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  • Dodongo79
    Post count: 67

    Mysidia crested the corner and casually leaned up against the cottage. About two hundred feet ahead of her, Bishop was completely lost in his thoughts as he split rows and rows of wood chunks for firewood. She looked over to the left and saw a rather impressive wall of neatly stacked wooden cords. She had hoped that he didn’t do that all himself since the exhaustion following such a feat would take quite a bit of recovery; not to mention the sore muscles.

    Bishop was topless and his muscular back glistened in the afternoon sun from the sweat of his hard labor. She admired his muscles rippling as he moved to and fro with a lustful heavy lidded gaze. She absently chewed at her lower lip thinking over the previous time they spent together. Everything from the way he riled her up during the various “heated discussions” they shared, to the very skillful physical affections he took his time with. Indeed, she could do far worse for company.

    It became obvious to her that perhaps he did feel a bit more than physical lust and just maybe he returned the same level of affection she did. He saved her life more than once and if he was only about bedding her, he would have left her for dead or beat feet come dawn. Granted, he promised her that he wouldn’t, but his wording was that he wouldn’t leave in the night. He could have said his goodbyes and rode Rose in the opposite direction.

    Mysidia tried very hard to convince herself that she only cared for the ranger on a platonic level. He was a more than capable fighter and his archery skills surprassed hers, though she dare not admit it. She had been physically attracted to him since day one and she looked at his golden lupine eyes. But, he made it very clear; she was not his type.

    She wondered what was his type…? When she came to her inn room after the Crystal Ball, she caught a glimpse of him nuzzling the neck of a shorter, well endowed bar maid. Everything about that bar keep was a stark contrast to Mysidia. The young lass was short, extremely curvy, short bright red hair and muddy green eyes. She could have been another race of humanoid. Mysidia didn’t tarry when she saw him. And truth be told, the sight of the both of them nearly made her break into tears right then. She simply managed to get up to her room and reminded herself that he stated his intentions from the get go.

    ….and yet….

    Flashes of the various nights danced in her mind and she closed her eyes, knitting her brows in emotional turmoil. Daedra cursed her…. she went and fell in love with the human.

    Well… she didn’t HAVE to tell him. She still had to kill Alduin. There was no guarantee she was going to live after that. And to tell him only to have him watch her die was cruelty to its highest level. She knew what that felt like; to watch someone perish that was as precious as air with nothing you could do about it but be with them while watching the light fade from their eyes.

    “Do you not feel you are worthy of love?”, she heard Casavir’s words clamor about her head.

    Fuck it, she thought. Fuck all of it.

    Shit or get off the pot, as her brother would put it.

    She sighed and got up off the corner and walked a little closer. Karnwyr’s back was to her, as well. They were talking to each other and while Mysidia didn’t hear what they were saying, Bishop was in as good as mood as she was.

    Mysidia watched him toss the split wood off to the side and side step to grab another log. Once he bent down to grab the ax, Mysidia quickly reached out her hand and silently speak a word in her Mother Tongue. The moment she closed her fist, the wood split in half just as Bishop raised the ax to chop down.

    He stopped, looked down at it and tilted his head, looking at his ax. Karnwyr also looked at the wood curiously. Shrugging, he took the two pieces and tossed them off to the side to join the others and reached down to pick up another log. Placing it on the large stump, just as he had before, he picked up the ax to…. again, watch the log fall into two pieces.

    “Huh… Did I split it all not realize it?”, he mumbled to himself. It took everything Mysidia had to not laugh out loud. She placed her hand over her mouth. As she did, Karnwyr quickly looked back and Mysidia shook her head and placed a finger over her lips to sign for silence.

    Bishop scratched his head looking at the uncut log pile. Mysidia raised both her hands, palms open. She said the same word and closed her fists. Bishop watched alarmingly as several hundred logs all cracked and split at once. He looked over at Karnwyr wondering what was going on.

    “You know, far be it for me to stop someone from decent manual labor to clear their mind…”, Mysidia started. As she did this, she walked up closer to them. Her arms were slightly raised with the palms facing up. “But I was always of a mind; work smarter, not harder.”, and as she said this, she closed her fists again, finishing off the remainder logs. She smirked, happy that her magic was growing stronger every day she was on Nirn.

    She manged to stand off to the side of Bishop. “Why chop wood when you clearly don’t have to?”

    Bishop’s amber eyes grew wide with shock and the ax slid out of his hand. Karnwyr got up and immediately ran over to her. She smiled and got down on her knees petting the wolf behind the ears.

    “I’m fine, little brother. Can you give us a moment?”, she said to him. Karnwyr licked her cheek and walked off towards the front of the cottage.

    “You…. you’re ok?!” Bishop breathed.

    She looked up at him, the full tilt of the afternoon sun on her face. He looked down to see those vibrant violet eyes sparkle up at him. He never thought he’d love seeing the color purple as much as he did right then.

    He grabbed her gently under her elbows and lifted her up so that she nearly crashed her full body weight onto him.

    “Ohhh… ok.”, she said, slightly shocked.

    He slid his hands up the side of her neck and gently held on to her face before leaning in and passionately kissing her. He felt her softly smile under his lips’ pressure. Not to be outdone, she returned by lightly running her nails on the back of his head. He pulled back to watch her open her eyes slowly looking deep into his.

    “Not that I mind the attention, but what was that for?’, she asked.

    He was going to answer her. He felt the tip of his tongue wanting to tell her everything he had been feeling the past few days while she recovered; the panic he felt when he saw the arrow in her neck, the terror when he had to leave her to find Casavir, the hopelessness when there wasn’t a thing he could do to save her life. He refused to indulge in the dark thoughts of what his life would be like without her. He wasn’t a superstitious person by any stretch but why feed an outcome that hasn’t happened?

    Instead, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. The sound of his heart thudded in his ears. She watched the range of emotions fall over his face and she seemed to hear what he wanted to tell her. Mysidia was the one to break the silence first.

    “I’m sorry.”, she started.

    His eyebrows rose at the sound of her voice. “What? Why?… You saved my life.”

    “I know what it feels like.”, she said without explaining. She slid her hands up to hold his wrists. When he wouldn’t move and it seemed like he needed to hear more, she was the one to take a step back. She couldn’t handle how he was looking at her. If she didn’t understand humanoid anatomy, she would have swore the heart was right behind the eardrum and she was standing on her lungs making it even harder to breathe. “The cave, remember?”, she barely said.

    He knew she was talking about something else but decided not to push her. Gods be damned but he was enjoying watch her squirm and the heat flush her cheeks. She might have lost a lot of blood and it paled her complexion but him being that close to her watching her, the flush of her blood had no trouble returning.

    “Are you going to explain the dire bear?”, he asked finally. He watched her wrap her arms around herself and avoid eye contact. Something was wrong.

    “Uh… yeah. About that…”, she said and bit her lip. “One of the Druid’s abilities is being able to shapeshift.”

    “What, like a werewolf?”, he said and wiped his face with his shirt he had off to the side. “I’m not exactly shocked, princess. You do have a tendency to be an animal when you’re on top.”, he said and smirked looking at her.

    “Oh!”, she said and felt herself blush, the heat reaching the tips of her elfen ears. She cleared her throat, suddenly feel it go dry. “Really?, ren’qari?….”, she said shaking her head. “No, shapeshift into actual animals. Anything that has a soul in the natural world. Werewolves are an affliction.”

    He closed his eyes at the sound of her “pet name” for him. It absolutely drove him crazy when she spoke her language around him, especially if it was FOR or TO him instead of AT him.

    “I will never get tired of hearing that.”, he said nearly feeling himself sway.

    “Is that a fact?”, she said smirking. Her violet eyes flashed the possibilities. She took a step forward, allowing her hips to rhythmically seduce. She could see Bishop’s jaw clench and his chest took in a breath to hold. “Well, then… Mai Ren’quari, I shall have to remember it.”

    He felt his body pull towards her the moment her word left her tongue. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn it was a magic word for some kind of enchantment. Try as he might to resist her, his body betrayed his initial intention.

    He wrapped his arms around her and she placed her head on his shoulder, allowing her hand to rest gently over where his heart was. She could feel and hear his heartbeat. She could feel him hesitate, as if he had a conversation going on in his head and wanted to say every word that came up. They both had quite a bit to say to one another.

    She swallowed the non existent lump she swore was in her throat. “About Thorn…”, she said softly.

    She felt him freeze. He lifted her face with his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. Fresh tears started to form and sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She bit the side of her tongue hard enough to prevent the tears to succumb to gravity. The pain worked. She felt the tears dry back.

    “Yeah…. about that.”, he said and looked away guilty. He sighed and she felt his shoulders slump. “That was a long time ago. I’ve…done things I’m not particularly proud of and Thorn had a habit of pushing the hard limits I’ve set.”

    She let go of him and backed away slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t want to hear any more. If he said the words she thought he was going to, it would have crushed her. He watched her body language and could feel the emotional distance gaining ground.

    “No, no… hey…”, he said and reached out for her. She shook her head. “Ladyship,… do you trust me?”

    She looked up sharply and instantly his world crumbled around him. The tears she refused to let fall were there because of him. She raised her chin up, too proud to cry in front of him. “Yes.”, she squeaked out.

