A Storm&Hank telenovela special12th Midyear - Afternoon - Salosoix Residence, Gilane
The back room of the Hawkford residence in Gilane was a grandiose circular sanctuary with towering bookshelves and cabinets that made the ceiling of the room appear far higher than it was. In the centre, a skylight allowed sunlight to pour through, the amber glow catching against every piece of glassware in the direct light. Towards the entrance of the room, a set of plush indigo velvet chaise lounges, surrounded by piles of books and parchments. Even though they were piled in stacks, it was deliberate, nothing in this room was out of place. In the comforting warmth of midday, the scent of warm honey, pistachio, and rosewater wafted through the windows from a kitchen somewhere.
Nothing was quite as eye-catching as the woman stood in the room, however, dressed in a deep scarlett boned sleeveless jacket of embroidered jacquard streaked with golden thread. Over her dainty shoulders was a sheer cape of golden silk, held in place with an ornate gilded metal frame that looped around her shoulders and rose around her neck like a collar where it clipped to the back of the jacket. To complete the ensemble, there was a large ruby amulet around her neck. She wore on her feet a pair of two-pronged heeled metal sandals that would be entirely impractical for anything other than indoor work.
If the room was a quiet haven and a slice of Daggerfall slotted into the tempestuous desert of Hammerfell, then the woman in the centre was every bit the image of a living and breathing representation of High Rock nobility.
“Miss Hawkford, are you alright?” came the shy voice of a Redguard stood by the window, her clothes plain. A handmaiden of the house. “You’ve been looking at that little doodad for a while now, spaced out-” she continued, tilting her head as if to gaze and look upon the face of the woman whose back was to her. The blonde Breton looked back over her shoulder, an almost vacant expression sat upon her features until she forced herself to smile over at the girl, “yes Rhoka, I’m alright, and it’s a lock actually - not a doodad. Not entirely exciting, but I’m sure that someone out there would like this old thing.” Her dreamy voice trailed off as she turned it around in her hand, and she thought instantly of Daro’Vasora. “I’d value it at a fair twenty septims, no more and no less.” Raelynn blew against the alloy of the lock in her hand, blowing free an amount of dust that had been sitting within the keyhole, before placing it down upon the table and picking up a quill to mark down on parchment her appraisal.
“The hair looks good now too,” said Rhoka to Raelynn’s surprise. The two of them had taken scissors to the ends of her hair upon her arrival at her father’s. They must have removed five or six inches of it’s length - all dry and matted. Dead. Even with such an amount removed, it still hung in loose waves to her breasts. It looked refreshed and rejuvenated, and she could smell the oils that Rhoka had worked into it. Freesia and water hyacinthe. Not her usual scent, but she had been craving change lately, and the light floral aroma was pleasing. “Thank you Rhoka,” she said as she moved over to the shelf - her heels clacking against the wooden floor, a percussive accompaniment to the gentle sound of the wind chimes fluttering in the warm breeze that had been rolling through the open windows at each side of the room.
“You’re looking better too, M’lady. If you don’t mind my saying - you’ve got colour in your cheeks again. God’s above... When you arrived - your father, he thought you were a ghost.” Raelynn took in a single sharp breath and restrained herself from upbraiding the girl for the comment there and then. She had to remind herself that she was only trying to be helpful, she was young and naive, and not aware that it wasn’t quite proper to bring up such things.
But Rhoka had been a help, a comfort. She hadn’t said much, she had just let Raelynn be. She had stayed by her side, brushed her hair, dressed her, bathed her, fed her. Let her cry when she had to without asking questions. Rhoka had helped Raelynn carve out a space in her father’s residence to rest and process her feelings by herself, in her own time. That level of love and servitude was priceless.
Truthfully, she had felt like a ghost that night too, floating from The Haunted Tide to Salosoix’s home, still coated in the blood of both Gregor and Zaveed, vacant of her own life having spent her energy to save theirs. A pathetic sight.
It hadn’t taken much to wash it away this time. Good food, the tender care and attention of both Rhoka and Zhaib, and undisturbed rest. The morning after that night had given her a new sense of vigour, and being surrounded by so many reminders of her home and her opulent upbringing allowed her to shield herself, bury the angst, and begin to move on. It was hard, but one breath at a time she locked everything down and papered it in a painted smile. She hadn’t stopped since. “Let’s just keep our heads up now and continue forwards… Besides, we have a whole chest of goods to work through. The work won’t do itself.” Even if she hadn’t meant to, the words came out pointed and piercing like a knife.
“You’re right M’lady…” Rhoka said half under her breath. She had grown to admire Raelynn in the last day or so, her resilience and grace most of all. Zhaib had only told her parts of what had been happening, and none of them knew exactly what had caused the daughter of Salosoix to appear in the doorframe, bloodied and in tears just nights ago. She hadn’t spoken a word of it. The way that Salosoix had held his glass of rum that night had suggested to her that it had been something terrible - the two of them had a way of communicating in glances. Their eyes were the same, and they must have shared souls because in a single look the Lady was able to communicate to her father what words could never hope to encapsulate. And after that, he and Zhaib took off for Hegathe for work, it couldn’t have been avoided, but the elder Hawkford left that morning in the most sour mood Rhoka had seen him in yet. He didn’t want to leave Raelynn, but his daughter, as stubborn as he was (if not more so), had insisted.
Of course, it hadn’t taken the Lady long to put herself to work, and Rhoka had noticed her smiles and change in mood when she was surrounded by the things of Daggerfall and High Rock - something was troubling her, but she was ironing it out and smoothing it down with good, honest work. It helped that she could also wear many of the jewels and fine fabrics of comfort. Oh how Rhoka wished she could adorn herself in such luxury too. She sighed and smiled in her direction, before walking over to the steps to meet Raelynn on the mezzanine.
“It’s nice to get to work for you M’lady…” she said as she got down on all fours, to a pile of antiques on the floor that needed to be cleaned and polished. “Don’t get me wrong, your father is a good man and it pleases me to serve him, but there’s nothing like having a proper Mistress to serve.”
