Chapter Text
Steel met steel with a sharp clang that reverberated in the cool dusk air. It was quickly followed by several more, each one more furious than the last. The flurry of blades was intense and quite literally heated—the metal was warming up with each strike and parry. Finally, his blade met the flesh of his opponent's thigh, cutting right through the femoral artery. The man screamed in pain as bright red blood began to burst out, covering his entire leg within seconds. He dropped his sword and fell to the ground, futilely attempting to staunch the bleeding.
“Please,” the man hoarsely begged, tears of pain and fear welling up and spilling out of his eyes.
“Please, don’t kill me,” he begged pathetically. “Please, have mer-”
The man’s cries went unheard as Colin’s blade cut the carotid in a clean stroke, letting the man choke on his own blood. He had no sympathy for the gurgling bandit, flailing around wildly but becoming more sluggish at an exponential rate. Rapist, murderer, arsonist; a man like this deserves no mercy. A part of his brain tried to point out the irony of it, but Colin was getting very good at drowning out said part. He was learning to live again.
The bandit stopped kicking and gave two final twitches before going still, the pool of blood slowly spreading out from underneath him. Colin sheathed his sword and wiped his hands on his pants, leaving dark crimson stains on the boiled leather.
“Damnit, I was hoping I’d be the one to claim this bastard,” Farkas said from behind, slightly out of breath from the fight and climbing to the top of the tower.
“Getting slow, Farkas,” Colin shot back, searching the man for any valuables he may have.
“Hmph. You gave me the horde so you could kill their leader. What a friend you are,” Farkas replied, leaning against the stone turrets. “Reckless abandonment.”
“Reckless abandonment? You shittin’ me?” Colin said with a scoff, finding nothing worth looting and turning back to his friend. “Remember not even a week ago when-”
“That was different,” Farkas sniffed, inspecting the dead bandit’s sword.
“Enlighten me, then,” Colin said, beginning to climb down the steps.
“One, fuck you,” Farkas said, following Colin. “I told you I don’t like spiders. I’ve made that clear time and time again to everybody but somehow I get stuck with you clearing out a damned nest!”
“Oh, woe is you,” Colin replied, rolling his eyes. “C’mon. If we make good time we can be back before sunset.”
“Bit optimistic. What’s the rush?” Farkas inquired as they reached the bottom and exited the gate.
“I don’t really feel like camping out, and I could use a strong drink. Plus, I told Lucia I would be back tonight.”
The night was cold, unusually so for what would be Skyrim’s version of August. Then again, summer was coming to an end and he hadn’t spent enough time to know whether or not this was the norm, but he’s pretty sure that in Skyrim there hasn’t been a night this cold while he’s been here; it was not unbearable, he knew far, far worse. Shaking an unpleasant memory brought about from an unchecked train of throughly from his mind, Colin exhaled, watching his breath condense in the crisp night air.
Despite the growing numbness on his nose and the skin not covered by his fingerless gloves, Colin felt pleasantly content. It was getting easier and easier to not question the how or the why of his presence in Skyrim, to let go of the past. The hollowness inside was slowly disappearing in tandem with his desire to drink his feelings away. There were still nightmares, sure, but they were becoming less intense. Maybe one day he’d have to eventually confront the burning questions he had about his existence, but it seemed less and less likely.
Not only was he letting go of the past and putting his mind and heart at peace, but he was allowing himself to feel again. To get attached and grow relationships without the fear of loss hanging over. To open up to others about how he was feeling. To not have to bear the burden alone. To have a new family. It was addicting, having a future and happiness where you previously thought nothing but hollowness, despair, cynicism, and resignation.
A commotion from down the street brought him back to reality, squeezing his eyes hard and shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again. Turning to his left, he saw a guard carrying a torch and dragging a small, frightened girl.
“Please!” She cried. “I’m sorry, please sir, it won’t happen again! I swear! Please don’t kick me out!”
The guard grunted in response, nonplussed by the girl’s squirming and crying. She was fighting hard to free her wrist from the guard’s grip, but to no avail. As they got closer, Colin recognized her as the girl who had begged him for some money some four months ago.
Lucia.
“What’s going on here?” Colin demanded, stepping in front of the guard and blocking his path.
“Little rat was caught stealing again. Fifth time this month,” the guard replied, sounding miffed.
“Only food, sir! Little scraps, I wouldn’t take anything else, only enough to feed myself,” Lucia said, pleading eyes looking straight into Colin’s. A surge of anger flared up in him, and he suddenly felt very protective of the little girl.
“And you’re locking her up for this?” Colin scoffed, folding his arms.
“Locking her up?” The guard chuckled. “We aren’t the the Thalmor, for fuck’s sake. She’s getting sent to Riften. An old hag runs an orphanage there.”
“No, no, please! Not that place!” Lucia bawled in terror.
Colin frowned. The idea of an orphanage was good and wholesome…but in practice…
“What’s up with this orphanage?” Colin asked.
The guard sighed and shook his head.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not getting paid to know where exactly they’re sending the kid, but it’s an orphanage. Good enough for me,” the guard replied.
Lucia looked to Colin, glassy eyes filled with fear. He could sense that whatever this place was—this orphanage—it was not treating its wards well. Abuse had run rampant in orphanages in his world; he could only imagine how awful it was in Skyrim.
“Does she have to go? Isn’t there another way for her to stay here?” Colin asked.
“No, not unless you’d be willing to pay her fine and adopt her. We can’t have little rats running around our beautiful city, now can we?” The guard said.
Colin clenched his fists, but refrained from punching the guard. In his experience, Lucia was one of the lucky ones. Stateside the poverty rates had been bad, with kids dying every day from hunger or gang violence. Korea, however, had shown him far worse. He still could not get the image of the little boy shaking the scattered remains of his mother, begging her to wake up. Colin had continued walking then. Lucia was lucky. She would be going to a place where she was guaranteed a warm bed and a full stomach. He had no real reason to intervene.
