The first thing Gregor did after they returned to the hotel was stuffing the black soul gem that held Nblec Mazrac’s soul in the chest by the foot of his bed and covering it beneath the bulk of his armor and cloak. He would have to get rid of that thing as soon as possible. Sacrificing it to the Ideal Masters would destroy it, which was convenient, but that wasn’t something he could do straight away. First things first. Relieved to be free of the stifling warmth of his black gear, Gregor took the bloodstained clothes to the bathroom and washed both himself and his belongings thoroughly until there was no longer a trace of the day’s gruesome combat to be found anywhere anymore, and then dressed himself in the linen tunic and breeches he had bought yesterday.
It wasn’t until then, after stepping back into the chamber he shared with Alim and Calen and seeing the latter’s bed empty, that it really sank in that the Nord bard he liked so much had almost died. And for what? Disregarding Gregor’s own blatant sabotage of the mission, it had been doomed from the start. Nblec knew nothing. The Dwemer could hold no secrets from him anymore after he’d held the dead elf’s soul in the palm of his hands, and Gregor had sensed that Nblec had not told a lie in the final moments before his death. The righteous anger and indignation that had animated him still resonated within the black, crystalline gem. Gregor sighed and rubbed his face, feeling an all-too familiar exhaustion behind his eyes. The weight of the precarious path he was on pressed on him from all directions. There would be questions, suspicious, accusations… he sank down onto his bed and closed his eyes for a second. After that, he would --
-- take care of the… take care of what? Gregor looked down and searched his pockets, but they were empty. He couldn’t remember what he was going to do. In fact, he couldn’t remember what he had been doing either, or what had brought him to this place.
He was in a forest. It was dark and foreboding, like the old woods of Skyrim at night, and Gregor could not see the sky above the opaque ceiling of the canopy above him. The air was still and Gregor noticed that he couldn’t hear anything. Where were all the birds? Not even the wind rustled the trees. It was like time had frozen, save for the specks of dust that slowly drifted to the forest floor, visible in the few, dim rays of light that filtered in through the treetops.
Gregor exhaled slowly and his breath steamed in the air. It sounded deafeningly loud in the unnatural hush.
That’s when he heard it. Behind him, far away -- something large and heavy was on the move. Gregor whipped his head around and reached for his claymore in pure reflex, relieved to find it sheathed across his back. He drew the sword and backed away from the noise in the forest -- it sounded like trees bending and branches snapping, and heavy footfalls reverberated through the ground. And was that… snorting? Grunting? It reminded Gregor of a bear. No, bigger. A mammoth? But mammoths weren’t that fast. Whatever it was sounded like it was circling him at a distance, moving through the forest at the speed of a galloping horse.
So fast… He swallowed hard and almost leapt out of his skin when he backed away into a tree. Something, some terrible feeling, was creeping into his throat from a pit in his stomach and he felt like he was being strangled. He had to get away. The entity sounded like it was getting closer. The ground trembled with every step it took now.
He had to get away. More than ever before, Gregor was afraid.
He awoke with a start, his skin covered in a sheen of glistening sweat, breath ragged and uneven, heart thundering in his ears. Gregor still saw the vivid vision of the dark forest for a few seconds before it began to waver and disappear, and was slowly replaced by his room in the hotel.
“What in Oblivion,” he stammered, wide-eyed and out of breath. He was no stranger to nightmares but it had been a long, long time since he had been so terrified by one. Gregor slipped out of bed and stepped out onto the balcony, relieved to feel a comfortably cool early-morning breeze on his face. The sun had not risen just yet. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming himself down with one of the breathing exercises the Vigilants had taught him.
He had to find Raelynn -- he had to see that she was well again, after her collapse upon their return to the hotel. Keeping Calen alive had taken so much out of her. He wanted to see Calen, too, but that could wait. The boy needed rest anyway.
She must have slipped back to sleep, for just a moment. The light in the room was brighter now, and warm too. She rubbed a hand over her eyes and through her hair before gazing up at the ceiling. At least the nightmares had stopped, and she felt somewhat rejuvenated after yet more rest. The teacup on the stand beside her bed was a reminder that she had made a floral tea. Her muscles felt less tense. Still, there was a headache behind her eyes that had yet to subside, and she felt like the mission was still embedded into her, soaked into her skin. Perhaps a hot bath would bring her back around to some normality.