“You’re one of the first to make that remark, it’s nice of you to say…” whenever Raelynn spoke, Rhoka could sense that the voice was just a shadow - a soft veil layered over the effort it was taking her to hold herself up, but gradually there was light returning. It was as she had told the Breton herself “no matter how dark the night, a new dawn will always bring the light back in.” Rhoka could sense that sunrise beginning for her Mistress.
As Raelynn worked her way through the goods she glanced down at Rhoka on the floor, who was carefully brushing at the dusty items that were piled up there. Something caught her eye. A ring, lying amongst a pretty sundial and a glass dagger. It had a ruby set into it and looking at it on the floor reminded her instantly of Gregor and of their first night in Anvil. How he had walked her through the streets on his arm and shown her a ring so similar, his smile - his beautiful smile. She hadn’t noticed his smile that day, having been too entranced by his eyes and his mystery. But she could see it now, beaming at her in the Anvil sunset. She gasped and it felt as if the mask was about to slip and crack and her emotions were going to spill forth and drown them both.
“M’lady?” Rhoka asked, following Raelynn’s gaze to the ruby ring on the ground. She could see the effect it was having on her Mistress as Raelynn placed a hand on her heart and swiftly turned away to sit down upon a wooden chair, back once again to the handmaiden.
“It’s just a ring… I’ve moved it away now…” the girl took it into her hand. It was dusty and had seen better days, but she could tell that it once sat on the hand of a pretty noblewoman - probably one just like Raelynn. She could feel how heavy Raelynn’s mood had gotten to see it. The lady was heartbroken. Rhoka got to her feet and walked to Raelynn’s side, taking from a pocket in her apron an ivory comb which she began to run though the long hair of the Breton. “...Thank you, Rhoka,” was all that Raelynn could say in a weak voice through pursed blood red lips as she went back to breathing in and out again, pushing the thoughts of Gregor back down where they belonged for now.
After some time had passed, she felt normal again. The soothing tingle of the handmaiden combing her hair helped to ease down her rising feelings of despair and sentiment. “Say, why don’t you go and fetch us some of those knafeh and baklava that my father raves about?” She mustered a smile - her head shaking a little but she got to her feet once more, reaching into Rhoka’s hand for the ring. As she had with the lock, she held it up to the sun which was pooling in from the skylight. It twinkled and glistened like only a flawless jewel could, and with a content smile she sighed and placed it next to the parchment, writing down her appraisal; “Not for Sale”.
Rhoka made her way down the steps and to the door, turning around for one last look at Raelynn before she set off to the markets. She was already examining something else, the serious look back on her face, eyes squinting at the sundial, a small brush in her other hand that she was using to dust it off. Satisfactory. She closed the door behind her, and made her way into the busy afternoon streets.
Not long after Rhoka had left, someone else came calling upon the Hawkford residence. An Imperial man of average height but imposing stature, his dark hair swept back into a ronin’s knot and his beard immaculately trimmed, who was dressed in fine Hammerfell linens; a white shirt and tan breeches. The deep neck and loose fabric of the shirt revealed that his torso was bandaged. Around his shoulders was draped a fine cloak expertly woven from double lined cotton, brown as clay, that hung all the way down to the heels of his dark leather boots and flowed as smoothly as the waves of the sea as he walked. A ruby set into a silver ring of remarkable craftsmanship glittered on one of the man’s fingers, catching the sun in spectacular fashion, and a golden band around his wrist did a similarly fine job of reflecting the golden city of Gilane itself.
He looked better than he had done before, with the appearance of a man on the mend after a grave illness or a serious injury. His tanned skin, typical of his race, was still slightly more pale than it should be if he were in entirely good health, and there was a darkness beneath his eyes that betrayed the pain and fatigue he still felt, but the worst had passed. His movements were stiff and measured and he walked with a wooden cane that he was clearly inexperienced with. Everything about him, from the thin grimace of his lips to the white-knuckled grip of the cane’s handle, bespoke of a man who was unused to being at anything less than the peak of male physical performance and who took a dim view of his current state of well-being. There was a gravity to his presence and the people on the streets of Gilane, either consciously or subconsciously, made way for him and turned their heads to watch him pass by; a stranger to these lands, a foreigner, but somehow obviously and undeniably important. A man on a mission.
Gregor Sibassius was his name. He raised his hand to knock on the front door but stopped himself when he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Instead, he pressed his fingers against the solid wood, warm and smooth after having basked in the sun all day, and pushed. The door swung open smoothly on well-oiled hinges and Gregor stepped inside, stopping just beyond the precipice, waiting for his eyes to adjust. At first glance, the residence seemed deserted; neither the pater familias nor the scion were anywhere to be seen. After a few seconds Gregor noticed that a door at the far end of the hall, one that had been closed on all his previous visits, was open, and he could hear the quiet sounds of domestic activity beyond. His cane and the raised soles of his boots clicked and clacked on the panelled floor upon his approach. For some reason, indiscernible from his expression alone, Gregor stopped when he reached the door. He fidgeted with his cane and took a deep breath. He muttered something unintelligible to himself and entered.
What greeted him beyond was almost entirely unexpected. The splendor and design of the room, brilliantly illuminated by the sunrays that entered through the skylight, captivated his attention and his gaze wandered throughout for quite a while, flitting from artifact to bookshelf to pile of papers and back again, before he noticed the woman on the mezzanine above him. Her back was turned to him but he recognised her immediately, despite her new clothes. Even her hair was different. He drew a sharp breath. If she had noticed his entry she showed no sign of it and continued to study something -- too small to see -- by holding it up against the sunlight, and Gregor used the time to simply look at her. She was beautiful, more so than ever, and the austere look on his face softened somewhat as he was moved by the sight.
