Just a minor clap! One never knows what to expect with Gwyn. However it's most likely she was fixing a tea to enjoy in bed.





Chapter XVII – Chasing Memories

After twenty-nine harsh years of life that no one should ever deserve, Gwyndala Louvain finally discovered true bliss in the arms of an honest and uncommonly kind Redguard. She relaxed in his arms by a fireside at their home, completely content with her life in a way she’d once only dreamed of. Well… mostly content. Weary from the day, Cain had dozed off before she could broach a touchy subject and his loud snores were bordering on obnoxious.

Their visit to Falkreath went very well and Gwyn surprised even herself with how much she enjoyed the jaunt south by his side, and she even got to have a little fun teasing him with the improvised fiancé bit in the Jarl’s Longhouse. Now she found herself truly pondering over his reaction. Was he already thinking about that sort of thing? They’d only been together for about a month at this point – did he see the two of them being wed? It didn’t surprise Gwyn in the least, considering they’d been a part of each other’s lives for much longer than a month.

I suppose it’s just a formality at this point, thought Gwyn. And I did tell him to put a baby in me…

She craned her neck up and studied his sleeping face. Things had come so far between the two of them since that day in the mountains above Evermor. Further than she’d ever thought possible. But there still remained a singular subject Gwyn found herself nervous to bring up: Serana’s advice on how to ease the burden of her dark past.

In the time since they’d spoken, she’d thought about it constantly, and now, weeks later, Gwyn finally felt that she was ready to take that next step with Cain. The unanswered question was whether or not he could bring himself to do such a thing after how it ended last time. Gwyn was there at his worst… she knew exactly how much the loss of that connection with Anska broke him. Dare he take that risk again?

She pulled herself away from his torso and sat up, running a gentle finger along his cheek to gently rouse the sleeping man. Cain’s eyelids fluttered and then opened groggily. He rubbed at them with his palms and smiled at Gwyn.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhmm,” said Gwyn. “I just, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. But if you’re tired, we can wait until the morning.”
“I’m never too tired for you.”

“And that’s why I love you. This is something serious, though. I need you to be aware of that.”

Cain sat up and looked at her with concern, his fatigue suddenly forgotten. “What is it, Gwyn? What’s got you so hesitant?”

Her stomach began to churn uncomfortably. Gwyn had been rehearsing this conversation in her head for a couple of days now, but it didn’t actually help now that the moment had arrived. There was a certain level of uncertainty bordering on fearfulness as to what she would do if he said no. It was a lot to ask of Cain – much more than he’d taken on with Anska. Gwyn knew without a doubt that he wanted to help her deal with the past in any way that he could but sharing that trauma in their minds meant that her beloved would experience the darkness the same way that Gwyn did every minute of every day.

She swallowed hard and made the leap. The hell with it. This is who I am, and I know what I want.

“I want… No, not want. I need you to do something for us. I – “

“You want me to link our minds.”

She nodded while her body filled with the dreaded weight of overpowering nervousness.

“Gwyn, you know that I would do anything in my power to help you…”

Oh, [censored]. No no no no no! Don’t do this to me!

“…but are you certain you want to be in here?” finished Cain while pointing at the side of his head. “I know what I’m getting into with you when we become that intimate, even if I don’t understand it yet. But it’s not just me that you will be dealing with.”

“I don’t… what do you mean?” asked Gwyn. Her heart rate began to settle, but she was still on edge.

“Sharing a mind leaves impressions, for lack of a better word. And despite my making peace with it, there are still echoes of Anska in there. Her thoughts, her memories, her desires - all of who she was left a mark that I don’t think can ever be erased, and you will be privy to it. Her consciousness may be absent, but on some level, I still carry her with me.”

Gwyn realized in this moment just how much that meant. It explained a lot about why Cain was in such pain for so long a time following Anska’s death – why he had so much trouble letting go. And why it took the direct intervention of the Divines to finally allow him a measure of closure.
“I never, um… I never would have considered that. Why haven’t you said anything about it before?”

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything,” said Cain. “I love you completely and that’s why I need to make sure you understand what you’d be getting into. If you’re worried about some sort of conflict between the two of you, then cast it aside. I know what we are and what we have. You will find nothing other than the devotion that I carry for you.”

Gwyn saw the truth in his eyes, and she felt no doubt in his words, but they had still caught her flat-footed. The echoes of his late fiancé were not a thing she would ever have guessed were something to be contended with when they became joined in that manner. More importantly, however, Gwyn did not feel intimidated by that in the least. Her feelings for Cain were clear.

“You can take some more time to think about if you’d like,” said Cain. “I’d give anything you have you in there with me and – “

“Hush,” interrupted Gwyn, putting a finger to his lips. “Just [censored] do it.”

“As you wish,” said Cain. He scooped Gwyn’s tiny frame up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. “We’ll need to be somewhere soft for this. I don’t know what will happen with you being awake for it.”

-----

Panic followed by a flash of fear surged into Cain’s mind before he heard the scream and shattering of dishware from the kitchen. By the time he made it out of his bedroom with a dagger in hand, Gwyn was already giving Linneá and Serana a loud dressing down for recalling unannounced into their home. His sisters covered their eyes in the face of Gwyn’s immodesty until she fired a silent request to Cain.

Don’t just stand there gawking, go get me something to wear!

Yes, ma’am.

Once Gwyn adorned some clothes and settled down, she bustled around the kitchen again with Serana while Linneá joined her brother at the dining room table. They made small talk for a few minutes until they were joined by the other two bearing a platter of freshly brewed tea and coffee. Cain wasted no time in pouring a cup of the caffeinated liquid and he sipped it gratefully.

“Long night?” asked Serana. “Elle and I have had a morning, too.”

“Yeah, we were both up late,” said Cain. “I think it was worth it though.” His brown eyes twinkled while Gwyn rolled hers and snorted loudly. “Yes, dear?” he asked her.

“Quit being coy,” said Gwyn. She turned to his sisters and pointed at the side of her head. “He’s in here now. And vice versa. It was… an experience. For the both of us.”

There passed a brief moment of silence until Linneá fished a Septim out from her belt satchel and handed it to her wife. “I don’t get how you know these things, Ana, I really don’t.”

“Uh, what just happened?” said Cain. “Did you have a bet on us?”

“Yep,” grinned Linneá. “It was only a matter of time before you two made the link, but I figured there’d be some stuff to work through first. However, my better half excels at reading people, and she noticed the adoring way in which you often stare at our brother, Gwyn, and felt you’d want him as close as possible.”

Gwyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like past me would have been really [censored] annoyed at the both of you right now, but I’m actually not surprised at all. Mind telling us why you’re here?”

“Got a map?”
Cain nodded and went to grab it from their traveling supplies. He unfurled it over the center of the table and set their mugs on the corners to keep it spread. Serana pulled a piece of charcoal out from her satchel this time and marked a spot near the southern foot of the Druadach mountains with an ‘X’.

“Dad needs you stop here on your way to Markarth. It’s a decent sized series of caves called Gloomreach and there ought to be Falmer living there.”
“Ought to be?” said Cain. “Guess the hunt doesn’t go well?”

“Something’s [censored],” said Linneá. “And I don’t like it. I am glad you and Gwyn didn’t wait around to make your connection, though. Serana and I were discussing next steps if the scouts have similar reports, and a long trip to somewhere hidden will likely be in order. The kind of trip that we can’t both go on. If it comes to that, I want you to come with me, Gwyn.”

“Me? What about our travels? I can’t leave Cain to deal with those fops all on his own.”

Her reaction came off as genuine to his sisters, but Cain felt the anxiety creeping up in her mind and knew that Gwyn really did not want to leave his side. The idea was borderline frightening to her and would take some time to get used to.

“He’ll have to manage on his own,” admitted Linneá. “Or with some guards.”

“Linn, this is bullshit!” protested Gwyn. “I don’t want to be anywhere else, and I certainly don’t want to be dragged off to some mysterious place for weeks on end! Why the hell do you need me so badly?”

“Because it will be dangerous, and I trust you to help keep me safe. For Ana and Salihn.”

-----

Later that same evening found Cain and Gwyn sitting around a fire just off the road. In the distance, lights glowed dimly in the windows of Fort Greymoor seated on a small rise that overlooked the tundra on every side. They could have stayed inside the safety of the fort’s walls, but Gwyn didn’t want to sleep in the barracks with a bunch of self-important soldiers.

The news brought by their morning guests had caused a point of consternation they’d been talking about it off and on throughout the day. But, at this moment, Gwyn rested her head on his shoulder while staring aimlessly into the dancing flames and tried not to think any about it anymore with poor results.

“I’d just as soon say all three of us should go,” she said. “If Linn thinks this place is so important and necessary to find, then we should ditch this silly quest to meet the Jarls until a better time.”

“That’d be up to my father. And this is something I was supposed to have done last year.” Cain took her hand and held it to his lips for a kiss. “Let’s not dwell on it anymore. We still have our trip to Markarth together.”

“Fine,” grumbled Gwyn.

She stared into the fire some more and thought instead of the night prior to this one. The actual process Cain used to link their minds had been fascinating to experience initially as an observer, and the actual depths of power in his dragon blood that she peered into were unfathomable to her. Then Gwyn soon realized that the feelings of peace and serenity Serana described to her when she first suggested it were severely understated in the best possible way. The warmth and encompassing love of Cain comforting the darkness within her mind brought an inner peace she hasn’t known since she was a child.

But the image of her beloved’s face when he finally, truly understood what she carried with her seared itself into Gwyn’s memories – the abject horror of her past and the tears for her that followed drowned out everything else on her mind – including the echoes of Anska.

The hours after were difficult for the both of them, but by the time that sleep blissfully descended upon them, Gwyn felt a happiness and affection for life that was increasingly new to her.

-----

“That’s [censored] disgusting.” A grossly obnoxious squishing sound escaped from under Gwyn’s leather boots while they hiked up a rocky path towards the outline of a small cave entrance. She paused to rub the heel of her boot on the nearest rock, grimacing at the smell of animal scat. “How much further do we have to climb?”

“Another hundred yards or so,” said Cain. “Want me to carry you?”

“I’m seriously considering it. And I can only imagine what I’m gonna step in while spelunking through a goddamn Falmer hive.”

“It’ll probably just be mud, if Linn’s gut is anything to go by.”

“Here’s hoping. I preferred the road we left behind.”

Cain’s (and Linneá’s) estimation would soon prove true. The evidence began mounting just outside of the cave mouth where a few broken Falmer totems were laying, and there were a series of tracks frozen into the cold earth that led further up into the mountains. He unslung their traveling gear from his shoulders and set it behind a shrub while Gwyn readied herself with a flesh spell.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

They entered the caves of Gloomreach and the first words Cain spoke were those of the Aura Whisper Thu’um. It revealed no signs of life, other than rats, spiders, and a few bats clinging to the craggy ceiling. Further into the empty hive they crept until it descended deep down under the mountains and still there was nothing. The desolate caves eventually ended and after another whisper from his Voice revealed no hidden Falmer, they headed back for the entrance.

Just as she had with Linneá and Serana, Kyne sat perched in wait outside the cave under the mid-morning sun, eager to hear if Cain and Gwyn had learned anything new.

“Another empty one?” frowned the goddess. “Very well. I’ll let the others know.” She fell silent for a moment while relaying the news to her champion and then morphed into her familiar human form. “The roads were empty while I circled on high. Mind if I walk with you for a bit?”

Gwyn shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Just watch your step on this trail. My boot still smells like [censored].”

