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 XXIII – Good Intentions


It was well into the evening when there came a soft knock on the door to Cain and Anska’s room. Setting down a book he’d found on Ayleid history, Cain rolled off of their bed and went to see who it was. His hand was on the knob when heard two familiar voices coming from the hallway, so he smiled and let his sisters into the room.

Thankfully, they had come with a few plates of food and a bottle of wine.

“Evening, Cain,” said Serana. “Where’s Anska?”

“She’s soaking in the bath tub.”

“Oh, then let her be. We just wanted to hang out together for a few hours. It feels like we never get to do that without something else looming over our heads.”

She set about uncorking the wine bottle and pouring out a glass for each of them while Linneá laid out various bits of local dunmer cuisine. Cain went back to the desk and slid a bookmark into the very dry text he had been reading.

“Is that a Treatise on Ayleidic Cities?” asked Linneá. “I remember that one being a snooze fest. Shouldn’t you go tell sis we’re here? Don’t want to give her a shock when she comes out.”

“Very boring book indeed,” said Cain. “Don’t worry, I already gave her a heads-up.”

Serana stopped filling the final wine glass and looked sharply at him. “What do you mean you gave her a heads-up? I didn’t see you go in there.”

“Yeah, so, about that…” began Cain.

“Linneá, what did you do?” Serana’s eyes narrowed accusatorily at her wife. “Kyne explicitly asked you not to do it for them!”

“Hey, don’t look at me, dear heart. I told Cain and Anska that I couldn’t interfere and I didn’t. I may have suggested he had all the tools he needed, but I certainly didn’t teach him in any way. Besides, it’s not really that difficult of a thing for those like us to achieve. Our dragon blood wants to help us.”

It had certainly felt that way to Cain. Amazed at how easily he was able to take the matter into his own hands, he’d begun to wonder what else was possible, and had been waiting to ask Linneá just that. The sky was the limit, as far as he could tell; and the Thu’um might just be the beginning of what he and his family could achieve.

“That’s semantics and you know it, Elle,” said Serana.

“Is it, though?” returned Linneá. “Nothing I did, or said, offered direct advice. All I did was point out some facts about being a Dragonborn. What Cain achieved after we left is entirely his own accomplishment. And look how happy it’s made them – don’t tell me you didn’t feel the buzz in the air when entered.”

Serana’s face softened. “Well, I guess that’s true. On both points. Please just be careful, brother… I’m sure Mara had a very good reason for not wanting you two to go down this path, maddening as it is that she wouldn’t share it.”

Anska joined them a few seconds later, her damp hair tied up in a large ponytail, and smelling of fresh lavender. The four of them spent the remainder of the evening eating, drinking, and talking about everything from palatial life to swapping adventure stories. Linneá spent nearly an hour recounting the unexpected way her honeymoon with Serana on the Isle of Roscrea had gone and she had Cain in stiches by the end of it, revealing that the strange goblins on the island had made them queens of their tribe.

Serana too had countless tales from her childhood with an ancient vampire clan, both happy and sad. But her favorite story to tell was still the one about how she acquired her penchant for Colovian Brandy – and the entire keg of it she drank when she was seventeen. The other three roared with laughter when Serana told them about her waking up in a pool of the sweet liquor with her mother standing over her in a fury and yelling herself hoarse.

Midnight saw them somberly cleaning up the small mess they had made, not ready for the night to end. But the treaty talks continued tomorrow, and Cain and Anska now had to shop and pack for an extended trip into the depths of Morrowind. After a brief round of parting hugs, his sisters left for their own bedroom and a few hours of sleep.

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Dawn came in a hurry, bringing a thunderous rain storm that likely roused the entire city into wakefulness. Cain was packing up some of their belongings when he noticed a small cylinder had been rolled under their door before he’d woken up. It was about eight inches long, with a delicate Nordic inlay and a small clasp around the center. He opened it up and inside the container was a small scroll of parchment, and a polished stone bearing the mark of Kyne. Cain set the stone down and unfurled the short note.