Raelynn turned the dagger around in her hand, it had jewels set into the pommel. Sapphires, but they weren't flawless - even if they were pretty. It was a stunningly simple dagger, the blade not too long or sharp - it would suit a woman's hand. She raised a thumb to her lip and nodded at it, the sound of footsteps approaching caught her attention but not enough to look away from the dagger. As she leaned forward to put quill to parchment, she spoke out and broke the silence that had fallen, “Rhoka, if you forgot the coin purse again it's in the usual spot - and if you wouldn't mind picking up some of those lamb things…”
After having written down her notes she had started to turn around, expecting to see the round, perpetually friendly face of her handmaiden, instead she was met by the sight of a gentlemanly figure who took her breath away at the sight of him. It was Gregor, and naturally upon seeing him her lips curled into a smile until she found herself again and blinked quickly to diminish it, letting seriousness return to her face, turning her face away. Their last meeting hadn't been pleasant, she didn't yet understand why he was here. Although, of course she did know. He wanted to hear her explanation - her side of the story, but she could not be sure whether he came here to chastise her, or listen, or to attack. And yet she did not fear him.
“I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else for a moment…” Where her hands had been held up at her chest, they dropped to her sides slowly and she straightened in posture as she took in the sight of him. Her eyes fixed on the cane in his hand, her mouth hung open just a little in surprise still. She wanted to tell him that she'd missed him, but now wasn't the time. Had he missed her? He wasn't ready to hear that, it wasn't what he should hear. She straightened herself up, hands hanging together in a soft fist. “Your wounds… They must be itching by now, yes?”
He almost returned her smile but the urge to do so faded when her own expression turned to mirror his. They were not ready to be unconditionally happy to see each other. Gregor opened his mouth to reply to her question but closed it again. He looked down at himself for a few seconds, eyes lingering on the bandages, his jaw working while he minced his words. “Worse than that,” he said at length and looked back up at Raelynn. He decided that the shorter hair suited her. “The pain is a potent reminder that no good deed goes unpunished.” His tone was more caustic than he would have liked and he sighed. “And it makes me discourteous. My apologies. Yes… they itch.”
She made her way with purposeful strides to a cabinet in a darkened, cooler corner, opening the doors carefully as she removed a small metal bowl from a plate of frost salts. “I made this, I was going to have Rhoka bring it to you…” She hovered in the spot, looking at the ointment inside. She thought about how much difficulty her handmaiden had trying to locate the various reagents that made it up. She had to stifle a laugh with her hand. “It was quite the caper to locate some Cloud Mist…” she admitted, pressing a finger into the mixture. It was cool enough now. She moved timidly towards him with it, descending the steps to place it down on a side table.
Her hand lingered over it, a cold mist rising from the gel like ointment inside. Raelynn pulled away and began back up the stairs, back to the desk - creating the space between them again. “It will help, anyway.”
The fact that she had made something to help him with his pain was touching, but Gregor felt conflicted that she would not have brought it to him herself. Was that out of respect for his need for space or because she was unwilling to face him? He felt a similar pang when she retreated back to the mezzanine. He looked at the bowl and the ointment inside for a few seconds. His questions could wait. Gregor rested his cane against the side table and bent over to dab some of the cool gel on his fingers of his right hand. He hooked the fingers of his left hand underneath the edge of the bandage that covered his collarbone and the grievous scar that pained him there and gingerly applied the ointment on his skin, evenly spreading it on the scar tissue that he could reach this way, and waited, dropping his hands to his sides. He balled his fists, trying to hide the trembling of his fingers from Raelynn.
He did not have to wait long. A sense of relief began to spread through his upper body and he exhaled slowly, his mouth hanging open slightly at the pleasurable sensation. It reminded him of when Raelynn had massaged his spine, but this was so much better. “Thank you,” he said, and no amount of sourness in his mood could have taken the sincere gratitude out of his voice. “It helps a lot.” He looked up at her with an ambiguous expression, his smoldering anger disarmed by her kindness, and a small smile that was equal parts sheepish and melancholic played around his lips. “You look well.”
She sat down at the desk slowly, eyes following him as he applied her medicine. He may have tried to hide it, but she saw how his fingers shook against him, betraying him like that. She blinked and looked down at the desk and began to busy herself by rolling up the parchment she had been writing on. His struggle reminded her of her own pains with her hands - even now they would seize occasionally. But not today. When he complimented her, she took a look at herself sidelong in a standing mirror, sat in her jacket, the cape. She was so unlike herself and yet so completely herself at the same time. She looked like the woman she had been a long time ago, the woman she had to become again now. “Thank you…” she replied quietly to him, her blue eyes meeting his only briefly before she pulled the gaze away once more with a sigh that suggested she was lost for words and breath all at once. She stood back up, pacing slowly. She knew why he was here, but how to best explain? The best thing would be to just tell him, to explain to him in her own words, while he had the patience to hear it.
“I did try to kill him, Gregor,” was how she chose to start, there was to be no pussyfooting around it, afterall. She moved away from under the skylight to a bookshelf. The scent of the pages mottled with dust that sat against their spines hung in the air. It was a comforting scent that reminded her of aspects of her childhood, of being surrounded by old dogeared tomes. “I stuck him with his own blade.” As she said the words, she tensed her fingers and they retracted back into balled fists against the heavy wooden shelves. Only then did she look at him again, to gauge his reaction - wondering if such a fact would make him feel better or worse.
He tried to picture it, to place himself in her shoes at that moment. Raelynn, blade in hand, an already mortally wounded Zaveed at her mercy, and all the opportunity in the world to put an end to an evil that had caused her so much suffering. Gregor watched in his mind’s eye as Zaveed’s own dagger was thrust into him in, and then… nothing. What could have possibly changed her mind? He could not think of anything. He frowned, a twinge of annoyance visible on his face. Grace is just weakness, he wanted to say, but kept his tongue. “Go on,” he said instead.
With her eyes back on the books in front of her, she drew a long breath. She wasn’t really looking at anything, her eyes blank and vacant as she relived it in the details she could remember. It was the orange sunset - the vermillion and rust colours moving through the air. The scent of spices, the sounds of everyday monotony just streets away, and the look that lay in Zaveed’s eyes of a man who had given up, that reflected it all. “He didn’t fight me. He thanked me for it.” She traced her nails over her collarbone and turned from the bookshelf - walking in the other direction and back to the desk. “I didn’t feel any better. I thought that… If I could finish it, if I could see him die… If I could hurt him as he did to me then I would feel better.”