“I appreciate the advice, dear,” smiled Kyne. “But I do not actually touch the ground while in this body.” She hiked up the hem of her shimmering sky-blue robes to show reveal her feet floating an inch or two above the dirt.

“Must be nice,” muttered Gwyn, still trying to scrape the dung off on a rock.

Yikes, a wake-up thunderclap and a naked kitchen surprise?! This family needs to learn how to knock!

The mystery of the missing Falmer continues. I wonder if they’ve been called somewhere. A massive Falmer army would be concerning, but I guess they’d want to stay where it’s dark.

Excellent news that Cain and Gywn have taken the leap and linked their minds.

Wow, baby meld and now mind meld – Gwyn is certainly all in on Cain. That’s nice!

I like how you back-filled that momentous event – it quite complements the last episode’s ‘naked Gwyn in the kitchen’ scene.

It seems the mind meld will take some getting used to – for both Gwyn and Cain but I think Serana was right – a good call.

And events are already conspiring to send the prince and his. . . fiance in different directions. Well, maybe after Gloomreach and Markarth.

No surprise that the lair they checked was devoid of falmer. A nice surprise, however, that Kyne’s feet don’t touch the ground when she walks! As Gywn said, “Must be nice!”

Grits: knocking would definitely have helped, haha. Gwyn doesn't really have an inhibitions. And linking their minds didn't feel fair to out off any longer. They adore each other and at this point have actually been a part of each other's lives for longer than Cain was with Anska.

Acadian: back-filling events like that is a lot of fun, especially when it's for levity. They'll fall into step with their new arrangement before too long! Would that we call could float above the ground...
Chapter XVIII – Division

“I’m at a loss.”

Kirin stood behind his desk and stared out of the window while he spoke. The first true snow of the season blew in early that morning, blanketing the land in a brilliant white that would likely not vanish until the spring thaw. It was early for such a blanketing snowfall, but not unheard of and it served to highlight the glum mood of the Windborne patriarch.

“As am I, dad,” agreed Linneá. Alftand, Raldbthar, Arkngthamz, Mzinchaleft, Mzulft… all places that should be absolutely teeming with Falmer. And that’s not even counting the other hives that we checked.”

Is it time? Serana asked her wife quietly from the accompanying chair. To mention the Forgotten Vale?

No way around it now. Wish me luck.

Linneá took a deep breath and began: “There is one other place we need to check, dad, but it’s not on any maps, nor does anyone alive besides myself and Serana know of its existence. I can make the journey there to meet an old friend, but I’ll need someone with me, and it can’t be Ana.”

With a sigh, Kirin turned from the window and sat down across from them. “I would say I’m surprised, but at this point I would only be lying to myself. Where is this place and who would you be meeting?”

“One sec.” Linneá locked the door to the study and cast her sound dampening spell over the area before returning to her seat. “Far to the west, in the mountains bordering High Rock, there is a large series of caves and canyons that’s home to a forgotten chapel of Auri-El; the Snow Elf aspect of Auriel and Akatosh. It’s where Ana and I found Auriel’s Bow.”

“I see. I know you would not hide this without good reason, so please tell me why this lost chapel is important to the matter at hand.”

“The Chantry is overrun with Falmer tribes,” said Serana. “And they are watched over by a Snow Elf named Gelebor, who very well could be the last living member of his race.”

“A living Snow Elf?” asked Kirin in surprise. “That certainly is a secret worth keeping. How far away is this place?”

“Far,” said Linneá. “A few weeks on foot; possibly a week on horseback. I’d like to take Gwyn with me.”

Kirin weighed her request without speaking. If his daughter wanted someone by her side, then it would obviously be a dangerous undertaking. And it was also much too long a journey for them to leave Salihn behind for. It made sense to him, though he wondered how his son would take it. Or how Cain’s fiery mate would feel about the matter.

“Do you think Gwyn would agree to that? Even Cain, for that matter?”

“They’ve had two weeks to consider it,” said Linneá. “Ana and I knew it might come to this, so we gave them a heads-up. Gwyn wasn’t thrilled, but I think she understands the urgency.”

“Are they home from Markarth yet?”

Linneá nodded. “Mum says they got in two nights ago. We should be able to catch them before they depart for Riften.”

“Do it,” said Kirin.” His daughters stood up to leave, and he moved around the desk to embrace them each in turn. “I know this won’t be easy for the two of you and I’m sorry it’s necessary. Serana, you know that Lydia and I will help you as much as we can while Linn is gone. Our doors will be open for anything.”

“I know, dad,” replied Serana, wiping away tears. “You probably won’t be able to get rid of me while Elle is away. Especially when Salihn is at school. I don’t know if I can handle the solitude – I had enough of that before Elle rescued me.”

-----

Lydia knocked timidly on the door to her daughter’s living quarters. She wasn’t sure if either of them were at home until she heard a faint rustling noise that precipitated the door being pulled open. Linneá beckoned her mom in while trying to avert her gaze, but Lydia had too much practice as a mother to miss Linneá’s puffy red eyes.

“It’s harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it, hon?” Lydia placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I wish I could say it gets easier.”
“I hate it,” sniffled Linneá. “The idea of not seeing them or being able to hold them for weeks is unbearable.”

Lydia glanced around the otherwise empty room. “Is it just you here right now, Linn?”

“Yeah. They went down to lunch. I’m trying to sort out what I have to pack.”

“Packing can wait. Let’s go be with them.”

“Mom, I – “

“Not up for debate. We’re going.”

“Yes, mother,” Linneá rolled her eyes. “You’re awful bossy sometimes, you know.”

Linneá stopped puttering about the room for supplies and followed Lydia downstairs to eat lunch as a family. She took her seat next to Serana, gave her a quick kiss, and put the impending quest out of her mind while they ate. Her eyes met her mother’s watchful gaze more than once and she tried not to blush from the look of pride Lydia wore so openly. Thankful that she let herself be steered away from the self-inflicted doom and gloom, Linneá ended up joining her wife and daughter for a walk through the town too, after they finished eating.

By the time the three of them made it back to their living quarters, spirits were a lot higher all around. Serana and Salihn even made Linneá sit by idly while they picked the outfits she would pack for the trip, and they promised to see her off from the city gates bright and early the next morning.

-----

Having heeded her would be sister’s advice after the last recall incident, Linneá recalled outside of Elysium Estate a short while later to break the news to her brother and Gwyn. She lingered on the doorstep for a moment before knocking – a small part of her was just a teensy bit afraid of the diminutive Breton she’d be bearing bad news to in a couple of minutes. Collecting her thoughts in silence, she was about to finally knock when said Breton’s voice rang out from inside the home.

“Just open the [censored] door already, Linn.”

Linneá grinned and let herself in. “How’d you know I was there?”

Gwyn sat at the dining room table with a glass of red wine and a dusty old book. She marked her page before answering: “the big purple flash gives it away. If you plan on refining that spell any further, I would work on doing something about that.” She poured some of the wine into an empty glass and set it across from her. “Have a drink. I’m assuming you’re here because of what we talked about a couple of weeks ago. Your little adventure?”

“How’d you know?”

“Timing makes sense. And it’s just you, which means Serana is probably at home getting your gear ready.”

“Right on both counts. Dad wants us to leave in the morning.” Linneá took a sip of wine and peered around the house. “Where’s Cain?”

“Out back meditating,” said Gwyn, shortly. “He knows you’re here.” Gwyn took a pull from her own glass and regarded Linneá quietly. She could tell that even though the journey they were to undertake together was her idea, the Nord really wished it wasn’t necessary. Linneá just wasn’t herself, and that didn’t work for Gwyn. “Look, Linn… I know you don’t want to be doing this anymore than I do, but I need you committed to the task. You said this could be dangerous? Then I need you with me out there. All of you. Don’t leave half of yourself in Solitude.”

Linneá looked taken aback by this turn of events. She thought for sure that coming here would mean dealing with an explosive version of Gwyn who did not want to leave Cain’s side for any amount of time. Instead, she found herself on the back foot and being given a pep talk as if she needed to be reined in. They must have had some long nights discussing this, thought Linneá. She’s more ready than I am.

“Your wish is my command, O wise sage of my brethren!” cracked Linneá. “Seriously though, that was a great big sister talk. I promise you I will be ready tomorrow.”

“Good. And I’m not your big sister.” Gwyn paused for the briefest of seconds to smile cheekily at her. “Not yet anyway.”

-----

“So, are you two going on foot or by horseback?” asked Serana.

“Dunno yet,” said Linneá. “Gwyn was being coy about it. Said she doesn’t like horses, but that she isn’t against mounted travel.”

“A summon of some kind?”

“Probably. I get the feeling that Gwyn knows a lot more about magick than she lets on.”

The two of them lay in bed, arms locked around each other. Masser and Secunda had long since risen overhead and the night was getting late, yet neither Linneá nor Serana wanted to sleep, for that only meant they would be apart sooner. But it was a losing battle they waged, eyelids drooping lower and lower, and their eyes staying shut for increasingly long intervals after daring to blink.

“I think you two will be fine, Elle. And look on the bright side – you’ll get to know her a lot more closely. We’ll get to know her.”

“That is enticing,” admitted Linneá. “Especially since it’s only a matter of time before they announce an engagement.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just something Gwyn said earlier.”

“I’m looking forward to that,” said Serana. “Our wedding is the only one I’ve ever been to.”

A lull in the conversation followed her last musing and that was all it took for the pair of them to drift off into sleep. Tomorrow morning offered to be a trying time for Kyne’s children as they set out on diverging paths towards new destinations.

It makes good sense that Linn should have some company for her adventure. Just as it makes sense that Serana really needs to stay home and mind the elf-child. Gwyn makes for a logical choice and I was pleased that she seems to accept the task.

I do find myself wondering what Cain’s role will be during this time. Since he is not going with Gwyn and Linn, is he planning on continuing his royal duty tour of the holds?

I’m looking forward to perhaps seeing some of Gwyn’s magic in action.

Acadian: Gwyn definitely only accepts because they are now linked. She'd have outright refused if they weren't.

I don't typically like to tease, but Cain's role and Gwyn in action are certainly on deck!

It’s fun to see Cain and Gwyn getting used to reading each other’s’ thoughts.

The note that Anilay showed Cain (and Gwyn) was less than helpful to the disappearing falmer mystery, except for showing that the Empire’s significant intelligence collection abilities were at his disposal.

Quite a disturbing warning from the Jarl / Seer Idgrod of Morthal!

I could stand to spend some time in that Imperial library.

Gywn invents sexting, Elder Scrolls style!

Grim words from Jarl Idgrod. It’s a shame she didn’t go into a trance and say, “The daffodils will be lovely this year” or something!

Acadian: I should have had them sharing thoughts a long time ago. It's so much fun to write! And funny how an innocuous trip to Morthal could have such a dramatic turn!

Grits: I'd also love to spend a day or thirty in that library. One can only imagine the depths of knowledge stored away! A reading on flowers from Idgrod would indeed have been much more pleasant!







Chapter XX – The Journey Begins
In the early days of the winter season the western road out of Solitude remained relatively free from travelers, save for two cloaked figures of drastically different heights. Bowing her head against the biting wind, the shorter of the two began to privately wish that they had saddled up a horse and rode to Dragon Bridge, rather than going on foot until they reached the mountainous wilds beyond the village.

Linneá on the other hand, being a Nord, was completely nonplussed by their march through the gently falling snow of Sun’s Dusk. At one point she even considered removing her hood and cloak to cool off a little bit, but she felt that might frustrate Gwyn further.

