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Onward through the grey ash, hanging in the air. Onward past the burned-out husks that were once homes. Past the blackened skeletons, still with chunks of smouldering meat clinging to them. Onward our generals urged us, through the clouds of thick black smoke, towards the source of the fire and confusion. Ignore the heat, ignore the burning in your lungs, they said. Ignore the questions in your mind I told myself. Past the battlefield, towards the camp of the enemy. The enemy, the Khajiit, who walked like men but looked and acted like animals. The Khajiit had invaded our lands, killed our people and destroyed our towns. They had no concept of property, of ownership, of civilization. They took what they wanted, by force. Barbaric savages, all of them. "Kill them, all " they told us. "They're just animals. Defend our home, defend Valenwood." We left the battlefield behind us, and trudged through the thinning forest, bringing the enemy encampment into view. Small buildings stood ahead, unguarded, for their guards lay in burning piles miles behind us. Burn it to the ground they told us. Teach them to never come to Valenwood again. Hatred of the foul enemy drove us to obey, fear of our leaders prevented us from questioning our orders. I remember the acrid, toxic smell that burned my eyes and coated my lungs in black slime that I coughed up for days after. I remember every Khajiit I slew. I remember the panic in their eyes, and the exact moment when it was extinguished and replaced by dull grey nothing as their body stopped moving and suddenly there was one less soul in the world, taking a bit of my own with it as it departed. When it was done, and the camp was nothing but ashes, I left. I left the battlefield, but it didn't leave me. It would stay with me for a very, very long time.

** A Less Rude Tale ** Part 1

30 years later

I hadn't slept in six days because if I slept I would dream, and return to that burning, ashen hell that has haunted me for the last three decades. Eventually I would start hallucinating, and that would be just as bad as the nightmares. One time I went a week without sleeping, and woke up in an Imperial prison. The guards wouldn't tell me what I had done, but they released me on the condition that I could never enter that city again. I was pretty sure the soldiers below me weren't imagined, though. There were two of them, and a prisoner they held captive. They were camped at the base of a cliff, I was perched 30 feet above them. I kept back from the edge, and stooped low so that until only my head was visible. The soldiers must have been Thalmor. The Thalmor were the military of the High Elf Aldmeri Dominion: they had recently invaded and occupied my current home of Skyrim. I had seen them before, patrolling the roads. The official story was that they were looking out for criminals to keep citizens safe, but more often than not, the people they caught were rebels who would undermine the rule of the Thalmor. They always travelled in a group of three, though. I wonder whether the third one was dead or missing. The leader must have been seven feet tall, he wore no armour, only a long black cloak and hood. The other soldiers avoided his gaze, and more than once, I saw him abruptly stoke the fire or sharpen his sword to avoid eye contact when he approached. A Wood Elf like myself might pass for a High Elf, if a rather short one, and only if I didn't get too close. So I could probably avoid them if I needed to. And I knew I should avoid them, since simply being around them was risking my life. But I was curious about the prisoner they had. He was turned away from me, a hood over his head, kneeling between me and the fire so I could only see a silhouette. I couldn't tell from here, but he was probably a human, possibly a rebel, and was being hauled away to the Thalmor Embassy far to the north, to be interrogated or executed. The Thalmor were known to capture anyone suspected of undermining their annexation of Skyrim. It didn't matter if that prisoner was actually guilty or not. Skyrim would be a better place without them. I had my bow, and from here I could fire down on them and they wouldn't even know until they had an arrow in their skull. I bounced the idea around in my head. What did I have to lose, my life? I snorted silently to myself. Without taking my eyes off the leader, I quietly reached back and pulled an arrow from the quiver at my back. I pulled back the arrow and sighted along its length. I slowly let out a breath and relaxed my fingers, letting the bowstring slip... The one man on guard sat by the fire, gazing into it. He poked at it absentmindedly and looked up, not at me, but at the stars. I paused, just holding the arrow back with my fingertips. I wonder what he was thinking. Of his home? Did he have a family waiting for him? I wondered what made him choose this life, or whether he even had a choice. I gripped the string more securely. I shook my head and tried to concentrate. No, these men deserved to die. They were probably murderers themselves. They had a captive, and if they saw me they would probably take me as well, if they didn't kill me on sight. I aimed down the arrow again. Don't think of them as people. It was no different from shooting an animal. And then, I heard his voice in my head. "They're just animals. Defend our home." I almost dropped my bow. Was this any different that one night, so many years ago? I didn't consider the Khajiit to be people either. So why they plead for mercy while I stood over them with a bloody sword? Why did they beg for in the name of every God they knew? More importantly, why hadn't I listened? I tried to push the memory out of my mind, as I had a thousand times before. I could deal with it later. Now, I had a job to do. The weight of my bow was comforting. Slowly, my breathing returned to normal. But the memory remain, like a rock stuck in the sole of my boot. "I'm sorry," I whispered, thinking of the prisoner. He would have to wait. Maybe I could talk or bribe the soldiers, get them to release the prisoner, but I wouldn't kill them. I lowered my bow and at that moment I heard the unmistakable snap of a branch. Right behind me. I whipped around, aiming with the arrow, but he was already on me. Another Thalmor soldier, the missing third one. With one motion of his powerful arms he grabbed my bow and wrenched it from my hand, flinging it to the ground. With another, he pulled out a short sword and held it to my throat. "On your knees, Wood Elf." The sword pricked at my throat, and I could hear the other soldiers approach from behind me. I obliged and knelt in front of him. He walked around to my back and ran his hands through my jacket, finding my dagger and thrusting it into his own belt. "There's been a mistake. I wasn't-" I started but was interrupted by a "shut up" and a kick to the ribs that caused me to double over in pain. He pulled me up by my hands, tying them behind my back with rough rope. "Walk," he said, and shoved me to the direction of their camp. What choice did I have? I stumbled down to the camp, and he pushed me down to my knees near their fire. The other prisoner, the bag still over his head, looked up at the sound. The soldier wrapped a blindfold over my eyes. The next thing I knew was sharp pain pain at the base of my skull, then darkness as consciousness left me.

The corpses of burned trees, some with still-glowing embers, stabbed through the thick grey smog. Ash covered the forest floor like a thick blanket. We kicked up clouds of it as we marched onward. My company pressed on, pushed forward by our general. The enemy was near. The enemy that dared to come to our forest, kill our people, destroy our homes. We held our weapons close, and continued. Ahead, a dull orange glow. And the sounds of battle. When we got to the village, it had been burned to the ground. What was once a pleasant fishing town near the river, was now a field of broken and smouldering wood. The burned-out husks of houses, the smell of singed flesh and hair. Blackened skeletons still clutching tier faces, mouths opened in a silent scream. The Khajiit inhabitants were still there. Some stood and fought, most ran when they saw us, and fell to our arrows. The battle itself was a blur of screams, choking ash, the heat of the fire. I found myself in the still-burning tent in the enemy's encampment, alone with an enemy Khajiit. He was disarmed, on the ground, arms desperately shielding himself. "Please," he said in that strange, foreign accent they all have. "Just let Khajiit go." My sword was already wet with his blood. It dripped steadily onto the floor. Red drops on grey ash.