    He took a step towards her and forced himself to look into her eyes. Suddenly, the violet he begged to see when she was injured, dissipated the air in his lungs. “Then trust me when I tell you that I have never and will never. That was the reason Thorn and I fought. I admit, I was a bandit and killed a lot of people… women included. I’ve never made light of who I was. But raping was a line I refused to cross.”

    Carefully and slowly, he reached out to touch her. She shook her head and gave into the impulse, diving into his arms. He held her as he heard the soft sniffles of her tears. He ran his fingers down her long dark hair. If she would have shunned away from his touch, he didn’t know what he would do.

    “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, sweetness. There’s a lot in my past that I’m not exactly proud of.”, she heard him admit softly.

    She sniffled and quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks. She looked up at him and reached out to touch his face. “We both have to say things about our pasts. But I am far too sober for that conversation…”, she started to say. He smirked. “Just promise me something.”

    “Name it.”, he said before he really had time to think about his answer.

    “Be patient with me. I know I’ve mentioned that I’m much older. There’s a lot in my past that I haven’t told you….and it’s not because I was afraid what you would think of me. It’s because that part of my life is over and there’s no point in bringing any of that up.”, she admitted.

    He raised an eyebrow looking at her. Dear gods, she loved it when he looked at her like that. She felt like teenage girl in school having a crush on the homecoming king. “How MUCH older, princess?”

    She opened her mouth to say something but she stopped herself. “Old enough to know that you don’t ask a lady her age.” She winked in return.

    “Mmmm… come here.”, he growled. The vibration went through his chest and she felt it deep in hers. He tilted her head up and kissed her deeply, again. He took his time in showing her exactly how happy he was that she was alive and still with him.

    He broke the kiss quick enough to see the flush back into her cheeks. She softly rang her fingertips over his lips and down his neck. The smell along with the feel of him sent the heat down her body and she found herself biting at her lower lip thinking of the possibilities.

    “Keep looking at me that way, sweetness and I’ll find us a haystack in the barn to show you what it does to me.”, he smirked. She nuzzled his neck and sighed in his ear.

    “Later, Ren’quari. I need to find Adara.”, she said finding it exceedingly difficult to tear herself from his embrace.

    “Tsk. Shame. You sure I can’t change your mind?”, he asked and ran his thumb gently over her collarbone.”

    She felt his thumb slide over her skin and prickle goosebumps along her arms and legs. He lowered his lips to the side of her neck. He took in a deep breath, smelling nothing but her and the orchid scent he associated with her. He could feel his body light up with need.

    “You’re making it hard to say no.”, Mysidia admitted.

    “No, princess…”, he said and grabbed her hand and lowering it to his pelvic region “You make it hard.” He broke their affectionate embrace and bent over to pick up his shirt. “What do you need to see Adara for?”

    “To say thank you and make plans to leave in the morning. Sabre said he found my armor. It’s time to retrieve it. I still have a dragon to kill.”, Mysidia said and found a tree stump to sit on.

    Bishop’s face fell “Are you SERIOUS? Did the blood loss effect your short term memory? You almost DIED!”

    “But I didn’t. This has always been the plan, Bishop. Killing Alduin doesn’t get put off because I took an arrow. You’re going to find out that it takes much more than that to kill me.”, she said confused at his anger.

    “Ladyship…”, he said and ran his thumb and finger over his eyebrows feeling a stress headache coming on “…I can’t keep you safe from dragon. And I can’t fight an army, though I admit that wouldn’t stop me from trying.”

    “I refuse to let my exile from my home land mean nothing.”, she said, knitting her brows in anger.

    “Your exile doesn’t mean nothing to me.”, he said looking at her. When he saw that she meant every word about her continuing with her quest, he began to flip out. “What… is it because I’m not high born that you feel you need to save a world that doesn’t deserve it?”

    “That has nothing to do with it and you know it. That’s low, even for you.”, Mysidia said and got up shaking her head. “I get it… because I wouldn’t follow you into the barn to spread my legs for a toss in the hay, this is where you start a fight with me so that we both walk away from each other??”, Mysidia seethed.

    “WHAT?!”, Bishop yelled. “Is that what you really think I’m after?”

    “I don’t want you to keep me safe from a dragon. I don’t want you to fight an army for me. I don’t want to be “kept” anywhere. Fight along side me, not in front of me.”, she sighed and looked down at her hands. Hands that had the power to heal, cure the sick, to gently caress, to create, was forced to pick up a sword and learn how to destroy. “I’ve turned my back on one home and watched it burn to the ground. I’m not going to do it twice. If you truly do want to keep me safe, I have to do this or there won’t be a “here” to keep me safe from.”

    “Every time you stand in front of a dragon, I freeze inside; wondering if this is going to be the last. When you get wounded… I watch you sleep making sure that your healing abilities are strong enough.”, he said knelt before her taking her hands into his. “I nearly lost you once. I can’t lose you, Mysidia. I can’t and I won’t.”

    She knew that look; it was the look of terror realizing that she can die as easily as he can. She knew that look all too well. She reached out and softly touched his face. “I may be a powerful Druid, but no one is powerful enough to stop death. Those are powers of Daedra and Gods. My people live a very long time, but I may die young like my mother. You may die tomorrow.”, she said, choking on the last word. The thought of him dying brought fresh tears to her eyes. “I’ve lost loved ones… I’ve lost so many people that meant everything to me. I’m tired of people dying for me because I refuse to acknowledge what I am and what I’m supposed to do. If you were added among that list…” She couldn’t help or stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

    He gathered her up preventing her from finishing her sentence. He gently held her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe her tears away. “Don’t waste your tears on me, Ladyship.”

    “You’re worth that and more.”, she whispered. “Amin mela lle, mai ren’quari.

    “Common, princess. I’m still learning Rhydian.”, he said and smirked. “But I do love how that sounds.”

    She took in a deep breath mustering up the courage to tell him how she felt….in common. She opened her mouth a bit and looked down. “It means…”

    “Dragonborn! There you are!”, a man said behind her. Curious, Mysidia stopped and turned around to see a courier running up to her waving a note in his hand.

    Bishop grumbled and gave punching the intruder serious thought. He backed away and put his shirt back on.

    “I have letter here to deliver. Your hands only. From High King Ulfric himself!”, the courier said and puffed out his chest with pride. Mysidia withheld the need to roll her eyes at the term “high king”. It was obvious the courier was a Stormcloak Sympathizer.

    “What does that pompous ass want now?”, Bishop scowled.

    She waited until the courier was out of earshot before opening and reading it. She broke the dark red wax seal and scanned down the page. When she saw the signature, her eyebrows rose. “He actually wrote the thing.”

    “And you were expecting….?”, Bishop asked

    “High Kings have Pages to take letters. It’s a rarity that a king writes his own notes.”, she said and scanned down the page. A smirk spread across her face as she read further. “I half expected this, actually.” She handed over the letter.

    Bishop took it and read. “Another ball, ladyship?”

    “Of course. The Empire and the Stormcloaks know that I refuse to pick a side. I came here to kill a dragon, not fight in a war that has nothing to do with me. But, I went to the Crystal Ball with Casavir and it doesn’t surprise me that Ulfric found out. He has to hold a ball in my honor and I have to go. If I refuse, it will look like I side with the Empire and his army’s morale will plummet. It’s brilliant, really.”, Mysidia said matter-of-factually.

    Bishop raised an eyebrow looking at her. “You know crown politics a little too well, ladyship.”

    “I told you I was a noble where I came from.”, Mysidia admitted.

    “You’re the Dragonborn. You can tell Ulfric to shove it if you want. You don’t have to go.”, Bishop said and handed the letter back.

    “Yes, I do. I still have to kill Alduin. I need to be able to move through his lands unmolested. If I turn him down, he can make it very difficult for me to navigate through his territory.”, Mysidia said and crossed her arms. “Looks like we’re going to Windhelm.”

    Post count: 67

    The College of Winterhold loomed like a stone sentinel over the small town it was named after. Winter winds whip and slash through the various cracks of the damaged walls and walkways. The howling sound gave it an unnatural personification; so much so that some of the students rightly nicknamed it Banshee Bridge.

    Savos Aren, the arch mage to the college, was in his office sipping on a mug of herbal tea. Living in a primarily stone building this far north in Skyrim, kept a chill in the air. Savos being a Morrowind Dunmer, his blood never got thick enough to handle the perpetual winter. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the sunshine. He’d give anything to feel the warmth upon his face. He kept promising himself that he’d take a much needed vacation and head to his motherland, but there was always something coming up that required his personal attention. To what end, he wondered.

    He blew the steam that undulated over the top of the mug and relished the heat it gave his hands. After a few first sips, the permanent shiver that his body seemed to keep began to loosen its grip along his spine. Even his body enjoyed the joy of warmth as an automatic smile crept over his lips.

    “I was speaking with some of the other professors about the Dragonborn being a Druid. If I didn’t witness it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have given the rumors any thought.”, Sergius Turrianus said. He had been a teacher at the college for several years, however his most valuable asset was being a go between, an ambassador of sorts with the outside world. Since studying magic took a great deal of time and energy, most of the college’s inhabitants seldom made it out in the world. Sergius’ arthritis forced him to take frequent walks into the village. It wasn’t too long after that, that Savos asked the elder mage to take correspondence to various peoples throughout Skyrim.