Cain,
Keep this stone safe so that we might join you later, if father permits it. I marked it last night in case Serana and I miss you in the morning. Kyne will likely be following you south, so I will reach out through her in advance. If we are able to come, set the stone down at a distance - I’d rather not teleport on top of your head.

And tell Anska I expect her to keep you in line. (Just kidding!)
Linn


Cain shook his head in amusement and pocketed the stone. Then he tore up the note and stuffed the shreds into his tinder box. Anska began to stir and soon emerged from beneath the thin blanket. Sitting up, she yawned loudly and stared at him through sleepy eyes.

“Don’t just stand there ogling me,” she said, “go get some tea on or something.”

“By the Nine, you’re bossy in the mornings. Not my fault you look so damn cute with your hair all tousled up like that." He checked the small tin on the desk and noted how low it had gotten. "Er, we'll have to buy some more on the way through town. There’s barely enough here for a single mug.”
“Great, add it to the list. How long of a journey is this going to be anyway?”

“Long.”

“Yeah, that’s not helpful, lunkhead. How long?”

“Well, Cheydinhal is slightly east by northeast of the Imperial City, and Blacklight is almost due west of Windhelm, so… A couple hundred miles at least. Into the mountains.”

“Oh, for [censored]’s sake,” grumbled Anska. “We’re going to be walking for weeks!”

“I’d walk to the ends of Nirn and back with you by my side, love.”

Anska rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah, I’m sure you would, Mr. Romantic.” She got up from the bed and gave him a lingering kiss. “But you do know how to make a girl feel better about it. Give me the tea and keep packing. I’ll see if I can squeeze two weak mugs out of these leaves.”

Cain went back to gathering up their things and packing them away while Anska boiled a kettle of water over the stove in the bathroom. She stared wistfully at the tub while she waited, idly wondering when the next to she’d be able to take a hot bath would be. Growing up in the near wilds of Skyrim meant she wasn’t afraid to rough it out in the woods, but damn it if she hadn’t grown accustomed to living in comfort for the last few weeks.

It was mid-morning when they drained the final dregs of tea from their mugs, slung their packs over their shoulders, and closed the door to the room behind them for the last time. Cain knocked at Linneá and Serana’s door, but no answer came from within and so they moved on, heading for the way out into the city.

They’d barely made it half a block down the street when a voice rang out through rain, calling their names. Linneá dashed up to them and together they ducked under the awning of a small market. Cain stared at her in surprise - in the time he’d known her, Linneá always dressed in a very plain, relaxed manner. But now she stood before them in a sleek black dress that fell to just above her knees, and her long black hair was tied up in an elaborate bun adorned with bits of gold strand and filigree. A faint blush had been subtly applied to her pale skin, and violet eye shadowing made her hazel eyes pop.

Even Anska was caught off guard. “Sis, you look absolutely stunning right now! Serana really is a lucky woman!”

Linneá blushed under her makeup. “That’s very sweet of you, dear. My wife is excellent at dolling us up like this – she’s had a few thousand years to practice.”

“What’s the occasion?” asked Cain.

“There’s good odds that the Great Houses will sign the treaty by dinnertime, which means there will be one hell of a party afterwards. Serana wanted us to look our best.”

“She certainly excelled at that,” Anska complimented. “Do you think you’ll be able to join us tomorrow?”

“Doubtful. We’ll have to return to the palace first and give dad a rundown of everything that went on. And then we’ll have to convince him that we aren’t needed elsewhere. I’d say the odds are fifty-fifty we join you at all.”

Cain was slightly put out by that. He had grown to like the idea of being on an adventure with Anska and his family. It was such a far cry from the mostly solitary upbringing he’d had in Anvil, and he’d never made any friends in the Fighter’s Guild either. He was more than content to just be with Anska, but already it was hard to imagine being away from his family for so long, and he had found that he missed his parents dearly.