“How much?” Colin asked.
“Excuse me?” The guard replied, wondering if he’d heard the other man correctly.
“How much to pay off her fine?” Colin asked, digging into his pockets for the money.
“Uhh…you want to pay off her fine?” The guard asked, bewildered.
“Did I stutter? How much?” Colin snapped.
“…50 septims…but you’d need to adopt her as well, so-”
“Done,” Colin said, cutting off the guard. He knew what he was doing was extraordinarily impulsive, but frankly, he didn’t care. The girl who had Jane’s eyes deserved better. Far better.
“You’re going to adopt her?” The guard asked, now completely stunned.
“Yeah. I’ve got a place and everything,” Colin said, praying that Kodlak would allow him to take Lucia in.
The guard let go of the young girl’s wrist, and she flew forwards, throwing her arms around Colin’s leg and squeezing it tightly. Tears of relief ran down her face as she thanked him over and over and over again. His chest swelled at the sight, and he gently patted the young girl’s head, whispering soothing words.
It’ll be alright.
The sun set right as the duo reached the main gate, its final rays winking out and giving way to a beautiful and clear starry night, cool but not cold. A nebula split the dome-like sky, encompassed with thousands of stars, each possessing a varying degree of brightness. Some burned bright, others, dimly, while others still weren’t even stars but planets. It was absolutely breathtaking.
Colin absentmindedly wondered whether or not his world was still out there, up in the sky, far beyond his reach. It was hard not to stumble into the pitfalls of his mind, where he would think back to the world he once knew. The train of thought always led him to where he was before, and that brought up the memories he was fighting against. The death. The loss.
It was hard not to wonder if it was all even real. Even after eight months in Skyrim that felt very real, his mind still had trouble accepting it. Never fully processed it, understood it, just sort of went with the flow. He felt better, happier even, and each day he was able to let go of the longing for the familiarity of his old world. He was healing, slowly, and some things would never leave him but there was now hope. Hope that he can live with them in peace. To be at peace.
The guard waved them in as they turned their horses over to the stablehand. Apparently even Skyrim had valet.
“So, Bannered Mare or home?” Farkas asked as they walked up the street.
“As much as I would love to go for a drink, I promised I’d be back to see Lucia,” Colin replied. “Got her a gift, too.”
“Really?” Farkas asked.
“Yeah. Little emerald ring I got off a bandit. I’m going to say I just found it in a chest; she doesn’t need to know how much blood was on the thing,” Colin said, fingering the ring in his pocket.
It was a beautiful emerald and white-gold ring, small enough for a child though not tiny. Its gemstones weren’t obnoxious, but rather subtle. The reason it was so special was that there was a small L masterfully carved into the front. He wasn’t sure if Lucia would like it, but she could still sell it. It was worth a hefty amount.
Lucia. God, he never realized just how much he needed someone like her. Someone small, with curious eyes and a mischievous grin, someone who Colin could protect. Someone who Colin could comfort during thunderstorms. Someone who Colin could teach and take care of. Someone who Colin could love. His little sister.
His biological sister was gone to him, first lost by three ambiguous letters, and then by a whole universe. Jane was more likely dead.
She helped heal him in ways she would never know, warding off his inner demons and allowing him to let go of Jane. He guessed Kodlak saw that when he’d walked into Jorrvaskr at midnight, a timid little girl hiding behind his legs.
It took a few days for Lucia to come out of her shell, but when she did it revealed a bright, curious, and talented young girl. The rest of the Companions accepted her as one of their own, subtly fighting over Lucia, trying to convince her to take up their preferred weapon. In particular, Aela and Ria fought a little war against each other, trying to sway the young girl to the school of archery and swordsmanship respectively.
In the end, Lucia surprised them all by taking up a hammer. Wanting to make herself useful and uncomfortable from the amount of attention she got, Lucia ended up at the forge with Eorlund. Each day, she would crawl into her cot covered in soot, sporting burns and bruises, exhausted, and sporting a smile that could light up a room.
No one thought a ten year old girl, orphaned practically from birth and cast out to the streets, would make such an excellent blacksmith. Eorlund sung praises of her skill with the forge, and how she showed so much promise.
As for Colin, he didn’t care as long as Lucia was happy and felt loved. In between contracts they would play on the walls surrounding Whiterun, climbing up and down and inventing little games that both could get lost in for hours and hours until Aela practically dragged them to dinner.
“Well, maybe I’ll see if Lucia wants to come to the Bannered Mare with me, if you’re wimpin’ out tonight,” Farkas said.
“As long as you stay out of trouble and you stay sober, fine. I don’t know how you’re not tired, but I sure as hell am,” Colin replied as they walked the streets of Whiterun.
Farkas recoiled at the notion of sobriety, grumbling softly. Colin chuckled, and punched Farkas lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh, cheer up sourpuss. I’m sure Torvar will join you,” Colin said.
“Torvar? No, no no noooo thank you. Always ends with him doing something stupid and me getting embarrassed by mere association,” Farkas replied, shoving Colin playfully.
“Really wanna play this game?” Colin threatened jokingly, a smirk on his face.
“Only if you’re ready to get your ass kicked,” he replied, a wide grin on his face.
As he opened the door to Jorrvaskr, Colin saw a little blur speed forward and attack him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him fiercely.
“Colly! You came back tonight!” Lucia exclaimed.
“Course I did. I make good on my promises, right Lucy?” Colin replied, hoisting her into his arms and hugging her back.
“What, no love for Farkas?” Farkas said with a scoff.
As Lucia pounced on Farkas for a hug, he turned Tilma.
Tilma, bless her, had voluntarily taken on a grandmotherly role for Lucia. Tilma educated the young girl on things other than weaponry and smithing, such as reading, writing, and arithmetic. In addition to being an eager blacksmith, Lucia was proving to be a voracious reader.
“How was she?” Colin asked Tilma.
