Season Unending, The Children of Kyne, Vol. III Options

[Kane]

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Content warning: this story should be considered 18+. Sexual content is present, but never described, and I don't shy away from foul language (though it seems to be censored). There is also darker content further in regarding sexual assault.

Prologue
It could be said that Skyrim was a cold, harsh land, unforgiving to outsiders and barely tolerant of anyone but a true Nord. Fortunately, those times have passed, and the sun shines brightly upon a healing landscape. The scars of civil war and dragon crises fading to memory as a new High King and his court sought to pull the land up from the depths of a crumbling Empire. An Empire in name only, its once powerful alliance spanning the entirety of Tamriel, now relegated to Cyrodiil (or the Heartland, as the Nibenese and Colovian nobles preferred to call it), High Rock, and, of course, Skyrim.

But now Skyrim stood to rise above the rest, and usher in a new era for a floundering society that still scurried from the inevitable boot of the Aldmeri Dominion. Hope began to inflame the hearts of men, for the Dragonborn King was rumored to be setting his sights upon the Ruby Throne, and the weak Mede Dynasty that occupied it. From his palace in Solitude, forces were directed and diplomats dispatched as the pawns of war moved slowly but surely. The Dominion was forced out of Skyrim with an ultimatum, and the land was finally back under the full rule of the Nords, as it ought to be.

The year is Two Hundred Twenty-nine of the Fourth Era, and the gears of war have started to turn, as the land braces itself for the Second Great War that was always to come. It was also the year that a mid-level member of the Anvil chapter of the Fighter’s Guild was loaned to the storied Companions of Jorrvaskr, in the city of Whiterun. This talented young warrior of Redguard descent suddenly found himself sailing to a strange land and leaving behind the only home he ever knew. Little remained for him in Anvil after the passing of his mother, so he looked forward to a new chapter of his life, far from the painful memories of home.

The first mate, a stout Imperial named Janius, approached the young Redguard with a roll of parchment and a quill. “Name?”

“Cain. No surname.”

“No surname?” inquired the First Mate. “How can that be, young man? I have it here that you were born and raised in Anvil, and joined the Fighter’s Guild when you came of age. Your mother is listed as Ariessa Janeel, also of Anvil. Do you not share her name?”

“In the absence of my father, she did not bestow it upon me.”

“Bastard then, eh? Unfortunate, but I see it all the time. What is your business in Skyrim?”

“On loan to The Companions. For what reason I do not yet know, but I will follow my orders from the guild and my future employers.”

“An honorable attitude for a young warrior, mister Cain. It’s a long voyage to the port of Solitude, so all we ask is that you remain civil and pitch in a helping hand when required.”

Cain nodded and the first mate moved on to speak with a different passenger. It was indeed a long voyage, filled with many sleepless nights while the ship bobbed and rocked on the choppy waters of the sea. The occasional storm would blow in and everyone from the captain to the lowest deckhands were grim-faced and determined as they struggled to keep the passengers safe from the onslaught of high waves and powerful winds. Nearly a full month passed before they sailed beneath the great arch of Solitude and nestled the ship into the port. All hands helped to moor the ship before the passengers eagerly disembarked in a new land.

A tall Dunmer man of middle years stood in wait on the pier, clad in worn hide armors with a longsword slung across his back. Years of experience lined his weathered face, eyes deep set and wary as he scanned the faces off all those who set foot off of the ship. When Cain approached the man, he flagged the Redguard down and directed him off to the side.

“You must be Cain,” he said. “Fresh from Anvil, yes? My name is Athis and I’ve been sent by our Harbinger to retrieve you. The Companions welcome your aid, but we have a long journey to Whiterun yet. Ordinarily I would accompany you south on foot, but we are already short-handed and will be taking a carriage.”

“Nice to meet you, Athis. Lead the way �" this is a strange land for me and I defer to your judgement.”

They shook hands and departed the port at a quick trot. A carriage sat in wait along the road to the capital city, and soon after Athis handed the driver a bag of Septims, the were trundling along the road to Dragon Bridge, headed for the southern road to Whiterun Hold and Jorrvaskr �" the legendary mead hall of The Companions. Despite being in an unfamiliar land, Cain found himself excited at the prospect of these new horizons and the change of pace from the last few months of misery that followed the death of his mother. He bowed his in prayer for her before striking up a conversation with Athis.