I gasped and jerked awake, lying on my back. It took me a moment to remember where I was, then I recalled the events of last night. Trying to get the drop on those soldiers, imagining myself a hero, just to save one prisoner. Then getting caught myself. What was I thinking? I shivered in my cold sweat. I struggled to get up, my arms were numb from sleeping on them, and the back of my head throbbed painfully. I craned my neck to see the other captive, and stopped. It was a she, and she was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing deeply, like she was meditating. She was wearing an elaborate but travel-stained green cloak. And she was a Khajiit. The last thing in the world I wanted to see. If I knew this prisoner was a Khajiit, I would have left her without a thought. I craned my neck to see the soldiers who had captured me. They were some distance away, picking up their bedrolls, getting ready to leave. "Hello?" I called. They ignored me. At the sound of me moving, the Khajiit stopped her deep breathing and her eyes snapped open, revealing bright green irises which focused on me. "Quiet, my friend," she whispered. I ignored her. "Excuse me," I called over to them. "It's not going to work," she insisted. The tall leader strode walked over to me, his cloak billowing behind him. He towered above me. "Do you have a problem, Bosmer?" he asked, using the elven term for Wood Elf. I had to think of something, quick. "I'm sorry for what happened," I said. "I know it looked like, like I was trying to shoot you. But I was just being cautious. I always keep my bow strung and ready." He laughed. "Do you keep it aimed and drawn at anyone you can see? Just to be cautious? No, you would have tried to kill us if I hadn't stopped you." "If you let me go, this will be the last you see of me. You can keep my weapons, and I'll pay you whatever I have." He smirked. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out a coin purse. My coin purse, I recognized. He shook it in front of my face. "You already did. But as for you and your Khajiit friend, we're taking you to the Embassy, as is our duty to the Dominion. Enemies of the Thalmor do not go unpunished." "I'm not an enemy of Thalmor, and we're not friends." I said, exasperated. "I was-" "You were tracking us since last night, and you attacked us to get to her," he interrupted. "The average bandit wouldn't go through the trouble." "I just want you to-" In one swift movement he grabbed me by my neck, pulled out his sword, and held the tip to my mouth. He spoke deliberately and slowly, "I am Justiciar Felcrothen of the High Elf Aldmeri Dominion, and you are nothing but another bandit, and you are trying my patience. You will hold your tongue or by Auri-el, I will cut it out. Now, when I want to hear something from you, I will ask. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Good. I don't want to hear another word until we get to the Embassy." He let me drop to my knees, sending a sharp pain through my legs. "Time to march. Get up," he turned to the Khajiit. "You too, cat." At the sound of the word cat she bared her sizable fangs and hissed at him. For the first time I noticed the dried blood on the side of her face, the slight swollen bulge around her eye. Felcrothen stormed away and the other soldiers quickly moved out of his path. We travelled steadily north and I trudged along behind the soldiers. Why didn't I just kill them when I had the chance? Or at least run away? My stomach ached with hunger. It had been at least a full day since I last ate, and our captors showed no sign of sharing any of their food with us. I wondered if I would be lucky enough to starve to death before we reached wherever we were going. They had bound our hands behind our backs with rough rope that cut into my wrists, We walked for hours, occasionally stopping to watch the soldiers eat. Then it was back on the road, marching north. The Khajiit walked in front of me. I noticed she was favouring her right leg, and walked with a limp. It looked like it was getting worse. We stopped, the soldiers left us alone for a bit while they talked among themselves. When they were turned away, I took off my boots and felt under the cloth lining. I still had two 10-Septim gold pieces hidden in the sole, as well as my lock picks, for emergencies. That was at least something. I hid them and put my boot back on before they saw me and leaned against a rock and closed my eyes for a minute. I had forgotten how tired I was.

My sword was already wet with his blood. It dripped steadily onto the floor. Red drops on grey ash. I could feel the rage burning as I looked at the Khajiit in front of me. He had come to my home and burned my forest, destroyed homes and killed innocent people. I swung at his neck, but he jerked away, causing my sword to rip through the first two inches of flesh. His scream turned into a sickening, wet sound like gargling water as he choked on his own blood. I'll never forget that sound. Nothing else sounds like that. He was squirming, convulsing on the ground as his blood painted the inside of the tent. His hands flew up to his neck, desperately, uselessly, trying to staunch the flow. Wildly, I swung again, hoping to end him quickly. But I was shaking, and he was moving too much, I couldn't hit him. For a second, for an eternity, his eyes locked into mine, I could see the question in his mind. "Why?" He stopped moving and the better part of my soul went with him.

