[h3]Precipice of Change[/h3]
This one is.

[i]Morning of the 19th of Midyear, 4E208
Gathering of the tribes, Alik’r desert, Hammerfell[/i]

[hr]
Somehow, after all had been said and done with the gathering, Raelynn had found she had slept quite well. For the first time in what felt like a long time, she had drifted off and stayed that way. It had not been a peaceful sleep, but she had not been harassed by the plague of frequent waking, of sweating, of horrendous nightmares. The gathering had been and gone. Everyone that mattered knew their business now. Everyone that mattered knew everything. The words and confrontations had stung her, and she still felt a sharp pain in her chest in the cavernous space where her breath had been dragged out by the angry grip of her companions. Yet, they were both still here. Or at least [i]she[/i] was here. Gregor was not, but strangely she felt no worry of his whereabouts. 

She stared up from her position on the bedroll, Gregor’s side was practically untouched. Her side was crumpled and had still had her warmth within it and the pillow had an indentation to it from where she had been resting. There was a single smudge of black kohl against the fabric. 

She brought her hands to her face and slowly drew her fingers under her eyes gently, adjusting her vision to the morning light that was sifting in. She sat up, letting the blanket slip from her frame. [i]Gregor must be with Fjolte.[/i] She knew the Nord was an early bird and it made sense to fetch Gregor at that hour for whatever it is they were going to do. The thought crossed her mind of whether he might be off somewhere in a situation that she had been in with him. [i]Walking the smoke[/i]. Her face scrunched as she fell deep into that thought, bringing a closed fist to her chest, it wasn’t pleasant to imagine and so she tried to shake it free with a soft shrug of her shoulders. Raelynn blinked, her sapphire orbs glossy with the dew of rest, and she made her way outside of the tent, her clothing a simple pair of linen trousers and a cropped vest. 

She found a soft spot of sand to sit in, on her knees and took a deep breath in, letting her shoulders soften. It wasn’t until she did so that she realised how heavy the weight of that tension had been, the feeling of anger and the bitterness that had been consuming her... Her arms fell to her sides before she moved them together, one hand on top of the other in the shape of a point. Then she made a slow diving motion to the sand, her hands pushing against it as she brought herself flat, stretching out her back under the warmth of the sun. It probably looked so strange to any of the passers by as she worked through a series of poses, holding her body as still as a statue - even when it resisted against the stretches and she faltered. Even when the feelings of vicious spite held onto her fiercely. She just tried to breath and let them roll away, before moving in a graceful flow through her salutations, finally arriving back on her knees at the very end of the sequence. 

He would be back soon, and so the Breton made her way back into their tent, and began her second ritual of the day — her hair. Carefully she combed it, removing the knots that had formed through the night, shaking free the grains of sand until it was smooth and shiny as ever, soft enough that her hands could now work through the lengths to form it into braids. She hadn’t braided her hair in so long, she thought as she did so, watching herself in the mirror - her tongue poking out at the side of her mouth in concentration as her oiled hands turned strand over strand, leaving behind lustre and the scent of lavender and oranges. 

It didn’t take long for the worry to start to seep through, now that she was no longer occupied and just [i]waiting[/i]. Her eyes flickered over the tent. She picked up a book and pressed at the pages but the she could not absorb the words. She plucked through her belongings, perhaps if she changed her clothes it might pass some more time… A dress today? Trousers? A tunic? And what about a belt? What about some rings - an earring, a brooch? Boots or sandals? What colour today? Maybe violet, maybe white… Finally she huffed out a long sigh and folded her arms over her chest, she was just going to have to wait it out…

The lich slipped into the tent like the tent like a phantom at the opera. There was more substance to his presence now, it seemed, and the face that revealed itself when the black hood was thrown back and the scarf pulled down from his nose bore, ever so slightly, signs of life in its eyes. Even if Gregor and Fjolte hadn’t achieved anything yet, he felt a little better to know that they [i]were[/i] going to do something, even if it was only getting his memories back. Thinking so hard about what happiness meant to him brought back the love he felt for Raelynn at the forefront of his mind and he looked at her with a smile that brought some warmth to his cold, sharp face.