“So, what’s it like being in The Companions?” he asked. “Are things much different from the Fighter’s Guild?”

“Oh yes, quite different. Every man or woman in The Companions is their own. We have no leaders, just a Harbinger who is wise in counsel and offers a guiding hand. There are no ranks to elevate to and no coveted positions to fight for. We take the jobs we must and your shield-siblings will be ready to stand with you. Honor is valued above all else.”

“Interesting. I must admit, the lack of politics seems hard to believe. Everything is so much about rank and station in the guild that often times our true purpose is forgotten when the infighting picks up. Jobs go unanswered in the chaos and brawls turn deadly over simple differences of opinion. I might end up staying here for a long time if life is to be more peaceful in that regard.”

Athis chuckled. “While we do strive to rise above such petty squabbles, you’ll soon find that Jorrvaskr is anything but peaceful. However, our brawls usually end with hearty pats on the back and consuming copious amounts of mead, rather than misery and death!”

“Sounds like a dream come true, Athis.”

“That’s a very Nordic attitude, young one. Are you sure you’re a Redguard?”

“The color of my skin betrays that,” laughed Cain. “But who knows, maybe my father was a Nord, whoever he may be.”

The Dunmer smiled and their conversation moved onto other topics. Athis went over the finer points of The Companions with him and eventually moved onto the current political climate and powers that be in Skyrim. Cain listened with rapt attention, absorbing all the he could to avoid any run-ins with local laws and to avoid misunderstandings, no matter how small they could be. Just as the sun began to set, the carriage pulled into a small village and ground to a halt. Orthar, the driver, dismounted and told them they would continue on in the morning. Cain and Athis hopped down from the wagon and followed him into the local tavern, the Frostfruit Inn.

“This is the village of Rorikstead,” said Athis. “A fine place to spend the night. Grab us some mead and I’ll see about getting a meal. No sense in sleeping on an empty stomach.”

He left the inn as Cain was ordering a few pints of mead and a loaf of bread to munch on. Experience had taught the young man never to consume spirits on an empty stomach, and so he found a table off to the side and chewed on the crusty loaf while he awaited Athis’ return. Ten minutes later, his fellow Companion reentered the tavern with a basket of fruit in one hand and a bundle of skewered meats in the other. They ate and drank their fill while continuing to discuss the ins and outs of Jorrvaskr well into the night.

Dawn brought forth cloudy skies and the smell of rain upon the air as the carriage rumbled off onto the road, resuming their journey to Whiterun. By late afternoon, the two men were approaching the gates of the tundra city, and making their way through the bustling marketplace. They passed the local tavern and ascended a flight of stairs whereupon Cain was greeted with a breathtaking sight �" the Gildegreen was in full bloom before his eyes and the immense beauty of the towering tree froze him in his tracks as the wind gently whistled through its branches.

“Aye, a sight to see, eh?” remarked Athis. “Little matches the serene beauty of our mighty tree, blessed by the Goddess Kyne herself. That’s her temple there and the priestess' maintain the tree and those who seek her guidance within.”

“It’s amazing,” sighed Cain. “There is nothing quite as lovely in all of Cyrodiil.”

“Yeah, well, the Imperials already think too highly of themselves. Divines know they don’t deserve such a wonderful symbol as our Gildegreen. Let’s move on now �" Jorrvaskr is just over there.”

Continuing on, Cain and Athis soon stepped through the solid wood doors of the legendary mead hall and were met with the raucous din of the main dining area where shield siblings dined heartily and drank merrily, roaring with laughter and swapping exaggerated stories of their noble deeds. Athis steered him through the hall and down a small flight of stairs to a much quieter living area, with bedrooms lining the underground corridor. The walls were adorned with centuries of decorations ranging from trophy kills to impressive weapons to woven tapestries and ancient, tattered flags. At the far end of the hall two men sat around a small table and were deep in conversation, only noticing their approach at the last minute.

The smaller of the two large men rose to greet them. “Athis, I see you’ve returned with our new shield-brother!” He turned to the Redguard and offered a hand for Cain to shake. “Cain, yes? Welcome to Jorrvaskr! I’m Vilkas, Harbinger of The Companions, and the silent one here is my brother Farkas. He may look intimidating but I promise he is more bark than bite!” Vilkas roared with laughter and sat back down as Farkas greeted Cain.