"Wake up!" I woke up with a gasp and tried to get up. I hadn't intended to fall asleep. The Khajiit was kneeling next to me, her furred face above mine. "You were having a nightmare. I thought-" "I'm fine," I said, pushing her off me. The last thing I needed was a Khajiit taking care of me. She frowned and said impatiently, "We can help each other." "I don't need your help," I snapped. "Yes you do," she insisted. "I want to escape, but I need your help to do it. You don't look like you have an escape plan." She was right. I looked around for our captors, but they were turned away, talking to themselves. "What do you have in mind?" I asked. "I can bite through these ropes, easily. But they must have known that, they tied my hands behind my back. Next nightfall, while they sleep, I can try to bite through yours. Then you can untie me and we can flee." That seemed easy enough. I tested the ropes around my wrists. The rough cords had little give. "Are you sure you can get through them?" "I can try" she said. "There's no harm in trying." Except you might make our situation worse I thought. Instead, I said, "Alright, when we get free we make for the woods. I can find my way home from there." When I said the word "home" her eyes dropped. She opened her mouth and closed it. She looked back up to me. "You can call me Tsartia," she pronounced it 'Sar-shya' and her tongue rolled along the r. "Are you far from home?" "I was born in Valenwood, but live in Skyrim, in Falkreath." And after a pause: "My name is Delrien Fleetford." "I wish we could have met in better times, Delrien," she said. She glanced towards the soldiers and moved away from me before they noticed. They made camp for the night. One kept watch while the other two fell asleep almost immediately. The one on guard kept an eye on us for an hour or so while we pretended to sleep, then stared pacing around the camp, leaving our sight for a few minutes at a time. Tsartia lay close to the fire, but I stayed some distance away. She scooted over to me. "Delrien, I never apologized for getting you captured." "You don't need to apologize," I said. "It wasn't your fault." "It is. If I hadn't got captured, you wouldn't have either. I'm sorry. I wish I could repay you somehow." "It's okay," I said. "Just help me escape and you're forgiven." "Thank you, Delrien." I hesitated, then said, "You can just call me Del. Everyone does." "You may continue calling me Tsartia," she said, smiling. I couldn't tell if she was teasing me, it was hard to read her face in the dim light. I noticed her ears were different colours, one was light grey, the other, dark brown, like the rest of her fur. "Do you think we can escape now?" I asked. "Not yet," she said. "Wait until he gets tired. There are three guards, they will take turns on watch, one after another, for a bit less than three hours each. We can wait until his watch is almost done, then escape." I nodded. This Khajiit was clever. Maybe having her around wasn't so much of a liability after all. I watched as the fire slowly burned down. An hour later, our guard walked to the edge of the forest, stumbling in the low light. "Now, Tsartia. Quickly," I hissed. I rolled over and presenting my bound hands to her and she started working on the ropes with her teeth. She nicked me painfully more than once, but I kept silent. She was at it for a minute when I felt them loosen. A few seconds more, and my hands were free. I pulled them painfully from my back and cracked my wrists. Tsartia sat up facing away from me, and I started working on her ropes. They were tight, but I managed to make progress. I was almost done when I heard the guard come striding back to the fire. I froze. He would see me in a few seconds. I decided to risk it. I undid the last knots and as I quickly pulled the cords away from Tsartia's wrists, the guard saw me. "Stop!" he yelled loudly. Then to his companions, "The prisoners are escaping!" "Go!" I whispered in her ear, pulling her to her feet. The other soldiers woke up and scrambled to their feet. Felcrothen was up first, he crossed the distance with surprising swiftness and lunged at me, grabbing a handful of my shirt. "You think you can escape the Thalmor that easily? We're not-ahhhh!" Tsartia had grabbed a burning branch from the fire and thrust it into his face. He screamed, clutching his eye. Then we were off. Running, running, as fast as we could, into the cover of the woods. I looked back. One soldier was with Felcrothen, holding his face, the one was coming after us. "Wait, Del," I looked back and Tsartia was lagging behind, favouring her injured leg. I seriously considered leaving, but I quickly put the thought out of my mind. She helped me escape, and I couldn't leave her, if only out of a sense of loyalty. I ran back to her, put my shoulder under her arm, and half-carried her onward. We reached the line of trees and were plunged into near complete darkness. I stumbled over a hidden root and fell, taking her with me. "Follow my lead," She said. "I can see fine in the dark." Her bright, feline eyes glinted in the dim moonlight. We ran like this, her leading while I supported her, I don't know for how long, weaving through the forest in random directions, until I lost all sense of direction and time. My hunger and fatigue disappeared; I was full of adrenaline, fear kept me moving. We paused for breath, trying to hear if they were following us. We ran some more. Trees whipped by us in a blur, a branch struck my cheek below my eye, and I hardly noticed. We passed over a road and travelled steadily uphill, up a mountain whose name I didn't know. The trees started to thin out, we eventually slowed and stopped. I collapsed on the ground, panting. Tsartia leaned against a tree and gulped in air. "I don't think I can run any more," I gasped. She spat on the ground. "No. Me neither," and braced her hands on her knees. I sat up. We had reached a small pond, in a grove of trees. It seemed peaceful, serene lit by the dim light of the moons. I was drenched in sweat from my excursion. I stripped off my leather coat to my plain undershirt. The air was still warm from the summer day but felt cool against my skin. I heard Tsartia groan. She had pulled up her robe and was gingerly inspecting her injured leg. "What happened to your leg?" I asked. "I twisted my ankle two days ago, trying to escape. It got worse when we ran." "I can take a look at it, if you want," I offered. "I'm not too bad with my hands." She presented her leg to me, making her cloak part down the middle. I felt her leg, near the ankle. It was slightly swollen, but not badly. Her leg bent in a strange way, but not due to her injury. Her foot was much longer than mine, and the ankle was raised up, so she walked on her toes like a cat. Not all Khajiit were like this, I remembered reading about the different forms of the Khajiit but couldn't recall the exact name of her particular form. Still, I was sure I'd be able to help her even if her body was different than what I was used to. "Do you think I need a splint?" she asked. "Probably. It never hurts to be sure." I searched the trees and found a few sticks that looked strong enough to do the job, and brought them over to her. I looked for something to use as rope, and found that my blindfold was still around my neck, so I used that. She sat down on a boulder and I crouched in front of her, and started making the splint. "Were you a healer, back home?" she asked. "I was a smith. But I learned how to do some basic healing when I was in the army." She kept her eyes on my hands. "So how did you end up in Skyrim?" "I was born in the city of Greenheart," I began, referring to the ancient forests of my people in the southwest of Tamriel. "I started out making lock picks, I was good at that, but I liked making jewellery I was happy doing that, but my father wanted me to join the army, like him. He said making jewellery was a woman's job. I told him I didn't want to join the army because I prefer to build things instead of destroy them. He... didn't take that very well." I rubbed my jaw unconsciously. Even though she was a Khajiit, she was a good listener, so I was happy to continue talking. I absorbed myself in my task. It felt good to be working with my hands again. Her short fur was alien but very soft. It tickled my hands as I worked around it. I continued: "There were always skirmishes along the border of Valenwood. About thirty years ago, they got so bad that I was conscripted into the Valenwood army. But I didn't last very long before I quit. I moved away from Greenheart, to a city called Arenthia in the north of Valenwood. I settled down, had a wife. But that didn't last long, either. She wanted children, and I didn't. So I just kind of..." I paused, searching for the right word. "...wandered until I settled down in Skyrim. I set up a small shop in the town of Falkreath. I've been living there for a few years." "What did you do in the army?" she asked. _ The smell of singed flesh and hair. Blackened skeletons with chunks of smouldering meat still clinging to them._ "Ow!" Tsartia yelped. I had pulled the binding a little too hard. "Sorry. I, ah... I don't want to talk about it," I ended lamely, avoiding her gaze. I wanted to change the subject, quickly. I finished tying the last knot. "My wife said I was a coward for quitting," I said bitterly, then regretted it. I didn't mean to say that last part. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you." "You're not boring me," she said as she inspected the splint. "Thanks, that looks good." She made a chuckling sound and looked up at me. "Is the reason you're so good with your hands because you haven't had a wife for so long?" she said, grinning. I made a kind of grimace as I tried not to smile. "No, it's because it used to be my job to-" "I know. It was a joke," she said. I leaned back on my hands. "You're not from Elsweyr, are you?" "How can you tell?" "You don't talk like most Khajiit. You talk like an elf," I said. She took a while to answer and said, "I've never been to Elsweyr. I was born in Morrowind, so I learned to talk like the Dark Elves there." "Morrowind?" I asked. "What brought you all the way here?" She drew her legs up to her chest and hugged them. "I was a slave, for a family of Dunmer. I was born on a Saltrice plantation near a town called Narsis. My mother raised me on her own, but once I was old enough to work the fields, I rarely saw her except during meals in the slave bunkhouse. I worked the fields, standing in the swamp, picking Saltrice weeds, putting them in a basket. All day, every day. For ten years," she looked at her hands, flexing her claws, as if in memory. "We Khajiit are made for the warm sands of Elsweyr," she said wistfully. "I wish I could see my homeland one day." I didn't know what to say. I heard of Khajiit slaves before but it seemed so far off and distant to me. Despite myself, I felt sorry for her. She looked so small, and vulnerable sitting on the rock by herself. "How did you escape?" I asked. "My mother distracted the guards. She had been sick for a while, and wasn't going to get better. The medicine to save her would have cost a few Septims, but the life of a slave is worthless, so our owners didn't bother. She said if she knew she was going to die, it might as well be for something. So she called the guards over and while they were distracted, I slipped out of our shared cell. I stole the key to my braces and some clothes, then I just wandered west, stealing or scavenging what food I could find. That was two weeks ago." She paused, and said very quietly, "I don't want to know what they did to her when they found out she helped me escape. Then when I was captured by the Thalmor a few days ago, I thought she died for nothing. But I guess I have you to thank for helping me escape," she looked up at me and smiled weakly. I thought I should put my arm around her shoulder or something. "We both helped each other," I said. "What was her name?" "Kiriel," she said softly. "I'm over it though. Growing up on the plantation, we're used to seeing people around us die. Almost every day." We sat in silence for a little while, the only sounds of the gently rippling pond, the soft hum of nocturnal insects. Very faintly, a distant, lonely wolf howl. I saw her glance at the amulet I wore around my neck. "What's that?" she asked. I pulled it off and let her hold it. "I made it," I explained. "A long time ago. It doesn't really mean anything to me. I just like the colour." she turned it over in her hands, looking at it closely. "It's not even a real emerald or anything," I said. "It's just a piece of green glass I found on the beach and polished." "I think it's beautiful," she said, running her fingers over the small green stone set in the middle of a decorative frame that ended in a dagger-shape on the bottom. It did match her eyes. I found myself wondering how it would look on her. She gave it back to me and I put it over my own neck.

* * *

The moons were rising higher. It must have been around midnight. It was cold out, but we decided not to risk a fire, the Thalmor could be out in the woods, searching for us. "You take some rest. I'll keep watch." I told Tsartia. I didn't want to get caught sleeping if they found us. She pulled off her cloak and handed it to me. "Here, have my cloak for the night. It's going to be cold." Hesitantly I asked, "Don't you want it?" "You'll need it more than I do. I have my own fur coat." I guess she was right. I took the cloak and ran my hands over the soft material. It was embroidered and studded with stones. "It's nice," I said. "I stole it." She said. "It was the first thing I found, not very inconspicuous but it's better than nothing." Briefly, the image flashed in my mind of a naked Khajiit running through town, being chased by angry villagers. She probably thought my grin was that of gratitude. "Thank you," I said, and I meant it. She laid down on top of one of the boulders we sat on earlier, where they still retained the warmth of the sun. I sat on a downed tree some distance away, wrapped up in her cloak, with the hood on. I rested my head on my knees and felt the soft material on my chin. It smelled nice. I couldn't put my finger on the scent, then it occurred to me, the scent was that of Tsartia. She'd been wearing it since I saw her. I looked up. She was lying on her side, facing away from me. The silver light gleamed on the edges of her robes, silhouetting her. I caught myself admiring her figure. She was fit from a lifetime of hard work, and it showed. Her robe was loose enough to reveal the feminine curves of her body, I found myself imagining, just for a second, what she looked like without it. Then I remembered she was a Khajiit, and put the thought out of my mind. I shook my head and smiled to myself. I must have been more tired than I thought. I stretched and tried to relax. It was going to be a long night. It must have been nearly dawn when I heard something rustling in the woods behind me which snapped me back to reality. I automatically reached for my bow, but it was gone, still in the hands of the Thalmor. I looked around for a stick, anything to use as a weapon. I swore to myself. I should have thought of this earlier. The snap of a branch, more rustling leaves, closer this time. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Should I wake up Tsartia? Would it even be worth running? Movement, to my left, barely visible in the dim moonlight. I crouched low. Out of the shadow of the trees walked... a deer. I slowly let out my breath. The deer watched me for a moment, large, curious eyes shining in the pale light. It sniffed the air, snuffled, and walked back the way it came, shuffling through the woods. My heart was still pounding, now I was totally alert. "You must be tired." I jumped, startled. Tsartia was awake, and sitting up. "I didn't know you were awake," I said. "You startled me." Even in the dim light, I could see she was smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. "I'm sorry. The deer just woke me up. I'll take watch until morning." "No, it's okay," I said. "I'm not tired. You can go back to sleep." She looked at me doubtfully. "Is it the nightmares?" I didn't say anything. "Do you have them often?" "Yes," I admitted. "They return almost every time I sleep. Especially when I think I'm in danger. Like last night." She walked over to me. "Lie down. I'll watch over you. If you start having nightmares, I'll wake you up. I promise." The adrenaline was gone, now I was too drained to argue. Reluctantly, I laid down on the rock which she had laid. It was still warm from her body. She knelt down near my head and cradled my head in her lap. She put her hands on the sides of my head and covered my eyes with her fingers. That was weird, but her warm, furred hands were soft and comforting. "My mother used to do this for me when I couldn't sleep." She started breathing slowly, deeply. She was...purring? It was strange, but relaxing. I found myself slipping away, and soon I was lost, floating in Oblivion, where it was quiet and peaceful. Nothing else existed but warm, enveloping and complete bliss.