With her eyes closed, a clenched fist sat in the centre of her chest she fought back tears and managed to get the urge to pass with a few long breaths. She wasn’t about to crack and cry, she couldn’t. “I felt worse, because I didn’t feel better.”
“There was nothing in me, I was empty and I have been empty for too long, Gregor…” She shook her head and straightened up, pursing her lips in concentration before a stoic expression returned. “I know that you don’t understand it, Gods, I don’t understand it either.” She thought to tell him about what she had said to Daro’Vasora that night, the sound of her own voice replayed in her mind; It’s okay if it’s not me. The desperate desire for an end to it. No, that would remain as a secret shared only by Daro’Vasora and Raelynn.
The pregnant silence that hung over them like a shroud was only broken by the tapping of Gregor’s cane on the floor as he lifted it up and down, in tandem with the nodding of his head while he looked around the room. He clenched and flexed his fingers and chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “You didn’t feel better,” he repeated, his voice tense and strained. “While I lay dying in the room at the inn, our room, you saved Zaveed’s life because killing him made you feel bad.” He muttered a curse beneath his breath and looked down at the ground. He wanted to throw something and the knowledge that doing so would only make his pain worse was almost as impossible to stand as his impotent anger. He did not look back up at Raelynn when he continued. “I did not attack him. The wounds he inflicted on me were not out of self-defense. We ran into each other in an alley -- I had guessed right that he would be in the area because of the attack on the Dominion envoy -- and he reached for his weapons before I’d even recognized who he was. He was more than eager to kill me, Raelynn. I fought him and I beat him but it took… everything, everything that I have within my powers, and when he was defeated and his soul was trapped, someone intervened. He escaped but he should have died from his injuries,” he said, and it was only then that he looked up. Gregor’s face was set in an accusatory scowl, thunder in his eyes, and he practically spat out his next words. “And then you saved him. Do you think he will just forgive me for almost sending him to suffer an eternity in the Soul Cairn? Which, if I may remind you, was your request in the first place? I did as you asked, I fulfilled my promise to you, and you repaid me by undoing my work.”
They were nearing a tipping point. “You have to do better than that,” Gregor growled with a note of finality.
If there was thunder in his expression, then a maelstrom had brewed in hers, beset into the blue and grey of her eyes, and she would not bow to him on this. She would not fall to his feet and beg for his forgiveness. That was not her way anymore. She had grown too lenient and too passive recently. She moved to the edge of the stairs, a hand on the bannister as she looked down upon him. It was ridiculous, but she felt powerful up there, in the Hawkford’s treasure room. This was her safe space, this is where she had been carving herself fresh, he would not come in here with his anger and accusations like this. Pangs of guilt struck her, yes, but she did not budge. “You lied to me.” It wasn’t spat, there was no malice beneath it, it was just stated.
“You told me you were going to collect your things. But that's not true. You heard of the attack and you went looking and you didn’t tell me. You lied to me.” She shook her head and turned away from the edge, her cape swooping behind her with the force of it. She retreated to shadow. “I went out there looking for you. I was worried about you.” In the face of his anger like this, she knew that he would not rest and manage to quell it until something she could say satisfied his hunger. “You did fulfill your promise, you did.” Her arms folded over her chest and she began pacing slowly again, “I wish you would have told me where you were going, you may not have been so hurt and we could have done it together. Together we could have killed him,” her voice had softened and trailed off. There was little need for her to be so defensive about it, he was right to be angry and demanding, and in her mind so was she. “And I didn’t feel bad about it. I… didn’t feel anything.”
It was true that he lied to her. Exasperation flitted across Gregor’s face before he regained his composure. “I didn’t want you to come with me because I was afraid he would find a way to use you against me,” Gregor said. “And if I told you where I was going, you would have followed me. I know you well enough, Raelynn.” Something approaching a smile tugged at his lips. “But evidently not as well as I thought. Never would I have expected that you would show him mercy.” He looked around the room again, as if searching for support from something that wasn’t there, before he turned back to Raelynn. “Fine, if killing him made you feel nothing, or empty, how did saving him make you feel? Tell me that, at least.”
Part of her wasn’t concentrating on him anymore, her eyes had been fixated on a vase that she had valued very highly earlier. She was imaging how freeing it would be to lift it from it’s plinthe and throw it as hard as she could across the room. How many pieces would it break into? What kind of sound would it make? How far would the pieces spread across the ground? She tore her eyes away from it, locking onto his, her lip trembling, she knew her next words would wound him as the same words had wounded her, “I thought we were a team…” She didn’t regret it, she didn’t underline the words with venom or punctuate with indignation, but he needed to feel their gravitas, and to understand the worry she felt at his absence.
“Saving him?” The sound of the waves was deafening in her ears. It’s all she could call to mind, the soft bubbling sound of them breaking the shore and receding back to the ocean over and over. “It felt horrible, painful… It was ugly and vile…” Raelynn brought both hands to her mouth as quickly as she did so, her eyes wide open in terror as the words came out. Would it ruin him more knowing that neither option was enough to mend her? Was her being mended something he even wanted in the face of the revelation? “But I had to… I had to show him compassion… So that I would never have to become like him.” She took a long, drawn out breath, “all I had that he didn’t have, was compassion.” Her eyes shut tightly and her hands found her way to her face again, covering everything now as she struggled to contain herself. The bottle that was holding everything together was about to shatter like the vase that she so desperately wanted to throw.
He wanted to respond, to throw her naive notions of compassion into the winds, to chastise her for allowing weakness to get the better of her at such a critical moment -- to say the same things to Raelynn now that he had said to Daro’Vasora before, about the nature of monsters and mercy, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the shape of a woman in the shadows beneath the mezzanine. Long, dark hair, eyes that shone like precious jewels, a beautiful, modest dress… he shook his head slightly, eyes wide at the apparition. He did not want to see her now, not like this. The present was painful enough without the regrets of the past coming back to haunt him now.
The woman stepped out of the shadow and into the light and Gregor saw that it was not Briar. It was Gaia. She smiled at him, her head tilted, a mother’s love writ upon her face; the kind that could only allow pity at seeing her son astray, and nothing more malicious than that. “Is that not why you love her?” she asked, her voice coming from far away. Gregor could only stare, unblinking and motionless. “The compassion she showed him… it’s how she can love you, sweetheart. Do not admonish her for that. Without it, she would not be the woman she is.”