    Savos turned and raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

    The older man nodded and took another sip from his mug. Usually when Sergius came back from his outings, he would share a cup of tea with his mentor and tell him everything he had learned from his travels. This time, he managed to swing by Falkreath.

    “Indeed. I managed to see the Dragonborn shape shift into a dire bear, of all things. This wasn’t the affliction where one shifts into a were. This was truly a massive dire bear. I didn’t stick around to find out how she was able to do this since she and her ranger companion were in the midst of an unfair fighting mob. I had heard she was gravely injured and the foreigner paladin was able to heal her completely.”, Sergius said. “I had gone back to alert the guards when I watched her ranger friend carry her off to the healer’s house.”

    “Divine’s bless her. The dragon crisis is still in full swing. I fear the worst if it’s conclusion is not dealt with quickly.”, the arch mage said. “Perhaps when this crisis is over, I will invite the Dragonborn to give a symposium to the students here. I believe her magical knowledge would give an advantage to this year’s class that past ones were unable to have.”

    “We are of a like mind. It might also be of benefit if we contacted past alumnus to alert them should the Dragonborn agree.”, Sergius said. When Savos nodded in agreement, the eldermage scribbled in a leather bound book. “I will alert Winterhold’s inn to expect any overflow that we are unable to house, should the need arise.”

    “Yes, yes. See to it.”, Savos said and watched the Thalmore walk across the courtyard in his direction. He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Ugh. When is that Thalmore representative due to leave? I cannot bear another one of his drolling lectures.”

    “When you deem his…ahem…”wisdom” unnecessary and politely escort him off property, master.”, the younger mage said.

    Savos raised an eyebrow at the thought. “And start a political war with the Thalmore? It’s bad enough we have one of theirs here..”on loan”. Can you imagine how difficult it would be if I had him removed?”

    “You could wait until the Dragonborn arrives and she could accidentally shout him off a cliff while demonstrating her abilities to the students.”, the younger mage said and took another sip from his tea.

    Savos turned and laughed. “Sergius, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

    Just then, an explosion of sound began to clamor around the tower and the dim of shouting could be heard. It seemed everyone was rushing into the main chamber just inside the entrance. Random voices carried their way up into the hallway and caused the arch mage and his apprentice to stare at one another.

    “What in oblivion is going on down there?!”, Savos asked, raising his voice.

    “Stay here, master. If it’s a full on attack from the vampires, we cannot risk your life. I will rush down and check myself.”, Sergius said and bolted towards the door. “Lock it behind me and don’t come out for anything other than one of us giving the “all clear.”

    The elder mage flew down the stairs and summoned a fireball which he held in his left hand. From the way everyone was talking, it seemed all of the college was in the main chamber. A huge flash of light snapped, illuminating the entire hallway and chamber. The flash happened so quickly that the thunderclap afterward, nearly knocked everyone over from the boom.

    It grew quiet….eerily quiet. The sounds of the winds howling outside gave the situation its own danger, its own darkness and Sergius began to tremble. His heart pounded in his ears, the anticipation of what lies within driving the wardrum in his chest to beat ever louder. Quickly after, beads of sweat began to dot on his head.

    He carefully peered around the corner to see everyone alive and well and just staring at two rather tall individuals in the center of the room. One, a very tall warrior, had long jet blue black hair and two massive swords slung across his back. From what Sergius could see, the warrior had a scar over his right eye adding to his already menacing look.

    The warrior turned to his travel companion and began to tug on the other man’s mage robes. The warrior’s travel companion was brushing off debris and dust, thick plumes of ethereal energy waving off both of them. The warrior turned to him and began to speak in a language that Sergius couldn’t pinpoint.

    Then the warrior pointed to a few of the mages in the room and said something else, causing the mage to finally look around at his surroundings. The mage rolled his eyes and placed a frustrated hand to his forehead muttering something in return.

    Sergius dispelled the fireball and cautiously walked up to the two of them. It was evident that the flash of light was the portal the visitors walked through. The mage companion was shorter than the warrior, but was still hulking compared to everyone else in the room. He had a thinner stature and shorter dark hair. His eyes were a brilliant blue that seemed to glow from the inside out. A large impressive staff was strapped to his back that held a glowing orb swirling with its own energy.

    The mage, looking around at everyone, placed a hand on his chest and said, “Xerbius.” Then, he placed a hand on his comrade and said, “Kryimsson.”

    Sergius slowly walked ahead of the students, placing him between the visitors and the lower ranking mages. One of the high elf students leaned over and said to the elder mage, “I think he’s trying to tell us their names, Master.”

    The visiting mage’s eyebrows rose, hearing the high elf speak. “Ah, you speak common! Wonderful. My name is Xerbius and this is Kryimsson. We’re here to locate one of our own.”

    Sergius hesitated in sticking out his hand to shake the other mage’s. Once he had seen that the two visitors meant them no harm, he continued the greeting. “My name is Sergius, one of the elder mages here at the College of Winterhold.”

    Xerbius leaned over to the warrior and muttered. “See? I told you we’d get here no problem.”

    “One of your own?”, Sergius mentioned, keeping the conversation going.

    “Kryim, go see about securing us a room at their inn and two horses.”, the Xerbius said.

    “Horses? Why couldn’t we have simply brought our own?”, Kryimsson grumbled.

    “Yes, Kryimsson, horses. Unless you’d like to walk the entire time.”, Xerbius scowled. “And portal magic isn’t exactly my forte. I knew we would get here fine. Anything else….”, he said and shrugged.

    “Oh… nice. Good to know that playing fast and loose with my life….”, Kryimsson mumbled as he asked one of the other mages on the inn.

    Xerbius rolled his eyes and turned around to Sergius. “Apologies, Learned Sergius. What my partner lacks in common decency and respect, he makes up for in battle prowess. A bit rough around the edges, but unmatched with a blade. Anyway,”, he said and took in a deep breath. “Yes, one of our own. I believe she may have crossed over quite a while ago….judging by my calculations.”

    “Which is shit, by the way!…”, Kryimsson yelled before leaving out the door to head into town.

    “Can you describe what she looks like, my lord?”, Sergius asked. He picked a hell of a time to dry out. A bottle of Black Briar mead would be the proper answer to the day’s events.

    “She’s shorter than us, but would most likely be considered tall by most of your female’s standards. Long dark hair like ours, violet eyes….”, as Xerbius began to prattle off the female they were in search of, he began to lose hope seeing the doubtful look appear on Sergius’ face. Xerbius tried to think of something remarkable about the woman they were searching for. “Ah, she has unusual tattoos on her both arms and would have been traveling with a large warhorse and a dire wolf.”

    The high elf once again came through by stepping forward and saying, “That sounds a lot like the Dragonborn, Master.”

    “Dragonborn?”, Xerbius asked looking at the both of them.

    Sergius began to nod slowly thinking of the description. “Yes, that does sound like her… Uh, yes, my lord. The Dragonborn was promised to us in an ancient prophecy to help deal with the dragon crisis that’s arisen in the last year or two. She is meant to put a stop to Alduin once and for all. She’s the only one that can speak their language… the Way of the Voice.”


    Down in the town of Winterhold, Kryimsson found himself in their local inn and pub. Being that the warrior towers even the tallest man in the place, getting attention wasn’t hard to come by. He managed to strike up a conversation with the inn’s main proprietor. After securing two rooms and buying two large draft horses, he turned to leave when a much shorter and thinner mage stood in front of him.

    “It sounds like you are looking for the Dragonborn.”, the mage said, trying to enunciate his words through a facial injury. The mage’s two black eyes and severely broken nose was a sign post of his loss.

    “What the hell happened to your face?”, Kryimsson asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

    “The Dragonborn and I were having a lovely conversation when her barbarian of a traveling companion, a thuggish ruffian ranger, interrupted us and nearly manhandled her.”, the young mage began to say. With the way he accentuated certain words, it wasn’t difficult to see the disdain he had for this ranger companion.

    Kryimsson looked over at the inn keeper and raised an eyebrow. The innkeeper quietly shook his head and mouthed the word “no”. He turned back to the mage. “Manhandled, huh? The Dragonborn.”

    “Well… not in front of me, obviously. But his lack of respect towards me and the conversation she and I were having… I wouldn’t put it past him.”, the mage sniffed, turning his head up.

    “And you… what, ran into the door jam trying to defend her honor?”, the tall warrior asked dryly.

    “No. I did what any proper gentleman WOULD do. I challenged him to a duel.”, the hoity mage said.

    “….with your face?”, Kryimsson blinked.

    “Ugh, no you witless fool. Hand to hand combat. He simply caught me off guard and struck first. I was too humiliated to face the Dragonborn so I ran inside and they left.”, the mage said and tenderly touched the bandages on the bridge of his nose. “This will never heal correctly.”

    Kryimsson slapped his massive paw of a hand on the back of the ailing mage. The mage stumbled forward and scowled up at the man. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, kid. Chicks dig scars…”

    The mage’s eyes brightened and he gave the large warrior a genuine smile. “Really?’

    “…on me. I meant to say Chicks dig scars on me. I’m pretty sure you’re screwed.”, Kryimsson said and turned to leave.

    Xerbius was standing outside with a mug of something hot as the steam cascaded out of the tankard in front of him. “Was that really necessary, Kryim?”

    “The kid was a pompous ass. Besides, he called me a witless fool.”, Kryimsson said and leaned on the wooden railing.