* * *

When I woke up, it was late afternoon. I stretched and yawned, feeling better rested than I remembered being in a long time. I got up and looked around for Tsartia, but she was nowhere in sight. Had she left? I frowned. It would have been nice to at least say goodbye, and thank her. I heard rustling in the trees above me, and she dropped down from a branch, and I was surprised by the sense of relief I felt. "Don't worry, I didn't let you out of my sight. I just didn't want to wake you. There's a little village, to the north of here, over the river near a big bridge. It's not much more than a couple of houses and a mill. It looks like about an hour's walk. I'll head that way, I might be able to find work there or something. You're probably anxious to return home, aren't you?" "Home" I thought. Back to my workshop, alone. Back to my old life, and being haunted by my past. Back to the same nightmares ever time I slept. And yet, last night was the most peaceful night I've had in a decade, possibly ever. Was it a coincidence? Maybe. Maybe I just needed time to figure it out. "You know what?" I said, picking imaginary dirt off my fingernails. "Why don't you come with me to Falkreath? It's a big town, you could find work there easier than you could in this village." She paused, thinking. "You'd let me travel with you?" "Well, it wouldn't hurt to stick together," I said. "Especially if we're being hunted. And I might need someone to lead me through the dark again." She nodded. "Sounds like a plan." I looked up at the sun, more than halfway across the sky. "Although we wouldn't make it there today," I said. "We can spend the night in the village you saw. I'd rather not spend another night outside if we're still being hunted. We'll set out for Falkreath in the morning." We left the little lake and arrived in the village an hour later. There was a road sign that read, "Dragon Bridge" pointing to the town. It wasn't hard to see what gave the town it's name; there was a large bridge that led into the town, the arches which towered above the bridge were carved into dragon skulls that looked north and south. As we passed under the skulls, Tsartia turned to me and said, "Why do you think the town is called Dragon Bridge?" I looked up at the skulls, then back to her. Her expression was hard to read. "Are you serious?" I said. She stopped and returned my look. "What do you think?" "I think I'm beginning to get your humour, even if I don't find it funny yet." "Yes, that was called sarcasm." After informing her that I was indeed aware of the existence of sarcasm, we entered the town. There was a small tavern called the Four Shields on the south side of town. We went inside and approached the counter. The barkeep was a Nord woman with a strong, almost masculine face. She looked up at us and squinted. "Hope you ain't here to cause trouble," she warned. "I'm not," I said. "Just looking for a room for the night. For the two of us." Her eyes flickered over to Tsartia and back to me. If she thought it was strange that a Bosmer and Khajiit would spend the night together, she said nothing. "Sure thing. It's yours for a day," I paid 10 Septims for the room and headed for it. Tsartia grabbed my hand. "It's still early. We might as well get something to drink." "I don't really drink," I said. "Neither do I. It'll be fun." She looked like she was planning something. Her eyes gave it away. I went back to the barmaid and bought two bottle of Honningbrew Mead, the cheapest drinks they sold, using up half of what gold I was carrying. We went to the one free table and sat across from each other. "To avoiding capture," Tsartia said, holding her drink up. I clinked mine against hers. "So far." I sipped the drink. I wasn't used to drinking, and this mead was strong, and cheap tasting. It was good enough, though. It warmed my throat pleasantly as it travelled down. There was a bard standing in a corner, playing a lute. The few other people in the tavern were turned in their chairs, watching him. He strummed the lute, softly singing, "There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!" The room was lit solely by a large fireplace in the centre. The fire made the room pleasantly warm, and the orange light flickered across Tsartia's face, throwing interesting shadows over her muzzle. I felt like I could watch it all day. Her large green eyes glinted brightly in the firelight. I settled down in my chair. "I think this is the first time I've been able to relax in a long time," I said, mostly to myself. I raised the bottle to my lips and a thought occurred to me. "Why do Khajiiti get so offended when people call you cats?" I asked Tsartia. "What?" she asked, incredulous. "When Felcrothen called you a cat, you got mad. Why?" She stared at me like I was crazy, then snorted with laughter. "What's so funny?" I asked. She held her head in her hands. "I don't know, nobody's bothered to ask me that before. I guess because other people use it as an insult. We call ourselves cats sometimes, it's an endearing term when we use it, but it's harsh to hear it from someone else. I don't really know why." I took a sip of my mead. "So am I allowed to?" She smiled and winked at me. "No, you're not allowed." "I can tell when I'm being teased, you know," I said. She laughed again and drained her bottle. "I'm winning," she said. I still had half of mine left. Not to be outdone by a woman of any species, I finished it as quick as I could and Tsartia said, "Go get another one from the ugly man-face lady." I choked on what was left in my throat. "You mean the barkeep?" "Yes, her." We were sitting not fifteen feet away from the counter. Luckily didn't seem to have heard. "And I dare you to ask why the town is called Dragon Bridge." I spread my hands. "Why do you think that's so funny?" "Because it is! If you had a sense of humour you would too." I rolled my eyes. "Please Del," she pleaded, eyes wide. I sighed and got up. I couldn't argue with that face. I stumbled over to the bar, nearly tripping (the ground must have been uneven) and gave my last few gold pieces for another two bottles of the same mead. "Would that be everything?" she asked. I thought of 'ugly man-face' and had to stifle a laugh. "Um," I said. I looked back at Tsartia, who was smiling broadly. "Why is this town called Dragon Bridge?" I asked. What passed was probably the longest few seconds of my life. "Are you serious?" Another pause. "No. I'm sorry," I said, grabbed the bottles, and walked as quickly as I could back to our table. Tsartia was silently shaking with laughter. I sat down and she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks." "I'm never doing that again," I said. There was a bit of fluff caught in her whiskers. I reached over and brushed it out. Her face twitched when I touched her whiskers and scrunched up her face. "They're sensitive," She said, rubbing her cheek. I reached over to do it again and she batted my hands away. "Stop it," she said, giggling. We sat in silence while listening to the bard sing. "And so then came clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal." She suddenly sounded more sober. "Hey. I just wanted to thank you again for letting me come with you, and offering to let me come back to your town I don't think you know how much it means to me." "It's nothing," I said. "You've helped me as much as I've helped you." "No, really. Nobody's ever really trusted me before, with anything." She reached over and took both of my hands in hers. "The only work I've ever done is slave labour. And now, thanks to you, I might have a real job, and a real life." The bard had finished singing and conversation resumed in the tavern. I leaned forward to hear her better. Her eyes locked with mine. They were shining, whether from the firelight or from tears, I didn't know. "I just wanted to say, thanks for giving me a chance," she said. I was suddenly aware of our closeness. I didn't know what to say. Everything that came to mind seemed inadequate. Maybe I should hug her or something but it would be awkward across the table. But the moment passed. She sat back down and rolled the now-empty bottle between her hands. "I know you don't want to talk about it," she said. "But I told you about my past as a slave. You should tell me what happened in the army." I sighed. "No, I told you I don't want to talk about it." "But maybe that's why it's haunting you so much. Maybe that's what you've been running from. You might feel better if you explain it to me. And I want to know." I took my time finishing the last of my drink before answering her. "Fine. But not here. Let's go to our room." We went to our room and I closed the door behind us. We both sat on the bed. I stared at the floor and took a breath. "As you know, Valenwood shares a border with Elsweyr, the land of the Khajiit. There have always been skirmishes along the border, for as long as the two provinces have existed. They had attacked some of our villages near the border and burned down the forests. I and the other new recruits were sent to finish off what was left of their camp. "When we got there, the forest was burning. Some of the trees in Valenwood are sentient, Tsartia. And they're centuries old, they remember things that you only read about. I've spent days talking to them, about things most people only read about in legends, like the legend of the Numidium and Tiber Septim's conquest of Tamriel, the Nerevarine Prophecy, the Oblivion Crisis. And they were killed because they were just in the way, by people who couldn't begin to understand what those trees meant to us. "The battle had already been won, but we were sent to clear out their camp. There were no soldiers left, just support people. Regular people. They didn't have weapons. But they were Khajiit, so..." I tried to stop the memories from flooding my mind but it was like trying to dodge raindrops. The corpses of burned trees, some with still-glowing embers, stabbed through the thick grey smog "What did you do?" She said. I forced out the words. "There was one large building in the middle of the camp, where most of them had