At last, Gregor’s anger broke and he looked up at Raelynn, seeing how she hid behind her hands, how her shoulders quivered with the effort it took to keep herself together in the face of his disappointment and his fury. “You compliment each other not because you are the same, but because you are different,” his mother said. Gregor felt it now, like a tidal wave rushing over his chest: love, admiration, shame.
“Raelynn,” Gregor said at last, his voice unsteady. A single tear ran down his face. “I’m sorry. Come here. I’m so sorry…”
The Breton hadn’t seen what had happened, head still buried in her hands, fixed in her spot. She would never know what it was that changed Gregor’s mind - she only knew the feeling of a cold shot of relief that hit her head on when he apologised. It almost knocked her to the floor, but he needed her by his side again - he was ready to accept her there. Slowly she began towards the stairs, her hands dropped to her sides, and while her face appeared unreadable, she continued until she couldn't. Her foot was hanging over the edge of the step and she was so close, but she turned away instead - knowing what was about to happen. A crack in the bottle.
Raelynn turned her back to him again and in a graceful way she stumbled in the direction of desk, her hands planting down onto the wood, fingers gripping at it. She had held herself together for so long all day, for each day since she had been sent away from him. With a single and almost inaudible breath she whispered down at the parchment “I’m so in love with you…” Had he heard it? Her cheeks were growing hot, and she watched as a tear hit an unrolled piece of parchment, causing the ink to bleed out.
“I just can’t…” she began, louder this time, but her voice wavering and broken “I can’t think about anybody… Or anything.” She was breathing quicker, panicked almost, and she waved a hand on front of her face - fanning away the heat - grateful that Gregor could not see her face and the way that even her chin trembled as she broke against her emotions. “I can’t sleep…” she felt a tear roll down her cheek, and rest on her jaw. She swallowed and brought a hand to her chest, fingers grasping the bare flesh there before working their way up to her throat. “I can’t breathe…” She let go and lifted her head to look up above her through the window of the skylight, the endless blue. She took another breath, and another - drinking in the oxygen. “I love you.” She had to stop momentarily, catching her breath again as one of her hands balled into a fist and she finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes as she stood back up as best she could, the edge of the desk all that was supporting her; “I love you.”
The cane fell to the floor, useless and unnecessary, followed by Gregor’s cloak -- such was the force with which he stormed the stairs, shrugging off the new garment with ease. He crested each step with vigor, his limbs fueled by a strength that ran deeper than any wound or poison could impede, and he swept her up in his arms the very second he finally reached her. There would be no distance between them anymore. Gregor planted a kiss on her forehead, and another, and he wept freely. “Forgive me,” he whispered as he held her close, his shaking hands clinging to her without shame. “I was blinded by my anger, so blind that I could not see the good in your heart without calling it weakness.” He closed his eyes and laid his head against hers. “I love you too,” he breathed.
She smiled and kissed him back, brushing away the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “It’s alright. It’s alright now…” As she had done many times before, she traced her fingers down the back of his neck, holding him just as close as he held her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I - we needed space. I needed time, it was selfish perhaps but I needed to be here… I’m sorry.” Her lips pressed to his forehead again, and she took in a deep breath of him before closing her eyes.
When Gregor opened his eyes again he saw Gaia once more, standing on the other side of Raelynn’s desk. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she beamed at him, proud and emotional, and she was crying too. Gregor gasped for breath. How he had longed to see his mother again, how much he had missed her -- not the shadow he had left behind, all that had remained of her after his father died, but the woman he remembered from his childhood. For her to appear now and guide him on the right path one last time… he could barely breathe, so full was his chest of gratitude and bittersweet sorrow. Thank you, he mouthed, and she nodded once, as if to say of course, before she disappeared.
“I understand,” Gregor said, returning his attention back to Raelynn. They could begin to heal now, not separately, but together. “I needed time as well. If you had tried to explain yourself to me before I was ready to come to you, I would not have understood. Hell, it was hard for me to get over myself as it stands.” His voice had regained some of its composure and he pulled back a little, his hands on her shoulders, so that he could look at her properly. “I like the hair,” he said and laughed, his tears drying up.
She ran her fingers across the clasps connecting the cape and it’s frame to her jacket to open them, and with a shrug of her shoulders it dropped off and fell behind her, giving her movement - allowing him to get closer to her. “It was Rhoka’s idea…” she smiled, playfully flipping it back over her shoulder with the back of her hand. Her face softened and her expression fell, but there was still an energy behind her eyes - a light. “I needed this time my love,” she bit her lip as she said the words, still trying to get used to having such feelings out in the open. “I had to learn that the fire inside of me burns far brighter than anything out there that would threaten me…”
“A good lesson to learn,” Gregor agreed. “And you remained true to yourself, even when I would have had you do otherwise. This,” he said and looked around the room, “this is very much you, isn’t it? I’ve never been to High Rock but this place looks like how I always imagined it. It’s beautiful. I saw that you were working when I came in. What were you doing?”
She smiled at his awe of the room, and her own eyes tracked his as they looked at everything. “This is my father, actually. He has always had a flair for this. In a way it is me, but this is his doing. It’s like he transported his shop right into Hammerfell. This is… where I grew up.” She sighed and allowed herself to look over the room too. It really was beautiful. She ran a finger over her lip as she pondered how best to explain to him what she had been doing, “many of the items you see here were… procured by him in Gilane. I’m simply recording them as inventory and estimating a price. He’ll be having them sent to High Rock soon enough I believe.”
“Of course. Handling precious things and judging them for their worth, who better for the task than Raelynn Hawkford?” he teased and gave her a playful nudge. All of his anger and resentment had disappeared like virgin snow in the spring sunshine and he looked like it had taken ten years off him; his eyes sparkled in the warm light and some color had returned to his cheeks. “Where is your father, by the way? I had already prepared myself for having to go through him to get to speak with you.”