“Good morning,” he said and sank down on his knees next to her, his eyes going over her fresh clothes, her oiled and braided hair. She looked good, healthy, well-groomed. Gregor hadn’t taken care of himself since the ascension -- there was little need, since his skin no longer produced sweat and his hair no longer became greasy -- but there was still a disheveled quality to him, an inevitable consequence from walking around. He untied his hair and handed the leather strap to Raelynn. “Would you like to style my hair today?” he asked and gestured towards her braid. “Looks good, what you’ve done.” 

[i]There you are[/i] she thought to herself as she watched him enter the tent through the reflection in the mirror. Her natural reaction was still to steal a glance at him, and she looked over her shoulder to do just that, but the difference in his face caught her off-guard again, and all she could manage was a quick smile before she turned back to the clothes piles in front of her. “Good morning to you too…” she uttered softly, lowered over the piles as she folded them back up into a neat pile.

With him beside her, she felt more at ease - and immediately noticed a lack of smell, and by that she could not detect the scent of smoke staining his clothes, nor of any herbs which only served to make her curious about what he [i]had[/i] been doing. She held the strap between her fingers awkwardly, looking at it… It filled her with a mixture of emotions, images from the last night became clear. How she’d undone his hair from it’s knot before they had made love. With a soft sigh she placed it on the dresser, out of her sight. She could not deny him his request, despite her feelings and so she gave him a sideways look before breaking her silence, “not Gregor Sibassius asking for someone to style his hair?” [i]Ahh, there was a smile[/i].

She picked up her comb and shuffled herself so that she was behind him, and tentatively at first she began to pull it through his hair. Combing from his hairline to the tips slowly, as if he was made of paper and she was scared to tear him. 

“Not just someone,” he said as she moved behind him to do as he had asked. “Only you.” He hadn’t failed to notice how she had looked away from him quickly after seeing him over her shoulder. It stung, but… what could he realistically expect? Gregor knew he looked like a corpse. It would be tremendously magnanimous if Raelynn could ever get used to that, let alone after a few days. He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the homework Fjolte had given him; [i]make her laugh.[/i] It had been too long. “Fjolte made me climb a rock,” he said and smiled himself at how silly that sounded when stated so bluntly. “Can you imagine that? Went surprisingly well, though.” 

“Climb a rock?” She asked, peering over his shoulder to be closer to his face - as if to check his expression. She stopped combing - holding the tips of a section of his hair between her fingers, her eyebrow raised quizzically. “I… Sometimes I don’t understand that one, but…” there was only one thing she wanted to know, and even if the thought of Gregor climbing a rock were amusing, she needed to know what else they had done - discussed… If he felt [i]better[/i]. If any of it had helped. Raelynn bit her lip and moved back to focus on his hair, her movements relaxing as she discovered that no, combing his hair did not hurt him. “But he must have had some… Deep and mysterious reason for it, I suppose.”

Gregor shook his head gently, restricting his movements so as not to disturb Raelynn’s combing too much. “He wanted to look at the sunrise while we talked. Well, I suppose you’re right, there [i]was[/i] a lesson, about overcoming a challenge to find the path waiting for me. There was a slope back down on the other side that would have been much easier to scale.” He fell silent as he wondered if he should tell Raelynn about the things Fjolte had volunteered about his past, but Gregor eventually decided against it. “He’s going to help me recover the memories I lost surrounding the… ascension, I suppose would be the word for it. But we didn’t really do anything yet. He was mostly just relieved I didn’t throw him off the cliff.” 

Raelynn nodded along as he spoke, her fingers were now running through his hair too - and she was doing about as much styling of it as Gregor was… She was just combing quietly. First the with the teeth, and then her fingers delicately followed, twirling strands absentmindedly as she listened. “It’s a good job you didn’t throw him off the cliff. The damn fool would have survived and would likely try to tell everyone he’d performed a triple somersault from the peak…” 

[i]So all they had done was talk, that was interesting...[/i] Her eyebrow raised again, her lips narrowing into a pout while her mind worked through the information. “I see… Did he tell you what that would entail? I mean… Are you? Is that what you want?” She asked, leaning over his shoulder again, her fingers splayed over his scalp. “Sorry… of course it is, you need to know… you need your memories.” Once more, the Breton retreated to his back and carried on. 

“I do,” Gregor said, not picking up on the implication behind Raelynn’s trepidation. “As long as I don’t know what the Ideal Masters exactly did to me and my soul, I’m not… whole. Once I am, we can see about treating me. He…”

The Imperial trailed off and cleared his throat. “Fjolte wants to help me become the man that can give you a home. ‘Nobody can hate that man’, he said. I haven’t forgotten what I promised you, Raelynn.”