They mostly marched in a stoic silence at first, each of them grappling mentally with what they left behind to undertake the journey that was just beginning. And then Gwyn made good on something she silently told her far away love.

“Cain’s at the Imperial Library, completely swooned by the enormity of it. He felt compelled to brag about it to you.”

“What an ass,” smirked Linneá. “Tell him he owes his sisters and niece a trip down there. I’m sure he could arrange it with his friend Anilay.”

“I’ll pass it on. How far did you say it was to Dragon Bridge?”

“At least two and a half days, if we make good time.”

“[censored].”

“What? Not enjoying my company? I’m hurt!”

“It’s not that, idiot,” Gwyn rolled her eyes. “I’m [censored] freezing and it’s only going to get worse.”

Linneá glanced sideways at her new companion. She often forgot that not everyone around her was equipped to deal with the cold – even her own brother. Gwyn’s teeth were starting to chatter every time the wind picked up, and the layers of clothing seemed to only help so much. Linneá wasn’t sure the Breton would make it at this rate, so she placed a hand on her shoulder and frowned in concentration.

“Linn, what are you doing? I don’t need moral support. I need… I… oh, [censored]. That is lovely.”

A wonderfully uplifting feeling of warmth radiated from Linneá’s fingertips and coursed throughout Gwyn’s body. The shivering cold dispelled entirely until it felt like she was walking under the warm sun of summertime on the Iliac Bay.

“You need to teach me that one,” gushed Gwyn. “Now. What school is it?” She pulled off her hood and took a deep breath without her lungs aching. “Please tell me it’s Alteration!”

“It is,” laughed Linneá. “And you’re welcome. We can practice it when we make camp tonight. The effect should last two to three hours at a time, so just tell me when you feel the cold creeping back in, yeah?”

“My hero.”

Why didn’t you think of that earlier, Elle? Serana asked her from afar. Poor girl was probably going to freeze solid.

Too busy worrying about you and Salihn, Linneá admitted.

Just be present for Gwyn. You don’t need to fret over us; we can talk to you at any time. She’s going to need you more than you realize. By the end of the day, she and Cain will have been apart for what I’m guessing is the longest amount of time since they first truly bonded. And you and I know that while deeply intimate, these connections cannot compare to physical touch.

I know, I know. I’ll keep my wits about me, I promise.

“Sorry for not thinking of that earlier, sis,” said Linneá.

“It’s fine. Not like we both aren’t going through a lot right now.”

The rest of that first day on the road was uneventful. Come sundown, they were scouting for a secluded campsite for the night in the shadow of Mount Kilkreath, and its Shrine to Meridia. After a finding a decently flat clearing south of the cobblestone road, Linneá set about erecting her tent while Gwyn gathered some frozen branches and timber to build a fire with. She returned to camp, arms laden with fuel, and grinned at her traveling companion fighting with tentpoles.

“Stop what you’re doing, Linn.”

“What? Why? Where am I supposed to sleep without my tent?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Gwyn. “You teach me that warmth spell…” She set down the pile of branches, pointed her hand at the spot staked off for her own tent and summoned a cozy A-frame with a leather shell, all set up and ready to go. “…and I’ll teach you my tent spell.”

Linneá’s eyes blinked rapidly in amazement for a couple seconds before she stood up and started kicking over the tentpoles she had already affixed. Then she summoned her dimensional storage chest and dumped the old patchwork tent inside of it.

“Deal.”

-----

Linneá looked skyward and noted the midday sun on day eight of their march eastward. Dragon Bridge now lay far behind them, down a winding path along the Karth River that rose steadily into the mountainous and craggy highlands of the Northern Reach. Little of note had occurred thus far on their quest; save for the mysterious vision of Idgrod the Younger relayed to Gwyn by Cain that had drummed up a great deal of conversation between multiple parties. Nights around the campfire were inevitably spent dissecting the obscure message to no avail; even on the single occasion that Cain had recalled to Gwyn’s side for a visit.

The road and its guard patrols ended at the village, leaving the two inherently capable women to defend themselves from whatever lurked in the wilds of Skyrim. It was mostly the occasional troll or spriggan they had to deal with, for the wildlife sensed Linneá’s deep kinship with Kyne and paid them no mind. But when danger did eventually come, it was a hair too late that Linneá heard the twanging release of a bow, followed by the whistling of a poorly crafted arrow, and the thud it made while burying itself in Gwyn’s thigh.

Dropping to her knee with a cry of pain, Gwyn looked around wildly while Linneá backed in close to her, tanto drawn and spells at the ready. Three bandits layered in crude pelts leapt down from a pile of boulders above the path and formed a semi-circle around them.

“Give up yer gold or the next arra’ finds a better mark!” threatened the biggest of the three wild men. He towered over Linneá, his beady black eyes grim and set deep into a sunken face. An ornate Elven longbow, likely stolen from a wayward traveler, was drawn and ready in his hands, with another of the arrows ready to release. “Quick like, pre’y lady, or the boys an’ I ‘ll have us some fun terday.”

Linneá sized up this real first nuisance of their journey. The men were big, slow, and ill-equipped compared to the two woman whom they thought to be hapless travelers whose luck had just run out. She figured a quick slice of his bowstring with her keen blade would take the leader out of the picture for long enough to toss the other two away with her Thu’um; and once they realized they’d chosen the wrong prey, the louts would most likely flee for their worthless lives.

The only thing she forgot about in her assessment of the situation was the temporarily downed Breton behind her. Unfortunately for the bandit leader, his final threat and its dark implication set Gwyn off in a way he wouldn’t live long enough to regret. The crimson glow of her corrupted magick flickered into Gwyn’s palm, and she staggered to her feet.

“Well, looky here boys!” laughed the bandit. “The li’le lady is a toughun, eh? Tha’ll make fer a lot more fun –“

Whatever vile thoughts the cruel miscreant planned to annunciate would go unheard by his two friends. Gwyn aimed her hands at him, cast a spell, and pulled her arms back like she was tugging on a door that had been sealed shut from disuse. The bandit’s skin, flesh, sinew, and entrails were torn free from the bones of his body and fell to the earth in a disgusting pile of blood and stink.

Linneá saw the motion out of the corner of her eye and shielded her face just in time, but she still ended up blanketed by a red mist. When she lowered her arms, she nearly laughed aloud at the sight of the other two men scrambling up the hill and into the sparse juniper trees, jostling with each other to get as far away from the tiny, murderous woman as possible. But her delight fast evaporated at the sight of the bloodied skeleton lying in the snow. Linneá had never quite known what to expect after learning of Gwyn’s supposedly dark, brutal destruction magick, but she didn’t think it would be so overwhelmingly violent and deadly as what she just witnessed.

“If you’re down gawking, can you yank this [censored] thing out my leg, Linn?” grunted Gwyn in pain. “The barb is stuck in the bone, and I can’t free it.” She glanced up at Linneá who stood stock still, gazing at what remained of the dead bandit. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that. Just help me first and then we can talk about it, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” said Linneá. She stooped over Gwyn and after planting her foot in the ground she waited for Gwyn to bite down on the cuff of her sleeve and then pulled the arrow free with a sharp tug followed by a spurt of blood.

Gwyn’s muffled scream of pain echoed through the still air and caught the ear of an approaching and ever-watching hawk. Kyne glided down onto the rocky path, morphing into her human form just before touching down.

“Let me heal it, dear,” she offered. “I can replace the blood and your leg won’t scar.”

“Just [censored] do it,” cried Gwyn. Her leg was shaking from the agony until the goddess’ golden healing light cascaded over the wound and sealed it up without a trace. Panting from the pain, she sat in the snow to catch her breath. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” said Kyne. Then she turned her attention to Linneá: “Stand still, child. I’ll get you cleaned up.” Another wave of her hand and the bandit’s blood erased itself from her Linneá’s clothes and exposed skin. “Are you two okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Gwyn, waving the question away. “Not the first creep I’ve had to deal with, and I doubt it will be the last.”

Linneá didn’t answer, but her hand traced over her pale cheeks where the blood of their attacker had just been wiped away.

Elle, what’s wrong? Serana had sensed her apprehension unconsciously and mentally reached out at once. What’s happened? Is everything okay?

Hm? Oh… I’m fine. We’re fine. Some idiots in rags attacked us and I finally got a taste of Gwyn’s warped magick. Linneá closed her eyes and tried to push the memory of the gory results from the forefront of her mind. Her wife shouldn’t have to see it either. It’s disturbing, Ana. We need to find a way to help our sister.

A joy to read the banter between Lin and Gwyn as they start their journey.

“My hero.”
- - No kidding! That warming spell is even better than a resist frost enchanted toe ring!

Turnabout is fair play as Gwyn shows she can summon a tent.

That mind meldy stuff and ability to recall is very handy for the separated couples.

The bandit ambush was a great opportunity to showcase Gwyn’s gory destructive ability – don’t piss off the little Breton! It also provided an opportunity for Kyne to make some amends with her welcome healing.

I can relate to Linneá wanting to take off her cloak in the snow. My dog-walking buddies shake their heads at my short sleeves most of the winter. Wow, between the spells and the storage chest, these two know how to travel!

Yikes, now I have a vivid picture of exactly what Gwyn’s spell does. Gross, but highly effective. No wonder it’s upsetting.

You've been traveling and writing a Nord too long! I have the opposite problem - I went for a sunrise walk this morning. 70 degrees. Light jacket. Yeah, I identify with Gwyn as she trudges through the snow. Wonder where that comes from?

We get like that in the northeast, too. It was 58° this morning and I gleefully left the house with no jacket and a tee shirt.

Chapter XXI – Filling a Void

“It’s what I do best, Dragonborn. Why not let me see what strings can be pulled? It gets me out of your hair, and it gives me something to do.”
Kirin considered that for a moment. There was no real purpose behind having Delphine crowding his court every day, and she was far too old for duties as a Housecarl or bodyguard.

“Do you still have contacts around the province?” he asked her.

“Some. And I can move a lot easier now without the Thalmor breathing down my neck.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Kirin. “Dismissed.”

Delphine turned on her heel and left the study, closing the door behind her with a snap. The evening sun cast a warm orange glow over the comfortable space, bathing the High King and his family in luminous rays without the need for fire or candlelight. Cain and Serana sat on the floor with Salihn while Lydia lounged on her chaise with a cup of tea.

“Are you going to let her?” asked Lydia. “I’m no more thrilled about her presence than Linn was, so you won’t get any arguments from me.”

“Maybe,” said Kirin. “But I can’t shake the fact that she is an elderly woman now, Lyds. Part of me feels granting her a field assignment would just be inking her death warrant. We had our differences, but I don’t wish for Delphine to suffer.”

He also wasn’t even sure what she would learn that they didn’t already know. Delphine of course had not been privy to the details Linneá and Gwyn’s expedition, and it didn’t seem there was much else to learn than what the advance scouts had already reported back.

“If I may, dad?” piped up Cain. At Kirin’s nod and smile, he continued: “I think it wise to get her out from underfoot. Anilay may have meant well, and while this is a different iteration of the Blades, they do have a long history of meddling. And while I don’t know Delphine well enough to pass judgment, I gather that she’s not kindly regarded in these halls. It may be prudent to keep her at a distance for our own sakes.”

“Well reasoned, Cain,” said Kirin. “And I’m inclined to agree… which is why I think she’ll accompany you to Dawnstar.” The room grew silent apart from Salkihn’s playful chatter, and Kirin laughed at the grimace on his son’s face. “Not what you meant, I take it? Don’t worry, it’s only a temporary arrangement. She still has a contact at the Quicksilver Mine. You two can part ways the moment you arrive.”

