there searching his face for a moment while he struggled to put into words what he wanted to say.

“You have not spoken about the Silverhand hideout” he then said to her. Wyldfyre remained silent for minute, images of that day flashing through her mind. Farkas winced as she showed him those images as her eyes remained locked onto his, tears streaming down her face.

“My love” he whispered, moving towards her but she held up a hand.

“No, if you touch me it will undo me and we have to make a decision” she said firmly, scrubbing away at the tears. He nodded, sitting back against the rock. “Tell me what are you thinking?”

“I have been thinking of nothing else” he began slowly “It’s been a part of me for as long as I can remember. It’s not something that I can easily let go”

“I understand” she nodded, but Farkas wasn’t finished.

“But, I know that I have to. Not just for me but for us. What we have, it’s too important to loose, and the love I have for you, it’s.. real and I want more.” He frowned, frustrated as his words tumbled over each other. “I wish I could say what I was thinking...I..”

“I know what you mean my Love” Wyldfyre smiled “I am thinking the same. We have too much love to just keep it to ourselves. We could be normal, be a family...like Vilkas and Lydia”

“Have children” he smiled crookedly, causing her heart to flutter.

“Yes” she smiled as she moved to him and he wrapped her in his arms, squeezing her tight.

“I won’t lie, I will miss it” he said as he breathed in her intoxicating scent.

“I won’t” she said then “I don’t want either of us to go to the Hunting Grounds. Curing you will release you from Hircine’s deal. But that’s not all, I don’t like the way it makes me feel, like I am not in control. I don’t know if it’s the combination of having the Dragon’s blood in me as well, but I am frightened by it Farkas. It’s like anything can set me off and I have this constant uncontrollable rage inside me, threatening to raise its ugly head. I am afraid I’ll do something I will regret, hurt someone I love.. it’s tearing me apart”

“I didn’t realise” Farkas held her in front of him, “I didn’t know it was doing this to you. I’m sorry”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. It just happened. If I don’t cure myself I am afraid I will go mad or loose myself to the beast blood completely. I don’t think I could come back from that, not like you did”.

“It’s settled then. We go to Ysgramor’s Tomb and perform the ritual for Kodlak and then on ourselves” Farkas nodded.

“Thank you” she cried wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him. Their kisses turned more passionate and soon they were consumed by the love they had for each other as their bodies become one.


The next day, three set out for Ysgramor’s Tomb. Wyldfyre, Farkas and Vilkas bade farewell to their loved ones and mounted their horses, ready for the long journey ahead of them.
 

Destiny

The Fox
Another perfect chapter! Congratulations :D keep on the good work B-)

Στάλθηκε από το ST15i μου χρησιμοποιώντας Tapatalk 2
 

shadowkitty

Mistress of Shadows
CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE: THE CLEANSING


“It’s not a very good representation” Wyldfyre stated, staring up at the statue of Ysgramor. The journey north to the frozen Island upon which the ancient Nordic tomb was located had not been without its difficulties and the mood of the party was strained. They had travelled north-east for the day, stopping for the night in a cave, then the next day turning west to travel along the foot of Mt Anthor before turning north again and reaching Winterhold the next evening. The frozen winds had made the going slow, even mounted on horses. They decided to stay at the Inn for the night so they could navigate their way across the icy sea to the Island in the better light of the new day.

When they had set foot on the small island Wyldfyre had immediately heard the faint chanting that indicated a word wall was nearby, but upon searching around the outside area of the tomb she had found nothing. She figured then that the wall had to be on top of the mountain and that the way up to it would be inside the tomb. So they had entered the ruins, finding the first large chamber containing a statue of Ysgramor himself upon a raised platform; offerings of gold, flowers and various weapons and pieces of armour scattered at its feet. Wyldfyre studied the absurd statue with a frown.

“Huh? Oh right, I forgot you actually met him” Farkas said as he approached. Wyldfyre nodded.

“Indeed and he did not look like...this” she waved a hand at the carved figure. “The Ysgramor I met wore simple ancient Nord armour, not this ceremonial garb. In truth his beard is not as robust and fancy and his waist is..well, let me just say whoever made this knew how to flatter a person.”

“You mean he was fat?” Farkas asked bluntly, as only Farkas could, causing Vilkas to gasp in horror.

“Not fat, just a little more rounded out than this representation” Wyldfyre giggled then, causing even Vilkas to smirk which lightened the mood for them all. “I hope he did not hear me say that”.

“You may never get the chance to find out if we can’t get into this tomb” Vilkas said then. Wyldfyre sighed. They had spent the better part of an hour trying to find a way into the tomb but so far they had come up empty. She knew it had to be some sort of hidden mechanism. Ancient Nords seemed to have been fascinated with hidden traps, doors and the like. Just why they found it necessary to make their final resting places so God’s damned difficult to get through was beyond her. There were clearly three doors in the room; one on each side and the one directly behind the statue. But they had found no chains to pull, no levers to throw. The doors themselves were impossible to move, made from solid rock that even their combined strength could not budge. She stepped up to the statue to study it more closely, the dim light from the small cluster of candles they had lit making it hard to see anything.