“Very good. Though she is supposed to be in bed right now,” Tilma said, flashing a stern look to Lucia which went completely ignored.
“Hey, Lucy, c’mere. I got you a present,” Colin said, reaching into his pocket. Lucia’s face lit up; it was one of the things he loved most. Her joy was his joy. He wondered if this was what it was like to be a parent, though he felt more like an older brother.
“Really?” She said, eyes wide.
Colin dug into his pocket, slowly drawing out the ring. Watching her face get exponentially more excited was worth all the money in the world. He extended his closed palm.
“If you don’t like it, feel free to sell it. It’ll net you a decent amount of money,” Colin said, then opened his palm, revealing the ring.
Lucia’s smile threatened to break her face as she cautiously grabbed the ring—she still wasn’t used to such open and unconditional generosity—inspecting it in the light. Her eyes slowly became wet with tears as she thumbed the L engraved on the side.
“Well, do you like it?” Colin asked.
Lucia looked to Colin, then at the ring, before finally throwing her arms around Colin’s waist once more.
“Thank you, thank you so much Colly! It’s beautiful. I’ll wear it forever. Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” she exclaimed.
“That’s a very pretty ring, Lucia. Only adds to your beauty,” Farkas commented, slipping his gear off in the corner.
“Really?” Lucia asked, innocently wide-eyed.
“Absolutely. Looks fabulous,” Farkas said, flashing Lucia a grin.
“He’s right, child. It looks very nice,” Tilma said with a warm smile.
“And you can check it out even more in bed,” Tilma said.
“Awwww. I wanted to stay up with Colly and Farkas!” Lucia exclaimed, disappointed.
“Farkas is going to bed,” Farkas announced, waving everyone goodnight, earning a chuckle from Colin.
Lucia turned to Colin, eyes pleading.
“Listen, kid, staying up? It’s overrated. Trust me on this, sleep is worth its weight in gold,” Colin said. “Besides, I can’t go against Aunt Tilma’s advice now can I?”
“Mmhmm. In fact, it’s your bedtime as well. You look exhausted,” Tilma said, grabbing Lucia’s hand and gently leading the grumbling girl downstairs.
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on staying up much longer,” Colin replied.
“And no drinking! I’d better not find any empty bottles out here or else I’ll send your sorry hide into next week!” Tilma exclaimed as she disappeared downstairs. Colin lightly rolled his eyes before beginning to strip and put away his gear. Finishing that, he grabbed his journal and a quill and sank into a chair by the dying fire, feeling content and sleepy.
He started a journal right after Lucia joined, so about five months ago. It was still a little weird how nine months had passed since he woke up in that calm forest instead of a gravel road. The longing was just a small tug instead of a massive pull; the nostalgia for some of the luxuries and culture was present, but more bearable. He wrote and drew frequently in his journal of his old world. A diagram of a Bradley, an entry about baseball, a drawing of the American flag, a map of the U.S with the beginnings of Canada drawn—those were just the latest entries.
As he sketched the coastline of the Hudson Bay, the door gently opened, letting in a chilly breeze. It wouldn’t be long before the first snowfall of the year.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Kodlak said.
“Hey. How was your day?” Colin asked, closing his journal. It was a little awkward the first time Colin had pitched the question; it was a cultural difference. He was still learning the ins and outs of Skyrim culture and history, as well as some of the religion and even magic.
That was the hardest part to grapple with. The history he learned fairly quickly (not to say he was done with his studies there), culture he’d been picking up on slowly, and was actively learning about the flora and fauna. But things like the Aedra and Daedra? Those were much more difficult. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, draugr—they were the stuff of fiction in his old world. The idea that there were actual gods, those akin to the Greco-Roman pantheons? Ludicrous.
And magic. Holy shit. All that wizarding crap he’d seen in fantastical worlds and realms on TV were real. He had no magical talent for the fairly obvious reason of him not being native, but some of the companions did. It was still a bit of a mindfuck, in some ways.
There were some things he was much more knowledgeable about. Alchemy, for one, was a bit easier to understand since it was effectively chemistry. Though there were many new chemicals and substances that had radically different effects than what he was used to, there were a decent amount of familiar ones and similar rules seemed to apply. It took a little elbow grease to put names to items, like potassium nitrate, though there were a few that were relatively easy to guess.
After realizing the selection of chemicals—or ingredients —that the local shop had, an idea sprung to him. It would take a while to experiment with, but it should be possible since he had the knowledge and likely the resources too. The shopkeeper had given him a quizzical look at his selection, inquiring as to what he was planning on making. Apparently in Skyrim nobody had ever heard of trinitrotoluene. He’d also put in a request to Eorlund and Lucia to make numerous metallic half eggs and metal beads. They too were equally puzzled, but he assured them it would make sense in due time.
Not only was he well versed in his version of chemistry, but in medicine, tactics, and engineering, and even mathematics. In his world, he probably knew just as much as the next guy (save for tactics), but in this world, he was quite knowledgeable. Ria had even asked him to teach her a bit about math. If he really wanted to, he could make a fortune just inventing some basic things that his world had.
“Good. It was good,” Kodlak replied. “Walked to Riverwood to see an old friend. Beautiful town, always loved the sound of the rushing water. What about you?”
“Pretty good. Took at a bandit stronghold with Farkas, got a nice piece of jewelry for Lucia, and the payout this time was substantial. Exhausted though. Otherwise, it was fine,” Colin said.
“Hmm,” Kodlak replied, adding another log to the fire. “And what about with yourself? Are you still having nightmares?”
Colin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but ultimately conceded—he trusted Kodlak with his life. Kodlak was the only reason he’d made it this far in Skyrim; Colin felt he owed the old warrior his life.
“Less frequent. Not zoning out as much anymore too. It’s still painful and can put a damper on my day, but I think I’m letting go, slowly but surely,” Colin replied, averting his eyes. Talking about his mental state made him uncomfortable.
