Chapter Text
"Akatosh spoke to you!" The delight on the priestess' face is almost too painful to witness.
I pull Bailey closer and whisper, "Who is Akatosh?" I didn't whisper softly enough, or Danica has ears like a bat.
"You don't know who Akatosh is? He is your father, the one who blessed you with the blood of a dragon," Danica explains.
"My father's name is Joren, and he's a partner in an accounting firm. Not some being with two heads," I retort.
"Garrett, I know you're cranky from the pain, but don't take it out on Danica. You know she doesn't mean it literally. Now, think about the words he spoke," Bailey says, holding my hand to calm me down. Bandages wrap around my right hand, and I need to remove them. I need to know if I'll ever use my hand again.
I close my eyes and recall my dream, skipping the decaying bandits dancing on my grave scene. "Dreh ni faas. Hi kos fin hun do Keizaal. Hi kos Dovahkiin. It sounds like a mouthful of gibberish," I explain.
"It is dragon tongue, and he told you not to fear because you are Dragonborn."
Bailey tilts her head in puzzlement, "Why are you afraid, Garrett?" Bailey's eyes lock with mine, and I understand that lying now would break something between us.
"The night of the lightning... I saw myself, as I looked now in the window. I was afraid to touch the window, and then Josh touched the mirror, and we got sucked through. If I dared to touch the window, it would only be me stuck in this world. You, Lauren, and Josh would be safe back home. Safe from dragons, bandits, and werewolves."
“You forgot the vampires.” I know Bailey can see the shock on my face. Vampires, check.
She leans in closer. "What if all four of us are supposed to be here? If not, the mirror wouldn't have opened when Josh touched it. I'm not sorry that I got sucked here with you. I'm sorry that I almost got you killed."
Her lips meet mine again, not quite as soft as before, and her dimple teases me when she smiles. "I'll pay my life debt in instalments."
"Instalments come with interest, you know," I quip.
"Why do you think I pay in instalments?" she retorts with a grin.
Her laughter echoes through the passage as she leaves the room to find Lauren.
Danika holds the small bottle of healing potion against my lips. "You two should have been married years ago, with a few children to fill the house. What's wrong with you?" Her words caught me off guard, and she hit me on the back when I choked.
“f*ck!” My little finger got caught against the riser again when I pulled the string, throwing off my aim. Lauren couldn't separate my middle and ring fingers due to fear of nerve damage. My little finger seems to have a mind of its own, and its sole purpose is to resemble Death's sickle. If it keeps causing trouble, I'll consider cutting it off. Who needs a little finger anyway?
I've been training alone and occasionally with Aela for a week. Lauren watches me like a hawk, ensuring I don't overexert myself.
"Getting us out of this place will be thanks enough," She said when I expressed my gratitude.
My hand still resembles little Freddy's, but now I can use it to scratch my ass. Ha-ha.
Njada waits for me when I leave the training area, linking her arm through mine. "Are you joining me at the Bannered Mare this evening? Mikael promised to sing the Song of the Dragonborn if you come with me."
I've run out of excuses to decline her invitation, and I rack my brain for another. Njada is a great warrior, but she's too friendly and too handsy. First, she tried her luck with Josh, but Lauren sorted her out in a few minutes.
"I..."
"There you are, Garrett. I've been waiting for you," Aela interrupts, pulling me away from Njada and ignoring the blonde's furious face.
The people in the street stop to stare at us and they whisper behind hands, a lot of whispers.
"Just ignore them," Aela advises, hooking her arm through mine. "They've all heard of the Dragonborn in our city, but not all of them have seen you yet. You're the talk of the town."
I follow Aela through the streets to the smithy near the gate. I have heard about the couple owning the Warmaiden’s but have not met them. Aela introduces me to the husband, Ulfberth and the wife Adrianne. I am surprised that Adrianne is the Blacksmith and her husband handles the sales.
“I heard the Jarl is angry at you for declining the honour of being the Thane of Whiterun. I think he would have asked his guard to show you the gates of our city if you were not Dragonborn.”
After a few more minutes of small talk about the city and my origins, we finally get to the reason Aela dragged me here.
"I hope it fits. Aela is usually correct with measurements," Adrianne says as she hands me a leather archery glove. There's an opening for my thumb, and index finger, and a larger hole for the two fused fingers.
Aela assists me in pulling the tight-fitting glove over my hand, and my little finger bends inward to my palm. "I saw your finger can bend at the knuckle when Lauren massages it. I don't know if it's going to help, but with the finger out of the way, I think your aim will improve," she explains.
The skin feels as if it's going to tear, and there's some discomfort, but I know I'll get used to it. A thicker piece of leather is stitched where the string will hook when I pull it back, protecting the thin, sensitive skin. I'm incredibly thankful, willing to give her anything, even drink her blood if she asks, but I keep that thought to myself. Bailey would likely kill me for even considering such an idea.