The statue stood tall and proud, a two pronged helm upon its head and clutching a great battleaxe in both hands. It was unusual and Wyldfyre thought it looked to be the same one that Ysgramor had carried with him in Sovngarde. The carvings in its handle and blades were intricate. Upon closer inspection Wyldfyre realised that the weapon was indeed real and not just a stone representation of one.

“What is this?” she asked the twins.

“That is Wuuthrad” Vilkas said reverently “Ysgramor’s great battleaxe. It is said to be the weapon he wielded when he and the Five Hundred Companions drove the elves from Skyrim”.

“It’s beautiful” she said, running her hand over its blades. Suddenly the axe shifted slightly in the statues hands and a great clanking of gears rumbled throughout the chamber. “What...?” Wyldfyre scrambled off the platform and they all watched as the stone which blocked the way into the tomb rose slowly.

“Nice” Farkas smiled at his wife giving her a quick peck on the cheek “Let’s move” he said, picking up one of the sacks of witch heads. Vilkas took the other and they entered the tomb. The first chamber was large and down a small flight of stairs. They ascended silently, cautious for any trouble. The attack came from the sides. The three Companions were surprised by a sudden rush of glowing bodies and were forced to defend themselves from long dead Companions.

“Why are they attacking us?” Wyldfyre shouted in between thrusts of her sword “We are one of them!”

“I guess we have to prove our worth” Vilkas grunted, hard pressed by a large Companion of the past. Wyldfyre had no wish to fight the ghosts of her fellow Companions, but they gave her no choice and so she ploughed her way through them. After the spirit Companions were dealt with, the living ones regrouped.

“Well I hoped this was going to be easy” Farkas shrugged “But I guess I was wrong”. They continued on through the ruins, facing either the dead Companions, ancient traps or angry skeevers. They were going well until they came to a tunnel lined with spider webs. Wyldfyre looked at Farkas as his steps faltered to almost a complete stop.

“Farkas...”

“I know, I know!” he said through gritted teeth. Wyldfyre was proud as he drew in a deep breath and muttered under his breath “For Kodlak” and strode forward. They entered a large chamber almost completely covered in webs, things long dead hung from the ceiling wrapped in the sticky netting; now a mere husk of what they used to be. Wyldfyre heard the scuttling of many legs and then they were fighting off half a dozen small to medium-sized Frostbite spiders. Farkas seemed to be grinding his teeth the whole time while muttering For Kodlak over and over, his sword swinging wildly at the hairy beasts. Wyldfyre focused on her own battle. Soon the monsters lay dead on the floor, severed limbs everywhere, courtesy of Farkas. He gingerly stepped around them in an attempt to hastily leave the chamber.

“Not a word” he threatened the others. Vilkas and Wyldfyre looked at each other and grinned. It was the first time since the Silverhand massacre that the two had shared a pleasant moment together and Wyldfyre felt buoyed by the gesture. Vilkas must have felt the same way for he nodded and then indicated for her to follow his brother.

“Let’s move on” he said quietly. The last battle with the ghostly Companions saw them hard pressed as they came at the three in wave upon wave, testing their abilities to their limits. Wyldfyre would have received a terrible injury to her back had it not of been for Vilkas taking out her attacker at the last second. She returned the favour by firing a bolt into another ghost who was about to slice Vilkas’s head clean off. When the last of the ghosts was defeated and faded away they entered the final chamber; the resting place of Ysgramor’s body. It lay in a large decorative stone sarcophagus that was in a gated off section that looked down into the rest of the chamber.
The room consisted of several other sarcophagi on different levels and a large brazier that stood in the centre, a strange blue flame flickering inside. As the three Companions approached the brazier yet another of the glowing apparitions appeared, but this time it was friend, not foe.

“Kodlak!” Vilkas exclaimed. Kodlak raised his hands towards the flames as if to warm them.

“I’ve been waiting for you here my children” he said merrily.

“Of course we would come here Father” Wyldfyre stepped forward.

“I did not doubt you daughter” he smiled at her. “You brought them?”

“We have the heads, all of them” she indicated to the two sacks Farkas and Vilkas had carried with them all the way through the ruins.

“Good, good. Well let us not waste any more time, it is only so long that I can keep hiding here before the Prince of the Hunt finds me” He stepped up to the brazier, placing a hand upon it and steeled himself. “Throw a head into the fire”. Wyldfyre reached into one of the sacks, shuddering as her hand closed over the greasy hair of the Hagraven. She pulled it out and took it to the fire, throwing it into the depths of the blue flames. The fire hissed and spat and the flames grew in intensity as Kodlak started to writhe in pain.

“Kodlak!” Vilkas started forward but was stopped by Farkas and as they watched, a great shimmering wolf tore itself from Kodlak’s body. The Harbinger stumbled to his knees as the wolf tore itself away and stood before the Companions, growling, its hackles raised. Farkas unsheathed his sword and edged towards the wolf as it snapped and snarled at him.

“Careful!” Wyldfyre warned her Husband. Kodlak remained on one knee on the floor and looked back at the three of them.

