Chapter Text
Amber eyes fluttered open, only to blink in bleary confusion as they took in the sight of the makeshift tent of furs surrounding him. What … ? Shifting in the bedroll he was tucked into, which was a rather strange feeling after weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, Solimar hands rose to rub at his face in an effort to clear the sleepy haze clouding his thoughts and he groaned. Where…?
However a soft noise from behind had him sitting up with a gasp, sudden panic clawing at his chest, though when his wide eyes met the weary gaze of the Bosmer outside, he again began to relax. “Ah,” he breathed after a moment, the memories of the day before finally coming back to him. “That’s right.”
“Good morning.” Calin hummed from where he was seated just outside the tent by a small fire. His hair was loose of it’s braid, hanging in thick waves down his back, and he was again clad in that curious wolf leather armor but now had a short steel sword on one hip and a dagger at the other, bow and quiver within reach beside him as well.
Armed and ready for a fight , Solimar observed, nodding back as he recalled the more casual state he’d been in the day before when he’d first come upon the camp. He’d clearly decided to take the Altmer’s fear of being followed seriously, and Solimar couldn’t help but feel far too vulnerable by comparison in his simple borrowed tunic. He disliked how exposed he was without his familiar robes and hood, and hoped they had dried enough by now to put back on.
“Well, good afternoon , really,” the Bosmer continued after a moment, tilting his head to the side as his lips twitched into a smirk. “You were asleep for a long time, my lord, but I thought it best to leave you to it.”
Solimar’s eyes narrowed slightly at the wood elf’s teasing tone, but decided to ignore it. “You have my thanks.” As he rose and emerged from the tent, he couldn’t help but cast a quick paranoid glance at the forest around them before coming to sit beside the smaller mer.
Calin grunted back, nodding to the small pot beside the fire, not quite touching the flames but close enough to keep it’s contents warm. “Help yourself.”
“You are most kind,” the Altmer murmured, leaning forward to serve himself a bowl. It was the same venison stew they had eaten the night before, thick with chunks of mostly meat but some potato as well, and while it was a far cry from the meals he was used to being served, it was the most delicious thing he’d eaten in weeks and he was hardly going to complain.
As Solimar took his first bite, the wood elf turned his attention back to the dark cloth laid over his lap, and the Altmer raised a brow as he recognized his own trousers. To his surprise, Calin was actually in the process of sewing shut the various holes and rips with the confident ease of someone used to such tasks. Unexpected, but not as much as the fact that he had even bothered . On top of everything else, he hadn’t thought Calin would mend his clothing for him.
“Ah, you do not have to-” he began to protest, swallowing his mouthful of stew.
Now it was the Bosmer’s turn to raise a brow, no little amusement on his face as he glanced back over. “No? Used to doing your own tailoring are you, my lord ?”
Solimar’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Stop calling me that,” he snapped, though truthfully he’d never held a needle and thread in his life. “I simply meant that with how much you were already helping me, this was unnecessary.”
“What can I say, we Bosmer are generous.” Sly grin still in place, Calin returned to his task. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I burned your robes earlier so I thought this might make up for it.”
“You did what ?” Straightening in shock, the Altmer sent him a frosty glare. “How dare you-”
“Oh relax .” Calin rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t need them anymore, surly. Wearing them is like asking someone to kill you; I’m honestly amazed you made it this far with them.”
The Altmer bit back a harsh retort, well aware that the wood elf was right and wearing them was foolish, but he had still been quite attached to those robes.Thalmor uniform or not, they’d had several powerful enchantments woven into them and it seemed a waste to just destroy them, but it was too late now. “Perhaps,” he grunted back. “Though I would appreciate it if you could refrain from destroying more of my things in the future.”
Calin glanced back towards him curiously, and Solimar allowed himself to give a faint smirk, raising a brow expectantly. “Aye,” the Bosmer chuckled with a nod, correctly guessing that he had been forgiven. “I think I can manage that.”
It went unspoken that he didn’t exactly have any other belongings, on his person at least, but Solimar recognized the importance of staying on this elf’s good side for the sake of his own survival. He was no fool; he knew how fortunate he was to have crossed paths with him when he had, and was more grateful than he could say for all of the unexpected help. A strange feeling to be sure, and Solimar was unsure of how to even really speak to the Bosmer, but arguing over something done for his own benefit wasn’t going to do him any favors.