It's as if Bailey could read my thoughts about drinking Aela's blood.
Bailey folds her arms across her chest. "Aela isn't doing this out of the goodness of her heart. She's softening you up to join their little circle of werewolves."
"Why would you say something like that, Bailey? If it weren't for her speaking to Kodlak, we'd be begging in the streets or peddling skooma for Olava," Josh says, defending Aela.
Bailey frowns at Josh before uncrossing her arms and pointing a finger at me. "If she or Skjor or anyone asks you to meet them in the Underforge, you say no, and we get the hell out of Whiterun."
"Where is this Underforge? It sounds like a high-end strip club," I quip, earning a fiery glare from Bailey before she turns to leave.
"If she had any magic in her, you would have burned... again," Josh remarks, laughing as I shake my head at Bailey's retreating figure.
Another two weeks passed by. Lauren brought in a small but steady income from helping at the temple. Bailey and Josh surprised Vilkas and themselves with the progress they made in their training.
Bailey accompanied Athis and Ria on jobs but refused to go with Farkas. "I'm not going to put myself through the fear of seeing Farkas change into a monster," she explained.
Josh went on a few jobs with Farkas but returned disappointed each time because Farkas didn't transform.
I hunted with Aela twice and once with Skjor, but the conversation about the Underforge never arose. Perhaps they believe a werewolf with a Freddy paw isn't good enough for the Circle.
Josh's eyes widen, staring at a scaly-looking Argonian, no pun intended, and an even more scaly-looking man whispering at a table in the corner of the Bannered Mare.
"Bailey, is that who I think it is?" he asks, his voice low with concern.
Bailey quickly glances over her shoulder and hisses between her teeth. "Mallus."
She leans forward to whisper to Josh. "Do you think he's hiring someone to help him at Honningbrew Meadery? Are we going to stop him?”
Lauren and I wait patiently for them to discuss the scenario in the game. We've stopped asking questions when they delve into quests and outcomes of choices. The last time Lauren had a question about the game dynamics, it turned into a lengthy explanation that lasted over an hour.
"Garrett, do you remember our grade eight English teacher, Miss Lexington?" Josh asks.
Oh, I remember her. She's one of those people who should never have become a teacher. A cold-hearted bitch, my mother called her, to her face. The head witch of Salem, Josh called her. Many of us almost flunked English because of her.
"In the game, there's this woman in Riften, Maven Black-Briar. The owner of Black-Briar Mead. Well, she's worse than Salem's head witch. She gets the Dragonborn to ruin the owner of the meadery," Josh explains, a thoughtful expression on his face. But am I going to like where this is going?
"If we help him with his little skeever problem and get his assistant fired, we might save the meadery and earn a point for the good guys," he concludes.
I do not understand the game’s dynamics. Isn’t the Dragonborn supposed to be the good guy? A hero to the people of Skyrim? There is more to the game than killing dragons and it worries me, what if we do something wrong and get stuck in the game forever? “As long as I do not have to kill someone, I will help.”
The look on Josh's face is answer enough, and I shake my head, rising from the chair.
"Wait, Garrett," Josh pleads. "A mad mage is hiding in the tunnels after escaping Whiterun prison. He's experimenting on skeevers, turning them into venomous creatures. He plans to set those things on the people of Whiterun."
“Plans to? So it is not a given.” I am getting tired of what is and what could be.
Bailey takes my hand and pulls me back into the chair. “He has a journal where he pens down his plan but is killed by the Dragonborn before his plan was set in motion.”
I look into Bailey’s purple-blue eyes and know I lost the argument.
Sabjorn the owner and brewer of Honningbrew Meadery is a sour-faced Nord with an attitude that wants me to leave him to his fate. We enter the meadery with smiles, and are greeted by, “What are you gawking at? Can't you see I have problems here?” Two dead skeevers lie in the corner of the room and another is running through a door to another room.
My smile falters, but Josh’s smile stays as if painted on his face. “We might be able to help.” He offers.
"Oh really? And I don't suppose you would do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you? I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's done."
Josh grabs my arm when I turn to leave.
"You can pay us when the job is done, and then we need to sit down and have a little chat before your assistant returns," Josh asserts firmly. He locks the door after hanging the "closed for business" sign on a hook outside. "Do not open this door until we're back, especially for a yellow Argonian."
Sabjorn hands Josh two small bottles of poison without saying a word. His eyes narrow only slightly when I pull the bow from my back.
It takes an hour to kill the skeevers in the meadery, put poisoned bait in the tunnels and I killed the mage with two arrows. Maybe if he hadn't sicced his pack of rats on us or tried to zap us with lightning, I might feel remorse for killing him.
Josh shoves our payment into his backpack and uses his knowledge of Mallus’ involvement with the Black Briars to get him fired.