“Kill the beast!” He cried weakly and they all attacked his wolf spirit. The wolf fought with a savagery not seen in the wolves of Skyrim. It snapped at their weapons as they swung at it with all of their strength, ducking and dodging its huge canines until finally Vilkas stabbed it through its heart and it raised its head and let out one last mournful howl before disappearing completely. All was quiet except for the three getting their breath back. Kodlak got to his feet and stood tall. His eyes shone with tears of joy.

“I am proud of you my children” he said to them. “Especially you my daughter” he looked at Wyldfyre. “You have proven to be the shining light that I thought you were that very first time I laid eyes upon you. I knew you would save us.”

“Father, I..” she stepped forward but he held up his hand.

“I know your Dragonborn duties have placed a great burden upon you Wyldfyre, but I have seen the strength inside you and I see no other choice. You will take my place as Harbinger and guide our family to bigger and better things.”

“Wait.. what?” she stepped back in shock as the others gasped behind her.

“Until we meet again in Sovngarde my Children”. Kodlak raised a hand in farewell and then was gone.

“Kodlak! Wait!” Wyldfyre called out, but it was too late, the Harbinger had moved on leaving the three to stand in a momentary stunned silence.

“He said what now?” Farkas exclaimed. Wyldfyre looked at the two brothers, shaking her head. She the Harbinger? What was Kodlak thinking?

“No! I can’t..” was all she could say as she stood there utterly confounded.

“You can’t refuse the Harbinger’s last request Sister” Vilkas said to her, even though he looked slightly put out by Kodlak’s announcement.

“I can’t be the Harbinger!” she exclaimed “I have only been a Companion for two years, a member of The Circle for less... how could Kodlak even think I am worthy?”

“It is his final word” Farkas stated.

“Well it is ridiculous!” she spluttered. “Me, The Harbinger? The rest will not accept it...”

“If they have a problem with it they will have me and Farkas to deal with!” Vilkas hefted his greatsword. Farkas nodded in agreement then grinned.

“So do I get special treatment now I am sleeping with the Harbinger?” he wriggled his eyebrows.

“Oh that is priceless Brother!” Vilkas laughed out loud as Wyldfyre glared at both of them.

“I don’t know why you both find this so amusing!” she huffed. “I want it put on record that I vehemently protest this” she stomped over to the sack pile and pulled out a fresh hag head, holding it up and shaking it at the brothers, ceasing their laughter. “Who’s next?”

*****​
The cleansing ritual for both Vilkas and Farkas had been as equally hard as Kodlak’s; the wolf spirit inside them not so willing to give up the host it had dwelt inside for so long. After each of them had vanquished the beast they both expressed feelings of happiness and said that they felt like a great weight had been lifted off them. Old aches and pains disappeared and Farkas even said he could breathe more deeply again. Wyldfyre was anxious to get her own cleansing done and she pulled the second last head from its sack. Before she threw it into the fire she stopped and looked to Vilkas.

“I was thinking, you should have the last head. For Gisli.” Farkas nodded in approval. Vilkas thought about it and then nodded as well.

“Thank you Sister. I will keep it until she is older and let her decide for herself”

“Are you ready?” Farkas stepped forward to Wyldfyre and placed his hand on her shoulder. She nodded and quickly kissed his hand before he stepped back. Wyldfyre raised the witches head as she held on to the side of the brazier. The twins unsheathed their swords, ready to fight Wyldfyre’s wolf spirit with her. This was it. She was going to rid herself of the beast once and for all. No longer would she have that terrible feeling of rage and bloodlust inside her. She would be free of it. Free to breathe again, sleep a whole night without waking up in terror, and to finally have a child with the man she loved with all her heart and soul. Steeling herself she threw the head into the fire and watched as the flames engulfed it.


But nothing happened.
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
how dare you stop there woman!!!!!
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
you will pay for your stoppyness miss missy *tackles softly*
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
you know i cant woman!!! fine if I wait youll have to on my fanfic >_<
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
wait* /throws phone/ curse this damn thing i say!!
 

shadowkitty

Mistress of Shadows
CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO: THE HARBINGER


Wyldfyre’s heart lurched in her chest as she waited for something, anything to happen. But the witches head continued to just simply burn in the blue flame. Please, she begged, please work.. She stood there for what seemed an eternity but there was no sudden pain, no tearing of her body and no wolf spirit to fight. There was nothing but the breaking of her heart. Wyldfyre stood before the brazier, hot tears brewing in her eyes. She looked at the brothers and shrugged.

“What...?” Vilkas shook his head, confused. Farkas opened and shut his mouth, completely at a loss for words. They lowered their weapons and looked at one another, unsure as what to do. None of them had thought about what would happen if the ritual didn’t work. They just assumed that since it had worked so perfectly on the previous person, the next would not have a problem.

“I should have known...” Wyldfyre then said, shaking as the anger was rising in her. “I should have known!” she screamed as the tears streamed down her face. “Why would I think that this would have ended my misery?” her voice echoed off the walls of the tomb. She lunged forward and thrust her hands through the blue flames, her fingers scrambling for the head but the supernatural fire was too intense and she cried out in pain. Farkas rushed forward, drawing her away from the fire, concern and sadness on his face.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, pushing him away from her and causing him to stumble backwards, not caring for the burning pain that seared through her arms. She spun around and ran out of the chamber as Farkas called out for her. She ran on blindly through the ruin, not even noticing where she went, bawling like a babe as her mind reeled at the enormity of what had just happened.

