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Chapter Text

Eonwe knew the difference between wake and sleep; even as a child, she’d never been fooled into believing her dreams or nightmares were real. This, however, was something beyond all she knew of fantasy and reality.

She was standing on a smooth gray rock in the middle of a never-ending lake, as flat and smooth as glass, reflecting the above. Nothing broke the surface for what seemed like forever. There was no wind brushing Eonwe’s skin; no sounds or smells stirred her senses. The sky was pink and silver; Masser and Secunda were luminous white pearls high above. Other spheres, swirling in their storms or shivering like skin, drifted higher above. When Eonwe looked down, she could see her naked flesh and her toes clutching the edge of the rock. She could see her own face on the lake’s surface, expressionless and pale. Between her breasts hung a coppery brown amulet, shaped like a leaf on a braided leather cord. It felt hot on her skin.

Eonwe heard wingbeats. There was a stirring in the air around her. A shadow draped over her and she looked up at…

“Mercer?”

The lake and pink sky fell away and became the cistern as Eonwe’s eyes adjusted to see the Guild Master sitting beside her in a chair. He looked tired and grumpy – nothing new – but his intelligent gaze was trained on her. He leaned forward, squinting at Eonwe. She wanted to sit up but something held her flat. Something clutched her wrists. Her hands were bound to the posts, as were her ankles. Mercer smirked and drew something from the interior of his jacket, but Eonwe couldn’t see what it was. It was an object, enwrapped by shadow, something she wanted to see but couldn’t.

Eonwe looked at Mercer’s face again as he began to speak but it wasn’t Mercer. It was Delphine. Delphine jumped up, enraged. “You can’t hide from your destiny!” she yelled. “You are the Last Dragonborn! You have to stop Alduin!”

Eonwe shook her head desperately, flinching away, and her eyes went as big as moons when she saw who was on the other side of the bed. It was Vesuvius, the innkeeper from Bruma, glowering down at her, the knife protruding from his belly. “Go serve those soldiers, girl!” he shouted. “Quit your sniveling and get to work!” As he barked orders at her, Eonwe watched blood blossom across his linen shirt. No, no! Not again!

Eonwe closed her eyes, trying to block it all out – her past, her future. The binds on her wrist only bit deeper the more she tried to ignore the voices, and she began to cry, horrified. The voices grew louder, ringing in her head until her ears were bleeding, and Eonwe began to scream. Then, there was a gentle touch on her hand. She opened her eyes unwillingly.

A little girl stood there. She wore a ragged, patchy dress and held a flower basket in her other hand. Her hair was matted and her fingers on Eonwe’s hand were frostbitten. Eonwe remembered her. Sofie.

“No one bought any flowers again today,” she complained softly. “What am I going to do?” Eonwe sat up and wrapped her arms around the little Nord child, ignoring the smell of her unwashed skin and clothes. Sofie hugged her back and Eonwe broke down, crying into her shoulder. They parted and Sofie held out a flower to her: It was small and red with a black center.

Eonwe wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and accepted it; she had never seen one like it before. Sofie urged her to eat it and Eonwe did, but not without caution. She felt drowsy at once. Sofie took her hand as she fell back onto the pillows, a few familiar faces appeared just behind the child. Eonwe’s eyes fixated on two of the faces in particular, achingly familiar.

“Sleep, my little fawn,” one of the faces urged her.

“We’ll go hunting tomorrow,” the other promised tenderly.

“Ma… Da…” Eonwe’s voice tremored in sorrow. She fought to stay awake but it made them disappear that much faster. “No… don’t go.”

“Sleep, sweetheart. You’re safe,” Eonwe’s mother whispered. She felt a light touch on her forehead, and the nothingness that followed brought her solace.

________

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Vex’s voice drawled.

Eonwe found the pale blonde Imperial sitting cross-legged beside her, picking at her nails with the tip of her dagger. She smiled like a cat. Eonwe noticed that she was back to wearing her dark leathers and she tried to sit up.

