[h3][center]Where We Fear to Tread[/center][/h3] A collab by: [@Spoopy Scary] & [@MacabreFox] [i]Gilane, Hammerfell - 30th of Second Seed[/i] [hr] The black veil slowly, groggily lifted from Calen’s vision. He still felt sick, but he also felt an ache. An aching in his head - he thought he did, at least. He couldn’t tell. Everything seemed so surreal, not quite there. He knew he was being dragged, but he couldn’t quite feel it. He couldn’t feel the texture of the coarse and rocky ground of Anvil’s paved streets, but he could feel the pressure against his body. He could feel and taste something warm, wet, and metallic in his mouth. It was sticky. He swung his field of vision around to look at the two men dragging him through the street… he saw Quintus and Pavo. Oh, yes… of course… he lost. He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t find Rhona. The Dominion agents slew the guards in the streets. There were channels of blood between each and every brick in the ground, like veins coursing through the city… and the led to a single house. A manor. A castle. Castle Anvil. He wasn’t sure if they dragged him along a long red carpet or through a river of blood, but the answer was clear when they threw in front of the throne and the ground splashed beneath him. His mouth filled with blood, but was it the river of blood? Or was it being thrown on his face, breaking all of his teeth? The river felt solid despite the splash. He felt so dazed and groggy that reason and logic flew out the window, but even in this state, he tried looking up. He saw Cezare, adorned in fearsome armor that might have once been regal and a billowing red cloak. Strange. There was no wind in here. Looking closer, the red cloak was dripping with a familiar sanguine hue. He wore an eyepatch for some reason. “You’re a liar.” Cezare growled, taking a step forward. Calen somehow found the strength to roll over onto his back and tried crawling away from him; backwards, still facing him. Though his feet found purchase on solid stonework, he felt his arms suddenly drop and sink elbow deep into the river. As Cezare walked ever closer to him, he seemed to walk atop the river that Calen couldn’t escape. Too thick to escape, as it felt like cold molasses on his skin; but too thin to escape. Every time he tried to get out he fell back through like it was water, sinking deeper and deeper. “No.” Calen denied, shaking his head. “You’re a liar!” Cezare repeated. “You lied to me, you lied to [i]them![/i]” “No!” Calen cried out again. “All you do is lie!” Cezare shouted. “You love [i]no one![/i]” “No!” Three blasts of thunder shook the castle. Too loud, deafeningly loud. Like one of the Dwemer’s cannons knocking down the castle doors. Three sharp shots was all it took for him feel completely deafened. Blood dripped from his ears, and a low, dead, droning din drowned out Cezare. Though his mouth moved, no sound came from him. Calen’s throat felt swollen shut. Cezare was getting angrier and angrier that Calen could not hear him, he knew this somehow, but he was helpless to do anything about it. When he tried to speak, he felt like he was choking. [i]“Calen.”[/i] Cezare drew his sword. [i]“Calen.”[/i] He raised it above his head... [i]“Calen.”[/i] And swung down. Everything was instantly black. Sithis. The sound of a rolling marble echoed through the Dread Father, and contrasting against the infinite void trailed a ribbon of red. Rhona’s head rolled into view. Her lips moved, [i]“Calen? I need to speak with you.”[/i] [hr] Her mind swirled and raged like a catastrophic wintry gale about to make landfall. Mortalmo’s words rang inside her head, just like the bells had tolled in Anvil. She couldn’t make up her mind, what would she do? She couldn’t approach Calen and blindside him, could she? What if she did? Rhona’s hands curled, clenching into fists as she ground her teeth. Hot tears burned her eyes as she fought to maintain her appearance. There was no use, she buried her face into the palms of her hands. [i]Perhaps you should go find Calen.[/I] Rhona decided that if she were going to confront Calen, she needed to wash her face, and do her best to erase any emotional distress. She made her way inside the [I]Three Crowns[/i] and headed down the hallway that led her to their shared quarters. She recalled the way that the guards led the men, and headed further down the corridor. She had located the two rooms acquisitioned to the men, and took her chances on knocking on the first door. Not a sound came. Rhona moved to the second door, knocking harder, and called out for Calen. “Calen? I need to speak with you.” After a few moments, the dull sound of the floorboards creaked, followed by a few more low thuds and shuffling. [i]Thud, shhh… thud, shhh…[/i] The brass knob of the door handle clicked, and the door creaked open. Calen leaned his face against the door frame as he mumbled his incomprehensible greeting, his blonde hair unkempt and out of place. His breathing sounded ragged, as if he was just running a race. There was a smear of drool near the corner of his mouth that he tried to wipe away. It was mixed with the faintest trace of blood. He was completely disheveled and could barely keep his eyes open and the skin around them was slightly off-color, but when his blurry vision finally focused on Rhona, they widened open with surprise and he stumbled to recompose himself. “O-oh, uh, he… hey… Rhona! Wh… what brings you…” Calen stammered, but then he shook his head and sighed. He finally blurted out, “Are you okay?” His disheveled appearance caught her off guard, she faltered in her words, but immediately squared her shoulders and huffed, “Calen, you have no idea what I’ve been through. And I just-” her face twisted into a grimace, hot tears stung her eyes again as she clenched her teeth, “Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me, [i]please[/i].” She begged, desperately trying to keep her composure. “I…” Calen began, but the more he woke up, the more confused he became. Usually it was supposed to work the other way around. He didn’t know what she was asking of him. The truth? The truth of what? He stepped out into the hallway. “You’re right,” he said, “I have no idea what you’ve been through. Quintus and Pavo told me Cezare found you. I’ve been worried sick, but… I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. We haven’t spoken since… since Skingrad. Brynja wouldn’t let anyone…” Calen’s voice gradually became weaker until he finally slumped his shoulders and gave up on finishing his sentence. He was rambling. He had to get to the point. