The Dragonborn Comes (a Skyrim fanfiction)

Chapter Thirteen - Blood's Honour

"Best of luck," I smile at Marco. "I'm glad I've got a mage with me...we're taking on the Glenmoril Witches,"

"What?" Marco pales. "We are?"

"Yeah, we can take them. Look at us!" I say confidently. "You're an expert mage and I'm a very good warrior,"

"Divines guide us," Marco murmurs. "We will need it,"

"Marco, we'll be fine," I insist. "We're both very talented in our areas of expertise. Look, it's just a quick trip in and out. I promise,"

"Glenmoril witches are worse than hagravens," the carriage driver pipes up. "You'll both be lucky if you survive,"

"Hush. My brother is already feeling scared, he doesn't need to feel worse," I roll my eyes.

"I am not scared," Marco says indignantly. "I am merely being cautious,"

He doesn't say much for the rest of the journey there. I take the time to watch the scenery go by and to think about some things.

First of all, things in Skyrim aren't looking great. Imperial garrisons have been placed in Whiterun and in several other places in Skyrim. Ulfric has recently been released from Imperial custody, but he's being closely watched by three Thalmor agents dispatched in Windhelm.

He isn't a happy camper, to say the least.

In all honesty, I feel sorry for the man. He's about the same age as me and he's been tortured by the Thalmor and wasn't allowed to attend his father's funeral, due to imprisonment. I read the Thalmor Dossier on him too...they're just using him. I never got the chance to explain that to him, as the dossier was destroyed when I had to battle a Frost Troll to get out of the Thalmor Embassy.

Not to mention Jarl Elisif, who has only just seen her seventeenth year, is a very popular choice as High Queen of Skyrim. Most of the other Jarls agree with the ruling...aside from the Jarl of Windhelm: Ulfric Stormcloak. He says he deserves the throne as he won it from Torryg. I think a few of the Jarl's secretly agree with him. Regardless though, Elisif will be crowned High Queen when she reaches the age of eighteen. Until then, Skyrim is more or less entirely ruled by an Imperial Regent.

Plus there are rumours of his rebellion getting stronger. The Empire and Thalmor put a swift end to the rebellion sometime in Sun's Dawn but...well, anything can happen. At least there's some peace and not a civil war.

Secondly, there's everything with Vilkas. What am I doing? He's my best friend's brother and he was a completely ass to me when I first got here. I mean, I shouldn't hold grudges but he was very unwelcoming.

"Marco," I say slowly. "How would you feel if I told you I had, um, kissed Vilkas in the forests of The Rift yesterday?"

Marco's eyes widen. "Skylar! Is that permitted?"

"Of course it's permitted, Njada and Ria got married a month ago and nobody complained. And I'm quite certain Aela had a romantic relationship with this man named Skjor," I scoff. "But I just don't know how I feel about it,"

Marco sighs. "Gods, Skylar, you know I am not one for relationship talks. Remember when you liked that terrible Teldris?"

I laugh fondly at the memory. "Indeed I do...Gods, the time has gone by so quickly,"

"Almost a little too quickly," Marco says sadly.

"We're almost at Falkreath," the carriage driver informs us. "You lot be careful taking on the withces,"

***

"Why on nirn did I agree to do this?" Marco groans as we climb up the hill that leads towards the cave where the witches coven is. It's beginning to drizzle now and I wiggle my toes gratefully inside the thermal socks Vignar and Brill gave me.