“Yes, yes, yes… I promise.” Sabjorn says with a slight smile on his face. Maybe it was stress that made the man appear sour.
“You know Torvar is not going to drink only one mug of mead when he checks on Sabjorn.”
“That is their problem. As long as Torvar knows that his favourite mead is in danger of becoming Black-Briar he would visit Sabjorn often.” Josh replies.
Josh leaves me at the steps to Jorrvaskr to fetch Lauren from the temple for their daily stroll through Whiterun’s streets before sunset.
I can see the smoke of the Sky Forge over the roof and decide to check on Eorlund’s progress on my new bow.
Farkas and Josh returned to the dragon skeleton a few days after we killed it and came back with a cart full of bones and scales. Eorlund promised Josh to store it for us.
“For weapons and armour,” Josh answered when I asked what he wanted to do with it. He handed me a rib bone and a handful of coin. “Eorlund is waiting for your instructions to forge a dragon bone bow for you.”
“Ah, young master Garrett.” Eorlund is one of the people who does not call me Dragonborn. “I was on my way to see if you are at Jorrvaskr. The string is over there on the table and Elrindir delivered your arrows an hour ago.”
The bow he places in my waiting hand is a thing of beauty and Eorlund beams when I voice my admiration for his work. If I can take something back to reality, this is it. The riser and limb tips are made of Skyforge steel, etched with a pattern to look like dragon scales.
I pull the practice arrows from the target when it is too dark to see the target anymore and tilt my head to look at the twin moons hanging round and silver overhead. I will miss the sight of the moons that look if you could touch them if you stretch far enough if…. When we return home.
The porch is empty of the usual spectators, and I sit down where the dim light of the torch does not reach and close my eyes to enjoy the sounds of the Skyrim night. I never was one for crowded rooms and parties and Jorrvaskr is always crowded with some celebration.
The door to the porch opens and the light from within distorts Skor’s shadow when he steps onto the dimly lit porch. After a brief hesitation, he walks off without noticing me. A few minutes later the door opens again, this time it is Bailey stepping into the dark following the same path Skjor took. Where is she going this time of the night? Is she meeting Skor?
Meeting with Skjor at night! The f*cking Underforge! The chair slams into the wall when I jump to my feet to follow her.
The huge block of rock slid into place to lock me out and I hit the smooth surface in frustration. “Bailey!”
“What the f*ck is wrong with you, Garrett?” Vilkas almost shouts when I pull him from his chair as if he were a child.
“I need you to open the Underforge, now!” I demand.
“What do you know about the Underforge?” The frown between his grey eyes would have looked menacing if I was not already scared sh*tless.
“Do you want me to shout your secret to everyone preset or are you going to help me? And you better pray to whichever gods you worship that we are not too late.”
The scene greeting us plays out in slow motion, my motions just as sluggish. Bailey leans over a big fond, her hand cupping something inside to move toward her mouth. Blood that looks almost black in the flickering light drips down to splash against her dress, turning the scene into something from a Quentin Tarantino movie.
“No!” The blood hits Skor’s face when I slap her hand away from her waiting mouth. Bailey’s eyes widen in shock, and behind me, I hear a lot of growling and cursing.
The people of the inn are staring at us and whispered words of Dragonborn, Companion and even a few giggles reach my ears, but I ignore them. Bailey stopped trying to pull her wrist from my hand when I threatened to throw her over my shoulder. She is almost jogging beside me to keep up with my angry strides. We find Lauren and Josh at a corner table in the Bannered Mare, on date night even in a game. I push Bailey down to sit beside Lauren but keep her wrist in my hand.
“Tell them, Bailey. Tell our friends what you did.”
“We are waiting.” I hiss when she does not talk.
“Garrett almost died because of me. If I stayed behind as he asked, then…” Her shoulders shake and she wipes her face. “It is the only way…”
“What did you do, Bailey.” Lauren’s face is white, her grey eyes wide.
“Please Garrett, I thought if I take the blood, I can help to keep us safe. You are injured because of me and I know you are having nightmares of the people you killed….”
Josh jumps to his feet. “You f*cking idiot. You keep preaching to us and in the meantime you…”
I push him back down. “She did not take the blood. I stopped her…..” I sit down hard in the chair, my whole body shaking at the thought of what would have happened if I was too late.
“I know we do not have all the armour we wanted but we have enough to get us through. We are leaving tomorrow at daybreak.”
I sit down on the bed next to Bailey and we sit in silence for a few minutes before I pull her closer. Maybe I overreacted but the image of my Bailey turning into a werewolf made me lose my mind. Not the wolfy werewolves of the films, but a seven-foot monster, walking on hindlegs, clawed hands, and drooling from the mouth.
What the…. I can not think of her as MY Bailey. What is wrong with me?
I pull her to her feet, "Maybe I would have done the same. I apologise for overreacting. Promise me you would not do anything so stupid again."