barricaded themselves. We were ordered to torch it." I swallowed, hard. My throat felt like I was being strangled. "I'll never forget the screams. I could hear them hammering on the doors, trying to crawl through the windows, I could see the walls bulge where they threw themselves against it. And still, the screams didn't stop. "Then were ordered to clear the smaller tents surrounding the camp. _ A red tent, the door flap fluttering in the constant wind from the fires. The silhouette of a person inside._ "I checked inside one of them and there was a... an enemy there." My annoying headache was returning and the alcohol was making my head fuzzy. I could feel my heartbeat and it seemed too loud. "He looked young, and scared. He didn't even look like a soldier. But he had a sword, he swung it at me, we fought, and I overpowered him. He was wounded, defeated, on the ground, holding his arms up to protect himself." I could feel the rage burning as I looked at the Khajiit in front of me. He had come to my home and burned my forest, destroyed homes and killed innocent people. "I found myself hating him. I don't know why. All I knew of the Khajiit at that time was Bosmer propaganda. We were told that you people were animals, and couldn't feel compassion or love, just greed and hatred." The room we were in seemed too hot and stuffy, I needed fresh air. "What did you do then?" I closed my eyes against the glare of the candles but I could still see the flames as bright orange smudges that danced around on the inside of my eyes. "I should have left," I said weakly. "I could have taken him as a prisoner." "But you didn't," she said. The voices from the other side of the door were hammering into my skull. People were yelling, or maybe it was my imagination. "I..." I swung at his neck, but he jerked away, causing my sword to rip through the first two inches of flesh. "What did you do?" Tsartia said. His scream turned into a sickening, wet sound like gargling water as he choked on his own blood. Tsartia was blurring, the walls of the room were melting and morphing into that tent from my nightmares. Somehow the ceiling was slowly lowering. He was squirming, convulsing on the ground as his blood painted the inside of the tent. His hands flew up to his neck, desperately, uselessly, trying to staunch the flow. I couldn't tell the difference between my memories and reality. I could smell burning flesh. Wildly, I swung again, hoping to end him quickly. But I was shaking, and he was moving too much, I couldn't hit him. For a second, for an eternity, his eyes locked into mine, I could see the question in his mind. "You killed him, didn't you?" It was hard to breathe. "I murdered him," I said. He stopped moving and the better part of my soul went with him. The left side of my head was pounding so badly I couldn't see. I felt like I had to throw up. Somehow I had ended up on the ground. "Every time I fall asleep I do it again." Tsartia held me close to her breast. She held me for a long time. I listened to her heartbeat, steady and slow, and it helped me calm down. "Except last night. I actually managed to go the entire day without thinking about it." I could see the faint glimmer of the candlelight through my eyelids, a gentle, warm glow. I could hear their fuzzy crackle as they burned. Eventually, my headache subsided and my breathing returned to normal. I managed to say, "Now you know. I didn't tell you because you'd think I'm a monster." "I don't think you're a monster," she said gently. "You did what you had to do, under orders. Some of the slaves in my compound had similar stories. A lot of them were captured during a battle, and were sold to my owners. It ruins people's lives, and their minds." she was running her hands through my hair, lightly massaging my head while it rested in her lap. "I can't imagine what it's like to go through that." "It was thirty years ago, though," I said. "And the memory hasn't left me. It's always there, like an itch on the small of my back where I can't reach." For a moment the only sound was our breathing, and the dim shadow of conversation through the door from the main hall. She didn't say anything, but I think she understood. "I wish I could have killed those Thalmor when I first saw them," I said. "Then what would you have done when you saw me?" I thought for a moment and the truth came to me quickly. "I probably would have just left you." "Then I'm glad you didn't." "Me too." I said truthfully. "When I first saw them, on the night I got captured, I told myself that I didn't want to kill them, but the truth is I was afraid. Like I have been my whole life." Tsartia's voice was soft when she spoke. "Before she sacrificed herself to save me, my mother told me to be brave. She made me remember that bravery isn't ignoring fear, it's about confronting your fears and dealing with them." "But how do I confront something that's just a memory?" "You just did. By telling me about it." That's it? I thought. "See, I told you you would feel better," she said it so simply, as if she had managed to banish my demons with a few words. And yet... The gentle pinpricks of her claws felt good going through my hair, it was making a rustling sound like walking through leaves. For a few minutes I forgot about my past and I wasn't Delrien Fleetford the cowardly failure, just a man in the comforting presence of a woman. My face hurt and I realized I had been smiling. The realization made me smile again. Her hand moved down to my neck and ran over the strap of my necklace. She took it off me and put it around her own neck. "It looks better on me anyways." I managed to smile and looked up at her. "It does. It matches your eyes." Our faces were inches apart. Slowly, but without hesitating, without thinking, I reached up and kissed her, upside-down. I could taste the sweet bitterness of the beer on her lips, the light, feathery tickle of her whiskers. It was wonderfully exotic, and left me wanting more. She held my head between her hands, I reached up and stroked the soft fur on her face. Our faces were close enough that I could see my reflection in her eyes. They were a such a brilliant shade of green, like fresh buds on the trees of Valenwood in spring. Slowly, wordlessly, we both sat up and embraced tightly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of holding her. She wasn't much different from a Bosmer woman, I thought. I ran my hands over her fur, it wasn't what I was used to, but I liked it. Still embraced, we kissed again, this time locking our mouths together. I moved to the bed, taking her with me. She slithered her way on top of me. My hands moved over her shoulders and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped her cloak off. She wriggled out of the material, letting it fall over her waist. My necklace swung between her breasts which were barely contained in a tight undershirt. She moved her hands over to my shoulders and looked up at me under her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. I could see the unmistakable look of lust in her eyes and it made my heart pound. She leaned over so her mouth was against my ear. "You know what we should do?" she whispered in a husky voice. I moved my hands up her legs. "I think I can think of some-" BANG. The door to our room flew open and we both jumped. Thinking it was the barmaid, I looked over in annoyance. But it wasn't her. It was Felcrothen. With the other two soldiers behind him. And he was holding a sword to Tsartia's neck. He looked back and forth between us, a sneer of disgust on his face. "Look who it is," he said slowly. No. This couldn't be happening. I must have been hallucinating again. I felt Tsartia's claws tighten on my shoulders, faintly pricking my skin. "I want the two of you to slowly get up and stand with your backs together." We did as he asked. We stood back-to back, not daring to move, scarcely breathing. Tsartia's hand found mine and I squeezed it, for my comfort as much as hers. I couldn't find the words I needed. Felcrothen walked around us, fingering his sword, as if daring us to move. He had an eye patch over one eye, where Tsartia had thrown the burning stick at him. The one remaining glared at us. Two of his solders came in the room, a man and a woman, carrying ropes and strips of cloths. I stood by, helplessly as they gagged Tsartia and bound her wrists with several layers of heavy rope. "Not biting through that, I imagine. Take her to the Embassy. She's the one I want." He held on to the back of her gag, pulling her out of the room. She cried out, but her words were muffled. She looked back at me, her eyes wide with fear, and was pulled out of sight. One of the soldiers, the woman, glanced at me, then at Felcrothen. "What about the Bosmer?" she asked. Felcrothen's eye pierced mine. "It's not worth the trouble hauling them both back to the Embassy. Give him a taste of Nightshade and leave him." She briefly glanced at me, looking almost apologetic. She paused, just for a second, then pulled a long knife from a scabbard on her belt and approached me. Before I could react, she plunged it deep in my belly. The pain shot through by body like I was being plunged into ice water. I felt it in my ears down to my toes. She withdrew the blade and walked out the room, slamming the door shut. I fell onto the bed, doubled over in agony. I tried to call for help but couldn't draw a breath. "Give him a taste of Nightshade." Nightshade was poison. A poison that caused paralysis and death within minutes. The blade must have been covered in it. I put my hand up to my stomach, my hand came away red. I slumped on the floor, against the bed. I felt a coldness spreading through me. My limbs felt heavy and it became harder to breathe. My back slipped against the side of the bed and I fell to the floor, cracking my head on the hard stone, hard enough to blur my vision. Or maybe my vision was already blurred. I couldn't tell because it was getting dark so quickly. I didn't really care either way, in a minute it wouldn't matter. The darkness took me and I found myself welcoming it. It didn't even hurt anymore.