She found herself back in the first room with Ysgramor’s statue and, screaming, she rent the battleaxe from the statue’s hands. She took off with it through the door on the far side of the room, running up stairs until she came to a heavy steel door which she kicked open with ease. She was back outside and could hear the chanting of the word wall calling to her from above. She ran up the snow covered hill until she could see the wall up ahead of her. In her frantic state and anger she threw Wuuthrad at the wall with all her strength.

“Shut up! Shut up!” she screamed at the wall. The battleaxe flew through the air and collided with the wall sending a great spray of sparks everywhere, before it clattered harmlessly to the ground. She ran to it and picked it up and started attacking the wall, as the word began to shimmer and enter her body. She swung at the wall with the axe, chipping great chunks of stone from it, barely registering the new shout she had just learned, or the fact that she did not need a dragon soul to learn it. Wyldfyre threw the axe away and fell to her knees and howled into the sky until her voice grew hoarse. She slumped to the ground and sobbed, not caring she was lying in the snow. She cried herself into exhaustion. After a while, a soft fur covered her and she was lifted up and carried down the hill, pressed close to Farkas’s warm body.

“Farkas” she sobbed quietly “I am so sorry...I’m so sorry” she whimpered.

“Hush My Love” Farkas said as he carried her back into the tomb and set her down beside a fire. He wrapped them both in furs, pulling her tight against him and she soon fell asleep in his arms.

Wyldfyre was alone. She was no longer in the tomb but walking through a forest of thick pines. She could hear howling in the distance and she started to panic and she realised where she was. She was back in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. She ran through the forest, the trees whipping at her naked body, tearing at her flesh. She could hear the heavy breathing of Weres behind her and she ran faster. She was being hunted, she was now the prey. As she stumbled through the trees she called out for Farkas, Lydia, anyone who could help her. She looked up at the sky and saw the faces of her loved ones looking down at her and frowning in disapproval. She sobbed as she continued through the forest, the Weres snapping at her heels, before she burst through into a clearing where the Daedric Prince himself stood, his spear in one hand, a large curved knife in the other. Wyldfyre was knocked to the ground by some invisible force and her limbs held down by clawed hands. Weres in various states of transition circled around, howling, snarling and laughing at her as she struggled in vain. Hircine stood over her, his hollow eyes boring straight into her. He raised the knife over his head.
“You are mine, she-wolf” he said in his deadly voice before bringing the knife down and tearing her open.

Wyldfyre woke up with a start, crying out as she struggled inside Farkas’s arms, scrabbling at her body as she checked for a wound.

“Shhh..” Farkas soothed her “It was just a dream” he smoothed down her hair as she collapsed against him, trying to calm her breathing.

“I was at the Hunting Grounds” she said as she took a shuddering breath.

“It was just a dream My Love. It wasn’t real”

“How do you know?” she drew away from him “Hircine is a Daedric Prince! How do we know what he is capable of? Look what happened last time?”

“You never left my arms all night. That’s how I know” he answered her. Wyldfyre stopped and looked at him. He did look haggard and tired.

“You mean you didn’t sleep at all?”

“I didn’t” he said “I was too worried about you. I needed to hold on, to keep you safe”. Instantly Wyldfyre’s heart melted.

“Oh Farkas” she kissed him. It was only a little later that she realised that Vilkas was no longer with them. She panicked when she could not feel his presence.

“Where is Vilkas?” she asked Farkas.

“I told him to go home. He wanted to stick around here, but I could tell he really wanted to get home to Lydia.” Wyldfyre nodded, understanding. Of course Vilkas would want to see his girls. She sighed and sent out a thought to Farkas, then stilled. She felt nothing in return. Her heart lurched inside her again.

“Farkas” she said fearfully “I no longer feel you inside my mind”

“I know” he said saddened “I guess it’s because now I’m, you know..” he hated to say it n front of her. He could not bear to see her react in the same way she had the previous day when the ritual had not worked for her. But her face crumpled and she sobbed again.

“Farkas, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” he looked at her, concerned.

“About us?”

“What about us? Just because I am no longer a Were and you are still one, doesn’t mean I love you any less.” His face grew apprehensive “Do you, still love me, now that I’m normal?”

“Of course I do!” she answered him fervently. “It’s just...”

“Then there isn’t a problem” he said quickly.

“But I can’t bear your child, I’m useless” she said. It was irrational, but she felt anything but calm at that moment.

“There are more ways to have a child than baring one My Love. We will face it when the time comes. But in the mean time we should get back to Whiterun and inform the rest of The Circle what happened here.”

“Not my tantrum though” she smiled slightly.

“No I think we can leave that out” he playfully squeezed her chin.

*****​
“I don’t know what to say” Aiden looked shocked at his sister as they retold the story in the Underforge. Aiden and Aela had listened with keen interest as the others retold the story of their journey and the ritual that freed Kodlak of his wolf spirit. Aela and Aiden had both known that Wyldfyre was still a Were, sensing her presence while she and Farkas were still approaching the city and were curious to know why. But none of them could explain why the ritual had not worked for her. The only reason that they all thought a possibility being her Dragon blood and the fact that she also had Alduin’s blood in her had somehow rendered the ritual useless to her.