“The road ahead is still long, but I believe the arduous part has passed,” Kodlak said, poking at the fire with a stick.
“Yeah,” Colin replied, trailing off as his eyelids felt heavier. He also still didn’t like fully talking about stuff like this. “I should probably go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, and rest well. We’ve got a special mission tomorrow,” Kodlak said as Colin headed down the stairs.
Everyone else was long asleep as he slipped into his room, yawning deeply as he crawled into bed.
There was a soft feminine hum from the left side of the bed as he threw the covers over himself, wrapping his arm around the source of the noise, finding warmth.
“You’re back late,” Ria whispered sleepily, turning to face him.
“Was back a while ago, just felt like hanging around upstairs a bit,” Colin replied as Ria snuggled up next to him.
“And left me all alone in this cold bed? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Ria replied, tapping his nose thrice with her index finger.
“How ‘bout I make it up to you?” Colin replied huskily.
“Oh?” Ria said, lifting her eyebrows and giving a small smile. Colin met her lips in a sleepy kiss before planting several chaste ones on her cheek.
“Mmm. I accept your apology,” Ria chuckled, snuggling further into Colin.
In each other’s arms, it wasn’t long until they fell asleep.
“Archangel actual, this is Archangel 1-3. Hostiles dug in a half click north of us; well armed and have AT weaponry confirmed. Requesting air support, ideally a east-west sweep, over,” he said into the radio. His humvee was parked on the side of the road, his driver, Conrad, blasting Spirit in the Sky.
“Archangel 1-3, this is Archangel Actual. Request received and confirmed. Requesting coordinates, over,” the radio crackled.
“Uh, looking at charlie seven niner niner oh five alpha, over,” Colin replied, rolling his neck as the August sun beat down on him.
“Copy. Close air support ETA two minutes, cleared hot, over,” the radio responded.
“Roger that. Put a few rockets in the sons of bitches, over,” Colin replied, putting down the radio and walking back to the Humvee to get a better view of the building.
After a minute or so, he could hear the telltale roar of a jet screeching overhead, followed by a loud burst of molten tungsten and screaming rockets. In just a few seconds, anything living in that building was turned to red paste. Conrad whooped as he watched the rockets explode.
“How you feel about fried chink, LT?” Conrad asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.
“I like 'em medium, medium-rare,” Colin replied with a grin, hopping into the passenger seat. It earned a couple of laughs.
“Well, sir, where shall I take us?” Conrad replied, tossing his cigarette out the window.
“Shut up and drive, asshole. You want Harrison’s unit to beat us?” Colin said with a roll of his eyes.
To their left, a sign informed them that Pyongyang was thirty kilometers away.
The following morning saw Colin and Ria head due west, Ria having been assigned a contract and Colin conveniently offering himself as a partner. It was new, for the both of them, but they enjoyed each other’s company and were eager to see where it led them. It had built up for a while, eyes lingering a little too long, intense sparring sessions, a shared sense of humor, until one night liquid courage pushed them over the edge.
It’s hard not to feel energetic, young, and happy after screwing in the back of a random farmer’s barn.
The shared experiences had different connotations for them both; Ria, arguably much more romantic, was eager to pursue the relationship in the hopes it would lead to something deeper; Colin was just happy to be feeling alive again. To him, his relationship with Ria was another step away from Korea and to an extent his old world and having peace of mind. He had some hesitancy about evolving his fling with Ria, but it was becoming harder and harder to cling onto that mindset each morning he woke up next to her. Nights with her were seldom plagued by nightmares, and the day's events hardly brought him back to Korea. That’s not to say the scars had disappeared—they were still very much there, but they were healing . Sometimes he wondered if it was a driving factor of his deepening attraction towards the fair-skinned woman.
“So what was it like? Your world, I mean,” Ria asked as the two traveled through the countryside on horseback. Questions like these hurt still, the nostalgia, the comforts, the familiarity, but the difference was he wanted to talk about it. Never really bought into that therapeutic bullshit, the “enlightened” people who had seemingly found the secret to a fulfilled life. Wisdom not about staying alive and relatively sane was of no use to him. Now? Now was different.
Colin frowned in thought, thinking of what he wanted to talk about. Most of his new brothers and sisters thought he was joking when he opened up, just ever so slightly, about his old world. They just chalked up the unfamiliar terms and sayings to him being foreign. Ria was no exception, not until recently. Their bedside chats had gotten quite deep even without drinking, and she could sense he was telling the truth despite it being hard to comprehend. Then again, he couldn’t quite believe it for a while, and there were still moments where he wondered if it was all an illusion.
“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to,” Ria hastily added, not wanting to offend Colin.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just thinking about what to share,” Colin said, eyes looking downwards and brow creased. “Anything in particular?”
“Gods, there’s a lot I’m curious about. What about the people? We’re they like you?” She asked, looking at him expectantly.
“If they were, then collectively we are- were fucked,” Colin chuckled. “No, anyways, there were just so many types of people from all walks of life. All human, but part of a variety of different ethnic cultures. My country, America, had no one ethnicity. It was founded by immigrants that came from all over the world. By the time I was born, because of advancements in technology, education, and economics, the world was globalized. Everybody was everywhere. My city, New York? Home to every culture under the sun.”
“Didn’t that cause tensions?” Ria questioned.
“Oh, you bet. For hundreds of years it created heaps of tensions as people drew lines in the sand over religion, ethnicity, race—you name it, they would despise it because it was different. It changed eventually, and although it still was around it became less of an issue. Hell, it was dying out,” Colin replied.
“Hmm, that’s nice. I’m sick and tired of the bullshit over the whole Talos thing. Must’ve been one helluva accomplishment,” Ria commented.
“Maybe. Ideological differences gripped us, and while we united the thousands of little groups of people, it just amplified the tension. Imagine Tamriel, divided into two factions, the West and the East. Separate cultures, separate values, but the people within were all harmonious because they despised the other faction,” Colin explained.