* * *

The rough canvas bag pulled at Tsartia's fur and pressed painfully on her ears. It was wrapped around her throat, making it hard to swallow. Her hands were tied behind her back, tight enough she couldn't feel them. She was sitting in a horse-drawn cart, which travelled steadily upwards up a winding path, high enough that the air became cold and thin. The rocking of the cart was making her sick. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the grief she felt; Del was dead, along with her only hope of a better life. She still had his necklace around her neck. Instead of comforting her, the weight of it served as a constant, nagging reminder. And she was being hauled off for interrogation. Once they found out she was an escaped slave, she would be sent to her old plantation, to live a life of slavery, or she would simply be executed for inconveniencing them. They couldn't beat the truth out of her during the day when she was in their hands earlier, but in the Embassy, with its dungeons and torture devices, they could take as much time as they wanted. The cart slowed, then stopped. Rough hands grabbed her and pulled her down to her feet, pushing her forward, forcing her to march. She was led across a snow-covered ground, then through a set of doors, down a stone corridor, then down, deep into a underground room where the air felt heavy and damp. The musty air penetrating the cloth bag, the room smelled like stale blood and vomit. She was forced down onto a chair. Muffled voices spoke around her. The bag was ripped roughly from her head, and she saw Felcrothen toss it away. He dragged a chair from a corner of the room and sat down in front of her. He took off his eye patch and his empty eye socket seemed to glare at her. They were alone in the room. He rubbed his temples and looked at her with his one good eye. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "I'm going to be as honest as I can. I don't like doing this." Tsartia looked past him, avoiding his mutilated face. "But my duty is extracting confessions from the enemies of the Aldmeri Dominion." he pulled a long, wickedly curved knife from his belt and held it close to her face. "You are going to tell me what you were doing in Skyrim, a lone Khajiit with no money or weapons, wearing stolen clothes that belong to royalty. You are going to tell me willingly, or..." he twirled his knife on his finger, "I'm going to force it out of you." Tsartia considered. If she told him her real story, about escaping from the slavers in Morrowind, what then? Would he sell her back to the plantation? Who know what her former owners would do to her? And her mother would have died for nothing. Felcrothen leaned in closer. "You're going to have to talk eventually. You might as well make it easier for both of us." She spat in his face. He plunged the knife into her chair, between her legs. He picked up two tools from the table next to her, a pair of pliers and a scalpel. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way," he said.

* * *

Ash drifted down like snowflakes, coating the ground. Charred embers glowed faintly in the splintered ends of trees."Welcome back," The land said to me. "I missed you." My own personal hell was so familiar it was almost comforting. Ahead, the moons tried to peek out through the smoke. It looked clearer up ahead. I walked, naked and alone, through the ashen ground, moving towards the moonlight. The ground sloped down slightly; it was easier to head this way and the smoke was thinning out. How long had I been here? Years? Had I always been here? I couldn't remember. I could hear flowing water up ahead. I felt drawn to it. Maybe there was someone there who could help me. The air was cleaner here; I could see bits of grass poking through the thinning ash on the ground. There was a sharp pain in my belly. I looked down and there was a knife, plunged to the hilt, stuck inside me. I grasped the handle and tried to pull it out, but it was stuck. Blood trickled out and splattered on the ground. I reached the bottom of the hill. The ground was clean, the air clear. I had left the burned-out hell behind me. Ahead of me was a clear pool of water. A small waterfall ran into it from a cliff a dozen feet above it. There was someone standing under the waterfall, bathing. The fog lifted and I could see her clearly I approached her. The figure resolved into Tsartia, her back was turned to me. She turned towards me as I waded into the pool and approached. The water streamed across her shoulders and back, around her hips and into the water like little glowing vines. It outlined and accentuated her toned, perfect figure. It made her look otherworldly, like a ghost. She reached over and plucked the dagger out of my belly, effortlessly. She tossed it away. She pulled me under the stream of water, it washed away the blood and with it, the pain. Wordlessly, she embraced me. I tried to open my mouth, say something, but she silenced me with a kiss. Holding me close, she whispered into my ear, "Don't let me go." She was starting to fade away, with everything else. No, that wasn't right. I was the one that was fading. The pain in my belly was returning. "How?" I asked. "Where are you?" I could feel myself slipping away, my hands grabbed onto nothing. "Come back." And she was gone.

"He's waking up." My body felt like it had been hollowed out and filled with sand. I expected to see the inside of a coffin when I opened my eyes but they seemed to be stuck closed. I tried to move and only managed to jerk my limbs a little. I felt a cool cloth press against my forehead. "Don't let him get up, yet." A woman's soft voice. Tsartia? No, this one was higher, more nasally. Gentle hands held me down. I slowly forced my eyes open. I saw a stone ceiling, there were bright torches around me that hurt my eyes. "Where-" I coughed. It hurt to breathe. "Shhh..." came the voice from my right. "Stay still. You'll be alright. You're in the Temple of the Divines, in Solitude. Praise Mara you survived." As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, the walls resolved into elaborate stonework and tall windows. "My name is Silana Petreia," The woman said. "I'm a priestess at the Temple here. When we found you, you were nearly dead. Had to start your heart again myself. That was one nasty stab you got, poisoned too. But by the Divine's Grace, you have some tough blood in you." I looked down at my shirtless abdomen. The wound had healed into a thin white scar. "How long have I -" I croaked. "Just a few hours," she interrupted. "The healers got to work on you right away." A few hours. I thought of Tsartia, in the hands of those Thalmor agents. I forced myself to speak through gritted teeth. "What happened to..." I paused, this woman wouldn't know who Tsartia was. "...to my companion?" "The Nord woman that brought you here? She left after dropping you off. Made me promise to tell you that she was very sorry. She didn't even know your name. You have her to thank, though." "I need to go," I struggled to get up, but her hands pushed me down, gently but firmly. "Not yet. You need to rest. Tomorrow you'll be well enough to move." Tomorrow. Tsartia could be dead by then. She could be dead now. The thought chilled me. My clothes was folded on a chair by the door. I heaved myself off the bed and stumbled over to it. Silana stood in front of the doorway. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you go. You're not well." I looked her in the eyes. "I know. But I don't care. I need to." "Is someone after you?" "No." I said, reaching for my jacket. "Then what's the rush? Where are you going?" I struggled to put my jacket over my wooden arms. "There's someone who needs me right now." "Who?" I put my hand on my breast where my necklace normally hung, then remembered Tsartia still had it. I looked at Silana. "Someone very important to me," I said. She nodded, seeming to understand. "In that case, I can't stop you. Go with the blessings of the Divines."