“Pleasure to meet you, brother,” rumbled the towering Nord. He sat back down and resumed his stony silence while Vilkas spoke again.

“No trouble, then, Athis?”

“None at all. The land seems quiet for a change.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. But it’s getting late now �" you two head upstairs and eat. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow!”

Athis and Cain took their leave of the Harbinger, and his silent brother, and headed back to the dining hall for a good meal and plenty of mead. All in all, Cain was looking forward to being counted among the ranks of such proud, jovial warriors. Jorrvaskr was everything the Fighters Guild was not, and his mind was made up in short order �" tomorrow he would pen a letter to his chapter leader and tender his resignation. But the night was still relatively young, and after stowing what little gear he had under a vacant bed, Cain met Athis upstairs in the great hall.

They ate, drank, and sang well into the night as Cain made the rounds and was introduced to his shield-siblings. More than a few were young like him, and he could not help but eye up some of the female warriors among the ranks, especially Thea, a tall blonde Nord that shared the same birthyear as Cain. He lingered next to her the longest and was in awe at how much mead she could knock back with the rest of the burly men seated around Jorrvaskr. By midnight the two of them had slid out the back door and were getting to know each other better in the moonlit gardens.

The next day came earlier than Cain, still sleeping off the merriment and escapades from the night before, had expected it to. Farkas strode into his room just after sunrise and threw a dossier at him before barking out the Redguard’s first orders.

“Read that and then come find me in the mead hall. You’re heading to Falkreath today and we need to find you a shield-sibling to watch your back, and see what you can do. Don’t tarry, it’s a long walk to Falkreath and the sun is already up.”

Cain sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before leaving his warm bed and heading for the bathroom. He checked himself in the mirror before leaving and sighed at the long scratches Thea had left on the side of his face. Farkas had likely noticed them, too, but it was probably nothing new to the seasoned Companion. He splashed some water on his faced, headed back to general quarters, got dressed, and went upstairs for his first assignment.

This post has been edited by Kane: May 6 2025, 01:14 PM

[Kane]

Chapter XVIII – Outlanders


The first hours of evening-time at Stonehills were quiet and the faint odors of ash and decay still hung in the cold summer air. What remained of the small town was slowly being buried in the snowfall of central Skyrim that never seemed to cease, no matter what season. The wooded area adjacent to the ruins of Anska’s family home had been converted into a small graveyard by her and Cain. Small headstones stood at the head of several stone mounds that covered the few bodies they could find among the rubble and burned out timbers.

Sitting before a warm campfire after a long day of labor, Anska rested her head against Cain’s shoulder while she mourned, saying prayer after prayer to Arkay. Picking through the town had been arduous and emotional, but a small part of her was relieved that they’d been able to help lay her friends to rest. Anska finally felt ready to put that chapter of her life behind her, and move on to whatever new experiences with the kindhearted and stoic man next to her lay beyond the horizon.

She wiped her eyes one last time to keep the tears from freezing on her skin, and took a sip from the tankard of hot tea Cain offered her. “Thanks, hon. You know, I never had tea until the palace staff handed a mug to me last week. It’s quite good.”

“I never had much of it either,” said Cain, “though it seems to be the popular morning drink for my family. I’d rather stick to coffee.”

“Yeah, gonna have to disagree with you on that last part. This is much more pleasant tasting than coffee, especially when it has fresh herbs or blossoms mixed in. Coffee tastes like [censored].”

Cain laughed and gave her a playful shove. “Better watch yourself, miss. I’m not above rolling up a snowball and pelting you with it!"

“Go right ahead,” she dared him, “see what happens to you.”

He laughed again and then set about erecting their tent for the night. Morthal wasn’t that far away, though it would take several hours to get there on foot and neither of them felt up to the walk. They had decided to camp out under the stars instead, nestled on the fringes of the pine forest. Cain fiddled with the old leather tent for about ten minutes before sitting back down next to Anska and pouring another mug of tea.

Anska had begun roasting some of the venison they had packed, the fragrant seasonings wafting through the air around them while Cain’s stomach began to rumble. A further few minutes passed and she pulled it from the flames before cutting off a chunk and setting it on a plate for him. They ate mostly in silence while the moons rose overhead and the sounds of nightfall’s creatures began to echo around them.

