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 XLI – Possibilities and Impossibilities


A six-foot diameter circle of grass had been burned off just a few steps outside of Gwyn’s cabin, revealing the damp morning soil beneath it. There remained at the center a single orange wildflower, surrounded by ancient runes that had been carefully painted onto the ground by Cain and Gwyn at sunrise. With the sun now steadily soaring overhead, she sat cross-legged at the center of the ritual circle with her eyes closed, concentrating on the chronomantic theories she’d been digesting.

Cain sat in a chair on the nearby front porch, watching and waiting eagerly to see if his friend could pull off a successful first test of this mysterious branch of magick. Thunderous rain clouds loomed far away on the horizon, so it was now or never. By lunch time, the runes would be washed away by the relentless march of nature. And time.

He sipped from his mug of coffee and then leaned forward when Gwyndala raised her hands, her palms filling with a vibrant blueish-white magicka that swirled and eddied in shapeless, yet threaded forms. The energy blossomed outwards to encompass the entirety of the small clearing, and the runes themselves began to glow with the same mystical light. Eyes still clamped firmly shut in concentration, Gwyn’s hand started to move in complex patterns that left a faint trail of light behind them, mimicking the runes painted upon the earth.

Then Gwyn’s hands came to a rest, stretched out in front of her and hovering delicately over the single wildflower. Her eyes opened and she gazed down at the orange petals and green stalk in front of her as she began to move her lithe hands in a circular motion around it. The energy of time flowed between her fingertips and cascaded down over the test subject. Astonished by what he was at last seeing, Cain rose from his seat and crept nearer to the ritual zone just in time to see the flower grow taller and taller and taller before shrinking down to a miniscule sprout, barely freed from its seed pod.

Gwyn reversed the circular motion of her hands and the flower grew upwards once again until she stopped, returning it to the natural state it had been in before her interference with the flow of time. The magick around her slowly faded from existence and the runes ceased glowing just in time for the ominous clouds overheard to begin their cleansing rains.

She pushed herself up off the ground and retreated to the dryness of the front porch where Cain stood waiting, admiring his friend and her competency with previously untested magick. “Weren’t those clouds a lot further off when I started?” she asked him.

The rain had already begun to wash away the runes. Cain frowned at her question and worriedly looked out over the moors for signs of a certain goddess that had been absent for a few days. Nothing leapt out at him and there were few trees among the expansive grasslands for her to be perched in.

“I get what you’re implying, but there’s no sign of her,” said Cain. “Maybe the winds kicked up and blew it in faster than we expected.” He turned back towards Gwyn and smiled at her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, so, that was really fantastic for a first attempt. It was amazing to see you at work, confidently practicing such an obscure form of the arcane like a master. I’m proud of you.”

Tears welled up in the corners of Gwyn’s eyes and she spun around on the balls of her feet and headed inside the cabin, closing the door behind her with a snap. Bewildered by the sudden turn of events, Cain stared at the door for a few seconds and contemplated following her. He decided instead to sit back down with his coffee and to give her some space. Gwyn was a complicated person that he still didn’t fully understand, and he’d learned from past mistakes not to pressure her.

Only a few moments had lapsed before the door was yanked back open and Gwyndala stomped out onto the porch, her previously dark red hair now changed to a delightful shade of golden-yellow that resembled an early spring tulip.

“Stand up!” she commanded. Cain did as he was told, while simultaneously being apprehensive about this change in demeanor. “Did you really mean what you said before?” she asked him, hopefully. “That you’re proud of me?”

“Is that what this is about?” he replied, letting himself relax. “Of course I’m proud of you, Gwyn! How could I not be after what you just pulled off?”

Gwyn threw herself into his arms and let the happy tears flow once again. “I’m sorry, I must seem like a damn blubbering nutjob.” She squeezed him tightly and then let go to dry her eyes. “Thank you, Cain. I, um… no one’s ever said that to me. Not once. I just needed a minute to let it sink in…”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly get dealt a fair hand with life, you know. And my offer still stands: if you want a fresh start when this is all over, there’s a place for you at the Blue Palace.”