* * *

The Thalmor Embassy was a short distance away from the city of Solitude, to the north. It took less than an hour for me to arrive, moving silently through the dark woods. The Embassy itself was a small compound, two buildings surrounded by a tall fence. There were two guards out, they walked around the inside of the compound, on opposite ends. I stayed within the cover of the trees and watched them. There were blind spots behind the buildings in between the guards. If I timed it right I would be able to sneak in and hide behind a building without being spotted. I thanked the cover of darkness - there were still some hours left before dawn. I climbed a tree next to the fence and landed softly on the soft snow-covered ground inside. I crouched low, listening. I could hear a guard some distance away, walking slowly away. I cautiously approached the larger of the two buildings, staying in the shadows, out of sight of the guards. I stepped carefully in the footprints already present so I wouldn't leave a track. The main building was locked, but I pulled out the lock picks I still had hidden in my boots and got to work on it, and I was inside in less than a minute. I figured if Tsartia was here she would be held in the basement. I searched the building until I found stairs leading down and followed them into a dimly lit stone dungeon. There was a door at the end of the hallway. I stopped outside. I could hear a crash, the sound of splintering wood, and a man's voice, yelling. I kicked open the door and stepped inside. Felcrothen was alone in the room, surrounded be splintered, broken pieces of furniture. When he heard me, he turned, straightened up and watched me. "Of all the people I expected to see..." He whispered. I walked closer to him. He eyed me for a minute and we just stood there, watching each other. "Where is she?" I said. That seemed to amuse him. He smirked and approached me. He towered at least a foot above me. "You know, your friend caused us quite a bit of trouble." he walked over to the table and picked up a long dagger. "More trouble than she was worth." Ice shot through my veins. The dagger was covered in blood. My hands clenched. "What did you do with her?" I whispered. His one remaining eye glared at me under his brow. He tossed the dagger on to the table. "Do you know why the Thalmor do what we do?" "Answer my question," I said through gritted teeth. "You need to understand that we are trying to create a better world. Not just in Skyrim, but all of Tamriel." I took a step towards him. "By torturing and executing anyone who isn't part of your group?" He narrowed his eye at me. "This is beyond you, Bosmer. What we are doing..." he shook his head slowly. "We elves were not always bound to this mortal plane." "What are you talking about?" He grabbed my shoulders. "Once, we were immortal, during the Mythic Era of the past. But The Trickster bound us to the mortal plane, so we can never realize our full potential." He turned and walked away, speaking to himself. Whatever he was talking about seemed to have his full attention. Quietly, I stepped forward, grabbed the dagger off the table and hid it in my sleeve. Felcrothen continued: "...We will remove mortals from the world, not just in Tamriel, but from the entire Pattern of Possibility, in all of Aurbis. The Dreamer will stir, force a new Kalpa and then, the world will be restored." He turned back and approached me. "Don't you understand? I'm telling you this so you can realize we elves are not meant to consort ourselves with lesser races, some half-animal spawn of Azura. It's a disgrace to Creation." We stood facing each other, my arms were crossed, hiding the dagger in my sleeve. "So to answer your question, Bosmer, I killed her like the animal she was." My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. He maintained eye contact with me. "It's not like they-" I pulled the dagger from my sleeve and thrust it deep between his ribs, burying it to the hilt. He gasped and coughed. I twisted it, slowly. He dropped to his knees like a they had been cut out from under him.. I launched myself at him, throwing him to the ground. On top of him, I laid into him with everything I had, striking face, his jaw, his ribs. My limbs were a blur, I wasn't in control anymore. He became everything I hated. He was my weakness, my failure. He was my father, who forced me into the army. He was my mother, who just wanted a son to be proud of. He was my general, who led me into the battle which destroyed my life. He was my wife, who convinced me I was worthless. _ "No son of mine will make a living making fancy trinkets!" my father said as he smashed the intricate jewellery I had spent weeks casting._ Felcrothen tried to raise his arms, I held them up and smashed his nose in with my forehead. "Just kill them, you maggots! They don't feel anything. They're animals!" my general yelled, urging us forward. The dull thuds of my fists turned into wet smacks as blood streamed freely from his face. "I just wanted a son that would grow up to be something useful." my mother said, wringing her hands. I heard the bones in my fingers crack and I didn't feel the pain. "You're a coward, Delrien. Any real man would have stayed in the army. But you had to run away." my wife said, slamming the door on my face. Felcrothen finally laid still, taking ragged gasps out of his ruined mouth. I wrenched the knife from his ribs, blood splattered onto my face. I held it and stood above him. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Red drops on grey stone. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn't hold the knife steady. My fingers ached from gripping it so tightly. I knelt beside his still body. "Look at me." I said. He lay on the ground, groaning. I grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look into my eyes. "You deserve death, and I hope it comes to you quickly. But it won't come from me. I am Delrien Fleetford, son of Dalten Fleetford, of Greenheart. And I've taken enough lives as it is. You won't be the one to break me." He coughed through broken teeth but stayed still on the ground. I walked out of the room the way I came and closed the door behind me. Now what? I thought I would die fighting him. Now the rage had burned itself out, replaced with a cold, hollow emptiness. Some time after, I heard a door somewhere ahead creak open. Soft footsteps coming closer. Hopefully it was another guard, one who would finish me off quickly. A gentle hand laid on my shoulder. I heard the words that made my heart stop. "He was lying. She's alive." I turned and looked up at her. It was the Thalmor woman that had stabbed me. Her kind face had the dark blotches of half-healed bruises. "What?" "My name is Coralin. When we first captured the two of you, we thought you were just common criminals. I wondered why you would take on three Thalmor soldiers on your own just to save a friend. But then when we saw you together in that tavern, I realized that you cared for each other. I couldn't kill you and let her go on without you." She knelt in front of me. "I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. I made sure the amount of Nightshade I gave you wasn't enough to kill you, but I had to make Felcrothen think you were dead or he'd just execute you on the spot. "He took here here and interrogated her. After he was done with her, I took her away before he could kill her. When I told her you were alive, she said you would come looking for her, so I hurried back." "Why should I believe you?" I asked. Coralin pulled out the necklace I gave to Tsartia and held it out to me. "It's not a real emerald, but it matches her eyes. She gave it to me to give to you." I took it and held it tightly. "Thank you." I said, trying not to let my voice crack. "She's waiting for you at an inn in Solitude. I can take you to her." I nodded. Coralin escorted me out of the Embassy. To the soldiers there, I looked like just another prisoner, so they let us pass. We made the short walk to Solitude, with the sun rising in front of us as we passed through the gates leading to the city. "She's waiting for you at an Inn called The Winking Skeever." Coralin said to me. "It's just inside the gate on the left. I have to return to the embassy." she gave me back my bow, my knife, and the coin purse, still filled with gold, that Felcrothen had taken from me. "Good luck." "I can't thank you enough for what you did. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me." "You don't have to thank me," she said. "I just wanted to do the right thing, for once." We embraced briefly. She turned and I watched her walk away from the city. I found The Winking Skeever quickly enough. The barkeep, an older Nord man, directed me to the rooms on the top floor. I walked up and paused outside of Tsartia's room, my hand on the door. A thousand questions raced through my mind. What would she say when I opened the door? I wanted to tell her how I felt, but how did she feel about me? Last night - was it the mead, or something else? Only one way to find out. I pushed open the door, and there she was. Sitting on the bed, waiting for me. She looked up. I instantly forgot everything that I planned to say, and croaked out, "Hi." She laughed and flung herself across the room into my arms. I squeezed her tightly, my face pressed up against hers, breathing in her scent. "I missed you," I murmured into her neck. "I missed you more," she said. I couldn't help but smile. "Did he hurt you?" I asked. "Yes, but not badly. Coralin healed me when she found me." she saw the look of concern on my face. "Really, I'm fine. Did you deal with him?" "I confronted him. He said he killed you, and I attacked him. I let him survive, though. Then I found Coralin and she brought me to you." Tsartia nodded into my chest. "She told me she would bring you here if she found you." She looked up and planted a kiss on my lips. "I'm just glad you're back." She led my by the hand into the small, cozy bedroom. It was partially lit by a small window. The rising sun filtered through the thin slats, throwing red bars of light across the walls and bed and illuminating bits of floating dust in the air. Tsartia had lit a few candles on the bedside table, her eyes glowed beautifully in the soft light. Music drifted up from the bar below, it was just enough that I could hear the delicate notes of a lute and the dim beat of a drum. "Music, candles, is this all for me?" "It's for us." She held me my the front of