    “And he was able to walk away with all of his teeth? Tsk Tsk, brother. You’re getting old.”, Xerbius said and took a long soothing swig from his mug.

    “Bah…”, Kryim shrugged off the comment. “So, what did you learn?”

    “Mysidia has been here for quite some time and has earned the title of Dragonborn.”, Xerbius said looking into his mug. He saw Kryimsson sigh shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

    “Gods damn it…(sigh) of course she is…You did tell her to not draw attention to herself, right?’, Kryimsson asked. “She hasn’t even been here that long.”

    “I did. But you know how she is, brother. There aren’t many places she can go that won’t notice her.”, Xerbius added.

    “Any word on which direction she skipped off to?”, Kryimsson added before grabbing for the inn door.

    “No, but supposedly there’s a captain with a ship that’s recently stopped here. He can take us to their capital called Solitude. We can hire a courier to find her, there. Work smarter, not harder, brother.”, the mage said and winked.

    “Excellent!”, the warrior said smiling bright. “I’m going to go find that fop of a mage and see if he wants to get drunk.”

    Kryimsson left Xerbius outside to mingle with his thoughts. The snows whipped around the small town and blew snowflakes to and fro, blurring details in the distance. He distinctly remembered telling the Druid to keep a low profile. Cross over, find what you can about that plant, and get back before people here began to realize that she wasn’t from Nirn.

    “Dragonborn, huh?”, Xerbius muttered to himself. “…damn it, indeed.”

    Post count: 67

    Writer’s Note: Sorry it’s taken me so long for an update. There’s a lot going on in RL, some good… some not so good. But, it still hasn’t kept me from wanting to add to this story. There’s going to be quite a bit added to this story as I talked to my RL brothers about it. (Their DB characters are Krym and Xerbius and I thought it’d be a neat plot line added them.) Lots of plot lines twisting and turning and new questline mods to add. As always, comments (good or bad) are welcome. If you don’t want to drop them here, feel free to shoot me a message either here or on SRM’s FB page. For those of you who do read my story, you have no idea how much it means to me. Much love to you all.

    In the throne room of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak sat listening to his housecarl drone on and on about the hardships in the Grey Quarter and the general complaints of the Argonians at their docks. Every complaint merged into the next and it all began to sound the same.

    Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric’s second in command and housecarl, read down the list of grievances the common people of Windhelm had given him. Their hope was that Ulfric would take a stand one way or another about what was happening to the city. And as usual, Ulfric stated that he had an entire country to bring under one rule. The trivial plights of the city would have to wait until the Civil War was done with.

    It took everything in Ulfric’s power to not roll his eyes and simply tell every sniveling “milk drinker” to man up and “deal” with their own issues so that he could put his energy into other more important matters: unifying an entire country.

    Ulfric’s disdain didn’t go unnoticed by his housecarl and the usual daily beating of a dead horse was put on the back burner. Galmar went quiet as he began to read further down the paper that was handed to him an hour before.

    “Extra guard rotations in the city during the Prince of Song Concert…What’s this?”, Galmar looked up sharply at Ulfric. “It says that you have given a formal invitation to the Dragonborn?”

    “I did.”, Ulfric muttered.

    “Why, your grace? Has Alduin been defeated already?”, the housecarl asked confused.

    “I invited her to court. Alec the Prince of Song has finally made his way to my city. I decided to throw her a concert in her honor.”, Ulfric said as he walked towards the Great Table that was impressively spread with the latest repast.

    Galmar looked around to make sure that they were mostly alone. The aged general wasn’t naive enough to think that the walls didn’t have ears of their own. He leaned into Ulfric and lowered his voice.

    “Why do that of all things? I thought she was neutral to both sides.”, Stone-Fist muttered.

    “She still claims she is. However, I received word that she was at the Crystal Ball as the foreign paladin’s guest. If neutrality is still her stance, she will come.”, Ulfric said picked at the roast beef platter on the table. A guard abruptly snapped to attention and began to put a plate together for his king.

    Galmar gave a skeptical look at Ulfric. When the guard handed Ulfric his plate, he gave the housecarl a goblet of mead. Galmar nodded in gratitude. Ulfric was about to turn around and sit on his throne when he gave the serving guard a turkey leg from his plate. The guard’s eyes widen with shock and managed to steady his shaking hand as he took what was offered to him.

    “Thank you, your grace. Talos bless you.”, he said and hungrily at his small meal. Galmar watched the exchange between the guard and his king. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

    “I had to invite her. If I didn’t, I would have appeared weak to the Imperials. That and her presence would calm things in the Gray Quarter. Nords love their hero and non Nords respect her. The fact that she left the day after I offered her a position in my army doesn’t look good to my people”, Ulfric said while picking at his plate.

    “Are you going to push her for an answer?”, Galmar asked.

    “Keep reading.”, Ulfric said without looking up.

    Ulfric managed to get some of the food down. The stress of uniting a country had started to show on his person. He barely recognized the reflection he’d see in the mirror every morning. Deep worry wrinkles chiseled their sign posts all along his forehead. The dark circles were barely noticeable at first, but through the long months, they began to nest below his eyes and take its toll on what was once a handsome face.

    Galmar looked up sharply from the paper in his hands. “You can’t be serious.”, he blurted out. Ulfric looked up from his plate and raised an eyebrow. Galmar looked down. “I’m sorry, your grace. This is just….”

    “Calm yourself, my old friend. I’ve put some thought into this. Her name would lend weight to my throne and is the catalyst I seek in uniting this country.”, Ulfric said and put his plate aside, leaving it half eaten.

    Galmar scrutinized the plate Ulfric left. He didn’t have to know him for as long as he did and not see what the stress was doing to him. Ulfric wouldn’t last to his coronation if he didn’t take better care of himself. “Would she take it, this time?”

    “She’d be a fool not to.”, Ulfric said and got up. He waved his hand and a young man came with a small writing desk and a quill. He took a page out and dipped the quill in the ink provided to him. The sharp scratching sound made a small echo in the throne room they were in. Once Ulfric was done, he handed the parchment to Galmar. “See that her housecarl gets this.”

    “When were you going to tell me, your grace?”, Galmar asked after reading the document.

    “Just now.”, Ulfric said and waved his hand to send the courier on his way.

    “I cannot do my job sufficiently as your Housecarl if you keep things like this from me, your grace. This isn’t some small matter…”, Galmar said following his king.

    Ulfric stopped short and held his hand up. “I had no intention on keeping this from you. I’m going to rest. Leave me until she arrives in the city. We can discuss why you’re against it later.”

    Galmar respectfully bowed while his king walked up the stairs to his bedroom. “The Nords will never bow to a foreign queen.”


    Bishop and Mysidia made their way towards Windhelm. They had made a small stop along the way so that she could pick up the armor that Sabre hid. The hide pouch had been tightly secured all this time and held the ridges of the security.

    “Well…? You’re not going to change?”, Bishop asked folding his arms across his chest.

    “It’s not that simple, Ren’quari. There’s a prayer that has to be said and…”, Mysidia started to explain.

    Bishop waved his hand “Of course there is.”

    Mysidia said nothing and continued to adjust the storage bags on her horse. She placed her Emerald Order Armor in one of the larger bags and tied it up tightly. She mounted her horse and was about to turn away and start on towards Windhelm, when Bishop held his hand on Thaeja’s bridle.

    “What was the courier for?”, he asked looking up at her.

    “What are you talking about?”, Mysidia asked confused as to what her travel companion was referring to.

    “You scribbled something and handed it to a courier. Securing our rooms at the Candlehearth?”, Bishop asked while getting into his saddle.

    “Candlehearth?…. Why would we stay there?”, Mysidia’s confusion continued.

    “The only other inn in town is in the Grey Quarter and sorry, Ladyship, but you couldn’t pay me to stay there.”, Bishop said and reined his horse next to hers.

    “What?…..Grey Quarter?…. No. Why is it that you have such a short attention span when it comes to me? I’ve been in Skyrim for over a year when we started to travel together. I’m a Thane in Windhelm. We’re going to stay at my villa.”, Mysidia said and shook her head laughing. “That note was to let my housecarl know that we were coming and to prepare for our arrival.”

    “Villa? How big is this place?”, Bishop asked surprised.

    “It will sleep six adults comfortably. After I helped Ulfric escape Helgen, I helped him out with his city in various things. He gave me the title of Thane and I was able to purchase a house. I’ve made a few…minor renovations. I also handpicked the housecarl myself. I needed someone who was just as neutral in the war as I am., especially if I was going to live in the Stormcloak’s capital.”, Mysidia said and gave Bishop a look.

    “Do you plan on living there when this is all done?”, Bishop asked.

    “Not really. Ulfric has been trying to get me to choose a side in this civil war. I refused him then and I still refuse. I didn’t come here to fight a war that has nothing to do with me. I’m tired of fighting for the ambitions of older men. No… I came here to kill dragons, apparently. And I didn’t exactly leave Windhelm in highest regards. Ulfric offered me a powerful position in his army and I politely declined. That following morning, I left the city. The rest you know.”, Mysidia said.

    “You know he’s going to try and get you to side with him, don’t you?”, Bishop asked as their horses’ shoes clopped down on the snowy cobblestone roads.