“I trust him... To help you that is,” she admitted in a soft voice as she focussed her attention to his hair again. She sat quietly for a while, just combing. Just enjoying the mundane task he had asked of her, her shoulders and posture became relaxed the more she ran her fingers over him, and she was almost able to forget the situation at hand - even with the discussion of the Ideal Masters… The ritual gone wrong. Eventually she knew what she wanted to say; “and don’t go thinking [i]you’re[/i] going to just give me a home. We’ll do it together, I want… I want to make that a perfect home for you just as much.”

That was cause for Gregor to fall silent for a while. His eyes were downcast and his hands lay silent and limp in his lap. “Are you sure?” he asked her eventually, his voice heavy with uncertainty. “Do you still want that with me? You were at the trial, you saw how they all… everyone hates me. I’m a monster. Just… it’s just… I need to be sure you know what you’re getting into. You could lose friends over this. Over me.” 

Raelynn sighed, her hands falling by her own sides. She watched as his hair fell loose again from how she had been holding. Uncurling from itself. He needed strength, he needed to be held up and all she could think about was their night in the spring, how she had raised him up with reassurance and with love. It was all she had, afterall.

“I shan’t think of the trial when we’re in our home. When I’m in your lap by our hearthfire… Reading something, maybe reading to you. I won’t remember Gaius when we wake each morning, and you bring me flowers from our garden… When I work in my study… I won’t think of it.” Her voice wavered, a melancholy pierced her words but her eyes were warm, and slowly she let her arms wrap around his waist from behind him. “There is no home without you. Of course I’m sure.”

When she wrapped her arms around him he placed his own hands over hers, the coldness of his touch hidden beneath the leather of his gauntlets. It was such a simple gesture and yet it was possessed of more power than any sword or spell. Gregor closed his eyes and let the wave of emotions roll over him -- relief, love, gratitude. Even now, even in his current state, she could reach him in ways that nothing or nobody else could. “Thank you,” he whispered and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. He found that he could truly believe in Fjolte’s words now. There was cause for hope. With her, for her, Gregor had every reason he needed to push himself to rebuild. “I think I might take up gardening,” he said eventually and opened his eyes again, a faint smile playing with his lips. “Make sure the house is surrounded by life. It’d feel good to nurture something like that, don’t you think?”

She hummed in response, drawing upwards to place her head against his shoulder as she closed her own eyes. “Yes it would… There will be windows that are open, and carry the scent of your wonderful flowers through the rooms… It will be beautiful.” Raelynn allowed the image of the home to form in her mind as she spoke, smiling as she did so. “Our bedroom should have a balcony that overlooks your garden so I can watch you at work… And we can spend our evenings there, watching the seasons change.” Her voice was barely a whisper, just a warm and dreamy breath. Her arms reacted to his touch, and she held him tighter.

“Perfect,” Gregor said. This is what Fjolte had meant, he was sure of it. How could anything be a more powerful anchor than this? “Everything is going to be alright. I have faith. As long as we have that to work towards, we will be just fine.” Some of his confidence returned to him and he extracted himself from Raelynn’s embrace so that he could turn around and face her. She was still unsettled by his face, he knew that, but she was going to get used to that. She had to. Gregor smiled at her and his eyes smiled along with it, the otherworldly quality of his gaze tempered by the human warmth and emotion that shone through. He didn’t look so bad now. “I love you, Raelynn Hawkford, and I will do everything in my power to deserve the love you’ve shown me.”

He already had. But… This was important to him, feeling like he was working towards something for her was important - essential even, to him becoming himself again. She couldn't take that from him. As Raelynn met his eyes with her own, she recognised them at once, darker than ebony and warm as they'd always been. The eyes she'd fallen in love with. Everything else had changed, but as long as she had his eyes everything else would be fine. “I love you too,” she answered  with one hand on her chest in a fist. Wishing to kiss him, but still unsure… She simply rose up once more, unclenching and placing that hand gently on the back of his neck before pressing her forehead to his - a sign of loving solidarity. Raelynn's lips touched the tip of his nose but she did not kiss him. Instead she spoke as softly as she could, “always.” 