She rose from the bed, her feet on the ground was a strange sensation - like before then she had been floating on some form of post-magicka cloud. Her feet on the ground let reality continue to sink in. Nblec was dead, and she knew why. She knew what had happened. Knowing it weighed heavily on her shoulders and her heart, but there was something else resting alongside it - a sense of comfort that the Dwemer had received his comeuppance. She smirked.
She had been right, the bath had soothed her and made her feel better. Scrubbing her skin clean of Calen’s blood eased her worries. She did think of him, the sight of him pale and limp in her arms, his blood flowing from the wound in an almost constant stream. Which was more disturbing? When he writhed in pain or when he fell silent. Perhaps both in equal measure. No amount of rest or bathing would ever rinse those images and the heavy feelings that came with them. As she climbed out of the bath she dried herself off and wrapped a simple dress around her willowy waist and let her hair tumble in curls over her shoulders. She could no longer smell the violence that had tainted her the night before, instead lavender and sharp berries. She, for the moment, felt like herself again.
She imagined that soon she would be called to speak with The Poncy Man and wondered whether or not the others had already. Surely not, there were more pressing issues. Would they be called to speak individually? Quickly her face turned to a scowl as she imagined the look on Daro’Vasora’s mug. She would be in such a foul mood, who would she be most likely to take it out on? A sigh escaped her lips, she knew it would be herself or Gregor. “Gregor…” she whispered out as she walked back through the main hall of The Three Crowns. She wanted to see him, time with him would help her to move through the emotions she was currently experiencing.
“There you are,” he said from behind her, as if on cue. Gregor had left his room to search for Raelynn and fortune had it that their paths crossed in the foyer. His hair and beard were back to their well-groomed usual state, having recovered from being deliberately left disheveled the day before, and the sincere smile on his face lessened the prominence of the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked well, all in all. “I was just looking for you.” He approached her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders -- he wanted to pull her into an embrace, but did not know if she would appreciate it. A lot had happened. “Are you alright?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
She turned on her heel, her cold eyes sparkled as they caught his and she found herself moving into him with her hands innocently finding their way to his chest - caressing him, and yet fleetingly grasping over him too. “I,” she began, eyes travelling to watch her fingers as they traced over the fabric of his shirt, “yes. I am rested, my energy is restored.” There was something distant about the way she said it, as if she knew that confessing to him that she wasn't alright might deter him from her. It couldn't be said here, anyway. “Are you?” She looked up into his eyes, finding a comforting warmth in them, she placed her hand on his cheek as if it had been drawn there. Something about him today was new. She felt emboldened to act this way - even in the foyer. She didn't let her touch linger for too long though, and she let her hand drop to her side once more.
Gregor was glad that she was well and that she was immediately unafraid to be close to him. The touch of her fingers against his cheek was a reassuring delight and he wrapped his arms around her in a tender embrace before planting a kiss on her forehead. “Oh yes, I’m fine,” he said and took a step back, looking her up and down. “It was you that I was worried about. And Calen, of course.” His face fell a little. He did not have to fake that -- Gregor really did feel disturbed about his grievous injury, and it was bittersweet that Calen was so wounded because he took a bullet for Latro. Gregor felt… inadequate, almost, by comparison. Gregor’s own success in this mission could hardly be described as so noble, even if it was for his family’s sake too. He put those thoughts aside and leaned in close, whispering in Raelynn’s ear. “But enough about that. You know what… happened, don’t you?”
Raelynn shivered as he whispered in her ear, his breath against her neck and his body pressed to hers.
Of course I do she thought as she let his words ruminate. She could sense it on him, his stance, the way he had smiled at her - but mostly it was in his eyes. She had known from looking at them that he had gotten what he wanted. And yet, when he spoke of Calen they displayed an earnest sadness. She pulled away from him, letting a playful simper run from her lips to her eyes. “We can’t discuss this here - it's not safe,” she barely spoke the words and practically mouthed them. She didn't know who would be listening. “Come, let's find somewhere quiet to enjoy Gilane’s beautiful morning hours. Slip away with me…” The Breton let her coy look simmer away to one more leisurely and relaxed - as if they were simply two lovers wishing to spend time in each other's company.