Aiden and Aela were both genuinely upset for their sibling, but they also vowed to help her through it in any way they could. Out of love they did not even mention the Daedric Prince and his Hunting Grounds which Wyldfyre greatly appreciated. Next came Kodlak’s announcement and while at first they were shocked, they soon agreed with the twins that Wyldfyre becoming the new Harbinger was a good thing. Wyldfyre reluctantly received their blessings and hers and Farkas’s belongings were moved from their humble room into the more luxurious rooms that were befitting of the leader of the Companions.

Wyldfyre felt self conscious when the lower ranks of the Companions offered her their respect and she voiced her woes to Lydia the next day in her new rooms. Lydia had come to pay a visit for the first time since Wyldfyre and Farkas had returned from their journey and the two friends had much to catch up on. Wyldfyre spilled out her feelings on everything, even telling Lydia about the terrible tantrum she threw. They sat on the bed and Lydia ran her hands over the plush blanket. Vilkas had taken Gisli to see the Khajiit caravaners. The little girl was fascinated with the feline race. Lydia sighed and Wyldfyre saw that far away dreamy expression in her eyes that she recognised.

“Vilkas keep you up late again” she smirked at her friend. Lydia blushed and turned red.

“He has been...most attentive since he got back. If I didn’t know any better I would think he wanted me pregnant again..” she chuckled then stopped, realising what she had just said.

“Oh, by the nines! Wyldfyre, I am so sorry.. I didn’t mean. I am such a bad friend” she stammered.

“It’s fine” Wyldfyre took her hands “Please don’t think you have to guard your words with me. It’s something that I have to deal with and it’s better that it’s not hidden away. Please, go on, I like hearing you talk about babies and such. It makes me so happy for you both.”

“But Wyldfyre” Lydia continued “How can I with what you have just been through? I don’t know how you are keeping it together. I couldn’t bear it”

“In truth, it’s all I can do or else I... I have been keeping myself busy and trying not to think about it. Which is why you need to distract me.” She frowned “Wait, that sounded wrong. You know I love you and want to hear your news...” She cocked her head to the side “When is Vilkas going to marry you?”

“Oh!” Lydia laughed nervously. It was obviously something she had thought about a lot “We talked about it. And we were going to get Kodlak to do it, before he.. you know. But now I’m not sure.” Her eyes brightened and she sat up straight, her mouth breaking into a wide grin.

“What? I know that look Lydia, what are you thinking?”

“YOU!” she cried shaking Wyldfyre’s hands excitedly “You could marry us!”

“What?”

“Yes, you are the Harbinger now, your word is Law and you can marry people, oh please say you’ll do it? Please!”

*****​
“You’re going to marry my Brother?” Farkas smiled as the two lay in their new bed. Farkas lay on his back and Wyldfyre was resting on his chest. She laid her head on it and felt the rise and fall of his breathing, listening to the beating of his heart. Since she could not detect him with her mind any longer she felt a need to hear his heart beating. To feel the bond that they shared as mates. It was comforting and helped her to forget for a small moment in time that she was stuck with the beast inside her forever.

“Yes and Lydia wants to do it sooner rather than later. Before she is fat again. Her words”

“She is pregnant again already?” he said astonished as he stroked her bare back. She smelt different to him now, but it was still a wild intoxicating mixture of earth and blood, just not as powerful as before.

“We are not sure. Probably, seeing they have hardly left Breezehome since Vilkas’s return”

“And how are you feeling about all this?” he asked her tentatively.

“I am just holding myself together Farkas” she said honestly. She didn’t want him to worry for her but she felt she had to be honest with him. “One minute I am fine. I can help out a young Companion with an issue they have, and then the next I feel like ripping the entire Hall apart.” She sat up and looked at him intently.

“I want you to promise me something” she said.

“Anything My Love” he said as he stroked one pert breast but she swiped his hand away.

“This is serious Farkas. If I lose myself to the beast blood, if I...hurt people, you need to end me.”

“What?” he exclaimed, also sitting up.

“Swear it Farkas or I will leave right now. I can’t have that burden upon me anymore. I need your help. I need you to promise me that you will take my life if I fail”

“I’m not going to kill you!” he shouted, appalled at the idea.

“Farkas, I am Dragonborn, a Were with a whole load of Dragon blood coursing through my veins, do you think that if I wanted to I could kill everyone in this entire town?”

“You are being ridiculous!” he growled at her.

“But you know it’s true. I know what I am capable of now and I fear the day that I lose myself” she shook his hands trying to make him understand. “Farkas it is the only way for you and everyone to be safe.”

“I don’t believe that” he shook his head, getting out of the bed and pouring himself a tankard of mead, more for something to do to calm his anger. “I don’t believe you would hurt anyone you loved, not on purpose”

“But what if I can’t help it? What if I go mad with the blood lust? Fuelled by the Wolf and Dragon blood. I feel it inside me all the time Farkas. It’s all I can do to keep it under control.”

“Is it really that bad?” he asked her sitting back on the bed.