While he yearned for her kiss, Gregor understood that she might not be ready. It would take time to reach that level of physical intimacy again. He tried not to let that realization sour his mood, the optimism that she had filled his heart with. Sitting back and letting Raelynn get back to what she’d been doing, the Imperial decided to bring up a lighter topic of conversation. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

The rest of the day? It occurred to her that today was the last day they’d be spending with the tribes, and this fact brought her out of her state of relaxation with a quick curse, [i]”shit”[/i] she began, fumbling over her clothes to begin the packing. “I wanted to find some merchants before we left… I need some supplies.” Her hands reached for her satchel, and she rummaged through it - even in such a hurry she moved delicately. “I need some more plants, reagents, an oil… among other things too…” She looked back up to Gregor, a slight panic across her face, before she shook her head. “I’ve gotten myself into a tizzy now…” Raelynn’s shoulders began to shake as she laughed quietly. “I should get a move on, really… I want us to have just, some [i]us[/i] time. If you want to…”

It was endearing to see Raelynn panic over something as mundane as supplies again. Gregor gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. “You have plenty of time. In fact, I’d like to come with you. I want to see if the merchants have something I need,” he said, his hands performing the routine gear check without looking that had become second nature over the years, making sure he had everything on him -- his money, his weapons and his various belongings and nick-nacks. He put his hood up and hid his face behind his scarf. “Can’t see anything, right?” he asked, slightly nervous. 

“You want to come along?” she asked, slowly blinking in surprise before she ran her lower lip through her teeth, a shy smile appearing there. “You know I can’t really recall… When we’ve done something quite so mundane, together.” The Breton leaned towards Gregor, moving her own hands over the scarf, gently tugging at it here and there. She made folds against parts of the the fabric to deliberately cast shadows over his face, and smoothed it out over his shoulders where it had been on the crumpled side, allowing him to look neat and as though it was simply the stylistic choice of a gentleman. “That’s better, needed a woman’s touch.” She tilted her head while looking at her handiwork. She could still see his eyes. “What is it that you need?”

While waiting for her answer, Raelynn got to her feet and hung the satchel over her shoulder - in the full sunlight, while standing, she looked unusually frail - even by her willowy standards. Still, she held her graceful posture - and actually, she could feel some kind of bizarre joy in the idea of them running an innocent errand together. 

“You’ll see when we get there,” Gregor said as they stepped out of the tent and began making their way to the center of the camp, where the market stalls were. He didn’t want to speak the idea out loud -- it sounded a little dumb when spelled out and he wasn’t sure if it would work until he tried it. “Let’s just say I’m looking for something to make me a little less inconspicuous, despite your best efforts with my shawl,” he added after a few seconds and glanced sideways at Raelynn with a smile. She couldn’t see that but maybe she could see it in his eyes. 

“Well, alright then if you say so… I don’t mind the shawl so much though…” She commented with a smile, unsure as to whether she should link her arm through his. Did he want that? Maybe on their walk back. It was still early enough for things to be quiet and uncrowded. It was welcome too, Raelynn wasn’t fond of being jostled around droves of people. Aside from the odd tribesman, the market was very empty indeed. The scent of spices hung in the air alongside the familiar sound of food hitting a hot pan - that loud sizzle that was enough to rouse hunger in most. Her eyes followed the line of stalls. It certainly wasn’t Gilane or the Imperial City, but the familiarity and absolute normality of a morning market was a comfort to her. Not even Gregor could stop her from pottering over to the spread of trinkets, supplies, and folded coloured fabrics. She [i]oohed[/i] and [i]ahhed[/i] at most of everything. 

She picked up a bunch of dried flowers, holding them in one hand while she continued to look at the wares of this particular merchant. He had books too, oddly enough, but she was already carrying too many as it was. She pursed her lips to the side, it really did pain her to leave them, but she finally settled on some more parchment, an ink pot, and the dried flowers. 

There were still several more stalls to peruse, at least.

In the meantime, Gregor strayed from her side once his eyes found the stall he was looking for; an armorer’s shop. The Redguard staffing it regarded Gregor’s approach with wariness and he refrained from greeting the Imperial, perhaps hoping the black-swaddled figure would leave if he ignored him. That suited Gregor just fine for the moment and he perused the gear on offer in silence. It was an eclectic ensemble and he doubted that the man crafted many of the pieces of himself. There were a lot of different styles on display and Gregor figured that the man was a merchant, not a blacksmith, and that his collection had been acquired by trade instead of craftsmanship. 