“Ready for bed soon?” asked Cain, setting his plate aside. “We should try to get underway by dawn tomorrow so that we don’t miss Linn.”

“Okay. I’m dead tired anyway. And hopefully your sister will be kinder than you were about teleporting us so far away.”

“Not going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.”

They threw a few more pieces of wood on the roaring fire and crawled inside the tent, snuggling down for a good night’s sleep. It didn’t take long for them to drift off into a deep slumber, and, much like any night, it never seemed to last long enough. Cain began to stir just ahead of sunrise the next morning and he roused Anska before leaving the tent. She joined him a few minutes later, her long blonde hair unbraided and tousled from being buried down into the bedroll.

“I hope you packed a mirror,” said Cain, “you’ll need one to fix that wild mane!”

“Piss off,” she replied. “It’s too earlier for your teasing. You could at least waited until I had something warm to drink. Besides, I’ve been braiding this for years and I can do it with my eyes closed.”

Just to prove her point Anska sat down around the diminished campfire, closed her eyes, and deftly wove her hip length hair into the single braid she usually wore. Then she opened her eyes back up and glanced sidelong at Cain.

“Satisfied?”

“I dunno, the messy look was sort of cute. That does explain why you’re so good with your hands, though,” he winked.

Annoyed at how bubbly he was in the morning, Anska stole Cain’s notion from the night before and rolled up a snowball while he was bent over the tent in an effort to start packing it up. She pelted it directly at his ass and then looked away like nothing had happened.

He stopped what he was doing to brush the snow off and then turned to look at her. Anska was shaking with silent laughter and trying not to make eye contact with him.

“Okay,” he sighed,” I guess I earned that one. It’s a good thing you’ve got that Nord blood to warm you up, ya know…”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because this ridiculous summer snow is very cold.” He quickly stepped away from the tent and tackled her into the fluffy white powder that blanketed the ground around them.

Anska yelped in surprise and started giggling while she softly pounded her hands on his back. “Get off me you oaf! Your desert blood certainly won’t be happy about rolling around in this [censored]!”

Cain stood up and started brushing off his bare shoulders. “Damn you’re not wrong there - I should have put my shirt on before I left the tent!”

“Just finish packing it up already. I’ll see if I can get this fire going again and make us some tea.”

Sunlight began to poke through the trees as they drained the last of their tea and kicked out the small fire Anska had rekindled. The last survivor of Stonehills said a final prayer to Arkay for those who had perished, and then they shouldered their packed bags, and set out west on the road to Morthal. It was a clear morning and they made great time, stepping into the Moorside at least an hour before midday.
Cain was not surprised at all to see Linneá already sitting at the bar waiting for them. A book was open on the counter in front of her and her eyes darted back and forth over the pages while she sipped something steaming from a pewter tankard. They walked over and took a seat on either side of her.

“Morning you two,” she said, not looking up from the book. “Let me finish this page and we’ll get underway.”

Seizing the opportunity to get another warm drink, Cain flagged down the barmaid and ordered a mug of coffee. He took a sip and leaned back in his stool, savoring the taste and hoping that the dunmer liked coffee too. He’d tasted some of their preferred drinks back in Anvil and had been found wanting.

Anska’s voice drifted across to him from Linneá’s other side, “Ugh, it even smells like [censored]. You couldn’t have just ordered some water?”

Linneá smiled and closed her book. “Not a coffee person, An? Can I call you that or do you prefer Anska?”

“An is fine,” she shrugged. “Although I don’t see why you’d want to further shorten an already short name.”

“I like pet names,” said Linneá, “they make me feel closer to a person. Might rethink that one though, it’s a tad close to what I call Serana. And ‘Elle’ is off limits to others, so you know. Only the missus gets to call me that.”

“Fair enough,” said Anska. ”Should we get going or do we have to wait for Cain to finish his dirty water? And where is Serana anyway?”

“She’s still asleep most likely,” answered Linneá. “She puts on a good show for the diplomats, but the poison took it’s toll on her. Probably be another few days until she’s back up to snuff.”

The Redguard set a few extra pieces of gold on the counter and stood up. “I’ll take the coffee to go. My guess is we’re heading out into the marsh?”

Linneá nodded and stowed away the book in her shoulder bag. “Aye. We don’t advertise that particular brand of magic.”