“Oh. That’s alright, then,” said Cain. “I really didn’t want her visiting the Jarl with me. Speaking of which… the ship leaves tomorrow morning, right? Do I still need the cadre of guards with me?”

“I don’t think so. There will be guards on the ship anyway, and you’ll be safe once you hit the port.”

“Good. They were solid men, but I didn’t like how overprotective they were.”

“I understand that, Cain, but you need to accept it as a part of your life. Someday, you won’t be able to go anywhere without a private guard.” Kirin finished sealing a letter he had penned and tossed it on a pile with the rest of his correspondences. “And that’s that. Let’s go sit down for dinner.”

-----

The gale rushing in off of the Sea of Ghosts through Solitude’s great arch tested the innate cold resistance of even the sturdiest Nords working down at the seaport. Cain didn’t stand a chance, and after a hasty sendoff, he ducked into the midships cabin with a lazy wave at Kirin and Lydia. With its final passenger aboard, the crew of the Siren’s Song loosed the final mooring ropes and set sail for the port of Dawnstar.

“Hopefully she’s learned how to be civil,” mused Lydia. “I’d hate for Cain to have to throw Delphine overboard before they leave the bay.”

“Hah. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, dear. He’s not nearly as impulsive as his sister.” Kirin stuck his arm out for Lydia. “Back to the castle, my queen?”

“Lead on, my king.”

Back up the winding road they went, strolling leisurely past the Solitude Stables, and waving genially at farmers, tradesmen, and all manner of passersby. The guards at the impassive main gates bowed them through respectfully, and after a meandering walk through the marketplaces and temple district, the Blue Palace loomed ahead as they returned home in no particular hurry.

Kirin had another full day in court awaiting him without the aid of a court mage. He prayed silently to Kyne that the day would pass without event while his Housecarls and Thanes filed in around their king and began to pester him with questions and requests from their constituents. Lydia kissed him on the cheek and wished him luck before heading downstairs to check on her daughter.

She found Serana enjoying a mug of tea and reading a lengthy book on levitation magick in the confines of her quarters. Lydia returned an offered smile, though she recognized the emptiness behind it. Serana had been stoic in her wife’s absence thus far, but there were slight cracks in the veneer and the two of them had shared more than a few late-night drinks already to help stave off her feelings of loneliness.

And now Linneá and Serana’s new concern for Gwyn’s well-being had become a primary topic of conversation following the details of their encounter with an unlucky bandit the day before last.

“Any plans for the day?” Lydia asked her.

“Not really,” said Serana. “I thought about visiting the girls while Salihn is in school, but they’re managing without me, and I don’t want to intrude. Elle was really looking forward to spending some time with Gwyn that didn’t involve wine bottles around a table at Elysium.”

“Serana, dear, just go visit Linn if that’s what you need. No one questioned your brother visiting them a few days ago. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

There was a moment of hesitation; and then: “…I don’t think it’s fair to Salihn, mum,” sighed Serana. “Taking her along would be too dangerous and why should I get to see Elle when she cannot?”

Her words had a ring of truth and were just what Lydia expected a responsible mother to speak, but Lydia also knew that more often than not, you have to follow your heart. If she had not done so thirty years ago there’s no telling how different things in her life may have gone. Serana might not even be sitting here to have this conversation with.

“It’s okay to be selfish once in a while,” reminded Lydia. “Natural, even. Go to her, Serana. If only to feel the warmth of her embrace for a moment. Your secret will be safe with me.”

-----

Lydia’s goblet of water clinked against her husband’s tankard of mead. Spirits were higher than they had been in some time due to the unexpected arrival of their newly assigned, permanent court mage: Brelyna Maryon. The dunmer wizard who once called Winterhold home showed up at midday to formally offer her services to Kirin, who accepted them gratefully.

She even joined them for dinner at Kirin’s request, and now sat together with him, Lydia, Serana, and Salihn.

“What made you accept the role?” inquired Serana. “Don’t get me wrong; it’ll be lovely to have you here with us, but you seemed pretty content to return to the college after your stint on loan to us ended.”

“I realized after a couple of weeks that life here at the palace had been far more interesting,” said Brelyna. “All there is to do at the college is research or teach, and I can only do the latter if one of the other wizards fancies a day off. And it’s not like there is anything to do in Winterhold proper,” she added. “At least I can be of use here.”

“Indeed!” said Kirin. “I’ll have the evening staff ready your quarters.”

“That won’t be necessary, sire. I can take care of my own room.”

“Suit yourself. But please, call me ‘Kirin’.”

Most of their evening meal was spent going over the finer details of Brelyna’s new position that she hadn’t been aware of before. A lot of the day-to-day responsibilities that Sybille Stentor saw to had fallen by the wayside in the absence of a full-time court mage, and Kirin was thrilled to know they would soon be handled once again. He would continue to miss the scrying ability Sybille possessed, but he was not about to complain about finally having the position filled again. In time for Cain’s eventual succession, no less.

And he knew that Brelyna would be more than capable. She was intelligent, calm, and wise beyond her years; and she had the innate talent for magick that most of her people benefited from. All in all, he was hard pressed to think of a more suitable candidate.

“I’m surprised Linneá isn’t here,” said Brelyna. They’d finished eating and were now sipping from piping hot mugs of mulled wine to stave off the winter chill. She found her absence curious right off, but she wasn’t sure at first how to broach the subject. Luckily for her, alcohol tends to limit inhibition – especially for someone who doesn’t partake often. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you apart, Serana.”

A dark look that Brelyna nearly missed passed over Serana’s features. The dunmer thought she might have imagined it until Kirin cleared his throat.
“My daughter is away on some… business,” said Kirin. “You’ll have the privilege of knowing all the ins and outs of palace workings once you’ve taken the oath, but for now I’d ask that you disregard that observation until the morning.”

“Done. What happens in the morning?”

“The oath,” replied Kirin. “I would ask that you take some time tonight to think on it before we take that step tomorrow. It’s magickally binding and cannot be undone, unless I should release you. Or in death, which is know to have happened. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I require it of all those who serve this family closely. Your new position carries far more weight than the temporary role you filled before, Brelyna. There is little of what goes on here that you will not be aware of – including some closely guarded secrets of the Windborne family.”

-----

Morning had come. The full court of High King and Queen Kirin and Lydia Windborne stood arrayed in a semi-circle around the throne, while Brelyna Maryon knelt before it. Just off to the side, Serana looked on with the barest hint of a smile, musing over the rare occurrence of pomp that came with these otherwise light-hearted occasions. In the absence of her spouse, it was she who would bind the new Court Mage in service to the king.
Lydia, too, beamed down at the capable young dunmer whose presence they had all grown enjoy on her once temporary assignment. She resisted the urge to bob impatiently on her heels while her husband incanted the oath.

When it came to end, there was no hesitation in Brelyna’s response, nor did she lift her head when Serana’s hand gripped her shoulder. “I vow to serve the High King and Skyrim’s people until otherwise released from my duties.” A brief flash of whitest light imbued her as the oath was sealed. The hand on her shoulder gave a supporting squeeze before it’s owner took her place beside the throne.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Kirin. “Welcome to the court, Brelyna! We have much to discuss.”

Out of the ice box and into the fridge as Cain (and Delphine) sail for Dawnstar. I hope Cain’s tour of the holds continues well and that perhaps Delphine can dig up some useful information about the ominous hints of Aldmeri Dominion trouble brewing.

I’m embarrassed to ask that you refresh me on what happened to Sybille Stentor as the court mage? I fondly remember Brelyna from playing Skyrim long ago and hope she works out well. Magically binding key court staff members to the King is a prudent precaution.

Sybille died in the attack that also claimed Anska's life in Season Unending.

Ahh, thanks!

Looks like Cain accidentally got company on his Dawnstar trip. Oops!

Ooo, I like Brelyna. That was a neat binding ceremony, and very sensible to have a magical oath for a court mage.

Indeed! Court mage feels like a very vital position for the Jarls, and they usually are very prominent figures.

Gwyn’s development toward a full-fledged member of the Windborne clan continues apace. Forgiving Kyne is a huge step. The comfortable banter among the three sisters even allowed for discussing Gwyn’s magic openly. Despite Gwyn’s hopes and wishes, I'm not optimistic that having a baby would ‘fix’ her.

I’m so glad Kyne brought Mara with her! I’m delighted to see that, like in Buffy fiction, the Sky Goddess and Mother of Nirn are so close to each other. I can’t wait to see how Mara approaches this challenge.

Oh yes, Kyne and Mara are very much sisters in these tales. They love and adore each other. Mara even wed Kirin and Lydia in The Call of the Wind.

Two cold holds but well-run it seems. That's encouraging. A bonus that Cain seems comfortable with the College's Arch Mage.

Nice job as Cain powerfully corrects Delphine's opinion of Linneá without hesitation. I wonder what (if anything) Duskglow might reveal about the falmer mystery?

A glimpse into the potential reign of High Queen Gwyndala! She'll drag those Nords into the Fourth Era!

A nice cluster of dead trees to sit under made me chuckle.

An unmarked Falmer hive, hmm. Hopefully Delphine brought enough fighters with her.

I’m delighted to see that Mirabelle Ervine is the Arch Mage.

Chapter XXIV – The Emancipation of Gwyndala Louvain

Gwyn said nothing. She didn’t really know what to say or where to begin. How does one who is uncomfortable with strangers casually strike up a conversation out of the blue with someone they’ve just met? Let alone with one of the Nine Divines of whom watched over all of Nirn, and were worshiped every minute, every hour, and every day throughout the known land. With Kyne, it had been different: she sought Cain wherever he may have been, which at the time just so happened to be in Gwyn’s cabin, and so the two of them became acquainted without the need for awkward pleasantries. In this instance, however, Gwyn found herself floundering under pressure.

“You need not be so nervous, Gwyndala,” reassured Mara. “I am not so different from my sister, even if our responsibilities lie elsewhere. I love all my children the same way that Kyne does, which, in a way, makes us family as well.”

“That doesn’t really help my nerves,” said Gwyn. “Look, I’m not one for casual chitchat with strangers, so can we just get to the point? Why are you here?”

Mara smiled radiantly from ear to ear and in a manner that made Gwyn instantly regret her brashness. “I see my sister did not undersell how blunt you can be. I must say, it is a refreshing departure from the intense fawning that usually occurs when I visit my acolytes in the temples.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Please stop dissembling, Gwyndala.”

The Breton eyed her warily. She ought to have guessed a goddess of Mara’s nature would be able to peel back her defensive veneer with little effort. In truth, Gwyn wasn’t even sure why she bothered when the intentions of this little rendezvous were prearranged by Linneá and Kyne.

“It’s understandable that you are apprehensive about this. I gather Mrs. Windborne arranged this of her own volition?”

Gwyn nodded.

“Then I’m sure it is hard to relax,” said Mara. “But please understand; I am only here to help, my dear. You have a dark past filled with trauma that to this day affects you in ways that are not understood. The strides you have made with Cain are admirable, especially in light of what he himself has endured since finding his place in this land. I can sense how deeply you two are now entwined… and do I hear wedding bells in your future?”

“And a family of our own if we’re ever allowed to live our lives,” Gwyn spat. “Er, sorry. Can you tell I’m frustrated? It’s bullshit that we had to be separated so soon after finally settling down at Elysium. Everything I dreamed of came together with a neat little bow and now here I am chasing ghosts in the middle of [censored] nowhere while he’s all alone, miles and miles away.”