“Cain, we talked about this,” said Gwyn, a look of sadness dancing behind her eyes. “I can’t go back with you and you know that. I don’t belong in your life during that period of time. We’re already pushing the boundaries and testing the limits of reality by trying to save your wife and altering the past. But you existed there when you were supposed to. I was here, living in misery and hunting bandits for the gold to survive. We can’t [censored] around with the natural order of things like that.”

“I know that, Gwyn, I do. That doesn’t mean I have to agree with it. I hate the idea of you being out here on your own, without Time unfolding the way it has for us. What’ll happen to you if I’m not there to be saved? And if I’m not there to save you? You deserve a chance at a better life and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if my own desires washed that all away. Come back with me and to hell with the consequences!”

“Uggggghhhhh, stop speaking in convoluted circles like that! Temporal mechanics give me a [censored] headache. No more talking for a while. I’m going to brew some tea and then we are just going to sit and watch the rain, got it?”

She didn’t bother waiting for Cain to answer and headed back inside once again to throw the kettle on. He sipped again from his coffee that had long since become tepid and wondered to himself if asking Gwyn to grab him a mug of tea too would count against her no talking rule. Thankfully, he didn’t have to dwell on that for very long – their time together had become a fast friendship and she anticipated his want for a new drink.
So, for the next hour, they sat in silence with their hot tea and watched the storms roll across the Glenumbra Moors.

----

“Son of a bitch!” exclaimed Linneá.

“What?” asked Serana. “Did you find something in that one?”

The two of them had spent the last four nights pouring over the books loaned to them by their brother, trying to piece together whatever it was that spurred on his desire to attempt such a dangerous and unpredictable endeavor. Until now, they had come up empty.

“It just clicked into place. And I hate to say it, dear, but… he’s right. Holy [censored]. Cain and Gwyn are on to something tangible, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already taken practice steps to test the validity.” She set the book down and took a few deep breaths to center herself. The implications were astounding, yet Linneá wondered if they should never see the light of day. “Ana this is real. With the right tools, he could actually alter the past with little ramifications, provided he does so with the utmost caution. He could save her, at the cost of only his time away from us this past year or so. And Gwyn, I suppose. They’ll never meet and only Cain would be aware of her.”

Serana closed her book and threw it on the bed, frowning at jumble of thoughts circulating through her wife’s mind. She reached out and placed a hand on Linneá’s leg.

“Slow down for a minute and explain to me what you found. Your brain is moving too fast for me to parse it out.”

“Cain was right about our inborn nature as Dragonborn and how we can attune ourselves to the flow of time. It’s not something I had previously considered, because I always assumed that only the most powerful dragons like Alduin or Akatosh himself could have any influence directly on it. But this isn’t so. If we can grasp the threads of linear time, either through magick, or by some other means, it can be navigated by someone possessing the willpower to do so. And he definitely has that.”

Leaning back in her chair, Serana exhaled loudly and stared up at the lofty ceiling. Searching inward, she found that the idea of it all terrified her on some level, and yet she could sense the mounting excitement over the prospect of it that Linneá was beginning to emanate. Her wife had always had a strong inclination towards learning and understanding magick at its deepest, but Serana couldn’t help but wonder if this was going too far.

Could Anska be saved? Or was the question they needed to ask not could, but should? Then she asked herself if either question truly mattered, for they would never know if Cain did succeed. Life would simply unfold from that new point in time, with Anska and her unborn child alive and well. They would only come to know of what happened if Cain told them what he’d done.

However, even that was uncertain. No one could predict temporal magick, otherwise it would have become more prevalent. His incursion into the past could blend both realties into one, leaving a lot of confusion and disorientation it the wake of it. Or maybe…

“I had the exact same though, my love,” said Linneá. “If he does this, I only see one scenario where it possibly works and the timing will be tricky, but not impossible.”

“You’re going to help him then?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. This isn’t something to rush headlong into and we haven’t had the luxury of considering it for three months.”

“I agree,” said Serana. “I won’t ask you not to, but let’s take some time to mull it over carefully. Especially since time is the one thing that we don’t have to worry about in all of this madness.”