After swinging by Gregor’s room so that he could collect the necessary items, the pair set off into the streets of Gilane. It was still very early and the patrols hadn’t fully started in earnest yet, and it was less than a day after their disastrous abduction of Nblec. Gregor did not expect them to be wanted figures just yet, though he feared that would become a concern later on. Still, they stuck to the shadows and the alleys as much as they could. Better safe than sorry. They eventually found an abandoned building by the city’s outer wall that looked like it might have been used as a warehouse before and silently slipped inside. It was cool and quiet in the vaulted space and Gregor swiftly judged it to be perfectly suitable for his purposes.
“I wanted you to see this,” Gregor said to Raelynn as he sank down on his knees and began to draw a pentagram on the ground with bonemeal that he pulled from one of his pouches. “To be here when it happens.” He looked up at her with a mixture of emotions on his face; excitement, mostly, but trepidation too, and a dash of affection. “What do you know of the Ideal Masters and the Soul Cairn?”
Raelynn looked down on him, licking her lower lip slowly as he made the pentagram, thinking of his question. The Soul Cairn was a mystery to her - and not something she had given much thought to. Still, she wanted to have an answer for him. She ran a hand through her hair, starting at the crown of her head, her eyes stared upwards and to her right, as they often did when she was recalling information. “The Soul Cairn, a plane of Oblivion, inhabited by the undead and by souls,” as she spoke, she let her hands tangle up in the lengths of her hair, blinking slowly. “A truly dark and wondrous place I'd wager. The Ideal Masters, they are the Lords and Rulers of that plane, are they not?” Her head turned and her eyes shot back to Gregor with a glimmer of eagerness.
“Quite right,” Gregor said with a smile. “I’ve never been so I can’t tell you what it’s like, but you are correct that the souls of the damned are sent there. Damned, specifically, by this,” he continued and held up one of the two filled black soul gems he had -- the one he had lifted from the battlefield at Elenglynn and the one that contained the soul of Nblec, of course. “The black soul gems created by the ritual of the Shade of the Revenant are the only soul gems capable of storing the souls of the sentient mortal races, and after the soul is used it goes to the Cairn. Using it saps it of some of its power, however, so the Ideal Masters prefer them to be offered… directly.” He paused and looked at the gem in his hand, feeling the sickly warmth that emanated from it. There was a certain reverence to his voice when he spoke again. “Nobody knows what the Ideal Masters do with the souls that they collect, but it is well established that they are willing to barter. The Ideal Masters offer power in exchange for souls. I am not after power for its own sake, unlike so many other other necromancers, who are selfish monsters that I despise and spent years putting to the sword back in Skyrim. I want… one thing in particular,” Gregor said and his voice wavered. Never, not once, not even to Briar or his family, had he admitted what he was about to say. In a bizarre twist of fate, Daro’Vasora knew more of the truth than anyone else. “I seek the immortality of undeath. My family is… cursed. My father, and his father before him, and his father’s father, and so on and so forth, all succumbed to a degenerative condition that befell them in middle age and affected their minds. I watched it happen to my father. He began to forget things, little things at first, but within a few weeks he sometimes couldn’t remember who I was.”
Gregor swallowed hard and blinked a few times. “He was gone within months. He died without dignity, afraid and in pain, soiling himself in his final moments.” His voice was bitter now and the hard edge of the Pale Reaper crept back into him. “It was repulsive and unworthy and unacceptable. Documents and journals my father left to me when he died revealed that he had known of this condition for years, but not before me or my siblings were born. He had spent more than a decade trying to find a cure. There isn’t any. Neither alchemy nor Restoration was capable of stopping it. My brother, my sister and myself are all in danger. None of us will live to be sixty… unless I do something about it,” he said with a note of finality and sighed. The indignation and defiance he had displayed ebbed away and left a tired, haunted man in their wake, and Gregor looked Raelynn in the eye while he rolled up his sleeves, pointing at the seven tally marks on his lower arm. “That is why I have sacrificed seven people’s souls so far, and are about to add two more. Once the souls are sent to the Soul Cairn there is no escape, denying them whatever afterlife was waiting for them otherwise, and sentencing them to an eternity of suffering. It is the most cruel thing I can imagine doing to anyone, and still I must. When the choice is between my family and the unworthy, like criminals or the Dwemer, I choose my family.”
He continued to watch her, wary and insecure. “Do you understand?”