“I see. You two really have not had much time to be yourselves, have you? I wonder if stepping out of the public eye for an extended period should be arranged. A lack of politics and adventure may be beneficial for you both.”

Leaning back against a withered tree, Gwyn closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream of such a thing, if only for a moment. Somewhere secluded, like her old cabin, where she and Cain could simply be. No jobs to do, no elites to schmooze, no fires to put out. A peaceful life, day in and day out. It felt too good to be true.

“As lovely as that sounds, I don’t think it’ll ever be attainable, ma’am,” sighed Gwyn. “Not while he’s next in line for a throne that will soon be vacated. No, I need to accept that this is who we are now.” She paused and idly picked at some dirt under fingernails while deciding it was time to get back onto the topic that Mara had been summoned for. “That having been said, you never did tell me why you are here.”

“I suppose that is true,” conceded Mara. “Linneá cares for you as if you were her own flesh and blood sister, Gwyndala. She worries for your well-being and the manner in which your past has altered your self-perception.”

“In other words, it bothers her that I don’t like myself.”

“I believe your use of the word ‘hate’ is what she truly struggled with. She sees you as a strong woman; capable of anything, intelligent and perspicacious, and, above all, loved deeply by those around you. She cannot comprehend the disdain that you feel for yourself, or what it could be rooted in. You must forgive her for this – while Linneá’s life has not always been easy, her formative years were vastly different from your own.”

“So, she wants you to fix me. Like it’s supposed to be that easy, right? A quick prayer to the Goddess of Love and Mercy and behold! Gwyn is normal again.” She laughed cynically and cradled her head in her hands. “Doesn’t she realize if I actually knew what the [censored] is wrong with me that I’d try to fix it? At least her brother loves me for who I am and not who I could be.”

“I’m sure that Cain would also like to see you whole again,” said Mara while placing a comforting hand on Gwyn’s shoulder. “He knows you intimately and shares that deep pain with you. I have no doubt he too yearns to see you love yourself, as he loves you.”

Gwyn’s head began to swim. All of this amounted to one thing thus far: talk. It was all talk. She’d given up long ago on what everyone else wanted for her and had become content to soldier on the only way she knew how. Finding Cain and building what she now had with him was simply a bonus to her: an unexpected boon on an otherwise dismal existence that Gwyn recognized and held as tightly to her breast as she possibly could. And now, after thinking she had fallen lockstep into her new family, they sought to do everything they could to help her.

Why am I so resistant to that? Gwyn asked herself. What is so bad about them wanting to help me?

But in the end, she knew, of course, that it all came back to the same point.

“You are correct, dear,” said Mara. “You resist their help because you think it to be impossible. That this is just who you are, and no amount of talking, or doting, or encouraging will ever change that.”

“And you believe otherwise, ma’am?”

“I do, Gwyndala. I have to, otherwise I cannot offer the compassion that so many in this world so desperately seek.” Mara vacated her spot beside Gwyn on their impromptu fallen log bench and summoned a carved wooden chair directly across from the Breton. “If you would allow it, I’d like to examine your heart. Not the physical construct that beats within, but that which harbors who we really are, at the very center of oneself.”

“What do you seek to find?” asked Gwyn. Her leg bounced nervously against the cold earth. The idea of a divine peering into the deepest depths of her soul caused her some consternation. A lot of darkness resided there, and she loathed to feel it unleashed again. And to subject anyone else to it, immortal or otherwise.

“I have a suspicion about what is there, buried under the years of regret and personal anguish. And I feel it must be acknowledged, if you are to ever move forward permanently into the light. No one deserves to live the way you do, Gwyndala. The innocent should not be made to suffer for the sins of the evil.”

Apprehensive tears welled in the corner of Gwyn’s eyes, and yet, a measure of hope began to brim just under the waves, frothing in a way she never thought possible. A part of her wanted to run – to flee before the divine who sought to help her – and dive right into the arms of her lover, who could whisk her far away from it all. But he didn’t deserve that either. Love her as Cain did, he did not deserve the broken version of Gwyn that would continue to exist because of that cowardly act. If there existed one being who might be able to untangle the darkness that warped who she was, it sat across from her at that very moment, ready and willing to help.

“Um. O-okay,” she stammered, wiping tears on the cuff of her sleeve. “I-I, uh, sure. Go ahead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Y-yes,” nodded Gwyn. Then, more confidently: “Yes. I’m sure.”

Mara reached out and took Gwyn’s hands in her own. “Breathe in deeply and then exhale. It will be over before you know it.”

The world darkened. The years of pain were peeled back, left raw and blistering for the goddess to feel. And without warning, Gwyn once again found herself in the last place she ever wished to be: Crosswych, the remote village of High Rock where she had been born. A small house at the end of the outermost lane harbored a secret know only to a select few, soon to be unearthed by the local constable following the disappearance of a teenage girl. Inside that house, all was still. The lights had been snuffed out to provide the illusion of bedtime for its inhabitants, and the windows were locked shut to keep noise from escaping. On the bare earthen floor of a candlelit cellar lined with crates of preserved goods, Gwyndala Louvain rocked back and forth in an improbably large pool of blood, sobbing so violently that it painfully constricted her chest. The stunted remains of three men were strewn about the room, torn apart by the despair of an innocent child who would never be the same.

And directly in front of Gwyn laid her mother, the vile woman who sold her own flesh and blood for an inconsequential amount of gold.

Though she would remain unconscious, Ardine Louvain still clung greedily to life, her arm missing from below the shoulder, while Gwyn wept over what she had done to a mother that didn’t deserve the unbridled love that only a child could offer. She wanted, no, she yearned to hate her for mother for what she’d done to her. For allowing the disgusting pigs to rape her week after week just to hear the Septims jingle in her coin purse. But it was her mother, and Gwyn hated herself for still loving her. She hated herself for grieving over what she’d just done to defend herself.

How long Gwyn sat there and wept she did not know, but eventually there were no more tears left to shed. A hollow and empty feeling of numbness set in a few hours before dawn, and she finally dragged herself upstairs to gather some belongings with the intent of fleeing to her auntie’s house in Glenumbra.

The memories ebbed, and Mara severed the probing connection. The salty waters of lament adorned the goddess’ eyes, but she did not wipe them away. Instead, she placed a warm, comforting hand on Gwyn’s tear-streaked cheek and rubbed it softly.

“I should have known,” she spoke, soothingly. “Listen to me, dear… Loving your mother despite, the horrendous acts she committed, does not make you a terrible person, Gwyndala. Please do not continue punishing yourself for something that lies so beyond your control. We cannot help but love those who give us life, nor can we choose to cast away their influence. But I say to you now that every ounce of who are is a better person than Ardine Louvain ever hoped to be, and you should never forget that. Our actions define who we are, Gwyndala, and the fact that to this day you still bitterly mourn what you did to your mother serves only to illustrate the deep compassion for others that you possess. You are not broken, and you need not loathe who you are because of that act. Do not bury the pain any longer. Share it with those that love you and seek the mothering touch you desire from someone who would freely give it.”

Gwyn buried herself in Mara’s loving embrace. She wept for many long moments, dampening the blinding whiteness of the goddess’ smock with unnumbered tears under the soothing touch of eternal grace.

“I never understood why I couldn’t her let go,” she eventually sobbed. “I hated her so much, and then one day, without even realizing it had happened, I hated myself, too. And I couldn’t stop it. It just snowballed further and further and further until there was nothing left of myself that I did like.”

“Difficult as it may be to see, you were not so hopelessly lost, Gwyndala. Or you would not have recognized Cain for what he would become. How much he would grow to mean to you.”

“He means everything to me, ma’am. Everything. We saved each other from the brink, and he’s given me so much while asking so little in return.” Then she became aware of the deafening silence in her mind, and Gwyn extricated herself from Mara’s arms and sat bolt upright. “I need to go see him. Now. I can’t hear his thoughts – something is wrong!” She stood up and began to pace frantically, struggling to focus on his location while the recall spell sputtered erratically in her palm.

“Hush, child, everything is as it was,” said Mara. “I shrouded his presence while we connected and have continued to do so for the intervening time since. You needed to grieve, and I allowed you to do so unimpeded. Cain is perfectly safe and is still enjoying a bowl of chowder in Dawnstar.”

Breathing deep sighs of relief, Gwyn ceased her pacing and stood stock still. She felt instinctively that more time ought to have passed since her walk with Mara began, and yet it might have only been moments. How much time had they been together if she also gave Gwyn the time she needed?

Mara sought Gwyn’s hand again and ushered back into a seating position. “Please relax, Gwyndala. I promise you again that everything is fine. But you and I have been together now for a day and a half. You had a lot of feelings to grasp, and they required time to sort out. Time that Akatosh was willing to grant.”

“A day and a… can I leave now?”

“Not yet,” said Mara. “You are emotionally drained, and you must rest.” She squeezed the hand of Gwyn still clasped within her own, and placed her in a deep, resting slumber. “Sleep well, child.”

A powerful and moving episode indeed! You did a wonderful job portraying Mara and her Divine intervention to help Gwyn.

”. . . seek the mothering touch you desire from someone who would freely give it.”
- - Wonderful advice from Mara here. Especially since Kyne and Lydia both stand ready to fill that role.

I started to panic when Gwyn realized she was cut off from Cain but Mara quickly soothed her fears.

Can’t wait to see how the Emancipation of Gwyndala Louvain manifests going forward!

A powerful scene with Mara, and critical growth for Gwyn’s future and her future with Cain.

I had to chuckle when Gwyn vanished without explaining a thing to poor Linneá!

And I’m left wondering… "What happened to your—" Her what?!?

I'm betting her hair color?

Oh!! I'm betting you're right.

A magician never reveals his secrets! At least until the next chapter...

Grits and I were right about Gwyn’s hair!

A welcome surprise for Cain at Elysium Estate as the couple plunge into further committing to each other.

And a proper engagement party ensues! Nice sentiment on Kirin’s part to promise the couple some time after their current taskings but I won’t hold my breath on things settling down for them.

Wonderful that Gwyn is able to use magic now without gruesomely catastrophic results.

Back to falmer hunting and hold visiting. Happily, the mind meld bond helps a lot with the separation. Well, that and the teleport/recall spells.

You always seem to pick up on my breadcrumbs with things like her hair! If only the celebrations didn't have to end, though.
Anyhoo, here we go, right back into the cold!



Chapter XXVI – Darkfall’s Embrace

The mountain winds cascaded over a broad river delta and drove an icy draft directly into the campsite of Linneá Windborne and Gwyndala Louvain. Snow fell lightly in the darkness outside of their tent, but inside the air stayed warm and dry courtesy of a magickal flame floating just above the linen floor, directly between their sleeping bags.

Perimeter alarms were set. Noise dampening spells were cast. And the two dogged adventurers snored obnoxiously for most of the night.

When the sun arrived once more in a vain attempt to pierce the veil of winter snow, Linneá roused herself and set out a plate of dried venison and two apples for a light breakfast. Despite her rustling around for the last few minutes, the tousled hair of Gwyn poking out the top of her sleeping bag remained inert. That is until a gentle prod to the shoulder brought an end to a captivating dream.

“Leave me alone, Linn. I was just getting to the good part.”

“We need to get moving, sis. Mum says a wicked storm is blowing in from Morrowind later today. I want to get beyond this valley before visibility is gone, and we have to hunker down to wait out the snow.”

“Can’t you just Shout it away?”

“She doesn’t like when we mess with the natural order of things like that.”