“It is” she nodded, and then held her hand lovingly on his face “But being with you helps me”

“I can’t believe you have asked me to do this. Your mate, your husband who would die before he sees you hurt” The look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. She had hurt him badly. She decided to drop the subject before they argued further.

“We’ll talk about it another time” she half smiled. Farkas studied her for a moment before he stood and walked towards the door.

“I need to go hit something” he said as he took up his sword and closed the door behind him leaving Wyldfyre on her own. She sighed as she tried to sense his movements out in the hallways of the dorms, but could feel nothing but Aela and Aiden walking around above in the Hall.


“I need help” she said out loud. She needed someone to help her calm the animals inside her that cried for blood in her waking moments and in her dreams. She studied Kodlak’s books for a moment before one caught her eye. A small green bound book about the history of Were-beasts. Wyldfyre took it down and started reading. The book covered a vast history of the various Were-beasts of Tamriel. Her eyes widened as she read on until a section made her sit up with interest. One word jumped out at her from the pages of the book, a place, a place she had only just recently learned about. Solstheim. There was an ancient Werewolf pack on Solstheim and they came from people who sounded very similar to her own. Wyldfyre knew this was a sign. She now knew that she had to travel to this far away land. They could be her only hope, her only salvation.
 

shadowkitty

Mistress of Shadows
CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE: SOLSTHEIM

Wyldfyre performed her first wedding ritual as Harbinger. Vilkas and Lydia stood before her, as happy a couple as any, Gisli by their feet looking cute. It was a humble affair, a small gathering of close friends, consisting of mainly members of the Circle. After the ceremony Wyldfyre had sought out her husband, taking him aside to speak about her wish to travel to Solstheim. At first he was against it completely, even going so far as to forbidding her to go, but in the end he had to admit that it was probably the best thing for her to do. He did not like the fact that she only wanted to take Azaril with her, arguing that she needed more protection than one Dunmer. Wyldfyre finally convinced Farkas that Azaril was all she needed to make the journey and that he and the others would have to look after the affairs of the Companions in her absence.

She hated leaving her husband for so long, but she felt she had no other option. Ever since the Cleansing ritual had failed her she had felt a detachment from him that made her heart ache. She felt like he was slipping through her fingers. She needed to get her soul back, to feel like she was human again.

Wyldfyre looked down upon the wounded city of Windhelm. What was once a stern and unyielding grey mass of buildings was now broken and crumbling. She could see the Palace of Kings had lost some of its roof; a frame of scaffolding erected around it as workers slowly repaired the damage. Half the city was still in a shambles. Wyldfyre couldn’t understand why it was taking so long to repair the city.

“I didn’t think it would take me this long to see this city again” Azaril commented. Wyldfyre sighed. She knew exactly what he meant. She had not been here since that night when she and Ulfric had almost done something terrible, and then she had disappeared for a whole year. After her return from the Throat of the World she simply had not had the time to visit. She felt guilty for not having made the trip, but she also feared what she would find when she got there.

But now she was forced to enter the city as the only way to get to Solstheim was by ship from the docks of Windhelm. Once she set foot through the gates the Palace would know she was there and she would be obliged to stop by. There was no way around it. She urged her horse into a walk.

“Come on” she said to her Dunmer friend. They left their horses at the stables and walked into the city, carrying everything they needed for their journey to the Island. Azaril had been giving her a lot of information about the Island and the more she heard about it the more fascinated she grew. He did not know exactly where the Were camp was but he knew of the people she was so eager to find. The Skaal were an ancient Nord race who had remained isolated in the snowy mountainous region on the eastern side of the Island. She knew she had to find this Miraak person first, but still longed to reconnect with her people. She was torn between duty and her own desires.

“My Lady” Azaril broke her out of her revere and she looked up to see a detachment of Stormcloaks striding towards her; a familiar face on the one in the lead.

“Ralof!” she exclaimed and hugged him firmly, causing him to wince a little. “It’s so good to see you”

“Likewise” he nodded. “What are you doing here?”. Wyldfyre glanced to Azaril who stood back from the group.

“We are in need of a ship” was all she said on the matter. Ralof looked over her shoulder to the ash-skinned Dunmer, suspicion flashing across his face for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to her.

“Well let me escort you to the Palace. Ulfric will be pleased to see you” he said loudly, for the benefit of everyone to hear. But Wyldfyre could see apprehension in his eyes. She nodded in understanding and followed the party to the Palace. Ralof chatted lightly along the way, telling her about Annekke and their babe. They entered the Palace and the rest of the escort left to return down to the barracks, leaving Wyldfyre, Azaril and Ralof alone. Ralof glanced at Azaril again.

“Can he be trusted?” he asked in a whisper.

“Of course he can. I vouch for him” Wyldfyre said to her blond friend. Azaril stepped forward.

“If you please My Lady, I will go to the Grey Quarter and down to the docks to secure us our passage”

“All right Azaril. Get us a room if needed and I will come and find you later”. She handed him a coin purse and he nodded and left.

My Lady?” Ralof queried, smirking.

“It’s a long story” Wyldfyre waved her hand as they started for the Jarl’s privet chambers. “How is he?”