She held a pause for a while. Once again she heard the tiny voice at the back of her mind telling her to run. Sacrificing souls was dangerous and borderline demonic and would only end in one way... But with her thumbnail pressed between her lips she finally sighed, giving herself over to what she wanted. He was doing this for preservation, for his family. It was almost noble - even if it wasn't, Gregor certainly thought it was. There was malice in him, but there more than that too. Resolve, and willpower - a hidden strength built on torment and pain that he kept buried beneath his polite facade. She would never have known… Raelynn stepped over to Gregor and stood over him, a foot at either side of his legs as he knelt. Her hands began to run through his hair slowly, to console him and ease the insecurity that was so obviously painted in his face. Right now, he was entirely transparent and vulnerable. He had presented his own soul to her, for reasons she could not understand. They were bound to each other now.
She placed a finger under his chin and lifted his head upwards so that their eyes were locked - her pale blue eyes like stone to his which were the colour of ebony. “I don't, Gregor…”
She held him there, before her voice continued - resonant in the stillness of the building, “I don’t understand your life. I have no sibling, no grandparents… Just my father, my mother, and me. I had no friends or companions for my entire childhood. Even now as an adult, I seldom think of anyone besides myself.” Her grip on his chin lessened and she began to slowly sink down upon him, never leaving his eyes - never breaking contact with them. She wanted him to feel her words, she owed him that much. “But my family Gregor - though we are small, I protect and carry their legacy with me, always. I love them deeply and would walk through fire to protect them and keep them safe. So that, I do understand. I can't comprehend the deaths of my parents, misery and pain has never fallen on our shoulders, and I plan to keep it that way.” Her hand fell over his heart, she grasped him there. “In my life, you see, I choose my family too.”
“I am the last Hawkford now.” She almost laughed at how the words sounded, so dramatic and cliche but it was true. “It's up to me to protect our name. It's a heavy burden to bare. To carry this weight - my father's work. I'm just a woman, but my ambitions Gregor… I would do anything to protect this.” She stopped. Her forehead touching his, she could feel his breath against her once more. “Everything I do is to protect them, to protect myself, and to build a legacy. So in that regard, I understand you…”
She exhaled softly, lessening her grip on his chest as she became aware of how intense she had become while speaking. “I think that Nblec got what he deserved… How can I think you are wrong? How can I… tell you this is wrong, when I myself do not think it to be so?” her eyes narrowed and she smirked in a bewitching manner, “now I want to see
you get something that you deserve…”
With her fingers in his hair, her body against his and her soothing words in his hear, all of Gregor’s hesitation and fear melted away. He grabbed her tightly and kissed her, burning with passion. It was a relief to receive absolute, definitive proof that he had judged her character correctly and found a kindred spirit. Through their shared ruthlessness, they could be closer to each other than to anyone else. It was twisted and counter-intuitive, but undeniable, and Gregor was immensely grateful for it. He was not alone in his quest anymore. “Let’s get to it,” he said with a grin and picked Raelynn up before putting her down next to him. It was time.
Gregor had brought his dagger and used it to make a small incision in his arm, spreading his blood across the bone-powder pentagram, before taking the soul gem from Elenglynn (which merely contained the lesser soul of one of the Dwemer’s hapless victims) and shattered it against the floor in the center of the arcane symbol. Like a reverse soultrap, tendrils of light burst forth from the broken gem and hung suspended in the air. The aurora was accompanied by the arrival of a vast, incorporeal
presence, one that Gregor was familiar with now but that would undoubtedly unnerve Raelynn, that pressed against the edge of his mind. Once again, Gregor was struck by the impression that he was communicating with a slumbering storm that hovered ominously on the horizon, and as he stared into the ghastly light that floated over their heads he felt like he could see much further than the ceiling of the warehouse would allow.
She felt herself freeze on the spot, suspended within a moment upon witnessing the beginnings of Gregor's ritual. The atmosphere changes immediately and to her, everything fell silent - uncomfortably so. Time slowed down around her and being before this presence made her breaths laboured. She felt heavy.
You bring more, the Ideal Master conveyed. It wasn’t a voice, more of an idea, and yet it drowned out everything else. The monumental superiority of the entity’s consciousness simply demanded absolute sensory focus.
“Yes,” Gregor said. He took the gem with Nblec Mrazac’s soul and gingerly placed it in the center of the pentagram. Now that the bridge had been formed, he wanted the Ideal Master to see for itself what the
real sacrifice was. “Not just more. I bring something very special. The soul of a Dwemer, a race that has not been seen in the mortal realms for thousands of years.” Gregor leaned back and found himself grabbing Raelynn’s hand.