“’Course she doesn’t.”

Gwyn finally rolled onto her back and sat up with a loud yawn and a craning stretch. She grabbed a hairbrush from her bag and attempted to tame the mess on her head while Linneá began rolling up her own sleeping bag and doing light stretches of her own to limber up for a double-time march and then started on breakfast.

Deciding a hood would be less of a struggle, Gwyn tossed the brush aside and took a swig of water.

“How much further until the cave?”

“I was hoping only another four days, but the weather could double that if we get several more inches of fresh snow.”

“[censored]. We should have rode the damn horses.”

“The mares common in Solitude don’t like it up here in the Reach. The ground is so rocky that they have trouble retaining balance. And if you don’t know exactly there the paths go, you can easily ride right over a cliff.” Linneá picked up her strip of salted meat and chewed thoughtfully on it. A notion occurred to her that could help speed things along, though she wasn’t sure if Gwyn would go for it. “What if were to summon a mount that might be indifferent to the landscape?”

Linneá had received a lot of intense glares in her time, but nobody she’d ever met levied them as practically and effectively as Gwyn managed to. The Breton perfected it into an art form that could render anyone she faced to reconsider whatever ill-timed idea or too late thought was about to come her way. Most annoyingly to Gwyn, however, her soon-to-be sister-in-law found it to be quite humorous and took great pride in riling her up.

“You better have an iron-clad reason for not having [censored] summoned it already, Linn.”

“Does the prospect of clinging to my waist while jostling about on the bony spine of a skeletal horse from the Soul Cairn sound like an acceptable alternative to walking?”

Gwyn actually winced at the idea of it. She didn’t exactly have a lot of meat on her bones and wondered how bruised and battered her groin would be by the time they reached their destination. She certainly wouldn’t be having any fun with her fiancé for a few days.

“Sounds awful, if I’m being honest,” said Gwyn. “Maybe I can sit on a spare cloak. I’d rather not be bow-legged for a week.”

“Well, give it some thought while we pack up and start walking.”

Outside the tent it was cold. So cold, in fact, that Gwyn wanted to crawl right back inside and hibernate for the winter. Instead, she sighed dramatically and cast her warmth spell while donning a cloak and hood over her already several layers deep wardrobe. They packed up the camp and headed due west along the riverbank until a marker stone bearing a clumsily inscribed signpost pointed towards the faintest traces of a dirt path veering slightly north. By mid-morning, the impending storm promised by Kyne nipped at their heels, the sky grey skies filling with turbulent clouds.

“It’s now or never, Gwynnie,” said Linneá, coming to a halt. “I can summon Arvak or we pitch the tent again and hunker down until tomorrow.”
More delays were not enticing to Gwyn. Neither was the prospect of riding a saddle-less undead horse at breakneck speed to outrun the storm for the next three days. But it would be at least a week on foot, plus the lost time today, if they stayed the current course.

“Ugh. I hate this. I just want to go home.”

The pain and fatigue would be easy enough to deal with after a long day of riding, and they had plenty of alchemy ingredients on hand if a healing spell didn’t quite cut it. She couldn’t think of a downside to being uncomfortable if it meant reaching their destination sooner. However, there also happened to be another matter she’d been putting off in fear of further disappointment.

Gwyn admired the emerald ring on her finger, and then, with a deep sigh, placed the hand on her belly and focused inward.

Anything? Cain whispered silently to her from across the province.

No. She drew the hand away and brushed off tears of frustration. Least I don’t have to worry about jostling a baby around.

It’ll happen, promised Cain. It’s not supposed to be easy.

That doesn’t help.

“Call up your mount, Linn. Let’s get the hell away from that storm.”

Linneá gritted her teeth in concentration, brought a hand high above her head, and then cast it down towards the frozen earth. A blinding flash of purple so dark it neared black called forth a magickal vortex and the silent invocation conjured Arvak, the skeletal horse of the Soul Cairn that she had once ridden across that terrifying and desolate realm with Serana at her back.

“Oh!” exclaimed Gwyn. “Linn, he’s not at all what I expected!”

“I know what you mean,” said Linneá, resting a hand on Arvak’s bony haunch. “He has a sort of ethereal charm that is hard to quantify.” She gripped his side and swung a leg over his back with a leap and then offered a hand to Gwyn, who promptly batted it away.

“Hell no. I’m not making some undignified attempt that ends up with me flat on my ass.” Gwyn flicked her wrist and cast a short levitation spell that floated her neatly up onto the horse’s back, right behind Linneá. “Just don’t tell anyone I did that.”

“I didn’t you know could do that, sis,” said an impressed Linneá. “What other tricks do you have hidden up those petite sleeves?”

“Plenty. I taught myself a lot of alternatives to destruction magick. Now can we get a move on?”

Linneá patted Arvak encouragingly on the head and he took off at a blistering gallop.

-----

The entrance to Darkfall Cave loomed into view as a shadowy smudge pressed into the side of a sheer cliff face. Three days had lapsed since summoning Arvak and riding off into the cold. Three days of painful nights in a tent brewing restorative potions in Linneá’s alembic. Three days of Gwyn massaging her tender legs and aching groin. But they’d made great time and finally arrived a full five days sooner than anticipated.

“What’s inside?” inquired Gwyn while casting a healing spell to keep herself from falling to her knees in pain.

“Dunno. Ana and I tussled with some spiders and the odd troll last time. Hopefully Gelebor will still be waiting at the first Wayshrine.”

“The Snow Elf you spoke of?”

“Mhm.” Linneá cast another conjuration spell and their tent solidified on a flat spot ten feet away from the cave mouth. “In you go, Gwynnie.”
“What? Why? It’s only noon. Let’s just do what we came here to do.”

“Because you can barely walk, sis. We’ll rest up for a few hours, maybe have a nap. In you go. No discussions.”

Gwyn thought about responding in a hostile manner over being ordered around by someone younger than her, but she didn’t have it in her. Instead, she limped over to the tent, opened the flap, and threw herself on the ground inside of it.

Rough day? thought Cain.

[censored] off.

Nothing more could be said, for Gwyn passed out for the next two hours while Linneá brewed another strong potion for her struggling companion.

-----

By late afternoon, Gwyn felt much better. They’d broken into their high-quality rations to fix up a hot meal for the occasion and even brewed some lavender infused tea to sip at before Gwyn quaffed down her final healing potion and took a few gingerly steps outside in the snow.

“I should be alright, Linn. Thanks, by the way. You make one hell of draught.”

“Learned from the best,” she shrugged.

“Serana?”

“That goes without saying.”

The tent dispelled with another wave of Linneá’s hand, and together they stepped into Darkfall Cave with candlelight spells illuminating the way forward.

Tangled roots encrusted with ice descended from the ceiling. A few inches of half-melted snow had blown in on strung gusts from increasingly prevalent winter storms causing their initial incursion to be a treacherous ordeal. But soon enough the influences of precipitation began to cease until only a partially frozen scree of rock and dirt remained underfoot. Down rocky slopes and around damp, cold bends they crept for the next several hours. Eventually they reached an open pit and Linneá led them down a twisting ledge that spun further into the depths of the mountain.

Soon they came to a natural bridge carved from stone that spanned an underground river Gwyn could hear rushing by far below in a torrent. She tried not to imagine how far a fall that would be, and kept her eyes fixed firmly forward while crossing to the other side.

“Ana and I fell into that river last time,” said Linneá. “We had to go a different way and foolishly trusted a decrepit rope bridge.”

“It broke while you were on it? I’d have pissed myself.”

“I almost did when we finally washed up at the bottom of a waterfall. I saw her prone form on the shoreline and started panicking, but she was okay. Just had the wind knocked out of her.”

“That was a while ago, right? How old were you two?”

“Um, let me think… it would have been late two twenty-four, so we were only twenty-two at the time.”

Gwyn reached the other side and turned to face her. “[censored], Linn. You were practically still kids.”

“Yeah, well, we both had to grow up fast to survive in this world.” Linneá pointed towards another passageway leading deeper into the mountain. “We’re almost there. C’mon.”

“Hey, wait a sec,” said Gwyn. She grabbed Linneá’s hand and held her in place. “Look, if everything goes as planned, and Cain succeeds your father… you, Serana, and Salihn don’t have to stick around the palace for our benefit. The three of you need each other and if that means moving back to Elysium or buying some other home out in the country then don’t ever hesitate to tell us so. From what I’ve come to know about you, you two’ve earned it ten times over.”

Linneá didn’t know what to say, so she settled for hugging Gwyn tightly. The notion of being out of the public eye wasn’t something she ever thought possible, despite how much they longed for it after the initial novelty of Kirin ascending to the throne wore off. The prospect of being given and out enticed her greatly.

We’ll discuss it when you return home, love, Serana thought to her. I admit it is tempting.

It’s going to be on my mind all the time now.

She released Gwyn from her embrace and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have our eternal thanks if you can pull that one off, my queen.”

“Oh, knock it off with that queen [censored],” laughed Gwyn, playfully smacking Linneá’s shoulder. She gestured ahead: “lead on!”

Through the passage they went and moments later Linneá and Gwyn were trekking across an open cavern with low ceilings held aloft by pillars of stone interspersed with stale pools of runoff water. A fire crackled merrily within a small ring some distance ahead, and the figure of a tall humanoid could just be made out standing beside the flickering flames. Beyond the humble living area stood an ancient Wayshrine carved from white marble, the symbols of Auri-El borne into the apex.

And Knight-Paladin Gelebor watched their approach carefully.

Gwyn is not really cut out for this Nordic adventuring – especially in the winter! Linneá does a good job of trying to ease the way for the heavily bundled up little Breton. Gwyn knows a levitation spell! Too bad she doesn’t seem to know a ‘summon saddle’ or even a ‘summon pillow’ spell to help preclude sore netherbits. Arvak certain did speed up the duo’s trek though.

Quite the crawl down into Darkfall Cave. No sign of falmer yet, but hopefully Knight-Paladin Gelebor will be able to shed some helpful light on the mystery. And share the warmth of his fire.

That was an excellent engagement party.

As a fellow curly-haired person I can relate to Gwyn trading her brush for a hood!

Gwyn’s journey went from freezing to freezing on a bone horse. Knight-Paladin Gelebor’s fire must be a welcome sight. I’m curious what he will have to say.

Skyrim will make a Nord out of Gwyn yet! Well, that or she'll just reassert her Breton notions on the populace. Yes, that is probably more likely.

Little point in brushing for an adventure anyway! Gwyn probably looks forward to a bath more than anything right now. Well, almost anything.





Interlude

“I am not interested in your excuses, nor do I wish to hear any more sniveling drivel. If you cannot conceive of a way to facilitate transportation of the Heart, then I will have you put to death. Is that what you would prefer? Is there another beneath your station who can do as your queen has ordered? Consider that before you return tomorrow. Get out of my sight!”

The attendant scuttled shamefully out of the room and Queen Penolore slammed shut the door to her chambers. She stalked moodily over to her window and gazed down at the now empty dig site surrounding what remained of Crystal-Like-Law. Victory lay so tantalizing close and yet every day brought further delays. It was maddening.

And now those frustratingly intuitive pretenders in the northlands were sniffing around the edges of their Skyrim operation, with the Dragonborn King already transitioning to the Ruby Throne. A throne that must be cast down if the Dominion were ever to achieve their ultimate victory.

“Perhaps Lisotel can achieve us a victory where these incompetent fools cannot,” she said to no one in particular.

With a sudden turn that billowed the hem of her royal robes, the queen swept away from the window to locate more of her attendants.