Her eyes moved to the floor in a coy fashion at his flirtation, and she tucked a section of hair behind her ear before her pacing began again, this time it was slow and calm - her back straightened and she placed her hands together in front of her again. Like a noble woman would. “He left the morning after I arrived with Zhaib, to go to Hegathe. It seemed quite urgent, and so I’ve been taking care of everything in his stead.” Raelynn picked up the quill from the table, placing it carefully back into the ink pot beside it. “I haven’t done much else, I don’t even think I’ve left the house… There has been much to do within these walls.” Part of her felt slightly resentful that nobody had called to see her, perhaps they would not have known where to find her even if they had wanted to. It showed on her face when she looked to the side sharply.
Despite the urge to keep her close and hold her tight, Gregor let her resume her pacing and dropped his arms by his side. His exhaustion and the state of his body caught up with him now that the outburst of emotion had passed and he slowly sank down on a chair near Raelynn’s desk, stopping himself from groaning out loud as he did. He could easily picture how she had drifted through this room, keeping herself occupied and retreating into something as familiar as a slice of home. When she averted her gaze he felt a pang of sympathy. It had been just as hard on her as it had been on him.
“I did not tell anyone where you were,” he said eventually. Gregor had been certain that this was where he would find her, but he knew her better than anyone else, after all. “I figured you’d want to be left alone, like me. Not that I’ve spoken to many of the others, though. I haven’t been back to the hotel since…”
Gregor trailed off and looked out the window, focusing on keeping his breathing calm. He couldn’t think about his fight with Zaveed without feeling his heartbeat spike. It was like the event and the associated adrenaline and fear were seared into his bones. He looked back at Raelynn, her beauty and her grace, and realised he did not want to talk about what had happened to him since Raelynn’s departure just yet. He wasn’t ready to invite the outside world into their reunion.
“When you found me, I was dreaming,” he said softly. “The monster in the forest. It was taunting me with the last words of a man I killed many years ago. As I ran from it I came upon my old home. A safe place, or so I thought. It burned to the ground and I had to flee again. It was like my regrets and all of my guilt came back to see me off one last time…” Gregor took a deep breath. “But then you came and when you kissed me awake, it was my mother that sent me back to you,” he continued and smiled. Tears brimmed in his eyes. “It was like your touch brought me back to the good in the world. I’m so sorry I was angry with you. I should never have allowed the shadow of Zaveed to have so much power over us. I didn’t leave the inn, either. Just drank my sorrows away.” He wiped at his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m rambling like this. I’m sorry. Don’t mind me.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond, and so she held a silence for a while and stared over the room, her eyes hardened as she looked beyond everything around her. “I told you that our dreams bring us messages… Tell us things, lessons. I can only assume that the monster has left the recesses of your subconscious now?” She raised her thumb to her lips to nibble at it gently, while in thought. She snapped her eyes back to Gregor, a half smile on her lips. “I believe that you have it within you already to come back to the good of the world, as you say. All I did was some magic…” Her smile grew, and she made her way to the shelves again, running a finger across the mahogany.
She let herself go back to that night, it was her intense fear and guilt that had caused her magicka to spiral out of control. She had never experienced such a feeling, it felt almost like the streams of restoration were being pulled from her, instead of given. It had all helped him, of course, but she had felt weightless and powerless as it ran from her body and into him. She hadn’t been able to use it since. The truth was that her gift had burnt her that night. Confronted with Gregor now just reminded her that had she been in the room, she could have done a better job at healing him. She had saved his life, but it had torn him apart too. And what good was that? Her compassion to Zaveed had almost cost her everything - her gift to Zaveed had consequences. “I deserved your anger in that moment, I can’t find it in me to be aggrieved about it now.” Her voice was soft, and she gazed down at the floor again.
Gregor’s eyes lit up. “You know me better than I know myself, it seems. You’re right. I stabbed the beast between the eyes before I awoke and it hasn’t been back since.” He held out his hand to her. “Then let there be no further grievances between us again,” he added and tilted his head. “Something else is bothering you. What is it?”
“Just… a case of mind over matter, nothing more than that.” She lifted her gaze to meet him. He looked almost peaceful in the chair with his hand outstretched towards her, eyes brightened under the sun like that. How could she not smile at him and return to his side when he looked at her that way? He was still carrying pain in his limbs and chest, she could see it in the way he chose to slump backwards. As she walked back over she let her fingertips linger over his —deliberately choosing to barely touch them, in a kittenish manner with a smirk. She brought herself to his side again having made a lap of the room now and kissed his forehead.
“Very well, keep your secrets,” Gregor mumbled when she leaned over to kiss him and closed his eyes at the touch of her lips on his skin. Something, some ferocious tension within him, had uncoiled and he exhaled slowly, feeling his muscles begin to loosen up. “You know, it hurts to stretch,” he said and opened one eye to look up at her. “I don’t think I can apply that ointment you made everywhere it needs to be.” He knew he did not have to ask the question out loud, and he was glad. It pained him to have to ask for help.
“A shame,” she said in a faux serious tone, “if only you had someone to help you with those things,” she closed it off with a sigh, rolling her eyes around the room, before finally cracking a smile.
Off she went, slowly, down the steps towards the bowl on the table. Already it had lost much of the coolness but that wouldn’t lessen it’s healing effects. As she came back to him, she realised she would have to strip him of the bandages. She’d have to look upon his chest and scars again. It was her fault they were there, she should be confronted once more with them. A reminder of what she had done to him. The bowl was set down gently on the table, and she moved her hands to his chest, pausing to look him in the eye - as if seeking his permission, to remove them.
Despite himself, despite the fact that he asked for her help, Gregor almost flinched and felt himself tense right back up again when her fingers brushed against the bandages. He clenched his fists, bit his lip, inhaled sharply and felt his left foot bounce up and down rapidly on the floor. Panic frayed at the edges of his heart. He had already looked upon himself in the mirror the day after it happened but, for some reason, the trauma had only grown worse with every passing hour. It was like it had needed time to sink in and dig in deep and it was so much worse when someone else touched him there. Gregor forced himself to open his hands and stretch his fingers and he breathed out through his nose. Raelynn was looking at him, trying to meet his gaze, and when he finally met her eyes, his were filled with equal parts turmoil and determination. He nodded. Go ahead, he wanted to say, but he could not find his voice.