Gregor’s firm touch snapped her out of the fearful daze, the way his fingers entwined with hers anchored her, and she resumed breathing as normal, warmth rising to her cheeks. His words -- the very mention of the Dwemer. Her heart began to tighten, but the knots that had been in her stomach since waking unfurled themselves as if one by one. She squeezed his hand.
The soul-light, which had been lazily drifting, froze and seemed to sharpen, and Gregor felt the undivided attention of the Ideal Master upon him now. It was uncomfortably similar to the feeling of being hunted, like in his nightmare earlier. The soul gem shifted in place before cracks appeared on its surface, and the vital essence of everything the Dwemer magistrate had been leaked out and spiraled upwards to join the other soul. It was almost as if Gregor could hear Nblec’s death rattle again.
A deep rumble filled Gregor’s mind and he smiled, ecstatic. He knew that… sound, for lack of a better word. He had heard it before, but not nearly this intensely. It meant approval. Or even delight in this case, if Gregor was not mistaken. “For your glory, master, I offer this to you. I only hope that you remember our bargain.”
Yes. Gregor waited. He did not know why, but it seemed like the Ideal Master was thinking.
You are close. Bring more of this, mortal. “O-of course, master,” Gregor said, momentarily stammering in his mixture of excitement and disappointment. Part of him had hoped that one Dwemer soul would be enough, but another part of him had already known that such hope was idle. The Ideal Masters were nothing if not greedy.
Take this, the Ideal Master hummed. Was that… amusement, Gregor sensed? He had received a gift from the Master once before, which turned out to be the ability to summon one of the undead horrors of the Soul Cairn, and the familiar sensation of being imparted with knowledge he did not immediately understand rang through his mind again. The Ideal Masters were so alien and far removed from mortal life that it was almost impossible for them to be readily understood, if they even wanted to.
The aurora of light and the weight of the Ideal Master's presence disappeared. “That went well, I think,” Gregor said and grinned.
As everything faded away, what had been playing on Raelynn’s heart had moved to the surface. Feeling the Ideal Master take the soul of Nblec… Her eyelids welled with tears and she was silent except for a gasp at the end of it, causing a single tear to roll down her cheek. It had been incredible, and in a strange way she had enjoyed it - the thought of his soul being tortured for eternity… There was beauty in it.
He was so full of happiness and on a high while all she could do was continue to stare at where it had all happened. “It doesn't make…” her eyes fell to the floor, the tears spilled out now, “it doesn't take it back… but it helps.” She was talking about Calen, what had happened to him - because of Nblec, because of the Dwemer.
Gregor was surprised to see Raelynn cry and turned his entire body to face her, grabbing her hands in his own. “Doesn't take what back?” he asked, confused. He was too caught up in his own achievement to catch onto what she meant.
His hands on hers caused her to look at them. Her hands. She could see the blood there again. She had been up to her elbows in it at the time. Thick, dark blood. The kind of blood that ushers in violent death. She pulled her hands from Gregor's gently and they began to tremble. “The blood. I've seen so much of it before. I've seen so much worse and yet…” her voice trailed off as she kept staring at her open palms, the lines across them - every detail that she hadn't noticed before.
“Am I softened now?” she asked aloud, not expecting an answer, she just wanted to say the words. “He's not much younger than me and he is
good. Even I can see it.” She placed her shaking hands against Gregor's lap, though her eyes were still facing the floor. She felt incredibly vulnerable - despite having shared such a deep and passionate moment of connection earlier. Talking about feelings like this was… New, to say the least.
“You must think me a fool…” she continued in a subdued voice, a small voice. “I've seen so many things, but I've always been able to be detached from it. I told you that I had so few friends.” Calen wasn't even her friend. She couldn't recall ever having spoken to him save for a comment here and there. It was the same with the rest of the group. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she lifted her head once more, “there was a moment, where he almost died. His heart was so frail, like a newborn bird. I saw the light leave his eyes - I swear it.” Raelynn seized Gregor’s hands in hers to steady herself from crying. She wouldn't let it happen again, she wouldn't look so weak in front of him, her bottom lip quivered and she bit down on it, closing her eyes as she took in a deep breath before she spoke again.