    Mysidia drew her cloak tighter about her as the snowfall picked up pace. She shrugged “He won’t force an answer out of me. His Nords wouldn’t think too highly of him if he ruffled the feathers of their prophetic hero. The fact that I’m not a native holds even more respect with them. I’m willing to be the Dragonborn to a land that’s not my home. There’s a lot of political power with that title.” she said and stopped, turning her horse towards him. “And besides, a few days rest would do us both some good. A respite in a well furnished house is exactly what we need.”

    “Alone?”, Bishop asked with his eyes lit afire with the possibilities.

    “That can be arranged, Ren’qari. Caldur has his mother up the mountain, here, and his family lives in his late father’s house in Windhelm. It wouldn’t take too much to suggest he stay at one of those other places.”, Mysidia said and winked.

    “Mmmm. I like the sound of that.”, Bishop said and reached for Mysidia’s chin. She leaned in and placed a well deserved kiss on her companion’s lips.

    She turned Thaeja around and grinned as she kicked in her heels and drove her mount to thunder down the street. Bishop enjoying the thrill of the chase, nudged Rose forward to follow. The wisps of flakes swirled around them in an ethereal dance. The clouds covered the sky in a blanket of sepia earth tones as the campfires and torches marched what would be the darkness at bay. The false illumination also carried towards the ground as whatever light reflected off the snow. Mysidia slowed her horse as she made her way towards the city stables. With a huge swipe, she dismounted and grabbed her cloak before it fell into the slush beneath her feet.

    The stable hand looked at her and gave her a bright smile. “Dragonborn! It is you!”

    She smiled and shook the hand that was given to her then continued to unpack her bags. The stable hand looked at the massive war mount and stared. “Is this….is this him?”

    A gloved hand slid up a dark furry neck and patted towards the front of the horse’s face.”Yes. This is him. Please make sure Thaeja is washed and fed and both of our saddles shined by morning.”, Mysidia said and placed a small pouch of gold into the young man’s hand.

    Bishop watched the exchange with a detached presence. Everyone that saw who she was, she was greeted with smiles or bows. Children waved emphatically and tugged at the cloaks of their hurried parents as everyone scuttled to and fro to get wherever they were going. The weather did nothing to dampen anyone’s spirit.

    “You coming?”, Mysidia said as she looked back.

    Bishop looked up and nodded, grabbing his bag. They both scuffled off to her villa. It didn’t take them long to get to the front gate and Bishop looked up to see a massive oak tree in the front courtyard. He smiled seeing how fitting it was.

    Mysidia opened up the door and both of them poured into the receiving area of her villa. A rather impressive fountain of a dragon trickled water into a collecting basin and various stone slabs were off to the side to sit. Plants of every color and fragrance wound around the pillars of the entranceway and Bishop could hear her servants bustling about getting the house ready for them.

    “Never been to a noble’s house?”, Mysidia asked watching his reactions.

    “I have…”, he began to say as he followed his companion towards the Great Hall. “…but nothing like this.”, he said as he looked around. The house was opulent in the sense of the expanse of her title as Thane, but not as much as a castle. Everything was well kept, clean, and the servants bustled about out of sight and sound.

    “Calder?”, Mysidia called out taking off her gloves. A servant girl helped Mysidia out of her snow heavy cloak. Shaking off the excess precipitation and debris. Bishop removed his and handed it over. Moments later a tall red haired man came thundering down the stairs ahead of them speaking in Dunmer to a Dark Elf behind him. Whatever was being said had the man angry and the Dark Elf scribbling something down on the paper he carried.

    “Ah, my lady!”, he said as he landed at the bottom of the stairs and bowed in front of Mysidia. “Welcome home.”

    “Calder, this is Bishop.”, she said and stood off to the side. The housecarl was taller than both of them and had long red hair that was well kept and tied back. The moment Bishop’s eyes met his, Calder’s eyebrow rose.

    “Welcome to Hjerim, my lord.”, Calder said and bowed low.

    “I thought we were going to come up with a different name for the estate….?”, Mysidia asked curious.

    “We were, my lady, but you left before we could go over possibilities.”, Calder said rising from his bow.

    It was obvious that Bishop was not used to be addressed with a title. He stumbled through a thank you before following Mysidia deeper into the house. Bishop leaned over and said “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

    Mysidia rolled her eyes. “Trust me. He’s harmless.”

    Bishop’s look didn’t agree with her. She made a mental note that when things had quieted down for the night, she would tell Bishop about Calder. Right then wasn’t the best time.

    While they were walking through the villa, Bishop grew increasingly impressed. Everything had her touch to it. If someone gave him the tour from off the street without telling him who the villa belonged to, he would know it was Mysidia’s. Not only did it have her elegant style but the same orchid and musk smell he associated with her was delicately wafting from each room. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

    “I’ve gone ahead and pulled several bottles of wine from the cellar. Two are decanting in the kitchen and the rest are in the cooling chest near the pantry. I also made sure a hot bath was run. It’s been about an hour so the water temperature should be perfect, if you so desire. I have had all the linens changed and the guest bedroom set up for Lord Bishop….”, Calder started to rattle off things that Mysidia no doubt had in the letter sent ahead.

    “The guest bedroom won’t be necessary, but thank you.”, Mysidia said delicately. “This is why you’re the best.”

    “And lastly, this came for you earlier today.”, Calder said and pulled a sealed note from his jacket pocket.

    Mysidia’s eyebrow rose in curiosity. She took the note and nodded to Calder. “Have dinner brought up to the master bedroom and Bishop given a tour. He is welcome to all of the house.” She looked down at the seal and pursed her lips together. “Two handwritten letters from the rising king himself, in the same year? If I didn’t know any better I would say he’s trying to court me.”

    Calder gave her a look. “Don’t even jest, my lady. That’s drama that we both don’t need or want.”, he said and turned to Bishop. “My lord, this way.”

    “Head to the baths, Ren’quari. I’ll join you in a moment.”, she said and grinned.

    She opened up the letter and began to read it as she slowly walked down her hallway towards the bedroom. She looked up and gave a soft smile when she noticed the fluffy down comforters and her giant canopied bed with deep red drapes and flimsy mosquito nets adding a whimsical look to the furniture piece. A massive Tree of Life was on the back wall with the wolf paw print on the trunk; the very same insignia on most of what Mysidia owned. The insignia of her Wolfsong Tribe.

    “This bathroom is bigger than most of the higher paid bedrooms in Solitude. Damn, woman, you should have told me about this place sooner.”, Bishop said walking into the master bedroom from the side entrance that led into the bathroom.

    Mysidia looked up to see a shirtless Bishop making his way towards her. A playful smile tugged at her lips as she held the note off to the side. Bishop slid his arm around her waist and effortlessly pulled her off her feet. He gently nibbled at her lips as he placed a well deserved kiss on his Druidess.

    “Just tell me that the servants all leave in about an hour so I can have you to myself?”, Bishop’s voice growled in her ear. She smiled, feeling the blush creep up to her cheeks. She gently placed a hand on his face and kissed his cheek.

    “I can make that happen.”, she said and winked as she sat down to remove her boots.

    The bedroom doors opened to have a Calder enter with another servant wheeling a tray towards them. “I took the liberty of having dinner delivered here. I figured the two of you would want the privacy.”

    “This is why you’re the best.”, Mysidia noted.

    Bishop nodded towards the note she was carrying. “What does he want now?”

    “Curiouser and curiouser. He wants a private audience with me before the concert tomorrow night. Nothing about this sits well with me.”, she muttered. She thought about it for a bit before casually tossing the letter on her bed. “I’ll deal with whatever he wants tomorrow night. That’s not right now and I have other things I’d rather be doing…”, she smirked. Calder, being the gentleman he was, quietly crept out of the bedroom leaving the two of them alone.

    Bishop leaned over and grabbed the letter while he took a bite of a biscuit from off the cart. It was short and sweet, asking Mysidia for a short repast before the concert. Bishop felt his jaw clench and the heat of jealousy began to make his blood boil.

    “What right do you have to feel this jealous possession, pack brother?”, Bishop heard a familiar echoing voice behind him. Had Bishop been a wolf, he would have growled. He felt his chest rumble low as he grumbled, however.

    “Not now, Saber.”, he said through clench teeth.

    The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he heard nothing behind him. The only sounds that filled the room were the sloshing of Mysidia bathing and the soft growling of his stomach as the piece of biscuit began to digest. He turned his head, expecting to see Sabre blink his gray eyes back. Instead, where the dire wolf’s bed sat was empty. While Sabre could have easily killed the ranger if an altercation had taken place, he decided to pick and choose his battles that night. Wise on both sides.

    And as much as Bishop didn’t want Sabre to be right, he was. Even though Bishop had slept with Mysidia, nothing about their previous conversations outlined any exclusivity. If he wanted to confront her about the amorous suitors, he needed to define the relationship they had. He was hoping that  the upcoming conversation wasn’t pretexted by the budding jealousy surfacing, but if they didn’t have that conversation soon, he feared Mysidia would take up an offer from someone other than him.

    He looked towards the bathroom and his eyes followed the trail of Mysidia’s clothes that were strewn on the floor. A wolfish grin began to creep across his lips. He lifted the letter and glanced at it once more before tossing it on the bed. They had all night to themselves. The conversation could wait… at least a little while longer.

    Post count: 3

    I can’t wait for the next chapter ♡

    Post count: 159

    Absolutely wonderful story to read. I can not wait for it to be updated.