“That…I don’t know what to make of that,” Ria said.
“Yeah, it wasn’t good. It became all about winning, dominating the other side because it was evil. The races and religions of one faction, where once they were bitter enemies, now walked side by side conversing about the bigger threat. That mindset fucked us over. War eventually erupted…let’s just say nothing I’ve seen here can even come close to the sheer brutality of what we unleashed upon ourselves,” Colin said.
“It’s hard to imagine that all of Tamriel at war with one another would yield anything good,” Ria remarked.
“Yeah. It destroyed people, physically and mentally. We were so consumed in our hatred we never even stopped to see that the other side, the guy you were fighting, wasn’t so different after all,” Colin said, chewing on his lip.
“You were a soldier, right?” Ria asked, her eyes gentle and non-demanding. He knew he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.
“Yeah. Went off all excited and happy, ready to go on an adventure and gain some glory for myself. Wisened up real quick,” Colin said, chuckling at the last part. Ria looked at him sympathetically.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. I’m…well…I’m getting over it. I don’t think it’ll ever leave me, but I’m learning to live with it,” Colin said, looking at her with a small smile that was immediately reciprocated.
“Let’s talk about something less serious. I don’t want to depress you on this beautiful day,” Ria said.
They talked about food, entertainment, culture, sports, the internet, and what Colin’s life was like beforehand. Before the war. When he was whole.
By the late afternoon they had reached their destination: a small bastion perched atop a rocky hill. They could see the sentries watching them, alert and ready, their antler helmets reflecting the sun on a cloudless day. Excited was too strong a word for what he felt, but intrigued to weak. No, the feeling was akin to sitting down at one’s favorite restaurant with an empty stomach.
“God damn!” Colin exclaimed, dismounting his horse and stretching his sore muscles. Horseback riding was far worse than driving.
“Ugh, gods. My muscles are aching!” Ria whined as she dismounted hers.
“Why thank you,” Colin replied, gathering his gear.
“Not you, you insolent ass. You’re not quite the player you think you are,” Ria said with a roll of her eyes.
Colin looked up from his knapsack, frowning.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a chuckle. Ria only responded with a sweet and innocent smile, turning and walking towards the bastion.
“Woah, Ria? The hell’s that mean?” Colin asked, hastily throwing on his knapsack and jogging to catch up with her.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she replied, still walking forwards.
“I mean, two nights ago, you seemed pretty happy with the-”
“We have Forsworn to deal with, Colin,” she said, giving him a stern look.
“You cruel bitch,” Colin muttered, warning a swat on the head from Ria.
As they approached the front gate (if you could call it that, it was more of a measly palisade the work of a drunken lunatic would create) the Forsworn standing atop a makeshift archer tower called out to them.
“Who goes there? What business do you have with the Forsworn?” He demanded. Another joined him up on the tower, a bow and arrow readied and waiting.
“We come as members of the Companions,” Ria said loudly and concisely.
“The Companions? What you want with us?” The female archer questioned.
“We are here upon-” Ria began, her diplomatic approach cut off by her arrogant partner.
“We’re couriers, sent by someone who has a special interest in you,” Colin yelled. “This person asked us to deliver you a gift and a message.”
The two Forsworn looked at each other, confused.
“A message and a gift?” The archer parroted.
Ria groaned and bit her lip.
“What’s the message?” The first Forsworn called out, his grip on the hilt of his sheathed sword relaxing.
“‘Fraid I can’t say out in the open. He said to find the esteemed Hagraven and present her with the gift she’s been waiting for,” Colin said, tapping the satchel at his hip. “If you could bring us to her so that we may bestow upon her our message and gift?”
“You want us to open the gate for you and take us to Bertha?” The archer asked with a chuckle. “You think we’re stupid or something?”
Yes.
“Not at all, not at all. Forgive me if my partner here has caused you any offense. We humbly ask that you take us to this Bertha,” Ria said, following Colin’s lead.
The two Forsworn laughed, and shook their heads.
“Sorry, no chance. Counter offer, you leave now and I’ll test out my archery skills some other day,” the Forsworn archer said, her tone menacing.
Ria cursed under her breath.
“This isn’t working,” she hissed quietly to Colin so as to not raise alarm. Her message fell predictably on deaf ears.
“Fine,” Colin said, feigning a disinterested tone. “I’m sure Bertha will react calmly when she finds out you turned away her two couriers, and not disembowel you.”
With that, Colin turned away, motioning Ria to follow him.
“Wait!” The Forsworn archer called out. “You really here to see Bertha?”
Colin gave an exaggerated sigh and turned.
“Yes. She won’t be happy when she finds out of the trouble you gave us,” Colin said, examining his nails. This was just way too much fun.
“How come she didn’t tell us nothing about your arrival?” The first Forsworn asked, his tone far less confident than earlier.
“You think Bertha is obligated to tell you of her private dealings? Who do you think you are? I’m sure Bertha will love to hear about how you felt entitled to know this information,” Colin said sternly.
“I…uh,” the man stuttered.
“I’ve met her twice before, you know. Helped her out a great deal. And this is how you treat her expected guests?” Colin spat, hoping that the two nitwits wouldn’t notice the change in the story. They didn’t.
“Well, we…uh,” the archer began, stumbling over her words.
“We? We what? We call the shots around here now? Not Bertha?”
“No, that’s not what-”
“That’s not what? This is pathetic, you know. You call yourself Forsworn. I say for shame!” Colin bellowed, dumbstruck by how idiotic the pair was.
The gate opened rather hastily.
“Sorry, for the delay,” the first Forsworn apologized.
“We never meant no trouble!” The archer hastily added.
“So we’re free to go up and see Bertha and bestow our gift?” Colin asked, turning his head in mock suspicion.
“Yes, yes of course! Right away!” The first Forsworn stuttered, motioning for them inside.