He paused when he saw an old greathelm, forged from dark steel, in the unmistakable style of the knights of the Third Era. It was a relic from a bygone age, or at least fashioned in its image, and Gregor stared at the faceplate for a long time. It was a symbol that represented chivalry and virtuous living, standing up for the poor and the downtrodden. It was a barbuta helmet with an enclosed visor, sporting a horizontal slit to look through and a series of tiny holes below that to breathe through, that could be flipped upwards on a pair of hinges by the temples. He could hide himself, Gregor the monster, behind it and become something else. Something better. Looking down at his armor, he realized the helmet would compliment the rest of his equipment quite well. It would look natural, normal, like he’d always been a hedge knight, a wandering guardian… 

The exchange of septims was quick and unspoken and the Redguard merchant nodded, grateful to be rid of the shady customer. Gregor turned away, averting his face, and quickly lowered his hood, pulled down his scarf and donned the helmet. The world closed in around him and he was briefly submerged in darkness until it sank properly around his head and he could see through the visor. His range of vision was larger than he had expected but he could still very easily see the edges of the helmet when he looked up at the sky or down his nose. It was strangely comforting; a reminder that his identity, his nature, was now hidden. This could be the beginning of becoming the man that Calen had believed him to be. One day he might even be worthy of the ballad the Nord had composed for him. 

“What do you think?” he asked Raelynn when he caught up with her, the sound of his voice metallic inside the greathelm. 

The Breton had been far too interested in her find to notice, or hear Gregor’s approach. She’d managed to find, strangely enough, a copy of a book she had remembered reading years ago. She may have had too many already, but one more was not going to hurt. Just one more… She was internally justifying it to herself. [i]It’s not another vanity item, it’s not shoes, or a cloak… This is useful. Yes, useful.[/i]

The voice came as a shock to her, it sounded as though it echoed, and she slammed the book shut in her hands and turned to face the sound. It was Gregor, in a greathelm… That had been what he wanted then. It was as clear as day, he looked like a Knight, a slightly disheveled one, but a Knight all the same. Raelynn carefully brought her thumb to her lip, and traced the outline, deciding how she felt about it. She couldn’t see him at all now, but something about this gallant appearance enticed her and that was clear as day too in the way that her eyes narrowed as she continued to hold her gaze on him. She liked it.

[i]Of course![/i] She was hesitant about it, but she let a hand drop to her satchel, through the goods until she found what she was looking for. She also removed a hairpin from within one of  her braids, causing said braid to fall loose from its place and become a curled strand grazing her collarbone and framing her face. “You need just one thing more,” she commented with an alluring smile as she lifted the sprig of lavender from her bag, and stepped towards him to pin the small flower on the breast of his cloak. She wondered if it looked silly, if he would even like it… But she had seen Knights in Daggerfall with the flowers of Lady’s on occasion. Stepping back, she took in as much as she could of his darkened, concealed visage - her expression more a question, and that question was, [i]do you like it?[/i]

Gregor’s hand brushed against the lavender. He thought back to their first night in Anvil and the Imperial lowered himself in the same proper curtsy he had greeted her with then. It felt like a something out of a dream. “My lady,” he said and inclined his head before rising back to his full height. “You honour me with your mark.” It was obvious that yes, he liked it. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at it, that despite everything they could find a moment like this. That despite all of the darkness they had both endured, when it was just Gregor and Raelynn together, golden moments could be found. “Sir Gregor,” she said somewhat theatrically, playing along with him gleefully, lowering her head in his presence. She almost wished she had on a dress so she could give him a lady’s curtsy back. “My Knight, I require your assistance and guidance to return me safely to my tent…” There was an added eloquence to her speech that was somewhat a mockery of the true nobility, but it was not malicious. 

In a demure fashion, she stuck out her elbow for him to take, looking away from him as if shy of it, too chaste and innocent to be touching a man. Deliberately overacting with a smile in their little game, when really she was testing the waters of whether or not this was going to feel strange, feel alien to her. Yet, she wanted his touch all the same.

Immediately grateful for the helm as it allowed him to maintain a perfect poker face while smiling behind the visor, Gregor stepped up to Raelynn and hooked her arm through his, his other hand resting on the pommel of his silver longsword. “Of course, my lady, this way,” he said and they began the trip back to their tent. He could walk with his back straight now, the urge to hide himself and stick to the shadows gone. It was remarkable what one piece of armor could do for a man. “Thank you,” Gregor added, softer, his voice meant for just the two of them now. “For humoring me.”