The trio left Moorside and headed north out of town, directly into the expansive swamps of Hjaalmarch. After walking for about fifteen minutes, Linneá came to a stop in a clearing and checked to see if Anska was prepared for the spell.

“Okay, we shouldn’t be seen all the way out here. Ready, dear?”

Anska nervously bit her lip, but she nodded in agreement. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“I’ll make it as smooth as I can, yeah? You can either take a hand or wrap your arms around me. You’re call.”

“I’m ready, too,” said Cain, sardonically. “If anyone else cares, that is.”

“Shut up,” said Anska and Linneá in unison.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” giggled Linneá. “Just a hand then? Okay, you can grab my other hand, Cain. And hold on tight.”

Cain grabbed the proffered hand and looked over at Anska, giving her a reassuring smile. Linneá closed her eyes, concentrated on the recall spot she had marked a few miles outside of Blacklight, and cast the spell. All three were lost to a swirling vortex of purple, white, and black magickal energy, and within seconds they reappeared hundreds of miles away, in a different province.

New smells rankled Cain’s nose before he even opened his eyes. Letting go of his sister’s hand, he put a hand on Anska’s shoulder to steady her.

“How are you doing?” he asked her.

“...Fine, I think. Um. Linneá?”

“Yes, dear?”
“This might be a weird question, but you’ve done this way more than I have...” Anska blushed slightly and started to slightly sway back and forth on her the balls of her feet. “Is it normal to have to pee after moving this far?”

Linneá laughed and reassured her. “Oh yeah, it happens sometimes. It’s safe around here, you can duck behind a tree or something.”

“Okay good. Back in a sec.”

Anska returned a few minutes later to find Cain alone in the clearing they had materialized in. He was leaning against a gnarled old tree with moss dangling from its scraggy branches, taking a drink of water from his canteen.

“What happened to Linn?”

“Zapped back to the embassy. Serana needed her for something, so we’re on our own. There’s an east-west road just through those bushes over there that will take us to Blacklight. We should make it there in under an hour. Then we can reconnect with them in the city center.”

“Alright then,” replied Anska. “Did you spot those mushroom trees over there? Weirdest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Wait until you see some of the towers the Telvanni wizards grow,” said Cain. “Soaring mushrooms that are taller than the Blue Palace, and they live at the top. Linn mentioned actually being one of them with Serana when they were in Solstheim a few years ago.”

“Sounds awful. Let’s go.”

They set out on foot for the City of Blacklight, taking in the weirdly exotic landscape as they went. Gone were the cold snowy reaches of Skyrim, replaced by warm, humid air filled with the musty smell of the tall fungi scattered among the more normal hardwood trees that filled the woodlands of Morrowind. A faint smell of smoke occasionally wafted around them, usually followed by a few minutes of falling ash expelled from Vvardenfell and the continuously erupting Red Mountain.

It was just after one o’clock in the afternoon when Cain and Anska stepped through the city’s western gate. Two guards stood on duty, but they barely acknowledged them when they entered, only bowing their heads slightly. The architecture leaped out at them immediately. Blacklight was filled with small homes of carved rock that resembled some sort of huge insect, rather than the tall block-like houses in Skyrim and Cyrodiil.

“It’s all so weird!” Anska muttered to Cain. “I never imagined everything would be so different!”

“I think they set the homes deep into the earth. Probably why they are so small looking from the outside. Are you doing okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry about it. I know I was scared when you first told me, but I can’t help but find this all to be so interesting! Who knows – maybe we can travel to some other provinces in our lifetime!”

“Look at you, Ms. Adventurer!” grinned Cain. He stopped walking and pulled her in close. “I’m proud of you, Anska. I know this was a lot to ask of you and I’m so happy your here with me and enjoying yourself like this.”

Anska kissed him. “Stop that, you’re going to get me all torqued up. C’mon, I think that’s the embassy over there.” She pointed to a building just down the road that looked like a structure they would have seen in Skyrim. Outside of it were several flags set at full mast, and a contingent of guards clad in strange yellow armor.

And on a bench near the door sat Linneá and Serana, deep in conversation about something. Serana glanced up the street and saw them approaching, then said something to the guards who let Cain and Anska pass through without trouble.

“Welcome to Blacklight!” said Serana. “Any trouble getting here?”

“None at all,” answered Cain.

“Good, then let’s head inside. We can introduce you to Ulvon and then cut you loose on the city.”