“Don’t look so sad about it, brother,” continued Linneá. “The odds might improve when I tell him Ayleids are involved. That’ll pique just about anyone’s curiosity. You’ll find out from Kyne one way or another. I need to get back in there, though – I sort of ditched a meeting with Ulvon to come and say goodbye.”

She hugged them both in turn and gave Anska a peck on the cheek. “Keep the lunkhead safe, yeah? And take care of yourself, too.”

“Always.”

Linneá jogged back to the embassy as quickly as her heels would allow her to, leaving Cain and Anska to set off on their own. They plodded south through the city, sloshing along rain filled streets, and stocking up on supplies while they went. It was just after noon when the southernmost city gate closed behind them with a thud, and a worn cobblestone road wound its way across a grassy plain and off into the distance.

They marched on for three to four miles before woodlands sprang up around them, the dense foliage of the towering trees offering a brief respite from the constant rainfall that dogged the first day of their journey. Hoping to make it another few miles before evening fell, Cain and Anska trudged on through the forest, ever alert for bandits or highwaymen that would seek to waylay them.

A low rumble caught Cain’s ear, and he peered off into the undergrowth. “Did you hear that sound just now? It sounded like growling.”

“Relax, it was just my stomach,” replied Anska. “We never stopped for lunch and now it’s protesting.”

“Come on, let’s get off the road and grab a snack,” laughed Cain. “No sense in marching on an empty stomach, and it’s not like we can build a fire for dinner. Hope this rain quits soon.”

He spotted a small clearing just off the road and steered Anska into it. Eager for a break from the constant downpour, Cain pulled out their tent and erected a haphazard lean-to for them to huddle under. There was nothing to be done about the damp earth, so they sat on a couple flat rocks and munched on some dried meat Anska had bought from a vendor.

“What did the elf say this meat was?” asked Cain.

“Nix Hound. Never seen one in my life but it’s quite tasty. I bought a fair bit of it and he threw in some ash yams for free. Said they pair well in a stew.”

“It’s not bad. Maybe if it ever stops raining we can give it a go.”

“The rain will clear out soon, child,” said a new voice. They both nearly jumped out of their skin at the sound and Cain nearly had his sword out when Kyne ducked under the lean-to and joined them. “That won’t help you, Cain.”

The Redguard sighed with relief, sheathing his sword back into its leather scabbard. Anska shook her head and went back to tearing off the stubborn strip she’d been working at while the goddess watched her with a soft expression on her face.

“Are you still disappointed with me, dear?” Kyne asked her. “I could feel you seething when you walked away from our last little rendezvous.”

“A little bit,” acknowledged Anska. “I don’t like being told what to do, ma’am, and you had my hopes all worked up. I was mad at Cain for a while too for not sticking up for us, but I got over that.”

“I am really sorry about what happened,” said Kyne. “Mara’s warning came as a surprise to me as well. Are you two –“ She broke off her question at the sight of a small glance between Cain and Anska. Something had passed right by the goddess and the coy smile tugging at the corners of Anska’s lips set off alarm bells in Kyne’s head.

Her eyes narrowed, and she focused her attention on their minds instead. “What have you done?” she gasped. “I told Linneá not to help you! How could you do this after I pleaded with you to not let it happen? Your sister and I are going to have a very long discussion about – “

“Linn didn’t do this, mum,” said Cain. “She turned me down the moment I brought it up. But I realized after the fact that I had everything I needed to do it myself, and so I did. If you’re going to be angry at anyone, let it be us. My sisters are innocent in this.”

An icy silence fell between the three of them, broken only by the pitter patter of rain on the leather roof. Kyne stared at them admonishingly, unable to believe they would have gone around her and Mara in such a way. Cain felt himself wither under her intense gaze.

“I’m disappointed in you both,” she said, finally. A profound sadness had crept into her voice and it was hard to tell if the dampness on her normally serene face came from the rain or from tears. “I thought my opinion carried weight and I’m sad to see it so casually disregarded.”

Then the spell broke and the goddess stood up and headed back out into the rain.