Before anything could be done about the bandages, she had to ease his trepidation. It would not do to treat him while he was in this state, and so she softened before him and drew to him calmly, moving her hands away from his chest entirely. She placed her finger under his chin delicately, lifting him to meet her lips where she placed as soft a kiss as she could, her hands moved to his hands and she caressed him with only the touch of her fingers and lips on his skin. “It’s alright,” she whispered against his neck as she brushed her lips there, “it’s just me.” Raelynn knew that despite her lack of magical abilities right now, they had their love - she hoped it would be enough to soothe him.
One hand found its way to the other side of his neck, her fingernails gently scratching him behind his ear as she continued to lay her kisses on him. Sometimes it was easier to tear a bandage off, sometimes it was not. This occasion was the latter. Memories of the wounds that were seared into her brain told her of a safe spot to start to remove them, and so she slipped her finger with an efficient ease between cloth and skin, pulling it free. That did it, and then she brought both of her hands to the buttons of his linen shirt, undoing them one by one in as sensual a manner as she could. When the last was unbuttoned, she slid the shirt away from his shoulders - as she had done many times before. “It won’t hurt,” she mumbled reassuringly. In a swift movement she brushed the bandaging away, freeing the wounds from their constriction and revealing them to Raelynn’s eyes. She didn’t flinch. They were as they had been when she had left him. Red, deep, and running across his skin like stripes. In a way, they reminded her of the scar that her hand bore from the nail. The only difference was, that she chose to let hers fester by choice - shame. Whereas Gregor had needed her, and she could have mended him.
Her kisses, her soft words, the way she took off his shirt, her patience, the affection in her eyes -- it made it all tolerable, but it also filled him with a deep, stifling grief that made him feel very small. She had listened to his vitriolic tirade, allowed him to come into her home and accuse her, without so much as a single ounce of retaliation. Even before he had visited her and come to his senses, she had dedicated her time, effort and resources to brewing a remedy for his pain. She had waited for him, in pain and longing, until he was ready. When he had come and realized what a fool he had been, she had told him that she loved him and now he felt it; everything about her positively radiated it. He turned his head aside while Raelynn looked upon his wounds and hot tears ran down his cheeks yet again as he tried not to cry, biting his lip to stop it from quivering and grabbing the chair tightly to stabilize himself.
He did not deserve such kindness. He knew it.
The gel was still cold enough to the touch as she held it in her hands, saving it for his chest. She had noticed that he had changed in demeanour, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was as if a deep melancholy had broken through him. The way that his hands held so fiercely to the chair saddened her, only moments ago they were jubilant with each other, logically she knew it was to be expected. They both needed healing, but all she wanted was for him to hold and grip her as tightly again as he was the seat. It choked her to look at him too long like this. She had to ease his pain - and it would start with a simple remedy. What was required after was currently unknown to her, but they would figure it out together.
She had seen worse injuries many times, and she would see worse still - but on Gregor, there was a different layer to it. She was in love with him, and so anything that wounded him, she felt it too. This wasn’t a Nord from Skyrim who’d lost his leg and shredded his arm wrestling with a bear. This was Gregor. This was her Gregor. She owed him so much now. Her penance would start with this and she began to rub in the gel, slowly, but with firm movements and without moving her eyes from the scars.
He did not want to look her in the eye, so she would not tempt him, she just worked at his chest, shoulders, arms, and neck until the bowl was empty and his skin was left with a glossy sheen across it while the gel worked its way through the skin.
Suddenly she didn’t want to meet his eyes either, now that her job was complete, she was just face-to-face once more with the reality of the situation. Gregor had almost died. “Gregor I…” she started with her gaze drifting to the floor, her fingers still moving over his wounds. “I hadn’t given it much thought until I saw you again… But... You could have died because of me. I’m sorry, I should have been there and I wasn’t. You were there when I needed you, but I…” The treatment was done, and she slipped down to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest at a forlorn pace, her voice baleful and distant. “I failed you…”
She had no tears left within her to cry for him, so she settled for resting her chin on her knees and closing her eyes, lips trembling and voice wavering. Eyes dry. “Because of me you almost had it all taken from you, and yet you took the risk for me… I should have been there. And I wasn’t, and I hadn’t thought about it because I did save you - only just, Gods…” Her eyes opened, and she looked up at Gregor with a hurt expression. “But when I saw you - I don’t know, it’s like it suddenly hit me how it would feel to actually lose you now. I failed you.”
The gel’s effect, now that the entire content of the bowl had been spread across his torso, was even better than the small dab of the the ointment he had applied earlier and Gregor finally exhaled before taking a deep, shuddering breath. He hadn’t even realized he had been holding hit in until then. He sniffled and breathed again, eyes closed, losing himself in the immense relief he felt as the pain slowly subsided. The wooden chair creaked as the tension on it from Gregor’s firm grip was released and his hands fell, limp, over the edge of the handrails.
He kept his eyes closed as he listened to her. It was as if she had helped to soothe his soul as well by taking the pain of his body away and Gregor felt, even when Raelynn brought it up again, that he truly wasn’t angry anymore. He took another deep breath, enjoying how it no longer agonized him, and turned his palms up. Magic sprang to life in his hands, pale blue wisps of light from far away, and he turned back to look at Raelynn at last. Some of his usual strength and conviction had returned to his face now, as the last of the chains around his heart uncoiled and slipped away, and he gazed down upon Raelynn with warmth and steel in his eyes in equal measure.
Perhaps it did not matter if he deserved such kindness or not. He needed it and she was willing to give it to him. With her, he could be a better, stronger person than before. “But I am still here. We are only human, Raelynn. Mistakes are inevitable. You told me you went looking for me -- I believe you. It was only rotten luck that we missed each other and you found him instead.” His voice was hoarse and drained from the weight of his emotions and his weariness, but she had rekindled his spark. He leaned forward and reached down to stroke her cheek with his hand and his face softened. “You did save me,” he whispered. “And you healed me. Thank you.” He mouthed the last two words with all the sincerity and emphasis he could muster.