As they were escorted up into the bastion and past numerous other Forsworn, his stuck up and entitled act dropped much to the thankfulness of the Forsworn escorting him.
“Because you let us in, I won’t tell Bertha of your…transgression,” Colin said, as they reached the door of Bertha’s hut, perched on the highest point of the bastion.
“Oh, thank you. I promise, won’t never happen again!” The man said, relief flashing across his face as they poorly hidden fear left his slightly trembling figure.
“I’ll make sure of it,” Colin said with a predatory smile.
You stupid son of a bitch .
Now, Colin had never seen a Hagraven before. He’d heard the stories of how their great power and hideous appearance instilled terror into their enemies. The witches of Skyrim, the reason little children hid under the covers. For this reason, Colin felt apprehension growing in his chest, wondering what sort of foul abomination he would lay his eyes upon.
As the door fully opened into the darkened hut, Colin had to stifle a laugh. The mighty Hagraven, prancing from table to table with a hunched back, muttering incoherently. Bertha looked like an oddly clothed female Gollum, making low guttural sounds and humming occasionally. It’s knees were crooked and bent, opposing one another, as if to mime surfing. It couldn’t have been more than four feet.
It didn’t discount their power, and he was willing to bet that the extent of their powers augmented their hideous features into something far more imposing.
“Betha?” Colin asked tentatively, trying to make non threatening but confident motions as he approached. The hagraven whirled around.
Hello, fugly .
“Glabak!” It exclaimed. Though he wasn’t sure if those were actual words, the thing’s tone gave the impression that it was a demand, probably for the reason they were disturbing it.
Colin held up his hands.
“We mean you no harm or foul,” Colin said, forcing respect into his voice and desperately trying not to snicker. Ria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“What you doing here?” It croaked angrily.
“We bring you a package. It is a gift from an old friend of yours,” Colin explained as if he were talking to a toddler.
“Package? Gift?” The thing parroted dumbly.
“Yes, a gift which we were told you have been waiting for a long time. It comes in a case that only you can open, oh exalted one,” Colin drawled sarcastically.
“Gift? For me?” It exclaimed, now visibly excited. It began chittering happily as it meandered over to Colin. These things really were like toddlers. Dumb, stupid, and naive, but without any of the pros. The thing looked like it was about to open its presents on Christmas Day.
“Here you go, Bertha,” Colin said, extending his arm to reveal a small, engraved metallic egg with a small plate sticking out, containing some sort of locking mechanism. The creature snatched it out of his hands lightning fast, then hobbled over to its table, waving a hand dismissively at the two Companions.
“We take our leave,” Colin said with a bow, before hastily pulling a confused Ria out of the room. As they walked down the steps of the bastion, the late afternoon sun beating down on them, Ria pulled him aside.
“Colin! We’re here to kill the wretched thing, not give it a present!” She hissed.
“5…4…3…” Colin whispered to himself.
“Cols! What’s wrong with you?!” Ria hissed again, nails digging into The skin of Colin’s exposed forearm.
Colin just winked and drew his sword, startling the unsuspecting Forsworn nearby. Before they even had a chance to react, the hut atop the bastion exploded violently into a cloud of thick black smoke, peppering a nearby Forsworn with shrapnel. Though Ria and most of the Forsworn, although out of the lethal range of the blast, were left stunned by the sudden and loud explosion, causing a ringing in their ears. Colin, although he did wince ever so slightly, was otherwise unfazed. He slashed at the nearest Forsworn who was clutching her ears, and kicked another who was sent sprawling down a flight of stairs.
Though still fazed from the blast and the unexpectedness of it, Ria drew her sword and plunged it into the Forsworn on her left as the man was attempting to draw his own blade. She was equally angered and impressed by Colin's stunt.
The two had the high ground now, so dealing with the rest of the Forsworn was light work. The last fell within a minute of the chaos erupting. Ria sheathed her bloodied blade and turned to Colin, who was panting and looking quite proud of himself. She made several brisk strides towards him.
“Pretty fuckin cool, ri-” Colin began before Ria slapped him hard, then pulled him in to a primal kiss.
“That was pretty fucking hot,” Ria said with a grin. “But you ever do something like that again without warning me, I’ll castrate you myself.”
Colin swallowed and gave a sheepish grin.
“Uh, yes…yes ma’am,” Colin said, holding up his hands.
“You know, you’re cute when you’re all flustered and embarrassed,” Ria said with a wink. “C’mon, let’s loot the place.”
About halfway back to Whiterun, a thought popped into Ria’s head.
“What was that thing you gave to the hagraven, the thing that exploded?” Ria asked, puzzled and intrigued.
“Something from my world. It’s called a grenade. You stuff it full of explosives and small bits of metal, then add a fuse of sorts. When it detonates, it creates a shockwave, heat, and sends shrapnel flying,” Colin explained.
“Did you use them a lot?” Ria questioned.
“Oh, yeah. When I was in…the war…I used them nearly daily. Out of the army—never. It’s meant for killing things, and it does a damn good job,” Colin said.
“Yeah, I bet. How’d you make it anyways?” Ria asked.
“Long version or short version?” Colin asked.
“Long,” Ria replied.
“You sure? Lot of terminology and complicated alchemy-like stuff I’d have to explain,” Colin elaborated.
“In that case, let’s go with the short. I suck at alchemy,” Ria said with a laugh.
“Ok, so, I basically created a fairly common explosive from my world after realizing that the local cauldron sold a decent amount of the components. It took a bit of theorizing and sketching and a ridiculous amount of trial and error, but eventually I got it. Crude trinitrotoluene,” Colin explained.
“Trinitro what now?” Ria interjected, frowning.
“Just call it TNT. It was complicated, and I spent a stupid amount of money trying to get the ingredients and materials to get a stable and usable batch. I had Eorlund make the casings—basically a hollow egg—and around a hundred little pellets all out of metal. A little elbow grease later and kaboom! Bertha’s no more,” Colin explained, proud of himself.