“If he had died… I don't know what I would have done. I have… never felt such a feeling of guilt and responsibility.” What exactly did she expect Gregor to do? Nothing. He didn't have to do anything, maybe him showing her the ritual and sending Nblec to the Soul Cairn would be enough solace for her in time. Her head tilted to the side and she let her lip go, trying to smile at him - she felt so small now, where she had felt powerful and in control earlier she now felt like Gregor could take this moment to stick her where it would hurt, or perhaps he would comfort her - maybe even nothing. All that mattered was suddenly she felt free of a weight that had been holding her down. Her hands steadied and she loosened her grip. “I…” she almost laughed, placing a hand over her mouth, letting her hair fall around her face to hide it “I never really do that, I'm sorry.” Raelynn placed her hands flat on the floor in front of her, lowering her head - almost as if she was bowing to him alongside her apology.
“Probably all that magic…” she muttered, even now trying to downplay with humour.
“Don't be sorry,” Gregor said and tucked a finger under her chin to lift her face back up so he could look her in the eye. “He did not die. You did not allow it. You saw the light leave his eyes and you brought it back. You're right about him. Calen is the best of us all, I think. What you did was… amazing, frankly,” Gregor said and dried her cheeks with his thumb. “I can send people far beyond,” he added and gestured to the pentagram, “but you can bring them back from the brink. That is a far greater power.”
Her emotions surprised him. To be honest, Gregor hadn't thought her capable. It was deeply endearing and admirable that she felt so strongly about Calen's near-death experience, and Gregor could feel himself falling for her even more. There was goodness in her too. “Calen reminds me of the man I could have been, had things been different. I was a romantic and a tender lover once.” Now it was his turn to laugh. “Probably seems hard to believe now. But my point is that I think I understand how you feel. For Calen to die because of this mission, that ultimately benefited nobody but me… it would have been a real tragedy. He deserves better. Fortunately, you were there.”
Honest words of affirmation. It took her by surprise to hear them, and it felt good to hear them from Gregor. She was unable to remember the last time someone had said something like that to her, something meaningful, save for Alim in Anvil. Spending so little time with people had meant she had never gotten a chance to hear such words. She never allowed people to get close enough to her. It lifted her spirits and Raelynn found herself hanging on his words, nothing else in the room mattered as he spoke. Their connection had deepened even more now, it was an unfamiliar feeling for her - but a gratifying one.
“For all we know it is those very things which draw us to each other. You take life, I give it… We are powerful in our own ways - there’s magnetism there, and now our fates are entwined. I feel it, and I felt it the first time I saw you…” As she felt herself rambling over the point she cut herself off. She didn’t want to make it overly saccharine, she wanted to keep the moment as it was. Nothing more needed to be said, nor could she think of anything else to say to him now.
Her usual inviting smirk flickered back over her lips and replaced the morose expression that had been there, her hands ran over Gregor’s arm, fingers brushing over his tally marks. She knew what came next, her eyes flashed with mischief and deviousness. “I dare say it’s time to add your next tally, don’t you think?”
Gregor looked down at her fingers as they traced over the ink on his skin and he nodded slowly. Adding to the tally marks was a solemn and almost religious experience for him. Even if he were to live forever, he would not allow himself to forget what it had cost. “The hardest choices require the strongest wills,” he mumbled to himself, quoting the Dagoth Ur character from the play
The Life and Times of the Nerevarine. He pulled the black ink and the tattooing instrument (a sharpened and enchanted bamboo rod) from his backpack and handed them to Raelynn, a determined expression on his face.
“I want you to do it,” he said softly. “Two marks, right there.”
She bit down on her lip and sidled closer to him, taking the bamboo from his hands. This was special. As he requested, she dipped the tip of the rod into the ink using a quick tap of her finger to let the excess off. “Right here?” she asked, her voice sultry, her fingers next to his touching softly where he had asked her to. As she sat beside him like this, she kissed his shoulder lovingly, brushing her cheek against it to rest her head as she readied the rod. As she pressed it where he had asked her too, she felt it pierce the skin, but she did not stop, and dragged it just enough to make the first mark.
The pain did not make him flinch. He had felt it seven times before. It was part of the experience; a minor atonement for sins committed, one might say. Gregor looked at Raelynn instead, the way her head rested on his shoulder. He planted a kiss on the crown of her head in turn and took a deep breath with his eyes closed, just drinking in her scent. Flowery and pleasant, as always. “That’s right,” he muttered as she finished the first of the two marks. “One more.” What they were doing was undeniably grim, and yet Gregor could not help but feel warm and loved in this moment instead. He had not felt so perfectly and intimately understood and accepted by anyone ever since he left his wife… and maybe, just maybe, Raelynn understood him better than Briar ever had. “I…” he began, but closed his mouth again. Had he really almost just said that? “Thank you,” Gregor said instead, but he poured as much of his affection and appreciation into those two words as he could.