my shirt and pulled me close. We kissed deeply, arms around each other. We broke apart and she said, "I want to finish what we started in Dragon Bridge." she paused. "If you don't want to, that's okay, but -" I kissed the top of her head. "I want to." She gave a tiny, cute squeal of delight and her tail curled up. "Good. I've been thinking about it all day." She took the front of my shirt in between her teeth and pulled it towards her. Looking up at me, she had that playful, dangerous look she had when we were at the Four Shields. She was biting her bottom lip and looked at me under her eyebrows. "I know that look," I said. She grinned widely and pulled the shirt off me. I tossed it away and leaned in to kiss her again. She ran her hands up my chest, walking her hands up with her fingers. We moved over to the bed and she pushed me back with one hand so I was lying on my back. She crawled over me so that her head was positioned above my crotch. With surprising quickness, she undid my belt and tossed it away, I heard it bang on the wall and fall to the floor. "You're pretty eager, aren't you?" I said. "I told you I missed you." She hooked both her thumbs under the top of my pants and underwear and with one swift movement, thrust them down towards her, revealing my already hardening cock to her. She pulled them off and they joined my belt in a heap on the floor. "Finally." she breathed. She bent her head down and with one long, agonizingly slow movement, ran her tongue in a lazy, weaving line from the base of my cock to the very tip, all while maintaining eye contact with me. Her tongue was covered in what must have been hundreds of spiky, but very ductile barbs. The feeling made me tense up and grab the sheets in knots. "Wow, Tsartia. By the Divines, that's amazing." She lightly kissed the head of my penis and stopped, looking up at me. "Don't stop," I protested, getting up and sitting on my knees. She smiled her devilish smile. "I'll take care of that in a minute. You stay where you are." Ignoring my sounds of protest, she sat back on her heels and slowly, very seductively, she undid the buttons keeping her robe together. She let the robe slip from her shoulders. The thin material flowed smoothly off her, like water, then ran down her chest revealing more and more cleavage until the silky cloth fell off her nipples and into her hands. My toes curled involuntarily and I fought the urge to jump on her right there. She grinned, watching me, knowing she was teasing me, the power she held. The robe fell off her stomach, revealing tight muscles that barely showed through the thin brown fur on her stomach. She was wearing nothing underneath. She slid out of them. Slowly, she crawled towards me on her hands and knees. Her tail swished back and forth excitedly, her upper back angled downwards and head up while holding eye contact with me. She approached me, staying low. She moved her head up kissed the underside of my chin. She planted a series of light, delicate kisses along my neck, up my jaw, leaving little wet spots that raised goosebumps when I felt her warm, soft breath on them. When she got to my ear, she playfully bit it, just hard enough to give me shivers and raise the hair on my arms. "You're going to pay for making me wait this long," I whispered in her ear. "Just imagine how I feel," she purred. "I've been alone, thinking about you all day..." she took hold of my hand and made my fingers trace their way down her body. She let go and I continued downwards, enjoying the now-familiar feeling of her luxurious coat. My fingers worked their way between her legs and I felt her inhale deeply as I found her clitoris. I was surprised by the amount of wetness I felt. "Wow, you weren't kidding," I murmured. I started rubbing my middle finger across the nub of tissue. Her response was a long, drawn out moan that turned into a deep growl as her whole body clenched up. I pulled her closer, She let out a deep exhale and started grinding against my fingers, letting me feel as the warm, wet inner folds of her insides enveloped my middle finger as my thumb continued to massage her clitoris. She rocked up and down, rubbing her breasts on my bare chest. Her fingers traced random patterns across my back, clenching into claws as my fingers hit a sensitive spot. I alternated between rubbing her clit back and forth and swirling with circular patters, making her gasp each time I switched. She took my cock in her other hand and started stroking up and down, giving the head a light squeeze with her delicate fingers. Jolts of pleasure shot through my body. The short fur on her fingers was incredibly soft, it felt like I could feel each and every one of the strands on my sensitive member. She increased her own rocking movement, my fingers slipped out of her. "It's hard to hold on to you when you move like that," I said. "I think we're past that." She stopped and looked me dead in the eye. "I want-" she swallowed. "I need you inside me. Right now." My penis jolted involuntarily. I didn't need any more encouragement after that. I let her fall onto the bed and crawled on top of her. "Mmmh. So eager." she crooned. I leaned down to her face. "And who's fault is that?" I asked, angling my hips towards hers. She gave me her wicked smile and wrapped her legs around mine, pushing me closer to her. My cock rested just above the slit of her entrance, she reached down and took it with her hand. She guided it into herself, then moved her fingers up my shaft to my belly and up to my chest. I pushed forward and the head of my cock slowly parted her inner folds. She was wet enough that I managed to penetrate her without difficulty. A wave of pure bliss washed over me as I entered her, inch by inch, which made Tsartia grip the bed sheets in what I hoped was pleasure. "Are you okay?" I asked, concerned. She nodded. "You feel amazing." she said breathlessly. Halfway in, I started rocking very slowly back and forth, thrusting just a bit deeper with every stroke. And with one last long plunge I penetrated her fully. She made a light gasp and arched her back up off the bed. She moved her legs up, making sure I stayed inside her. I stopped, just for a second, to savour the feeling of being inside her, the closeness of our bodies and the touch of her fur against my bare skin. The warmth of her body and the rise and fall of her chest. A deliciously cool breeze fluttered through the open window, washing over both of us. I had forgotten how good this felt. She was tighter than I remember my wife being, her insides had a slightly ribbed texture that massaged my penis as I thrust in and out. Her temperature was noticeably warmer, too, just enough that it made the feeling more sensitive. Her hand moved its way back to my neck and pulled my head closer to hers. We kissed deeply and she looked into my eyes. I saw the lust on her face, her piercingly green eyes, lidded seductively. Her mouth was barely open, just enough of her tips of her incisors were showing. She whispered into my ear, "Fuck me, Delrien. Fuck me hard." I slowly withdrew, savouring the subtle, slick texture gently massage the length of my shaft paused for just long enough to make her miss the fullness of it. She squirmed and tried to angle her hips up so I would slip back inside. "I told you I'd make you pay for teasing me for so long." she reached up and playfully licked the top of my nose. She curled her tail up so it was pressing against the small of my back and with surprising strength, pushed me back inside her. I was rewarded with a soft "mmm" as she arched her back again, taking me fully. I held myself up on my hands and cradled her head in my palms, running my thumbs along the base of her ears. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me longingly. They fluttered back and forth and she sighed softly in contentment. I started to thrust back and forth inside her properly now. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. She kept clutching the sheets, gripping them tightly and letting them go. For some reason I found it extremely arousing. I dropped down to my elbows, putting my hands under her shoulders to hold her closer. Her legs were wrapped tightly around my waist, she flexed them and moved with me as I moved back and forth. Her hands snaked up to my back and she held on to my shoulders as I thrust inside her. Her claws dug into my skin, just hard enough to be painful, but I let her continue. Her vocalizations became more feral, and louder. I slowed my pace a bit. "I think people downstairs can hear us," I said. "D-don't care," she gasped, keeping her eyes closed. "Let them hear. Just don't stop." I tried unsuccessfully to conceal the look of satisfaction on my face. Thankfully, her eyes were still closed. After another minute or two, I could feel the pressure growing in my loins as well, knowing I was getting close. I slowed down a bit. Her eyes snapped open. "Keep going," she pleaded. "I'm so close." Her whole body tensed up, her legs clamped tighter around mine and she held me down by my shoulders. She let out a deep, bestial growl that I felt as much as I heard. I felt her her inside muscles contract around the base of my cock, adding more pleasure to what was already quickly driving me over the edge. Her hands clenched into claws as she raked them down and across my back. Dimly I felt the sting of pain but I was far too concentrated on my own pleasure to notice. The contractions around my cock gave me just enough stimulation to drive me over the edge as well, and as her orgasm began to subside, mine began. With one last, long thrust, I let the blissful ecstasy surged over me in a wave. She gripped me tighter, as we writhed in unison and rode out my orgasm together. Shaking, I let myself rest on top of her, too drained to even hold myself up. Giving her a soft purr of satisfaction and stroked my hair. I rolled over onto my back, taking her with me so she lay cuddled against my body, her head on my shoulder and our legs still entwined together with her tail laid across the both of us. The sun had set by now, and the only light was the glow emitted from the few candles on the table. I gently caressed the fur on the back of her neck, tenderly massaging her. She smiled as she ran her fingers over the hair on my chest. "You know what we should do in the morning?" she crooned. "What?" knowing what she was about to say. "You should go downstairs and ask the barkeep why his pub is called the Winking Skeever." I rolled my eyes.