Lisotel must be encouraged to begin. We shall take this one step at a time. She froze in thought, a golden hand resting on the stained-glass door leading to the common room. I cannot believe I’ve come to rely so heavily on that oaf after everything else he bungled.

Queen Penolore continued on through the impressively delicate door and immediately became swarmed by the attendants she sought, with an aide bearing the robes of the Ministry of Transportation at the forefront, politely clamoring for her attention.

“Milady! We’ve done it! We know how to move the Heart into position!”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the man’s eager claim. She’d never seen this mer before in her life, yet he would presume to address her directly? Were it not for an overwhelming desire to cast down her enemies, this minister would be hauled off to the deepest dungeons.

“Speak quickly or you shall not speak again,” she ordered.

The aide untied a bit of silver filigree from a scroll and presented it to her. Queen Penolore digested the scrawled message with increasing pleasure, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk and she dismissed all but the lone aide.

“See to this at once and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”





Snow fell lightly outside the window of High Chancellor Anilay Cato’s study atop the White-Gold Tower. Winter encroached steadily, each day bringing colder winds, and cloudy grey skies. Yet for the first time since Titus Mede II had been deposed, he breathed a sigh of relief. The Elder Council had chosen a date. Now, all that remained were preparations for an event not witnessed in nearly three hundred years, since the magickal day that Uriel Septim VII assumed the Ruby Throne.

The Fifteenth Day of Last Seed, in the Four-Hundred Thirtieth Year of the Fourth Era.

Coronation Day.

-----

“Throw her in there with the others.”

Rough hands forcefully gripped the old woman’s arms and tossed her bodily inside a ramshackle iron cage tucked away in the shadowy gloom of a decrepit Dwemer structure. She hit the ground and grunted painfully, years of training keeping her from crying out for the benefit of her captors. The guards moved away, leaving only a single tall being in dark robes and a hood to leer through the bars.

“I cannot hardly believe that after so many long years, it is I who will finally eliminate such a thorn in the Thalmor’s side,” Magistrate Lisotel grinned wickedly. “Penolore will be delighted to hear of your demise when I feed you to the Heart along with these other mindless beasts.”

The old woman said nothing as she sat up and leaned against the side of the cage. A gloating elf had not gotten the best of her in over fifty years, and this one would not be any different. She simply stared hostilely at him while her mind digested her new predicament and began to seek a way out of it.

“Nothing to say, you Breton whore? That’s just as well. I’ve enough headaches without listening to the self-righteous droning of a Blades agent. I’ll have the men bring you some water later. Or maybe I won’t. Your fate is sealed either way.”

Lisotel left to oversee more important aspects of his operation leaving the prisoner to her own devices. The near-total darkness of her cell offered little for the eye to see, so she cast a faint light spell and recoiled slightly at the sight of a prone form in the corner. Layers of thick grime made it hard to guess an age, but she reasoned the Nord had to be at least fifty due solely to the streaks of grey in his long blonde beard.

His chest rose and fell slowly. And then he awoke.

“Who ‘re you?” he rasped. “When did they throw you in ‘ere?”

“Just now,” said the woman. “My name is Delphine.”

“Retnarr.”

“Any idea what’s in store for us, Retnarr?”

“Aye. And ya aren’t gonn’ like it. May’s well pray to the Nine now, oldun. Pretty soon youse and I will be up and vanished like the rest ‘o the beasts they drag through ‘ere.”

Delphine was about to ask him what he meant by that when clink of rattling chains and the dull thud of innumerable footsteps slowly resonated more and more loudly off the walls surrounding their cage. She extinguished her light lest the approaching guards take exception to it, and she peered anxiously through the bars.

Thalmor soldiers in their ornate golden armor emblazoned with the regalia of eagles led a line of stunted figures through the gloom. Delphine couldn’t make out what they were yet, but she did pick out the pointed ears against the light of torches held by the guards. Closer and closer they came until the long line of captives passed by the cell, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth in shock.

Goblins, Reiklings, and, most prominently, Falmer were all chained together in a line stretching off into the black. Shackles bound their feet and hands, and those creatures that were not already blind had their eyes covered with crude burlap hoods that were scarcely breathable.

“By the Eight!” breathed Delphine.

Her mind reeled at the implications of what she witnessed. She had to get word out somehow. But out of where? She’d been rendered unconscious from a blow to the back of her neck while exploring Duskglow Crevice with her detachment of guards and had little idea where here was. And where had they gone?

All dead, likely, she thought to herself. Maybe the Nord knows where we are…

“Alright, listen up, Retnarr. We need to do something about this. Tell me everything you know about where we are and how we got here.”

The disgruntled man snorted at first, but then he saw the commanding light in her eye and felt a sliver of hope for the first time in many long months.

He told her what he knew. And Delphine felt the icy grip of despair clinging to her heart.

Scene One. Another peek into Penolore’s plans. Though well-familiar with the Second Era unsuccessful attack on the Crystal Tower, I had to look up the details of its Third Era demise. How odd to look down upon it now as an archeologic dig site. More tantalizing tidbits about a plan to somehow use the Heart of Transparent Law to bring down the Empire.

Scene Two. Here we pop in on Anilay and learn that Kirin’s coronation date has been set!

Scene Three. Obviously, Delphine’s visit to Duskglow Crevice did not go well for her. That said, we learned that the Thalmor definitely have a presence in/under Skyrim and why falmer have become so scarce. Clearly, ‘feeding’ them to the Heart of Transparent law seems central to whatever the Aldmeri Dominion’s dastardly plans for Skyrim and the Empire are.

Uh oh, good news for Queen Penolore seems like bad news is coming.

Coronation Day is on the calendar, whoop!

I like Delphine’s composure despite her dire situation. It suits her. The mystery of what they’re doing with the missing Falmer must be awful indeed to make her despair. Yikes!

We're getting into the thick of it now for sure! Definitely going to be seeing more of Penolore and her plans in act 3.


-----------------------


Chapter XXVII – Missing in Action

The City of Kings was much too cold for the future king. Cain drew his heavy cloak in tightly to ward off the cold winds of the drafty stone city as he climbed the steps to the Palace of the Kings. Guardsmen and guardswomen bowed their heads respectfully while he passed through in the company of the Blue Palace guards that had escorted him to Eastmarch all the way from Whiterun. It had been a bumpy carriage ride, but the driver knew the land and safely brought them to the snowy city in only a few days’ time.

Cain noted the weatherworn plaques on the high stone walls and marveled at some of the names they bore. The legacy of this city could not be argued, even if it was slightly tarnished in more recent years. At the end of a long entry courtyard stood two impressively tall doors of timber inlaid with intricate wrought iron designs. A guard knocked twice upon the left-hand leaf, and it swung open effortlessly, a testament to the value of excellent craftsmanship and continued maintenance. The Jarl’s hall stretched out before Cain and his escorts, with a long dining table spanning the center that ended right near a raised plinth.

On the plinth sat a throne. And on the throne sat a rare sight: someone other than a Nord in charge of a capital city. Duren Gililo hailed from the Gray Quarter of Windhelm, and in the years since the Stormcloak rebellion failed, he’d risen from a bartender at the cornerclub to the Jarl of Windhelm.

“Greetings, Cain Windborne,” Duren called across the hall. “Come join us for supper. I’m sure it has been a long and cold journey to our humble city.”

Duren’s steward, whose name Cain did not yet catch, gestured towards an empty seat near the top of the table. He thanked the man and sat down directly across from the Jarl while the cadre of escort guards took up posts alongside the palace guards and kept keen eyes trained on the hall’s ingress points.

“Thank you, Jarl Duren. It has indeed been a cold journey, but nothing that warm clothes and a touch of magick can’t handle.”

“Ah, you have a penchant for the ‘clever craft’ as so many Nords tend to call it,” said Duren. “It’ll be a welcome change were the High King more open to the arcane arts...”

“I practice a touch of Restoration and Alteration,” acknowledged Cain. “From my time in the Fighter’s Guild of Anvil. Many warriors rely too strongly on potions. However, they did eventually come to see the wisdom of having a field medic, which meant I usually got to pick and choose which jobs I took.”

“But then you do not fear magick, like so many of the citizens of Skyrim?”

“Not at all. In fact, my fiancé is an accomplished mage, as are my sisters.”

They broke bread and filled their mead glasses from copper ewers while Duren digested this unforeseen kernel of information. With the College of Winterhold regaining prominence, and new Jarl’s such as himself finally making contributions to Skyrim at large, perhaps the old prejudices could start to wither. And the High Queen herself possibly being magickally inclined? It was almost too good to be true.

“I had not heard you were expected to marry once again,” said Duren. “We all of course heard about the loss of Anska of Stonehills last year. It is pleasing to know that her demise did not temper your existence. Losing those we love is never easy.”

“It’s a recent development, Duren. The news is only a few days old, in fact. But rest assured that my Gwyndala will make sure the entire province knows her name. She already has some strong notions about the educational systems in this land. Or lack thereof.”

“How interesting. I’d love to speak further about such subjects, but we unfortunately must discuss the minutia of bureaucracy while I have you in these halls, Mr. Windborne. I’ll ask my steward to bring out some more mead for these discussions. Or perhaps some sujamma, if you are so inclined?”

Cain agreed to the Jarl’s initial terms, and they were soon poring over various documents on Eastmarch’s financial holdings and operational guidelines.





Candlehearth Hall offered little in the ways of entertainment, which suited Cain just fine. He was more than happy to order supper and catch up on his reading while his escort milled about keeping close tabs on the few patrons who felt up to leaving the comfort of their warm homes for camaraderie at the local tavern.

Besides, he was never truly alone.

My ass hurts so much. Gwyn’s voice trickled into his mind just as Cain turned a page. He replaced his bookmark and set the book down. This was a stupid idea.

Are you almost there?

Yeah. And let me guess… you’re sitting comfortably by a warm fire?

I can go stand out in the snow if it would make you feel better.

Don’t be an ass.

Love you, too.

The door to the inn swung open on the floor below and despite being up a flight of stairs in the open loft, Cain still felt the influx of cold air from beyond. He had just picked up his book again when hurried footsteps clambered up the stairs, and a courier bearing the Windborne family crest on his tunic darted over to Cain’s table.

“My lord,” bowed the courier. “I have a message from Solitude for you.” He handed Cain a sealed scroll, saluted hastily, and left to order a drink.
Curious as to that this could be, Cain unfurled the note and read it by candlelight.


Cain,
Riften can wait. Take your escort across the western road out of Windhelm and turn north near the Weynon Stones. Delphine and her guards have not reported back, and my scouts are unable to locate their whereabouts. Search for them in Duskglow Crevice and return to the palace with any information you can glean. And be careful.
Kirin


Frowning over the implications, he barely registered the tavern maid stopping by the table to refill his tankard. Nor did he notice her very unsubtle attempts at flirting.

Did that bitch just touch your arm? Do I need to come over there and explain who the [censored] I am?

Shaking free of his reverie, Cain smiled to himself. Not necessary, Gwyn. I wasn’t paying attention to her anyway. Just got a note from dad: something may have happened to Delphine. I’m off to follow her tracks in the morning.

There was a pause; and then: I don’t like that. Please be careful.

Always.

-----

The carriage driver refused to take them along the necessary road due to what he claimed were ‘unsafe moorings’ for the bridge across the River Yorgrim, so Cain exercised some of his authority and had the local garrison outfit he and his men with horses. He rode atop a gorgeous cream-colored Palamino with a well-tempered disposition and chatted with his Captain while they started the journey west.