“I did,” she said with a smile as she leaned into his touch and reached up to hold his hand with hers, intertwining her fingers with his, squeezing them tightly before releasing them again. “I did save you, I... “ She sighed, unable to bring it upon herself to continue with what she wanted to say. She wanted to respect that he was forgiving, and that he didn’t need anything else to be discussed regarding the matter. His forgiveness, and the way that he looked at her immediately set her at ease and she felt so warm and protected by him once more. She just stared up at him for a while, drinking him in. Every bit of him. “I can make more of that soon, too,” she chimed, snapping out of it, with life in her voice again as she picked the bowl up and walked it back to the cabinet. She allowed herself a pained glance at her own hands now that they were empty. She bit her lip, but didn’t stay there for too long, she wanted to be close to Gregor again. He was here and his presence excited her. She closed the glass doors and turned back to her paramour with a smile. “So, what now?”
Good question. Gregor got to his feet and donned his linen shirt again. He cast a glance at the bandages, which had been for comfort as much as they had been to hide his scars behind, but he felt that he no longer needed them. He did not have to be ashamed of something that could not hurt him any longer. He paced around the mezzanine now, echoing Raelynn’s movements from before, while he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. It felt good. The ointment hadn’t taken care of the trembling in his fingers, he noticed with a pang of disappointment. The nerve damage would take more than that to heal. Still, he was almost back to normal functionality, now that his arms were no longer stiff and painful, and that was enough.
“Now that we have reconciled and the worst of my… discomfort, as it were, has been taken care of, we can turn our eyes to the future,” Gregor mused and ran his fingers across the spines of the books he walked past. “Which is something that I have not given much thought until now. I think our priority should be to return to the others, wherever in Gilane they might be. We should stay with them. I still have my quest to complete and being embedded within the resistance against the Dwemer is my best shot at doing so,” he said and looked at Raelynn. He frowned, quizzical and somewhat sheepish. “What do you want? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask. You have your work here now, of course.”
Raelynn chuckled to herself at his question. “Ah, please Gregor, we both know this isn’t my work - this is filling time, once my father returns I’ll have no need to be here.” She followed his footsteps, arriving by his side, “I will go where I’m needed - and that’s with our group. With you.” She turned to face him, straightening up the collar of his shirt against his neck with a sultry smile. “There is more that I want us to do, to achieve. I have found a way in which I can help you…” The Breton placed a hand on the bookshelf, tracing a finger across the spines as Gregor did. “I want to dedicate some time to my Alchemy, to study and improve my skills - there are things I can create that will help you in your quest, help us.” If she couldn’t learn the art of Necromancy, she would expand her knowledge of what she already knew. When Gregor had first sacrificed N’blec’s soul to his Ideal Master, she had wondered where she would fit in with his quest - aside from being his companion. She didn’t want to just live as an observer to his journey, she wanted to guide and assist him to the Ascension that he deserved.
“I’ve had a lot of quiet time here. Time to reflect on everything, and it only makes me firmer in my resolve to be there with you, Gregor. Wherever you go, I will be there… If you’ll have me.” Saying the words, being back by his side - the nightmare that was Zaveed now behind them - it empowered her. It was time to get back to where they had been. No more distractions. Raelynn smiled up at him again, burning desire steadily returning as she met his eyes with her own. “Of course…” she began with a flirtatious undertone, “I may feel especially put out if you make us go back to the hotel so soon... Can’t we just have some time to ourselves? Just a little more time…” Her head tilted to the side and her lips pouted. There was an alluring glint in her eyes that gave suggestion as to exactly what was on her mind.
Gregor put his hands on Raelynn’s waist and felt his heartbeat quicken when it became obvious what her desires were. She was right, it had been too long since they had been able to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, and now that Gregor’s body had been fixed, he found that he wanted to put it to good use. “Of course I’ll have you,” he said softly and kissed her after allowing himself a small smile at the double entendre. He wasn’t rough but he wasn’t tender either -- he kissed her with passion and authority and pulled her body against his, her rich clothes a sharp contrast against the ordinary linens of his own. The thought of having her in her own father’s home, the scandal of it, thrilled him. Salasoix would hate it and that meant that Gregor loved it. “Lead the way, my love,” he murmured as his hands ran over her body, slipping beneath the fabric at opportune places while a dastardly mischief alighted his eyes.
Her own hands ran through his hair and she had to restrain herself from tearing open the shirt she had only just been so careful with, “I missed you so much,” she growled into his ear longingly, the way that he touched her only spurring on her lust. She began to lead him to her desk with little elegance in her step - just impatient desperation. With a swift motion of her hand she brushed off the rolled parchments and they bounced down the steps of the mezzanine with a hollow echo. The inkpot rolled over the edge and smashed on the floor but she didn't care - she was beyond feeling graceful as she sat and leaned back on the desk, her hands seizing at the hems of his shirt to pull him close. She came up to meet him, a hand grasped firmly at the back of his neck so she could pull him close enough to kiss him and whisper against his lips, “I missed everything about you… Tell me I’m yours,” she commanded in an assertive purr.
“Oh, you are,” Gregor murmured while his fingers worked to undo Raelynn’s gold-trimmed jacket; now that his heart was soaring and adrenaline flooded his system, his fingers were perfectly still once more. He kissed her neck and her chest after he finished, his hands roughly groping at her now-naked skin, leaving the imprint of his fingers, before he looked her in the eye again and wrapped a hand, gently but firmly, around her throat. “You are mine, and mine alone.”
Raelynn was so consumed by Gregor, that she had not noticed that the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and that sunset was kicking in. The room was slowly filling with shadows now, pooling darkness that almost ran the length of the room, muting the colours and dimming the light. She looked at him again, pure infatuation was etched across her features and she wanted him to see it, she wanted him to lose control in the throes of passion…
It was then that she knew that they weren't going to just be alright, but that they were stronger now. Unstoppable. 
ButtsnBalls,
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Lord Wraith,
Roman,
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BlazingBark,
Skai,
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