-----

Nearly ten days had come and gone since Linneá disappeared from Gwyn’s cabin with the books Cain had loaned her. Kyne had visited once in the interim but it had been a cordial and brief stop to see how he was doing. In the meantime, several more ritual circles had been created and wiped away each day while Gwyn honed her influence over Chronomancy. She’d repeated the process with the flower a few times before moving onto more complex life. So far, only one toad had perished when she sped up time for it just a tad too much.

The spells were taxing though, and typically by midday she was spent. And to top it off, Cain’s incessant pacing had been driving her up the wall until she finally caved and allowed him to organize her chaotic house as a way to pass the time while they waited. Gwyn didn’t love the idea of him rooting through her belongings, but she had become empathetic enough to understand that the current inaction was unbearable for the man, especially when they were so close.

She watched him struggle to hang a particularly skimpy black dress of hers and began to wonder if she was making the right choice in staying behind. Life had been so… grim, before he had wormed his way in. What would happen to her once he alters the past and never became a part of her life? Gwyn supposed she would technically never know, but damn it if the man didn’t have a huge influence on the woman she was slowly becoming.

Her idle thoughts were interrupted by a flash of purple light from inside her home, followed by two voices – one she recognized and another she didn’t. Gwyn headed inside and was greeted by Linneá with a nod, and with an apprising smile from a shorter pale woman who had equally dark, shoulder-length hair, and keen blue eyes.

“Ah, there you are Gwyn,” said Cain. “This is Serana: Linneá’s wife and my sister-in-law!”

Gwyndala offered a small curtsy and wasted no time with a question for them. “How in the hell did you find someone in that backward ass province who would wed two women?”

“Kyne,” shrugged Serana. “She does what she wants. And it’s nice to meet you Gwyn. Heard a bit about you from Elle.”

“Mhm. So, what brings you ladies to my home unannounced? Again.”

Linneá slipped her shoulder bag off and pulled out the three books Cain had offered her last week, setting them down on the now cleared off coffee table.

“So, we read through them and debated the merits of what you said, brother. You were right to infer that the answer would jump out at me, but I still have some questions before we agree to anything.”

“Shoot,” said Cain.

“First off, what was your actual plan?”

Cain looked at her in surprise. He had expected in depth questions on the means of time travel itself, not what he would do if it worked. Gwyn was also looking curiously at him and he started to wonder if they’d missed something.

“Um, I was just going to grab Anska, mum, and Salihn and take them to Elysium until the attack ended. Figured I would just regroup with dad and finish the job like we did the first time.”

“Thought it’d be something like that,” said Serana. “That’s not feasible, Cain.”

“How so?” frowned Gwyn, heading off a similar response from him. “It ties up everything with a neat little bow, doesn’t it? Cain saves his fiancé and gets his family out of danger. Everything is hunky-dory”

“No, it’s not,” tutted Linneá. “You missed something vital with temporal mechanics – when Cain goes back there will suddenly be two of him in the palace. And that’s where things will get ugly. You’re not going to replace your past self, he’ll still be there defending our home.”

“Then how – oh,” said Cain. “Oh, damn. I see where you’re going with this. That’s going to be really awkward to explain. [censored], but what about mum and Salihn? I can’t leave them there to fend for themselves!”

“Take them to Elysium like you planned and then high-tail it out of there before anyone notices.”

“Hold the [censored] on,” chimed Gwyn. “How will THAT work? If the past Cain is still there, then his fiancé is going to disappear for ten months with a different version of himself! How the [censored] does any of this make sense?”

“And that’s where Elle and I got to before draining a bottle of brandy to make the headache go away,” replied Serana. “I think we’ve collectively re-discovered the reason why Time Magick has become taboo.”

Cain leaned back dejectedly in his chair with a feeling of failure welling up inside. It was all unraveling. Everything he and Gwyn had worked at day and night for three months was amounting to nothing. No matter what angle he looked at it from, the entire plan began to fall apart the further along it got. He felt the headache coming on and decided it was time for a very strong pot of coffee.