This is probably how they should have started their relationship, she thought to herself as she strolled quietly arm in arm with him. It was a stark contrast to their early morning in Anvil when they were walking similarly, driven only by lust and their eyes harbouring a sinful hunger. Now, all she could feel was a deep and heavy pang of regret. How was this going to work now? There were still things left unsaid and undiscussed, their fight for one. If he really was going to go searching for his memories he’d find that one - and they would be forced to acknowledge it then. For now, their moment was a peaceful and happy one, so she pushed any other thoughts and fears to the side and placed her hand on his arm - her thumb moving in small circles there. The soft warmth of her eyes and her relaxed countenance gave little away as to the feelings inside. 

“No,” she began as she turned her head to the side to look at him - forgetting his face was behind the steel now, she turned back, “[i]thank you[/i] for coming out with me.” Raelynn paused for a while as they made their way - she moved so lightly over the soft sand, feeling the heat of it warm through the soles of her sandals. She would miss the desert for some things, she was sure of that, and yet she couldn’t wait to be rid of it all the same. “I want us to do… More of this, just me and you. I…” What the Breton wanted to confess was her frustration and upset at their relationship now suddenly being the business of all of their companions… That she was bitter that they were now likely under the scrutiny of everyone and all she wanted was [i]this[/i]. Solitude. 

Gregor understood perfectly well how she felt. After everything it would be an incredible blessing to be able to just retreat into the shadows of a woodland home and forget the worries of the world and the judgement of others. But that was not to be their fate just yet. Gregor had made up his mind -- he wanted to stick it out and see this dangerous, lopsided war through to the end, even if it frightened him to think of everything that could go wrong. It was jarring to think that he had stared down Rourken less than a week ago. Where had all that sensible fear been that day? Marching down the hallways, mowing down innocent servants with volleys of Dwemeri gunfire, his heart naught but stone; it was a far cry from the way Gregor felt now. He had been so sure of himself, his skills, his path, as if Destiny itself had been on his side. Now he knew that was nonsense. There was no greater force that looked after him. He had alone in his madness -- alone, except for Raelynn. 

“I do too,” he said at length as he roused himself from his reverie. “The world has different plans for us, though. We cannot know peace until the Dwemer invasion is stopped. Rourken won’t forgive us for what we’ve done…. what I did. We’ll just have to steal these moments where we can for now. I sincerely believe that these people, as strange as it is, stand the best chance at succeeding out of anyone. I want to help.”  

A pregnant silence fell. “I want to repent,” Gregor added quietly. 

“You’re right, and I want to help too… I never thought that my trip to the Imperial City would ever bring me here.” Her pace slowed down as she thought reflectively upon her journey. While only a short amount of time had really passed, so much had changed. “I’m a very different woman to who I was when I left Skyrim last… Do you remember in Anvil that I feared this war?” She asked as she glanced up at him again, “I thought to leave and head home?” Her hand squeezed tighter around his arm as she looked to the ground. “You convinced me to stay, convinced me I could help and [i]now[/i]… Well, I suppose that I believe it. Not only that, but I [i]want[/i] to help… Sora, Latro, Jaraleet, Judena… All of them. Help in all the ways that I can, if it means I get to steal even [i]one[/i] of these moments with you from time to time…” 

Suddenly her free arm found its way to him too, and she delicately held onto him with both. [i]Embraced him[/i] with both. “We can both repent, Gregor.”

It was undeniable that Raelynn had some level of involvement in Gregor’s actions. He’d instinctively almost told her that that was nonsense and she had nothing to repent for… but that wasn’t really true. The woman on his arm had had every opportunity to try to stop him, to talk him out of it, to chastise him. She never had. Gregor knew she’d been swept up by the force of his personality and his mission and that there was a darker, more vindictive side to her that enjoyed seeing her enemies laid low, but he wondered how Raelynn felt about everything now. Did she have regrets? Did she wish, like him, that everything could still be undone? Or was she just unhappy because Gregor had been caught in his web of lies? 

He decided to ask her outright. They had promised to not have any more secrets between them, after all. “Do you regret being a part of… what I’ve done?” Gregor asked. “If you could do everything over again, would you stop me?” 