A large part of him was also quite intrigued by this wood elf, who was so unlike the various Bosmer servants and soldiers he’d dealt with in the past. Less refined than anyone usually allowed in polite Altmer society, but still very capable in his own right, as living out here alone had proved. His armor and weapons also seemed well crafted, likely above average quality, and he guessed they were no stranger to use.
Silence fell between the pair while Solimar ate, though he couldn’t help but eventually glance back to the other elf. “You said you are from Whiterun?” He asked after a brief hesitation. “Have you been in Skyrim long?”
Calin seemed surprised by the question when he looked up to meet his gaze. “Aye, over ten years now.”
“That long?” Solimar blinked. The Bosmer looked young, a couple decades younger than himself at any rate, and it was rare for Altmer to leave the Isles at such an age. Was it more common for wood elves?
“It’s been almost twenty since I left Valenwood. I’ve just been in Skyrim the longest.”
“Oh, I see.” He was silent for a moment, but was unable to keep from asking, “Why did you leave?” Many Bosmer left their homeland to join the Dominion, but it was strange to think of one going to willingly live among humans for so long. Would the company of fellow mer not be better?
“And why do you want to know?” Calin’s tone was sharper now and he was staring at Solimar almost accusingly. “No offence, my lord , but it’s usually best for one’s health the less the Thalmor knows about them.”
He was not wrong, and despite himself, Solimar felt his cheeks grow warm under his stern gaze. “I am not Thalmor anymore,” he corrected firmly, then bowed his head with a sigh. “But I must admit I am simply curious. I’ve not met many from outside of Alinor, and you are not quite what I’ve come to expect.” The truth felt better than attempting to lie, and the Bosmer seemed far too perceptive to be fooled anyway.
Calin was quiet for a long moment, and the Altmer wasn’t sure he’d answer, but eventually the smaller mer’s posture relaxed and he huffed out a little laugh. “I get that a lot, actually.” He sounded amused again, to Solimar’s own relief, though his tone turned more wistful as he continued. “I loved my tribe, truly, but I was always more restless than most of them. We were pretty far removed from everything, only sometimes getting news of the rest of the world from our neighbors. Nothing exciting or different ever happened and I was bored… So I left. I went to Elsweyr first, which was still struggling to recover from the War at the time.”
Solimar frowned as he recalled just how many Khajiit had died on the front lines when they’d invaded Cyrodiil. Many of them were natural warriors, and they were far easier to replace than mer who took longer to breed and mature. Indifference towards non-Altmer had really been necessary in his years with the Dominion, but thinking too deeply about the lives affected by their actions had always made him uncomfortable, so that had been something best avoided for his own sake. He was both surprised and ashamed with himself as he realized he had never really considered the state of the commonKhajiit people after the years of aggressive recruitment during the Great War. It would not have been easy for many, as the Bosmer had just confirmed.
“I ended up staying in Senchal for a few years, before I got restless again and took a ship to Anvil. Traveled around Cyrodiil for a while, and eventually ended up here in Skyrim where I was recruited into a mercenary group based in Whiterun. Decided I liked it enough there to stay for a decade.” Calin paused, brown eyes narrowing accusingly. “And that is where I would still be if a certain group of elves hadn’t gone and ruined everything. Again.”
“My apologies,” the Altmer replied with a sigh, unsure of how else to respond. “Truly, for whatever it may be worth, I would never have agreed to such a thing. I never did have the same disregard for the lesser races that many of my colleagues shared. Such loss of innocent life is unnecessary and cruel.”
“Well it’s all going to be okay now!” Calin chirped back in faux cheer. “Saint Solimar is here! All alone…. Without Allies or a plan, and he’s going to save us all! Gods be praised! ”
The mocking words managed to strike a cord, and the Altmer stiffened in sudden anger. No one had dared to speak to him like that in a long time, and it was only because he knew he really did need Calin’s help that he resisted his first urge to put this insolent mer in his place … Tempting as it was, that would only result in nothing good for himself unfortunately.