Once more she dipped the rod into the ink. With her head against his shoulder like this, him kissing her - his affection… She felt at peace. She didn't want the feeling to end. It was blissful and everything else melted away as she placed the mark for Nblec against his skin now. It brought her immense satisfaction and she knew every observation of it thereafter would bring her a twisted joy. Confident in her work, she looked at it in adoration, and then up at Gregor. The chemistry sizzling between the two of them. “No, thank you,” she purred before placing the rod down planting a number of kisses up his arm, to his shoulder, to his neck - she stopped at his ear “we will do this together… I want to help you.”
Playfully, she nibbled at his earlobe after her offer to him, one hand stroking his back, the other placed on top of his hand. She sighed contentedly, how quickly he had told her so much of himself, how quickly they had fallen together like this. She felt almost invincible with it all.
“You want to… help?” he asked, eyebrows raised. She really was full of surprises. That feeling quickly made way for a deep sense of joy, however, when he realized that she was sincere. He took her in his arms, kissed her and held her close. “That means more than you could possibly know,” Gregor said in her ear, voice almost breaking with emotion, one of his hands running through her hair and the other wrapped around her waist. The pragmatic, reasonable part of him could not abandon him entirely, however, and he pulled out of the embrace to look her in the eyes, mind immediately working through the possibilities. “Your father. He has an agenda here as well, correct? I want you to put me in touch with him if there’s anything I can do that benefits us both. You know what I’m after, so it depends on him.”
“He will be in touch with you. That's why I saw him, he wanted names of those most capable…” she paused momentarily, biting down on her lip again, “he knows about us. He had me followed that night…” She smiled awkwardly about it, unsure of how Gregor would react to such information. “He has a job for you, he will be sending someone to you when the time is right.” She began to get to her feet at last, it felt like they'd been here for too long already. “We should leave no trace of this, and I should go to Calen. I want to see him.” Ever since Anvil, she hated having to split from Gregor, but for their safety it was for the best not to be seen together too much. At least not until everything had blown over. She looked down at the pentagram on the ground, the site of such dark energy. It would make the perfect spot to lay with him… She did think to suggest it.
No. Not now, not this time. It brought a wicked expression to her face to even think of it, she was somewhat glad Gregor couldn't see it. Composing herself she turned back to him with her head tilted to the side, “how do we clean this?”
Sending someone ‘when the time is right’ wasn’t expedient enough for Gregor’s tastes, but he knew he wasn’t in a position to demand things from Salasoix Hawkford… especially now that the man knew of the relationship between Gregor and his daughter. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and decided to leave the topic alone for now. “Very well,” he said before turning his attention to the pentagram. “Clean it?” he asked and furrowed his brow. “I’ve never cleaned it up before, but I only ever performed the ritual out in the wilderness back in Skyrim. I don’t feel inclined to get rid of this at all.” He got to his feet and his gaze alternated between Raelynn and the pentagram. “I… want them to find it. They should be scared. But, you’re probably right, better safe than sorry,” he consented and gathered up the soul gem fragments. He would have to dispose of them some other way. The pentagram had been drawn on the dusty floor of the warehouse and a few well-placed sweeping motions with his boot was enough to dismantle the pentagram’s shape into an unrecognizable smudge. “There, that should do it.”
He stopped to look at Raelynn again and sighed. He longed for the day when they could just openly be together. “If Calen is awake, give him my best wishes,” Gregor said.
She could sense his dismay at erasing the evidence of the ritual, but the dead Dwemer Administrator had been sacrificed to the Soul Cairn here. It was too risky to have left it, she wanted to make him feel better about it and so she stepped back into him and shot a flirtatious glance up at him as she begin to speak, “next time we’ll leave it, how about we add our own flavour to the ritual next time. What if we were to --" she pushed herself up on her tiptoes, whispering sweet nothings for only him into his ear. Hell, if she had to feel that way then so did he.
She pulled back with a seductive chuckle and began to lead him out and back to The Three Crowns at last, their secret now nothing but dust.
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