Ria looked at him blankly.
“What?” Colin said with a frown. “Why’re you giving me that look?”
“Hoped it would work? You could have blown yourself up. Idiot,” Ria said, sighing and shaking her head.
“No, no, I was careful. Believe me I know how dangerous it can be so I took plenty of precautions. Worst case scenario I lose a finger, maybe two,” Colin said.
“Wonderful,” Ria drawled.
“The grenade back there? It had only around a 15% chance of going off prematurely,” Colin added.
“Well, it’s got you beat in bed,” Ria said sarcastically.
“What? Wait…oh god fucking damn it,” Colin cursed as he caught on to her aside.
“Just be more careful, ok?” Ria said, genuine concern on her face.
“So no more grenades?” Colin asked worriedly.
“Not the point. Honestly, I’d prefer if you didn’t, but I can’t stop you,” Ria said.
“If it makes you feel any better, I used the last of the TNT on that grenade. Now I have to buy more,” Colin said cheerfully.
“You will be the death of me.”
“Stealing my lines again?”
“Never. They were mine first.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut up, you idiot man child.”
“Sexy idiot man child?”
“When he’s not being an ass.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Right. Now, how about five plus two?” Colin asked, scribbling the numbers on a new page.
“Six. Wait, no, seven,” Lucia said, trying to force herself to look at the piece of paper.
“This is so boring,” she groaned, folding her arms on the table and resting her head on top. Colin could sympathize; he barely passed trigonometry, though the two could hardly compare.
“I know, but Eorlund wants you to learn math if you’re going to help out at the forge,” Colin explained, putting the pen down and looking at the disinterested young girl.
“I already know how to add and subtract! What else more do I need to learn?” She asked, head still buried in her folded arms.
“Ok, Ms. Genius, what’s one hundred and thirty two minus sixty seven?” Colin asked, smirking slightly.
At this Lucia looked up and frowned, mumbling softly to herself as she tried to solve the equation. After about a minute, she turned to Colin.
“Eighty four!” She exclaimed, proud of herself.
“Try sixty five,” Colin replied evenly.
Lucia groaned and slumped in her chair, eyes giving a faraway look. Colin regarded the young girl, seeing too much of himself in her. You couldn’t contain that type of personality for long before it got restless, yearning for adventure and excitement.
“How ‘bout this: we go get Farkas and Ria and go hunt some wolves, but when we get back you have to complete a full hour of math. Deal?” Colin asked, grinning.
“But Auntie Tilma doesn’t want me hunting yet, and Uncle Eorlund said I have to stay here,” Lucia whined. “I tried begging them to let me go but they both said no. It’s not fair!”
“So we don’t tell them,” Colin said with a mischievous smirk.
“Really?” Lucia said, eyes wide.
“Yep.”
“But that’s lying and doing something they told me not to do!” Lucia warned fearfully.
“C’mon. You find Farkas, I’ll find Ria,”
There was only the subtle sound of a bowstring being pulled back in the warm afternoon air, the rustle of the bushes coinciding with the wind. Lucia had one of her eyes closed, a hand holding the bowstring back with an arrow at the ready. The young girl pursed her lips, deep in concentration, before letting go of the string. The arrow flew out of the brush, striking several leaves as it escaped the thick hedge before landing near an unsuspecting rabbit. The rabbit hopped away unharmed.
Lucia let out a huff of frustration.
“I can’t hit anything!” She complained, seeming disappointed on finding out that wielding a bow and arrow took practice.
“No one said it was easy,” Colin replied, leaning against the trunk of an old pine.
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect it to be this difficult,” Lucia grumbled. “I guess I’m just terrible at this.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a young girl who is learning to shoot a bow, not a seasoned markswoman. Shooting, hunting—those are skills, right? You learn them through discipline, master them by doing them over and over again,” Colin stated sagely.
“But I’ve been doing them over and over again, and yet I’m still not getting any better,” Lucia said, sitting down on a log, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her head on her open palms. Colin joined her.
“How did you get so good?” Lucia asked, gazing at something in the far distance.
“Discipline and practice. You need one to do the other. We’ll rest here for two minutes, then try again,” Colin said, patting Lucia on the back. The young girl groaned, a pouting look on her face as she sunk down on the log like a liquid. She had Jane’s dimples.
“Two minutes,” Colin reiterated, glancing at his watch. Skyrim didn’t have watches like his one, both waterproof and glow in the dark, so it earned him more than a few odd looks and explanations. Several of the Companions had found the small device fascinating, and it had been the subject of a dinner nearly a fortnight ago.
“I’m on a walk,” Lucia huffs with all the pout a twelve year old can muster. She skulks off behind the treeline, quiver on her back and bow gripped tightly in hand, as if she was looking for something to beat.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Colin hollored after her, getting up from the log. Dealing with soldiers was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with a moody twelve year old. Not that he would ever want to give up Lucia.
“I won’t!” Lucia grumbled, seemingly offended by Colin's lack of trust in her judgment. Ria leans against a tree trunk nearby, arms crossed.
“Kids?” She asks flippantly.
“Yup,” Colin says, sucking in air through his teeth.
“Regretting your choice?” She asks, moving to sit down next to him.
“No. Never,” Colin replies without thinking. “It’s just that…well…they’re hard to manage.”
Ria laughs and gives him a one armed hug, pulling him closer to her for a brief moment.
“What did you expect? That parenting would be easy?” She says with a chuckle.
“Parenting? I’m not a parent,” Colin says, frowning.
“Ok, mister.” Ria says, rolling her eyes. “For what it’s worth, you’d make a great father. And are a great not-parent to Lucia.”
“I don’t know about that,” Colin says, inhaling deeply and gazing at the setting sun.
“I’m serious! Why would you doubt yourself?” Ria asks.
“I…look. It’s…” Colin says, trailing off as he searches for the right words to describe the feeling he has within. It’s grown smaller—but it’s still there.