    Post count: 67

    Thanks, ladies. I haven’t forgotten about this piece. Just had to get through some RL BS and find quiet time to continue the story. I’m hoping to have another chapter up by Sunday. =) Thanks for reading!

    Post count: 67

    As promised. Some of the lines are taken directly from 3.0. I apologized for the length but my laptop decided to “eat” my chapter and I had to write it from memory. Enjoy.

    Mysidia languidly lay in the steamy hot water and delicately twirled her fingertip. Slowly the ripples bobbed their way, away from her hand and danced among the vapors of the steam. She absently chewed at her lip as she vacantly stared off into the distance. Bishop noted her expression and knew her well enough to know; she was troubled.

    “Copper for your thoughts, ladyship.”, Bishop murmured in her ear. He lay behind her, holding her very naked form on his very naked lap. Their previous lovemaking had left them both in a content buzz that was further carried by the alcohol kept refrigerated in a bucket of ice water near their heads.

    “Mmm?”, she said finally.

    “I said, copper for your thoughts.”, he said and reached for her goblet. Feminine fingers clasped the metal and deliberately brought the liquid to full nibbled lips.

    “Nothing of consequence.”, she said finally and placed the goblet off to the side. He knew she was lying. He also knew better than to pursue it. She would come around when she was ready.

    She turned in the bath and faced him. The bathing pool was large and deep enough to be considered a public pool. The bathroom was delicately decorated with ivy and tile mosaics depicting various scenes from stories Bishop didn’t know. He surmised it was from Rhydian history, her history. He wanted to ask her about them. He would have to wait for another time.

    A damp thick braid hung over her left shoulder. He reached out and allowed the silky dark hair to slide down his fingers into the water. When he got to the jagged end, he couldn’t help but smirk. She curiously looked down and raised an eyebrow.

    “Remember when this happened?”, he said and fanned out the roughly cut ends in his fingers. She smiled lovingly and gently.

    “Mmmhmm. I was quite angry with you for a while after that.”, she noted and reached behind Bishop to hand him his goblet.

    “That’s was when I knew that you were very different from other women. Any other woman would have been terrified”, he said and took a long swig from his cup. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you afraid, come to think of it.”

    She pursed her lips again and looked down. He knew what memory she went back to. Her fingertips found the faded pink scar on his side. He clicked his tongue in guilt. A well timed kiss on her lips dissolved the thought from her mind. When he pulled back to see the blush return to her cheeks, she slowly opened up her eyes to see his golden gaze look at the faded scar on her neck.

    “No.”, she said shaking her head. She placed her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look into her violet eyes. He found himself lost in them, again. The memory of her bleeding on the forest floor with her neck pierced from an arrow made his heart thud hard and made it difficult for him to swallow. “No. You don’t go there, either.”

    He absently rubbed his thumb along her scar and bit back the thickening lump in his throat. She gently pushed her hands on his jaw to snap his mind away from the memory. “I’m not there, ren’quari. I’m right here.”

    She leaned in and returned the favor. He nibbled hungrily at her lips and their kiss deepened. She couldn’t help but moan softly at the gentle feel of his tongue touching hers. Before he decided to give in for round two, he pulled back and asked a mood breaker.

    “Let me ask you something.”, he started. She allowed her eyes to look over his ruggedly handsome face. Her fingernails lightly scratched over the stubble on his cheeks and she ran her thumb over his lips. He smirked at her subtle seduction and playfully nibbled her thumb. But before he could be swept up in her again, he had to ask. “How do you feel…about being the Dragonborn?”

    Her movements froze and she looked up into his eyes. He saw her pupils dilate a bit as she shrank back off of him. “That’s… a hell of a question to ask right now.”

    She looked over at him and noticed he wasn’t going to change the subject or continue where that kiss would have gone. She grabbed her goblet and drank, trying to hide her disappointment from being shot down. “Ok…”, she started. “There’s nothing to feel about it. Whether I love it or hate it doesn’t change the outcome. This is what I am.”

    He grumbled. “That’s not an answer.”

    She chidingly laughed. “Yes it is, it’s just not an answer you wanted to hear.” He looked at her and grumbled getting up out of the bath. She watched him wrap a towel around his waist. She sighed frustrated. “Ok, what do you want me to say? That I hate killing dragons? That I’m tired of fighting every single thing that challenges me? Yes. I’m tired of it. But admitting it does nothing. It doesn’t change what I am. It doesn’t change what I have to do. Hating something out of your control only burns up energy.”

    He looked at her in the bath and saw the confusion wrinkle her brow. “How very martyr of you.”

    “Martyr?” She said and shot out of the water. “I think not. To be a martyr you have to die and I don’t want to die!”

    “What if you didn’t have to fight them anymore?”, Bishop said as he towel dried his hair. She stopped short and swallowed. She was used to the back and forth verbal dance that he sometimes did with her. If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn it was a form of foreplay for the ranger. This? This was way different. She could hear the desperation in his voice. She knew they danced around each other’s emotions, not quite putting a name on what they felt. Years of experience told her that this would change by the time they left the villa to continue her journey.

    “You’re serious.”, she said quietly. He looked at her. It was an odd thing for him. He’s never been tangled emotionally with any woman as much as he is with her. Anything but a smile in his direction and his heart ached. He wanted to be the reason she smiled and hated that he might be the reason for any of her pain. He knew that their playful banter was something they both enjoyed. If he crossed a line or if she wasn’t in the mood, she had this growl she’d do that would deliver all the warning he needed.This time, however… there was no growl. There was only this vacant sadness behind her eyes. She carried it with her everywhere she went, after Adara and Casavir healed her. He even noticed that she looked at him differently. He could feel an emotional friction in her. Something was going to give and change their relationship forever. The tightness was palpable.

    “Yes, princess, I am.”, he said and finished putting on his pants. He knelt in front of her looking at her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. He hated how he was acting towards her now, but there would be plenty of time to get mad at himself later. She needed to hear what he had to say. “We could go south, leave this place. I can take you to High Rock, Cyrodil, even show you the ruins of your ancestors if you want… Any place but here. Any place that you didn’t have to risk your life day in and day out. If you hate doing it, then let’s just say fuck it and be done with this place.”

    Mysidia blinked a moment and looked down. Her brows knit together considering it. When she looked up, he saw the increasingly familiar sadness. She got up and put on her tunic. She grabbed him by his hand and began to lead him to her balcony. “Come with me.”

    She opened up the double doors and a fresh crisp winter air swirled around them along with a few stray snowflakes. Steam poured off her hair and he could see the water begin to freeze on her braid. She casually moved her hand in front of her and the freezing stopped. He was in constant awe the way she commanded nature to do her bidding. He wondered how strong she could get and how powerful she was back home. He stood behind her and placed his arms around her, enjoying her warmth. She gave a loving smile as she allowed the intimate moment.

    She pointed ahead of her and turned her face to look at his. “Tell me what you see.”

    He had to squint his eyes a bit because of the frozen precipitation that fluttered about. He saw the inky shadowy mountains far in the distance and a blurry shadow circling one of them. He didn’t have to focus his eyes to know what it was. He felt his heart sink and she felt his energy change behind her.

    “A dragon”, came his reply.

    She nodded softly. “Not just any dragon. That’s Alduin out there. He’s getting ready to raise another dragon.”, she said and turned towards him. She waved her hand again over his skin and he looked at himself in wonder as the sting of cold no longer pricked at his skin. “Go ahead and ask me how I know that…”

    He didn’t have to. He simply raised his eyebrow at her and watched her cheeks flush slightly as she bit at her lower lip. He learned a while back what that look did to her. He always loved watching her reaction to it.

    “The longer I am here, the more I can feel. I know it’s him. I know when he’s around, when he’s about to raise a dragon, when he’s weakened after raising one… I know this because I feel him. What’s more important is that he can feel me, too. I don’t know if we share a soul. I’d like to think that my goddess wouldn’t give me such a burden but, here we are.”, she said and stepped close to her ranger. “I am the only living thing here that can defeat him and he knows that.”

    At the release of those words, Bishop closed his eyes and it was his turn to feel the vacant sadness. He felt her warm soft skin touch his cheek. He looked at her.

    “There is no place I could run to that he wouldn’t find me. I am a danger to him and he would chase me all over Nirn trying to find me; burning everything and everyone in his path.” He felt her touch his faded pink scar on his side. “Being hunted is nothing new to me. Druids are a dangerous thing to be, where I am from….But people have a way of getting hurt because I’ve chosen to run instead of facing it. YOU have gotten hurt and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that. I fight each dragon because it’s easier to fight ONE dragon. If I leave with you, how many do you think Alduin would raise before chasing to find me? Ten? Thirty? One is dangerous enough to fight.” She reached down and intertwined her fingers in his. She lifted his hands up and gingerly kissed each one. “I promise, when this is all over, you can whisk me off wherever you want. I WANT to see the ruins of my ancestors. I’m excited to. But I’d never be able to be free to enjoy it… just be free at all if I had to constantly worry and watch over my shoulder the whole time. And I know you know what that feels like.”

    By the gods she was gifted at speechcraft. He actually felt himself wanting to tear up. Mysidia deserves nothing but total freedom and he would do everything in his power to make sure that happened. Even if he had to forfeit his own life. Instead of breaking down, he simply wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. The white fear of worry began to nest in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t used to it. As he held her while the snow blew around him, he realized that he did in fact, love her; and he would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t suffer needlessly. He feared losing her because he was in love with her. ‘Fuck’, he thought to himself.  They both heard the screech of Alduin bounce off the mountains.