“It’s hard to tell” Ralof sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t leave his rooms, just sits by the fire, staring into it. Galmar and I have to go there whenever we need his approval on anything, but I don’t know.. It’s like he is a shell of who he once was. After losing his leg, he withdrew from all of us.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Ulfric I know” she said, frowning.

“Which is why we are so worried. I wonder if you can speak to him. Try to get him to snap out of this dark mood he is in?”

“I don’t know what I could say that would make any difference Ralof” she said as he let her pass first through a narrow doorway. They approached the guards that stood outside the Jarl's doors; Ralof giving them a nod as they retreated back down the hall. He waited until they were out of earshot before continuing.

“I know what the Jarl feels for you. I thought you two would have ended up together at one time. He will listen to what you have to say.”

“I..”

“Please Wyldfyre; try to talk some sense into him. For Skyrim. She needs her rightful leader back. Windhelm needs their Jarl.”

“Thanks for putting that extra burden on me” she glared halfheartedly at him. He smirked and let her through the door.

*****​
“I said no visitors” a voice from the left said. Wyldfyre peered through the darkened room to see a figure sitting beside the massive fireplace. As Ralof had described it, Ulfric indeed was lounging in a chair, staring into the flames. She approached on silent feet, noticing that Ralof had not entered the room but had shut the door behind her; leaving her alone with the tormented Jarl.

“Not even me?” she said. Ulfric’s body tensed and Wyldfyre stood there as he slowly turned around in his chair, a dozen emotions flashing across his face.

“Wyldfyre..” he uttered her name softly and she walked over and sat in the chair opposite; his eyes on her the entire time.

“Hello Ulfric” she said simply. She studied his face. He had aged since the last time she had seen him, new worry lines had appeared around his icy blue eyes. His hair was longer and fell into his eyes; a rough beard had sprouted on his face. Wyldfyre looked down and saw he wore simple suede pants, the left side cut off and pinned closed just above the knee. Ulfric hid his wounded leg within the folds of his robe.

“I dared not believe you were alive when I was told of your return.” He said to her quietly.

“You believe now?” she asked, placing her hand on his leg. His hand slowly covered hers.

“I do” he said. Even his voice, once so powerful and capable of uttering a Thu’m like hers, now soft and deflated. Wyldfyre was worried. This was not the Jarl she had left so long ago. This man before her was broken, indeed what Ralof had said, a shell of the man he once was. This needed to end. It had been almost a year since the attack on his city and the citizens needed him. Skyrim needed him. She took a deep breath and let loose on the Jarl. It was brutal and shocking, but it needed to be done. He blinked in shock at her words and then anger set across his face. In the end he demanded she leave before she too grew angry and stormed out. As she swept through the door, she did not however see the smile the Jarl had upon his face.

*****​
The salty breeze was invigorating. Wyldfyre stood at the bow of the ship the Northern Maiden as she sailed east across the Sea of Ghosts towards the Island of Solstheim. To her right she could vaguely make out the country of Morrowind, home to the elves.

She had spent two days in Windhelm. Most of those two days had been full of arguing with Ulfric, which he seemed to enjoy more and more. After their first disastrous meeting Ulfric had demanded her presence again and she had been surprised to find him seated in his throne, clean, shaven and in his favourite woolly cloak. Ralof and Galmar had both grinned widely when she had approached, having no clue what she had done to get the Jarl to leave his rooms, but overjoyed none the less. Ulfric had a wooden leg fitted that Wyldfyre later learned he had refused to wear until now. He stood when she bowed slightly before the throne.

“My Jarl” she said formerly. Ulfric carefully made his way down the dais, under the watchful eye of Galmar. The second in charge held out his hands as Ulfric faltered a little.

“Oh! Stay your hands man, for Talos sake!” Ulfric waved him off and Galmar stepped back.

“Yes My Jarl” he grunted in his gravelly voice. Ulfric hobbled over to Wyldfyre and took her arm, walking her to the war room.

“It seems I am to be wrapped in cotton like some bawling babe” he grinned at her.

“I’m glad to see you feeling better My Jarl” she said as they stood around the great table with the map of Skyrim spread over it. Little blue and red flags dotted it here and there.

“Wyldfyre” Ulfric sighed “You know I don’t like you calling me that. Ulfric will do”...

Wyldfyre smiled at the memory. She had left Ulfric and the others planning new assaults on the Imperial forces. She didn’t think she was entirely responsible for motivating Ulfric once again, but she felt glad that she at least had her part in doing something positive.

“How long Azaril?” she asked the Dunmer as he took up a place beside her. He squinted ahead, then up to the sky.

“Six hours at least My Lady. Enough time to get some sleep?” he asked meaningfully. Wyldfyre glanced sideways at him. He knew she had not been sleeping. He could not even begin to know the full reasons for her not being willing to sleep, but he saw her toss and turn at night, pacing the decks of the ship, staring out to sea for hours on end.

“Maybe you should try that potion I gave you?” Wyldfyre had not yet taken the sleeping draft that Azaril had given her. He had had it made for her in Windhelm and had given it to her the first night they stayed there, but she was reluctant to take it. She was afraid of drifting off to sleep and not being able to wake up. Even though Azaril assured her it did not work that way.