“Is it some bullshit about how you’re too fucked up to be a good father?” Ria said, cocking her head sternly. “Because if it is, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
Colin looks at her, studying her face.
“It ain’t bullshit if it’s the truth,” he casually replies. He earns a swat to the head from Ria.
“No, it’s not. I’ve known you for what, eight months? And I’ve seen you make progress, Colin. I know it’s not easy, but just, trust me? Trust me that I know you are making progress,” Ria said, her voice soft. Colin looks at her for a moment before she pulls him into a tender kiss.
A scream shatters the serene moment, and they pull apart, eyes wide. They hesitate for not even a second before they’re off like lightning in search of their youngest shield-sister. There’s no thinking, just pure adrenaline and sheer determination; a singular purpose—ensure Lucia’s safety. Though not far, the max dash through the woods feels way longer than it should. Each footfall builds the fear up taller, until he sees her, and the situation comes to light.
His heart leaps into his throat, eyes wide as he registers the grave nature he sees before him. A frightened Lucia, short sword unconfidently raised, backing away from a large wolf. The wolf has begun to charge, fangs bearing.
Colin feels anger and hate and terror, as he draws his sword, realizing that there is no way he can possibly make it in time. He hears Ria behind him call out Lucia’s name as she sprints towards the girl.
The wolf jumps, striking Lucia square in the chest, biting down hard on her left forearm with bone-crushing force. Lucia lets out a blood curdling scream as she’s sent sprawling into the dirt.
Colin and Ria are still at least fifty meters away.
The wolf thrashes about, sending waves of pain radiating through the whole girl’s body. It has placed its paws on her diaphragm, using its weight to crush its prey. Despite being sent flying into the hard ground with a predator at least three times the size of her, Lucia has not let go of her sword.
As the wolf twists and yanks, dislocating her shoulder, she feels a surge of adrenaline rush through her veins and grits her teeth hard. With all of her strength she drives her blade into the beast's neck, plunging it deep inside.
The wolf howls—or gurgles, more like—and lets go of Lucia’s forearm, and stumbles backwards, shaking as warm blood pours out of its neck and mouth. It tries to break into a half run into the woods, but its strength gives out. It takes a few last uncoordinated steps before falling into the dirt, its shallow and uneven breathing slowing to a stop.
“LUCIA!” Colin bellows, as he reaches her. The young girl is crying out in pain, writhing around as she feebly clutches her left arm. There’s not a whole lot of blood, save for some superficial scratches, but the beast had done a number on her left forearm, shattering it in several places.
“Oh my gods!” Ria cries out, kneeling next to the young girl, who is crying too hard to effectively communicate. Her whole body shudders with each sob, and Colin feels his heart squeeze.
He goes into medic mode, immediately analyzing her wounds. This is not like the calls he would receive during his college days as an EMT. This was far scarier, but that fear is compartmentalized by the stronger force; the fact that he is responsible for her suffering and that he is responsible for alleviating it.
He roots around into his pack, fishing out several miscellaneous items while giving orders to Ria.
He does not hear the faraway flap of powerful wings echoing around the mountain.
It’s a few hours later when they reach the outskirts of Whiterun, a semi-conscious Lucia in his arms. She’s slurring out garbled nonsense, having been given whiskey to ease the pain. Her shoulder is relocated, and her forearm is splinted, bandaged, and disinfected, but Colin can only do so much. Lucia needs a doctor (healer being a more apt term) immediately.
Though the rational part of him knows that, despite her injuries, Lucia will likely be fine, the irrational part is abuzz with worry. Anxious thoughts fill his mind, terrified over the lack of familiar medicinal practices in this foreign land. Thoughts of infection and sepsis race cyclically through his mind, though he keeps a stoic face. Panicking only serves to do harm in situations like these. He breathes deeply, in and out.
There’s a quiet part of him that feels immense pride that Lucia took on a two hundred pound wolf and managed to kill it. Lucia will be ok. Though he doesn’t quite fully understand it, restorative magic exists and he’s seen what it’s capable of. No, she will be fine. He fucked up, let his guard down, and someone else once again got hurt. This time he got lucky. He got very lucky.
He passes by the large windmill, taking deep, measured breaths to prevent the guilt and fear from taking over.
“She’ll…she’ll be ok, right?” Ria asks him anxiously for the thousandth time.
“Yeah, she…she’ll be fine,” Colin says, swallowing and nodding. “Definitely a broken bone, though the big thing here is the risk of infection from bacteria. I sanitized the wound so that’ll buy us some time, but she really needs to see a healer.”
“For this bacteria thing?” Ria asks.
“Yeah. It’s what causes an infection. Little, tiny, imperceptible creatures that exist everywhere. Whenever you get an infection, that’s from bad bacteria entering your bloodstream and body,” Colin explains.
“Seems…well…far fetched, don’t ya think?” Ria says, biting her nails as she glances at the stone road in front of her.
“To you, yeah, but to me, it’s stuff we learn as a kid. Anatomy and physiology,” Colin says.
“You know, you should talk to the local priests. You may be able to give them some valuable advice,” Ria comments, looking at Colin.
“Maybe, I just don’t…” Colin says, trailing off. He stops in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Ria asks, concerned.
When she receives no reply, she asks again.
“Colin, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
He’s breathing heavily, heart rate suddenly spiking as adrenaline floods into his system. His pupils constrict, and he feels a beating in his chest, like a war drum, awakening a fire within.
It had all come on so suddenly, leaving him stunned and confused. Reality comes back slowly, though the symptoms do not fade; they intensify. And it hits him. He knows what it is. He does not know how he knows, but he knows.
He turns to Ria, about to open his mouth to speak. when a roar, like that of an erupting volcano, pierces the crisp night air and echoes across the valley. Powerful wings flap overhead, kicking up dead leaves and dust. It swoops overhead like a demon of the night, bound for the city of Whiterun.
“Dragon,” Colin whispers.