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what he did, but I should’ve been there for you. I wasn’t. I’m so sorry…” “Shut up!” She yelled, her tears spilling forth unimpeded, her mind wouldn’t be betrayed, not after what Durantel had told her, “You’re lying! It had to have been you, or else Cezare wouldn’t have found me, and fucking kidnapped me, Calen!” Rhona felt dizzy, and so she leaned against the door frame to steady herself, her hands covering her face as she cried. “Wh-what?” Calen stammered, his face contorted into a look of confusion, “Why would you think I had anything to do with that? I helped you get [i]away[/i] from him. He sent two guys after me because apparently he wanted to [i]kill[/i] me. Did Cezare tell you all that?” She groaned, struggling to catch her breath, “Durantel… he…” Rhona brought her hands away from her face, hands curling into clenched fists, “He told me that you told Cezare where I was…” “Durantel?” Calen repeated, “You mean the Altmer? The one that hates my guts and calls me a dog?” Calen signed, running his fingers through his already messy hair. By Talos, he was gonna need to have a word with that Mer. He seemed like the sort that would get a kick from pitting two humans against one another. It would explain why Rhona is so scared. “Look,” he began calmly, “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me since Skingrad - and if you were, that’s fine, we can have that conversation later - but I haven’t even [i]seen[/i] you in Anvil until we were all boarding the Intrepid. Last time before that was on the Gold Road. What could I have told Cezare? And how would Durantel know that?” “I did what I had to do, to [i]protect[/i] you Calen. Cezare sent his goons after you to bring you back to him, he wanted to kill you right in front of me. I had to… I had to stop him. I…” Her demeanor began to change as she realized what Calen was saying, perhaps Durantel had lied to her after all, at least suggesting the impossible. Why would he do that to her? “So why did you believe him?” “I… don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” She managed a choked out sob as she explained, “Calen… I killed Cezare. I had to because he would’ve killed you. I beat him to death, and I… I couldn’t stop myself.” The bard’s throat clenched. “Gods I’m so sorry, Calen. I don’t even know what to say.” Her face drained of color, the look of hopelessness consuming her features. Calen pulled her into his arms and rested his weary head on top of her’s. She stiffened in his arms, but found herself leaning into him, she shouldn’t have run from him like she did. He took a deep breath - the salty smell of the ocean still clung to her hair - and his body shuddered as he released it. “I'm just… so relieved you're safe.” He whimpered. “You’re safe now.” “I’m sorry, Calen. I was a fool.” Rhona wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The warmth of his body against her own provided a much needed comfort then. She didn’t want him to let go, no, she could stay like this forever, right there in his arms. Let everything melt away, all of her worries and fears, the horrible events of Skingrad and Anvil dissipate into nothingness. “Can you forgive me?” “Forgive what?” He muttered. “You've done nothing wrong.” “For everything,” she whispered softly, “for the way I’ve treated you, acting like a spoilt child… even accusing you. I was afraid, and I ran from my fears, like I always do. I’m a coward, Calen. And I ran from you. You deserved none of this.” “Don't… don't…” He choked up, but then he took another deep breath, shaking again before spitting out, “don't take responsibility for them. C-Cezare… [i]and[/i] Durantel, they both made their choices. You couldn't help that. You have a good heart. I should've looked for you sooner.” Rhona shifted her arms, she drew away from him, just enough so she could look at him clearly, “Calen…” she didn’t have to say another word. One hand drifted to his cheek, she stroked it affectionately with the pad of her thumb, her eyes searching his. There was a warmth in those dark brown eyes of his, even while pink and swollen with tears, something that had comforted her originally and she found it again. Rhona leaned in and pecked his cheek. “I won’t run anymore.” Calen stifled a smile, knowing it would only get the waterworks going again. He held Rhona’s arms in his hands. “Sorry about crying in your hair,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. She laughed, “Kynareth would not be upset.” “Really though, it’s probably a mess.” Her smile slipped away, she wasn’t sure what to do now. Her brows furrowed, “I… you should get some rest. I didn’t mean to wake you.” At the mention of getting some rest, of going back to sleep, his thoughts returned to the nightmare he just had a few minutes ago. Of Cezare. Of the sword. Of Rhona. He shook his head, both to shake out the haunting memory of it and out of refusal. He dipped in his head and touched his forehead against hers. This felt more relieving to him than the prospect of sleep. “This is fine.” He whispered. She wasn't going to question him, her heart leapt at the welcoming sensation, it’s what she wanted. It’s what she needed. Rhona wasn’t technically supposed to be in Calen’s room out of consideration for Gregor and Alim, but that was fine. The corner where two of the walls met at their end of the hallway was more than enough. At first they just sat on the floor together, side by side, enjoying each others company. As the hours dragged on, they found a more comfortable place with Calen’s back against the wall and Rhona as his little spoon. With his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Rhona enjoyed the first sense of security she felt in a long time. Their little talks went on until their words were slurred and their eyes heavy. Rhona found her pillow on his chest, Calen his atop her head. For the first time in days, even while surrounded by Dwemer, the night felt peaceful.