“I do not need you to remind me that my leaving the way I did was foolish,” he ground out, scowling. “But I saw the opportunity and took it. I’ve survived thus far, have I not? I just need to get to Cyrodiil; a former Thalmor High Council member would be a useful ally against the Dominion, no?”
“A High Council…” The Bosmer’s tan skin paled a shade as he stared at him in shock, and Solimar belatedly realized that he hadn’t actually yet named his former position, only alluded vaguely to it, and his irritation gave way to unease at what the other mer would do with this new information.
“Y’ffre aehni vellah, ” Calin muttered stiffly, looking away as he ran a hand aggressively through his hair. He was dead. He was so dead. He’d assumed Solimar was a high ranking Justiciar or something, not a member of the bloody High Council. One of the mer in charge of the entire Aldmeri Dominion was really sitting here in his camp, eating his stew, wearing his dead friend’s clothes. And he definitely had agents after him; there was no way the Thalmor would allow one of their leaders to turn traitor and run. The kind of information he must have on the Dominion’s operations made him a real threat, and they would do anything in their power to silence him. That meant that the longer Calin was with him, the longer he was in danger as well.
The urgency of the situation hit him fully then, and he abruptly stood, tossing the other mer his trousers. They weren’t fully mended yet, but that was now the last of his worries. “Okay then,” he bit out, meeting Solimar’s gaze. The emotion he’d been surprised to see at all earlier had cleared from the Altmer’s expression, thoughts now hidden behind the same mask of cold indifference that was commonplace among Thalmor agents. “I’m leaving for a little while, and you’re going to stay here and pack us the essentials for a journey of a few days, understood?”
“You are going?” Solimar’s voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying his nerves. “Where?”
“I need to figure out exactly where this Caravan is hiding out and get us there as quickly as possible, and I’m hoping to find an animal that can point me in the right direction. I shouldn’t be more than a couple hours, you’ll be fine.” What went unsaid was the bond of mutual respect he’d established with the local wolves, and that he was going to seek them out in particular; if any beast would be able to help it would be them. His Bosmer affinity for animals paired with a werewolf’s ease with wolves hopefully would pay off once again. “I assume you’re a mage, and a powerful one? I doubt you’d have made it this far if you weren’t.”
“Naturally,” the Altmer grunted back.
“Naturally,” Calin echoed with a nod. “Right, of course. So if anything happens don’t go blabbing that you’re ex-Thalmor obviously, act like you’re just another refugee. If that doesn’t work just use your magic and do what you have to until I get back.” As an afterthought, he took his dagger off his belt and held it out. “And take this, if it will make you feel better.”
The mer blinked, surprise flicking briefly in his amber eyes, but he reached out to accept the weapons after a moment’s hesitation. “Thank you.”
“I don’t know why I’m doing any of this,” Calin said with a frown, wanting to make that point perfectly clear. “I should just kill you myself and forget this ever happened, but I’m apparently as much a fool as you, elf. Please try and not make me regret it.”
Perhaps if the Altmer had acted more in typical Thalmor fashion, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation now, but Solimar had seemed genuine enough that he had many regrets and was taking great personal risk to try and right those wrongs. Calin was always one to avoid getting involved too closely in politics, but he knew that all of Tamriel would be a better place without the Dominion breathing down everyone’s necks. If there was any one person with a chance of making a real impact against them it was Solimar, so he might as well help get him on the right path for everyone’s sake. Maybe then they would leave Skyrim alone and things could just go back to normal.
“Understood.” The Altmer bowed his head, pale hair falling forward to shield his face from view. “I am in your debt, I will repay you for this chance, I swear it.”
“Oh don’t start that,” Calin sighed, shaking his head. “One step at a time; let’s just see if we survive the week first, eh?”
Solimar huffed at that. “A fair point.”
“Aye, and the sooner you’re not my problem anymore the better. As far as I know, I haven't made the Thalmor watch list yet, and I’m not trying to break that record now.” Without waiting for the Altmer to respond, he turned and strode away from the camp, frown not quite leaving his face.
He felt a smug told you so from his beast, who still believed killing the Altmer was the best option, but he was quick to clamp down on those thoughts. Like it or not, he was already involved in this and he was no coward. He may as well play his part and see what happened, but he had a strange inkling in his mind that this was only just beginning for him.
It was bound to be interesting, if nothing else...