“Whoa there, footpad,” Vex warned. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Eonwe asked. She felt dizzy. Vex didn’t answer at first; the Imperial leaned forward on her chair to prop the pillows up behind Eonwe. It was a strangely kind gesture – strange, because this was Vex. “It’s been four days now. You missed a good argument.”

“Between who?”

“Maven came down to give the, and I quote, “Brat who sent a dragon to burn my honey supply a lesson”,” Vex chuckled. “She and Mercer went at it for a good hour, then Brynjolf got into it.”

“I guess I’m lucky then?” Eonwe remembered how Maven had looked at her during their first meeting. She wasn’t so keen to repeat it again so soon, especially when she’d given the woman more reason to hate her guts.

Vex nodded and smirked. “You’re her new favourite. I think she wants to string you up for target practice.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Eonwe snorted.

“You owe Bryn a lot, you know,” Vex added. “He’s furious, but he stood up for you, and he doesn’t do that for everyone that comes stumbling in here causing trouble. I think you’re an idiot, pissing Mercer off like you do. But you’re one brave cat, I’ll give you that.”

Eonwe nodded. “It’s appreciated,” she mumbled. Vex leaned forward and patted her leg. “Get some sleep, footpad. You look like you’ve been through Oblivion and back.”

Eonwe closed her eyes, listening to the water in the storm drain, and thought about her strange dream. It had already muddled together but she couldn’t help but feel that Vex was much closer to the truth than she realized.

________

It was very dark when Eonwe woke again.

Her sleep had been thankfully dreamless, though she felt claustrophobic and tense when sleep departed. There were candles lit on her bedside table and a lantern had been set on the top of the chest. Eonwe recognized Brynjolf’s red hair, even in the dark, head resting back against the chair with a book tipping out of his fingers. She patted the blanket, causing the thief to stir and look up with bleary eyes.

“Glad to see you’re finally awake,” he whispered.

“How long’s it been since Vex sat with me?” she asked softly, mindful of the sleeping thieves around her.

“A day. You needed the rest,” he remarked. “I told everyone to not bother you until you woke up on your own.”

“Well, here I am.” The two Nords gazed at each other thoughtfully before Eonwe broke the quiet and said, “I’m sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused, with the estate and Maven…”

“Bah, don’t worry about it,” Brynjolf waved his hand, but Eonwe could hear the spark of irritation in his tone. “I’ve handled her for now. But speaking of that – do you mind telling me what happened at Goldenglow Estate?”

“I did everything like you told me, but when I got outside, the dragon was there,” Eonwe told him. “I had to kill Aringoth…”

“You did what you had to,” Brynjolf cut in.

“No, I didn’t!” Eonwe objected. “He told me to leave and called for help. I just… I stabbed him. You told me his life was in my hands and I just… I took it! He was so scared.”

“Of what?” his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“Of the Guild finding out about his partnership with someone,” Eonwe reached up to slip her hand under her jacket but found that it had been replaced with a light cotton tunic. “Where’s the letter?”

Brynjolf got up and went to her end table, and plucked out a slip of paper. “I didn’t know if it was private, so I left it here.” He handed it to her to read and upon opening it, found the ink smeared only slightly. Slipping it under her shirt had somehow protected it. She returned it to Brynjolf and told him to read it.

“Aringoth sold Goldenglow?” Brynjolf exclaimed. “What’s that idiot thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Eonwe admitted. “It doesn’t matter for him anymore.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean we are excluded from the extent of Maven’s fury,” he pointed out dimly. “It’s a shame we don’t have the buyer’s name. What is this odd little symbol?”

“Never seen it before,” Eonwe mumbled, her words slurring. What did it matter? She couldn’t make the name magically appear on the bill, and she wasn’t about to even if she could. She was exhausted, her concentration drained. She blinked sleepily up at Brynjolf, noting the glimmer of frustration sharping his already-tense features. He really is mad at me, she thought meekly.

“I’ll check my contacts and discuss this with Mercer,” Brynjolf was saying, but his words fell on deaf ears. Eonwe had already curled onto her uninjured side, fast asleep. She didn’t have the strength to argue.