    She lifted her face and gave him a curious look. “Are you alright? You’re trembling. Has the spell worn off? Are you cold again?”

    “I’m fine, sweetness.”, he said and kissed her tenderly. “Let’s get back inside before the enchantment wears off.”

    Post count: 67

    Writer’s Note: Some of the wordage is taken directly from the mod. The video posted at the end of this is how I pictured Mysidia’s dance. Enjoy!

    It was the early hours of the morning when the sun was just peaking its way over the horizon. Bishop had been up for an hour before that and downstairs in the Great Room of Mysidia’s villa. He was sitting with Sabre before the fireplace. Ever since the grotto, Bishop had been taking secret lessons from Sabre in learning Rhydian.

    He had been taking double lessons to learn the language faster. He would gladly take whatever Mysidia taught him and had regular lessons from Sabre before Mysidia would wake. And now that he had admitted to himself that he did in fact love her, he made sure to work twice as hard to figure out a way to tell her.

    Somehow, telling her in Common just didn’t seem good enough. It all sounded hollow or forced. The common tongue just didn’t have the right words to convey what he felt. He was pretty sure that there wasn’t a language out there that was able to capture it all, but he knew that if he said it to her in Rhydian, it would go much further. Sabre agreed.

    “You are picking it up quickly, ranger. Much faster than I initially thought you would.”, Sabre said and flicked his ears forward.

    And it was true. When Bishop would rile Mysidia up on purpose, she would switch languages cursing him out. He quickly found out that her speechcraft was just as high in her own Mother Tongue as it was in common. It took everything he had not to return insults. He couldn’t give away his secret…. not yet.

    In remembering past conversations he had with his Druidess, he came back to the one they had outside of Adara’s cottage. The relief he felt when he saw that she was warm and alive, and was going to be just fine, the visceral excitement washed over him again. It was as powerful as it was that day. He remembered something she told him, however, and turned towards her wolf for clarification.

    “Can you translate something for me?”, Bishop asked the large wolf.

    “If I can.”, Sabre answered calmly.

    “What does ‘Amin mela ille’ mean?”, he asked looking at his canine teacher.

    Sabre drew his head back and his eyes went wide. “Who said this?”

    “Mysidia did. Who else would”, Bishop asked confused.

    “Mysidia said this…”, the wolf asked, or rather stated. He opened up his muzzle and lolled out his long pink tongue into a grin. “…thank the gods. It’s about time.”

    “Well…? What does it mean?”, Bishop asked again, getting annoyed.

    Sabre never answered him. Instead he got up and looked towards the stairs. Bishop turned around and saw Mysidia standing looking at both of them. Guilt and fear captured them both, like children that got caught lying.

    “Ask her yourself, ranger.”, Sabre said quietly and left the room. Bishop wanted to yell after the wolf for abandoning him. So much for being pack brothers.

    Mysidia walked down the stairs and quietly over to Bishop. “You’re up early.”, she started.

    He noticed she must have been up for some time. Her skin held a dewy glow to it and the orchid scent was strong; she had bathed before coming downstairs. Now that they were living at the villa, he noticed she bathed quite a bit. Not that he minded. The more he saw of her, the happier he became. That and the orchid scent brought about a set of complex emotions. It both aroused him and calmed him, something new that drove him crazy. He had been kicking himself in the ass for falling for her, and yet, once this was admitted, there was a euphoria that came with it that he had never felt before. It was maddening.

    She watched him for a few moments, squirm uncomfortable. She knew he was up to something. At first she thought it was endearing that he had been spending time with Sabre. And yet, every time she caught them together, they both gave the same guilty look. She allowed them their secret. As far as she could tell, neither one of them were hurting each other or anything else. And if this drove them closer, why should she worry or have a problem with it?

    “Couldn’t sleep?”, she pushed further.

    ​Bishop got up and walked over to her encasing her in his embrace. “You know me, Ladyship. New place, new sounds.”

    She nuzzled his neck for a moment before saying, “I know. You don’t do well in city walls. We will be out of here before long. I’d like to be back on the road by tomorrow morning.”

    He ran a finger down her neck to her collarbone. He had gotten the same reaction time and time again, and yet enjoyed it as if it were the first time; the gooseflesh that pricked up gave him a small smirk. He had found that her neck was her favorite place to be touched. For him, it was where ever Mysidia placed her hands. Even if it was running her fingers through his hair, he was calm and contented. She had this profound effect on his mood, it was bewitching. He lowered his head to her neck and breathed in her scent. More orchids, more of… her. He closed his eyes and gave a soft moan.

    “Don’t cut our trip short on my account, sweetness. Despite whatever sleep I haven’t gotten, I’ve enjoyed being with you, here.”, he admitted. She looked up at him with a curious glance as if she didn’t believe what he said.

    “So what were you and Sabre talking about, before?”, she asked bluntly. She could feel him freeze. She surmised it was about her, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, the lack of eye contact on both him and her wolf drove her curiosity up the wall.

    “Nothing of consequence.”, he said flipping the phrase back at her. It was one that she used frequently these days, avoiding whatever topic she didn’t want to talk about. He knew she had something on her mind and she knew he was up to something. At least the ungiving friction made their sex lives interesting. Whatever frustrations they had with each other were taken out in the bedroom. He saw her roll her eyes. He knew what was coming next and waited for it.

    And she didn’t disappoint. She would try and ply him with seduction. It never worked, mind you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the game they played. She delicately dragged her lips over the muscular chords of his neck and shoulders. As she turned her head, he felt her damp hair trail their own “fingers” across his bare skin. He delicately placed a finger under her chin to make her look into his eyes. Seeing the playful purple stare back, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. Her fingers slipped up his neck and into his hair. Her fingernails lightly scratched his scalp and down his neck as he deepen their kiss.

    She trailed her tongue down his neck and he loosened the robe she wore to gain better access to her skin. Everything in his body lit up and had they been alone in that house, he would have laid her down in front of that fire and lit one of his own within her.

    She heard footsteps behind them and she abruptly stopped. The energy shifted around them both. Bishop ground his molars to keep from barking at who or whatever interfered with what would have been a lovely morning.

    “Yes, Calder.”, her voice rose and echoed off the walls.

    “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady.”, her housecarl began. “But a package has arrived for you.”

    She stopped and stared at the floor as if going over the accounts for the past two days they’ve been there. “I’m not expecting anything.”

    “No, my lady. It’s the gown for tonight.”, Calder said outside of the Great Room door.

    She looked up at Bishop who was watching every move she made. “I didn’t buy a gown.”, came her reply.

    “It is the one my mother was commissioned for.”, Calder answered.

    Mysidia  shook her head and broke her embrace with her ranger. “Commissioned? I didn’t even tell her what material to use…” She looked up at Bishop who held an unspoken question on his face. “Calder’s mother is a genius seamstress. One night, after dinner, she and I spoke about Rhydia and the fashion in the main capital. She asked me to draw what a typical court gown would look like and I handed her a rough sketch. I had no idea she’d actually go and make me it. It was casual conversation.”

    She smoothed her hair and fixed her robe, covering whatever skin was showing. Bishop had to adjust his pants before following. Mysidia walked out of the Great Room and saw Calder in the library across the hall. She shrugged and walked through the door. In the middle, on a makeshift mannequin, was an exquisitely made gown fit for a queen. It was a range of deep blues and purples that flared out and hit the ground. It was off the shoulder and had straps to hold it on the shoulders. The sleeves were laced down to the elbow and then let loose to allow the arms to move freely. The material was a gorgeous silky satin. Mysidia’s mouth dropped.

    “My gods, Calder… it’s… beautiful.”, Mysidia uttered. She reached out and allowed her fingers to feel the fabric. Cool smoothness greeted her fingertips. Her eyes fell over the whole piece and she could feel the lump build in her throat. For a very small window of time, she felt as though she were back home.

    “Damn…”, Bishop added. He too, was impressed.

    “My mother thought you’d want to wear something regal tonight. If Ulfric is indeed courting you, it might be in your best interest to make him question exactly WHO you are.”, Calder said standing behind the mannequin.

    Mysidia flashed a dangerous look up at Calder and then tried to hide her look towards Bishop. Calder didn’t miss the gesture and decided to change the subject. “Is it exact?”

    “Gods, yes. It’s as if she plucked the very vision from my mind…”, she said and walked around to the back. That was when he saw her slump to her knees touching it. He came around the back and saw a sigil beautifully woven into the fabric itself. It was almost barely noticeable unless the light hit it a certain way. He could make out a sword with what appeared to be a phoenix behind it. She never mentioned anything like that nor carried anything on her person with such a symbol. The only one Bishop would recognize is the Wolfsong emblem.

    “Are… you ok, Ladyship?”, Bishop asked quietly.

    She looked up at him speechless. The tears stung and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “It’s the sigil of House SIlverhand…”, she whispered. “…my mother’s house.”

    Bishop sucked in his breath. She rarely spoke about her parents and when she did it took everything for her not to break down and cry. He could only imagine the horrors she had to leave behind when she made her way to Nirn. This symbol was a powerful reminder that there was quite a bit he didn’t know about her. To be fair, there was just as much that she didn’t know about him.