“What do you make of it, Lorn?”

“My gut isn’t happy, if’n that’s what your askin’ milord,” replied Captain Lorn.

A stout Nord, Lorn had been a part of his escort since the first time Cain reasoned with his dad to have them dismissed, citing that he and Gwyn were more than capable of defending themselves. But he thought it wise to cave on the matter this time when they went their separate ways. Cain found that the captain had a good mind for tactics, and they often debated the merits of strategy and the history of warfare while they traveled. He knew Lorn would be someone he relied upon in the near future.

“I feel the same,” said Cain. “Something stinks, and I don’t think it will be chaurus scat.”

“Have you ever faced a chaurus?”

“Aye, once. There was a stray in the swamps of Hjaalmarch that attacked us. This was back when I first came to Skyrim, mind you, on our way up to High Gate.”

“Good. Then I won’t have ta warn you about the acid they spit!”

The sun rose higher and higher as the group trotted along the cobblestone road at a decent clip. Cain hoped to reach the cave Delphine had marked on his map in Dawnstar within a handful of days. They were making good time so far, but by late afternoon a fierce snow squall impeded their progress, and they had to hunker down for the night at the small hamlet nestled around Anga’s Mill. The lack of an inn meant pitching the tents, which the weather made all the more difficult.

Finally nestled inside his own modest tent Cain concluded that there was little to do other than continue reading from his book on Skyrim’s High Kings. He flipped through the rather dry pages on historical figures that his dad gave him, only pausing to read in-depth about the more prominent names that he knew. Eventually, his eyes began to droop, and he gave into the fatigue of a long day riding through the cold.

-----

A rocky path departed the road north into the heart of The Pale and led up a craggy snow-covered hillside. The entrance to Duskglow Crevice sat nestled into the side of a cliff and was barely discernible from its surroundings due to the overgrown brush and trees obscuring the little known Falmer den. Two escort guards armed with longswords led the way, hewing a path through the growth.

When they reached the cave mouth, Cain knelt down in the hard-packed snow but was unable to pick out any footprints or tracks. If something had happened, the evidence had been wiped clean.

“Weapons at the ready men.”

“I’ll lead, sir,” said Lorn. “Please step back.”

“No, I need all of you behind me,” instructed Cain. “Otherwise, our main advantage will be useless. And trust me when I say you do not want to be in front of me if I use the Thu’um.”

Captain Lorn deferred to Cain’s command of the situation and ordered the other men to draw their weapons and stay close behind their charge. Unfortunately, like all of the other Falmer dens that were visited over the last couple months, Duskglow Crevice turned out to be more of the same.

Empty.

“None of this makes any sense,” said Cain. “We know Delphine came here in a company at least matching our strength. How can they all have disappeared without a trace?”

“Doesn’t help that it’s so fetchin’ dark in ‘ere,” said Lorn. Torches and magick only help so much.”

Wishing he’d bothered to learn a Night Eye spell, or even pack a potion, his frustration nearly boiled over until Cain laughed suddenly, and clapped Lorn heartily on the back. “You’re a genius, cap. Go outside and fetch our rearguard. Sakiir can probably see anything and everything in these damn caves!”

Lorn saluted smartly, grabbed a replacement for Sakiir, and double-timed it back to the cave system’s entrance.

You only just thought of that? Gwyn asked, smugly. How long has the cat been with you now? Some leader you’re shaping up to be…

Shut up.

You know I love you.

Cain seems to get on well enough with the Jarl of Windhelm with similar views on the utility of magic.

Well, Duskglow Crevice is a good start on trying to track the missing Delphine. I liked the scene where Cain insisted on leading the party. Rather than failing to recognize that Captain Lorn is replaceable but Prince Cain is not, or falling guilty to more guts than brains, he quickly explained the undebatable wisdom of his tactical choice that kept him free to use the Thu’um if necessary.

You continue to do a great job bringing the thoughts of Gwyn and Cain together in a wonderfully believable manner. I don’t believe Cain will ever finish reading his book though.

Good idea to bring up a Khajiit to help enlighten the party in this dark cave.

Writing Cain and Gwyn's inner conversations have become my favorite parts. Or Gwyn with Linneá. I'm sensing a pattern there. Anyhoo... let's get into the heart of the matter:

0==={----------------->

Chapter XXVIII – The Underdark

The level of darkness Delphine found herself in took some time to get used to. The depths of black made it hard to see even her own hand hovering inches from her face, and her cellmate, Retnarr, may as well have been in a different cell altogether. Thankfully, the despondent Nord seemed content to remain on his own side of the roughly eight-by-eight enclosure. After months of imprisonment, he didn’t exactly smell like roses.

Only the occasional torch of a passing guard offered any kind of light to dispel the darkness. They also took exception to her candlelight spell the first time Delphine made the mistake of not snuffing it out for a passing patrol. The thuggish guard butted the hilt of his sword right into her chest as recompense. That left quite the bruise on her sternum.

All in all, it had been quite the day since she was unceremoniously tossed into this dark pit.

“Retnarr, are you sure you don’t know where they’ve stuck us?”

“This again?” he rasped. “I told ya all I know, woman. The goldskins knocked me out cold afore the sun came up. Last I knew, we was near Loreius Farm.”

“Hm. How often do the guards come by? Have you been watching their schedule? So far, it seems pretty regular as far as feeding us goes.”

“Every thirty-three minutes.”

Delphine blinked pointlessly a few times; despite knowing he could not see her surprised reaction at this extremely pertinent piece of information. She did not expect such a detailed pattern recognition by a man who by all rights appeared to have given up any hope of escaping his fate.

“Retnarr, that… wait, were you in the Legion?”

“Aye. Served under Tullius himself when we put down Ulfric’s lot. Got me honorable discharge seven years ago.”

“That explains your attention to detail.”

Knowing how often the guard’s rounds were without having to observe it for herself certainly sped things up in Delphine’s mind, and she began to drum up a reconnaissance plan. The lack of light in their general area meant that she could easily slip out of the cell and explore nearby. To test the merits of this endeavor, she crept over to the heavy cell door and groped her hand around the bars to gauge their composition. A soft rap confirmed her suspicion: they were iron.

“What ‘re ya up to, Delph?”

“I plan on taking a stroll after the guard passes by again.”

“Oh yeah? And jus’ how do ya plan on doin’ that?”

“Like this.” Delphine felt her way down to where the latch was affixed to the bars and placed a hand on the back of the lock mechanism. She cast a powerful Latch Crack spell on it and the soft click made her grin. She quickly relocked it and shimmied back over to her corner. “It’s not a very complicated lock, Retnarr. I can slip out and take a look around with the elves being none the wiser.”

“Magick?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Doesn’t have ta be if’in you keep it to yerself.”

Delphine rolled her eyes. “Why are so many of you Nords obtuse about the use of magick? I’ve just shown you that we could possibly escape from this place and all you can say is ‘keep it away from me’? I’m not going to light your trousers on fire, Retnarr.”

“Why are you Bretons so full of yerselves?”

There didn’t seem to be a point in arguing with the man, so Delphine settled in to wait for the guard to pass their cell again. An anxious feeling of getting underway began to take root but years of experience in subterfuge tamped that down in a hurry and she decided to count at least three cycles of the patrol route for her own devices.

True to Retnarr’s word, the Thalmor guard strutted past their cell regularly between thirty-two and thirty-three minutes. Eager to discover where exactly they were being held, Delphine waited an additional five minutes before unlocking the cell door, casting a chameleon spell, and slinking off into the dark hallway in the same direction the guard went. She felt her way forward with one hand on the wall until that same hand felt the rough stone of a rock wall abruptly transition to a splintered wooden door. Pressing an ear to the door, she held her breath and listened intently for voices or the shuffle of boots in the dirt.

All remained quiet. Delphine slowly pushed the door open, knowing it would not squeak else she would have heard it from her cell. An empty larder waited for her on the other side, but it wasn’t the upturned sacks or bare shelves devoid of supplies that caught her eye: it was the drastic change in architecture. The natural walls of the corridor containing their cell turned out to be the unfinished backside of the carefully carved and finished walls of a Dwemer ruin.

Another door stood across from her and the difference from the ramshackle wooden door could not be understated. The eternal sheen of dwarven metal twinkled under the soft glow of a Dwemer chandelier dangling over the room’s center. Delphine tried the handle and found it unlocked. She took a deep breath and cracked it open just far enough to peer into what lay beyond.

“Gods above,” she muttered.

Deciding that was enough for a single trip, she gently closed the door and scampered back to her cell where Retnarr snored away in the corner. She locked the cell door and popped back into the visible spectrum, pacing back and forth.

A low grumble emanated from the shadows, followed by a rustling of linen on stone. “Can ya stop wit yer stompin’ ‘round?” said Retnarr.

“Sorry. It helps me think.”

“Aye. Me captain used ta do the same thing. Didja find out anything of use?”

“I suppose so,” said Delphine. “At least I know where we are being held now, though I don’t think anyone will find us anytime soon.”

“It’s somethin’, I guess,” replied Retnarr. “Don’ be bashful-like, go’on and spit it out.”

“We’re in Blackreach.”

-----

The field office of Magister Lisotel stood near the elevator that descended from the heart of the Dwemer ruins of Alftand in southern Winterhold. It was a modest building of dwarven make that featured a fireplace, bed, a few storage shelves, and an excellent alchemy lab. All it took to make it livable during his stint in Skyrim was to have a few grunts clean up the cobwebs and toss a dusty pile of bones around the back.

His desk overflowed with maps of Skyrim, troop reports, and letters from Alinor. Lisotel pored over a new map delivered that very morning with a growing ire at the lack of relevant information pertaining to his needs.

“Imiril!” he shouted towards the door. “Get in here!”

An armored guard bearing the Thalmor crest double-timed it through the door and stood at the ready. “Sire?”

"Is this really the best your men can do? This offers nothing of use!” Lisotel crumpled up the parchment map and threw it angrily into the roaring fire.

“The scout reports have been unchanged for the last several weeks, sire. If there are still Falmer out there we do not know where they have gone. It’s possible they have a retreat that not even the Nords are aware of – even our contacts in the cities.”

“What about the king’s brats who were spotted in Dragon Bridge? Do we know where they went?”

“We do not.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

Lieutenant Imiril wasted no time in retreating to the safer if albeit dark and hostile expanse of Blackreach, the massive underground cavern spanning much of central Skyrim.

Lisotel moodily kicked at a mouse that had the misfortune of seeking warmth in his domicile and the poor creature struck the wall under his desk and fell to the floor inert. Deciding a spot inspection on the proceedings would help to clear his mind, he put on his emblazoned cloak and headed outside, bound for the Silent City. Everlasting torches lit the road leading towards the center of Blackreach that sat beneath the massive artificial sun: an unparalleled achievement of Dwemer technology that went otherwise ignored by the Thalmor occupiers in the city.

And just underneath that immense glowing orb beat the heart of their operations in Skyrim. The heart of all their plans to defeat a foe and his family they were unable to contend with by mortal means. Scores of Thalmor troops donned in an array of golden armors or dark black robes slowly ushered forth the creatures they considered lesser to elves to a grim fate. A dwindling supply of Falmer, goblins, and Rieklings were fed one-by-one into the ever-growing and increasingly erratic Dark Heart of Namira, an artifact of untold power. Long forgotten to the annals of time, the Heart floated menacingly in the city center. Utterly black, the spherical shard of the primal Void pulsed a blue-green aura and crackled with magicka that threatened to swallow the land whole the more unstable it grew.