There it was, a question she hadn’t wanted to be asked, she didn’t fully know the answer. She stopped dead in her tracks, and let go of him. Carefully she stepped away and made her way over the sand. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around herself as if a great chill had taken over her. “I wanted to help you to be saved, I know that to be true. You made me feel safe and I… I should never have pushed you, something changed when I, when I fell in love with you, when I saw you - thought you were dying.” Her voice trembled, she paced again - feeling not that much different than she had only nights ago. “I didn’t realise until it was, well…” Her voice quietened and she looked everywhere as if the answers were in the space between them. She looked everywhere except at him. “Yes I would have stopped you.” 

Stopped him from what? Taking souls? The Ritual with Nblec? Hunting down Zaveed? Rourken? His [i]Ascension[/i]. She had tried to stop him in the prison… She did not entirely regret what they’d done together. He had made her [i]safe.[/i] But she did regret not being able to save him. “I told you that all I wanted was to save you Gregor…” Her hands grasped at each arm and she bent forwards slightly, her teeth setting a pressure on her lower lip as she shook where she stood. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t.”

The black knight could only stand and watch, the steel of his helm an impassive barrier that revealed nothing about what he was thinking or feeling. It was hard to see her like this and know it was because of him. It was also strange to know that she [i]would[/i] have stopped him, had she known then what she did now. Would he have even let her, or would he have pushed her away to become just another heaping on the pile of sacrifices he’d made in pursuit of his goal? Perhaps the only series of events that could have led them to this moment was the one that occurred, and if anything had changed they wouldn’t have been here together. 

“I don’t think there was anything you could have done,” Gregor said, sounding defeated and speaking truer than he knew -- truer than he remembered. “I’m sure that if you tried to stop me, I would have pushed you away. I was far too obsessed… I’d already sacrificed so much. But it’s good that you would try, if you were given another chance to do so. It means I haven’t ruined you completely. I would never forgive myself if I had.” 

“This heat…” she said quickly as she wiped a finger under each eye. “The sand…” she continued, trying to blame the wetness of her eyes on something else, unwilling to cry in front of him now, least of all when the crowds were slowly beginning to appear. “It’s a rather bothersome place,” she mumbled over a shaking breath, dabbing at her cheeks with a small handkerchief she had taken from her satchel. The Breton took a deep breath and stood up straight again, interlacing her fingers together while she peered out at the horizon now, her eyes narrowed so as to stop another tear from forming and falling. 

“I can try my best now, I can try my best to help you — find your… soul,” finally she cast her eyes upon him, without turning her head. The irony was… [i]Well[/i]... She lifted her head again, and swallowed back any remaining sadness that had been threatening to invade their moment, and with grace she added, “I still believe I can help your family, I owe it to you and to them, for my part in this...” In her hands, the handkerchief was being wound tightly around her finger as she spoke her truth, it was painful, but she wanted him to feel her conviction and stalwart dedication to still saving him. 

“Then not all is lost,” Gregor said, mustering the most optimistic thoughts he could. He didn't really believe that Raelynn could help his siblings. More experienced healers and alchemists than her had tried. But nothing was impossible. Maybe a fresh mind and a pair of eyes was exactly what this illness needed. “If they can be cured and live healthy, fulfilling lives until a death at the hands of a more natural cause, then I shall consider my quest a success after all. Thank you.” He closed the distance she had created between them and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Soon there will be no cause left for tears. We shall be out of this desert before long.”

There was the Dwemer medicine which Daro’Vasora had alluded to. After enough time had passed, Raelynn set to question her about it. But not now, now was their last day at the camp with Shakti’s tribe before they set off towards the Reach. With Gregor’s hand on her shoulder, she felt steadier still and yet as if they were on the precipice of change, something was coming. Things had never stayed quiet for long on the road so far, but today [i]was[/i] quiet. She knew only that she had to be strong for Gregor now, regain the trust of the companions, become stronger in herself - find a way to harden to steel. All of these thoughts circulated in her mind until finally she placed her own hand onto his.

“You’re right… Who knows what will happen next for us, for us all... It’s a long way until our journey’s end. Let’s find moments to cherish as often as we can.” If he had not been wearing his helm, this was a moment where her hand would have instinctively found his cheek to caress. For Raelynn, it was still too soon to really know who Gregor was now, how much of him was still there and which parts of him were gone, she felt a plangent grief within her born of regret but she did not let it rise to the surface.

Besides, there was hope on the horizon. There had to be.