“You need to sleep Wyldfyre” he said her name emphasising the importance of his words “The draft will give you a dreamless sleep. I can watch over you”. She looked at him, conflicted. She was exhausted she had to admit.

“All right my friend” she finally nodded “Just for a few hours”

*****​
The port of Raven Rock was what Wyldfyre expected a port to be. Bustling, noisy and dirty. As they had neared the island Wyldfyre had been fascinated by the great red mountain that jutted up from the sea that had rivers of red hot lava running down its sides. A gigantic cloud hovered over the mountain and island, casting a fine red ash over everything it settled upon. Wyldfyre found it a little stifling and hard to breathe.

“You will get used to that” Azaril commented. They gathered up their belongings as the ship pulled into the harbour and its deck hands expertly moored it to a long wide jetty. Before anything was unloaded though a stern looking finely-dressed Dark Elf strode down the jetty, carrying an armful of official looking paperwork. He briefly spoke to the ship’s captain before walking down the gangway and heading for Wyldfyre and Azaril.

“What is your business here?” he asked bruskly, causing Wyldfyre to immediately bristle. Azaril placed a hand on her arm and pulled her in close to him, pretending they were more than just friends.

“If I may my Sweet. Adril,” he addressed the Dunmer “It’s me Azaril. My lady friend and I are just here to visit my home land. You will have no cause to concern yourself with us while we are here”. They waited while Adril mulled this over, frowning at Wyldfyre’s armour and numerous weapons, his stern expression relenting ever so slightly.

“Very well. See that you keep it that way” he nodded and turned on his heel and marched off. Azaril stepped away from Wyldfyre.

“I am so very sorry for my familiarity My Lady. But it was the first thing I could come up with that would avoid all sorts of questioning”

“That’s quite all right Azaril” Wyldfyre said as they left the ship and walked down the docks “I take it he knew you?”

“He would have recognised me from a long time ago.. I have not been in Raven Rock for quite a while” he said, his face reddening. Wyldfyre chose not to ask him further questions about his family. It obviously brought back painful memories.

“Well, this is your country Azaril. What do we do first?” she asked him as they came out onto the main street; the only street that ran through the small mining settlement. The buildings were truly odd. Low fat buildings that looked like giant bugs squatting in the red ash. A few stood taller, but still had a sharp slant to their roofs. Wyldfyre assumed it was to keep the ash from piling up and having the roofs cave in on the inhabitants inside.

“Perhaps we should go to the Retching Netch, the local Inn. We could have a drink, ask a few questions, and perhaps see to securing some accommodation while we are here.”

“A good idea” Wyldfyre nodded “I could use a drink after all that salt and ash air.” They walked up the street, a tapping of metal on metal announcing a smith to their left. Wyldfyre was surprised to see a Breton man working at the forge. He smiled politely as they passed and Wyldfyre made a mental note to see him later about restocking her bolt supply. They were now in Cultist territory and if the ones she had come up against in Skyrim were anything to go by, she would need all the weapons she could get. They approached one of the strange buildings in the centre market square, an old sign hanging over the door.

“Dare I ask what a Retching Netch is?” she squinted at the sign. Azaril pushed open the door, letting her pass through. They were standing on a small rounded landing with a fire at the opposite end. A set of stairs in the centre of the room led the way down.

“Oh I will let old Geldis tell you that particular story” he chuckled as they descended the stairs to the main floor “It’s one of his best”. The Inn was one large room broken up with curved vaulted walls and ceilings. A hallway ran off either side were the rooms for rent lay. In the centre of the room stood the stone bar, the proprietor, Geldis standing behind it, pouring drinks for patrons.

“Well, young master Azaril” Geldis said with surprise as the two approached. “I haven’t seen you in these parts for, well quite a while now”

“Indeed Geldis” Azaril said as he stepped up and placed a few gold coins onto the counter. “I would like some of your best for myself and my lady friend” Geldis glanced to Wyldfyre then stopped himself and took more care in studying her fine figure, impressive armour and weapons.

“Two of my famous Sujammas coming up” he smiled at Azaril, clearly impressed with the young dunmer’s Lady Friend.

“We would also like a room, a double one please” Azaril continued, placing more coins onto the bar.

“Certainly. I have a nice one empty right now. Take the first door on the left” Geldis nodded, handing over two bottles of his home brewed drink.

“I take it we are keeping up the appearance of a couple?” Wyldfyre asked when the door to their room was closed securely behind them. Wyldfyre walked over to the large double bed and dumped her things beside it.

“It’s the best way to avoid questions. Dunmer are a naturally suspicious and gossipy lot” Azaril shrugged. Then his eyes widened. “Oh! That doesn’t mean we.. that you and I have to...” he looked at the bed.


“It’s fine Azaril!” Wyldfyre stopped him before he made more of a fuss “I’m sure we can manage sleeping in the same bed together without mauling each other” she winked at him, causing the Dark skinned elf to turn bright red.
 

A.Auditore

maybe...
MOAR WOMAN!! :eek:
 

Destiny

The Fox
Amazing chapters!! Azaril is such an innocent looking guy! :p Keep on the good work! :D
 

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