    “Are you going to wear this tonight?”, Calder asked placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up and embarrassingly laughed as she wiped the tears off her face.

    “Yes…”, she said and got up. Calder nodded and began to leave the room. “And Calder?”

    The tall housecarl stopped as he heard her call after him. “Yes, my lady?”

    “The tiara, too.”, she said and grinned. Despite all she didn’t tell Bishop, Calder was right. If Ulfric wanted to court her, she was going to make it VERY uncomfortable for him.

    ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++++++++

    It was in the early afternoon when Bishop decided to make his way to Candlehearth Hall. After Mysidia had seen the gown, they both made their way back upstairs to her bedroom. That was when they finished what they started in the Great Room. He may dislike being confined in a city, but he couldn’t deny he loved living in a home with her. And every time they slept with eachother, he would discover new sounds or something new to discover about her body. The moment he would finish, he would see her all flushed and breathless and want to start all over again. A sweet soreness began to settle into his thighs and he couldn’t help but smirk as he rolled over.

    After he had gotten up and bathed, he made his way downstairs half expecting to see Mysidia in the library or kitchen. When Calder explained that she left for the inn to introduce herself to the Bard giving the concert, Bishop thought it prudent to get near her as soon as possible. She was his. If anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way… He wanted to punch a wall. This possessiveness was also new. He didn’t like it.

    He all but ran towards the inn. The moment he got inside, he heard a well toned tenor voice singing up on the second floor. No doubt, where Mysidia would be. He decided to ignore the budding jealousy he was feeling and watch the events unfold. He quietly made it up the stairs and saw Mysidia sitting across the room talking to the Bard. All he saw was her. No one else in the room was important.

    She had the top part of her hair pulled back in two braids that she fashioned in the back. The remaining hair hung in thick waves down her back. Her elfin ears were visible as well as her piercings. She kept the warpaint off. There wasn’t a need to put it back on since they were in the city. She wore a simple cream tunic and a pair of leather pants with riding boots. She must have went riding on Thaeja later that morning.

    The bard leaned in and said something to her. She sat back and laughed. And whether she commanded everyone’s attention or not, she got it. Every man looked at her the way most men would. She was beautiful. Why wouldn’t they? But the attention set Bishop’s ire on edge. It took everything he had not to bust through everyone and growl in the face of the Bard. Only HE was allowed to make her smile and laugh.

    “Tell me, Dragonborn, do you sing or dance?”, the bard asked and poured her another goblet of wine.

    “I used to. I haven’t done it in a very long time.”, she said and looked at the liquid in her cup. Bishop bit back an answer. “They were for ceremony, usually.”

    “Would you consider doing one or the other for me?”, the bard asked and a dangerous sparkle lit his eyes.

    For reasons Bishop couldn’t explain, he decided to just sit off to the side and watch the event play out. He knew that Mysidia could dance very well. Sing? This was something completely new to him. Considering that her voice had an unusual calming effect on him, he could only imagine what her singing would sound like… that is if she could.

    “I could do a dance, I suppose.”, she muttered.

    “Aww… but not sing? Not even for me?”, the bard asked.

    Bishop saw a memory flash across her face and the all familiar vacant sadness filled her eyes. She shook her head. “No, Alec. I don’t sing anymore.”

    Anymore? There was a time when she did? Bishop wondered why she stopped in the first place. He decided to ask her about it at a later time. But for now, he would watch her dance and imagine her hips in all the interesting positions he would have them in that night after this ridiculous concert was over.

    She got up and took another healthy swig from her goblet. She braided her hair and took the long coil and wound it around her head, securing the piece in a sort of crown. When she turned around, the neckline of the tunic she wore was lower than usual and the back tattoo peaked its way through. Alec allowed his eyes to roam all over her, as if to undress her by will alone.

    “Look all you want, asshole. She’s mine.”, Bishop uttered to himself.

    She walked over to a Redguard and asked for his giant scimitar. She leaned in and whispered something. The man, brightly smiling, nodded and unsheathed the unusual weapon and handed it over. She turned back to the bard and began to show him the beat she would need to perform it. Then she looked at the few other lower level bards and explained how the song went.

    “What you’re about to see is the first ceremonial dance I’ve learned. Usually, this is done in the spring and there’s fire involved. Since we are in a wood building, I don’t think it wise to do it exact. It’s taken me decades to master this dance, so anyone watching… including children, don’t try this at home. Also… it’s done blindfolded.”, Mysidia said and winked. She had taken a scarf and tied it across her eyes. By now, she was drawing a crowd and they laughed at the announcement. “Ok, Alec. Give me drums on C.”

    Once the song began, a Khajit began to play on something that looked like a guitar and a lyre mixed. It had an unusual exotic sound. A male bard began to sing a very exotic song. The language was familiar, he recognized it as the language of the Redguards. She had taken the sword and made it a part of her dance. And her movements were as fluid as water. It was as if she were dancing in a completely different dimension. Time around her was functioning normal, but inside where she danced seemed to slow down. As far as Bishop knew, she hadn’t done any Thu’um to give the added effect. It was just her being able to manipulate her muscles to a slower rhythm.

    Everyone in the pub was captivated. Mysidia had danced with the sword, swinging it around her. She balanced it perfectly on her head, allowing her arms to undulate like a snake. Her balance was perfect. The very movements were written deep within her DNA. It was as if her brain shut off and she just allowed her body to move on its own. Her movements cast its own spell. Other than the musicians, you could hear a pin drop. Bishop was right. She wasn’t a fighter that enjoyed to dance. She was a dancer that learned how to fight.

    She swirled with ancient movements to an ancient song. She showcased her flexibility and Bishop couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander on how he would use it to his advantage later. He almost wanted to scold himself for even thinking such a thing during this beautiful moment. She was indeed skilled. She never missed a step or stumble over anything in her way. Towards the high point of the routine, she was on her toes, swinging the sword around her. The blade never came close to anything or any one. When the song ended, she had made her way towards Bishop as if she knew he was there. She may have very well did.

    She offered the sword at her ranger and the song ended. She removed the blindfold and her eyebrow rose. It seemed she was just as shocked to see him as he was to witness the dance. Her chest heaved from the athleticism she executed. Silver beads of sweat clung to her skin. The crowed roared around her and Alec jumped up out of his seat and quickly made his way to her. Alec saw how she and her “stranger” looked at one another. He could feel the jealously build.

    “My lady, that was fantastic! Please, you must do another.”, Alec said and stood next to her.

    Mysidia gave the Redguard back his sword and shook her head giving her answer. “No, one dance is enough, I think. Alec, this is my companion, Bishop.”

    Alec gave his competition a once over and inwardly questioned what she saw in him. “Ah… Lucky for you, my lord. You get to see this every night.” He meant it in the regards of her dancing. She wasn’t sure how she should have taken it and merely kept her sharp tongue sheathed for the moment.

    “No, this is the first time I’ve seen her dance like this.”, Bishop said, his eyes never leaving Mysidia’s face. He didn’t know why it should have surprised him that she could dance as well as she had. Bishop knew the dance was entirely Rhydian and it hit him harder than it should; she didn’t belong on Nirn.

    “Will… you be joining us tonight, my lord?”, Alec said dancing around the subject.

    Mysidia gave the answer. “Of course. We’re a package deal. If I go, so does he.” She didn’t leave room for argument.

    Alec gave her a long look and realized he was out of his league…for the moment. “Very well, then, my lady. I will see you both there tonight.” He excused himself. He had to come up with a plan on persuading the Dragonborn to ride with him when the concert was over.

    Bishop watched with a blase eye as the bard walked away. He took a step forward towards Mysidia and lifted her chin so he could look at her. “I thought you said you were blindfolded.”

    “I was. I couldn’t see anything.”, she replied.

    “Then how did you know I was there? Did you see me come in?”, he asked raising his eyebrow. He watched her subconsciously bite her lip. Oh how he loved to watch her squirm.

    “I didn’t. I just danced where ever I was pulled to.”, she said and began to walk outside of the inn.

    Bishop realized that the offering of the sword meant something. He was deliberate. He was going to ask her, but decided to hold off until later. He exited with her and they both fashioned their cloaks around them. She drew up the hood, concealing her face. All traces of the dancing muse were gone and the fighting swords woman was all that remained.

    “Ladyship, a word if you please.”, she heard him say.

    Abruptly, she stopped and two violet eyes peaked through the shadow of her hood. “Yes, Bishop?”

    “When this shit show is over, we need to talk.”, he said, his voice unusually gentle.

    “Why can’t we do it now?”, she asked curious. She couldn’t help but feel the cold grip of dread climbing over her.

    “Because, as you put it, I’m too sober for that conversation. And it shouldn’t be done here.”, he said and took the lead as they made their way back to the villa. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad.”

    So why was it she couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom?

    Post count: 67
    Cathryn Wilson
    Post count: 3

    I love this story that you have written. It gives new ideas on how the story between Bishop and the Dragonborn. I can’t wait to read more and see where Mysidia and Bishop go. keep up the great work. 🙂

    Malin Johansson
    Post count: 2

    Thank you so much for this story, can not wait for the next chapters! Love your writing 😊

    Marie Serone
    Post count: 4

    What an amazing story! Looking forward to more chapters 🙂 !!

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