Archive of Our Own ^beta

Well, this is it, Keith the thief thought. I’m actually going to die. All because of that stupid painting. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The necromancer's barrow was dark, however, and it was difficult to see exactly what was happening. Especially since he was tied to a stone slab, hands and feet anchored to points that he couldn’t see. He struggled, trying to free himself, but every movement only aggravated the gaping wound in his side. It wasn’t the first time he had been shanked in the gut, but that particular knife was coated in a unique poison he hadn’t encountered before. When the deal had gone to shit, he took down at least a couple of assailants before getting stabbed and feeling the venom weave its way through his body, immobilizing him. It had felt like ice through his veins, and even now he still shivered. 

Keith realized that he was probably also cold because they had stripped him of his guild armor. At least they left me some dignity. He was in his underclothes, armorless and weaponless. (And considering he kept no less than fifteen blades on him at all times, disarming him was a feat. They had even taken his super secret emergency knife.) 

To his right, Keith heard a blood curdling scream, followed by some horrific ripping noises. Shit. The client. It seems like the cultists had decided to handle her first. Suddenly, the thief was glad he couldn’t see what was going on. This day had started out so well, too…

He had finally found someone willing to fence the painting. It had been taking up space in his Whiterun ‘apartment’ for months, and he was sick of it. Frankly, he thought it was a god-awful painting. It depicted the Oblivion crisis in gory detail, with Daedra striding through portals to tear up the good people of Cyrodiil. The faces in it were warped with unnatural expressions, screams of terror stretching far wider than they should. Keith had taken it on a whim since it looked valuable. It was far more trouble than it was worth, though, and he hadn’t been able to sell it to his regular fences, much less any rube in Whiterun. When he finally caught wind of a new art fence in Rorikstead, he jumped at the opportunity. They even had a buyer lined up. Maybe that was why he broke his central rule: never go to a meetup location determined by somebody else. He had always hated damn town anyway. As it turned out, both he and the client got scammed, and here they were. 

As the thief heard another scream, weaker this time, he stopped struggling. Blood was beginning to pool beneath him, and he felt faint. Maybe I’ll bleed out before they get the chance to rip me apart, Keith thought dryly. That’d be nice. His vision began to fade out, and he fought to stay conscious, not willing to give up quite yet. After a moment, however, his eyes fluttered shut and he sunk into the void once more. 

Jesper hummed absentmindedly as he swept Dragonsreach. He only had to sweep out the lower area and then he would finally be done with work for the day. He was so close to going back to his room at the Bannered Mare and collapsing into bed. Maybe he’d even practice his lute for a bit before going to sleep. 

As usual, his dreams were shattered by the Dragonborn. 

That accursed man burst through the doors, scattering dirt, blood, and gods know what else everywhere. Jesper sighed deeply. The Dragonborn strode directly up to him, wearing that insipid open-mouthed smile. He tossed something at the guard’s feet, staring at him. 

“What do you want with me this time?” Jesper asked, knowing he wouldn’t get a verbal response. The Dragonborn nudged the scrap that he had dropped at Jesper’s feet. “Do you want me to have this?” The guard picked it up. Nothing more than a piece of cloth, dyed black. It was torn, and only part of its white design was visible. Jesper squinted, trying to figure out exactly what it was. While he puzzled it over, the Dragonborn breathed loudly in front of him. “Wait, is this part of the thief’s banner? Did you take it from the entrance?”

No answer. The Dragonborn simply walked over to the exit and stared back at Jesper expectantly. 

“If you’re going to leave, just leave,” Jesper snapped. “You know, so I can clean up your mess. Again.” The Dragonborn didn’t move. “Ugh, do you want me to follow you? Did Keith do something?” No answer, but the Dragonborn finally opened the door to leave, still staring at Jesper. “Fine. I’ll follow.” Reluctantly, the guard put down his broom and walked out of Dragonsreach behind the Dragonborn.

They walked through the quiet streets of Whiterun. It was getting late, and Jesper yawned as they made their way down to the entrance where the thief made his home. However, when they arrived it was empty, the torn flag fluttering in the wind the only sign of movement. 

“He’s not even here, Dragonborn.” The Dragonborn began to open the gate to exit Whiterun. “Oh no. Absolutely not. I am not going on an adventure with you. I need sleep! Can’t this wait til tomorrow?” The Dragonborn stared at Jesper, breathing heavily. He opened the gate further. The guard gritted his teeth. He really was a pushover. “This better be quick.” The Dragonborn’s smile grew. “You are the worst,” Jesper muttered. 

As soon as they got out of Whiterun, the Dragonborn broke into a run and the guard hustled to keep up, cursing under his breath. They diverted from the road, instead cutting directly across the plains. Clearly, the Dragonborn had a destination in mind. After running for what felt like forever to Jesper, the Dragonborn halted in front of a barrow. “Oh, hell no,” Jesper whispered, remembering the last time he walked into one of these with the Dragonborn. It had ended with him smelling like Draugr guts for a week. 

Foregoing a lockpick, the Dragonborn pulled out a massive battle axe and obliterated the wooden door with a single swing. Instinctively, Jesper ducked to avoid any shrapnel. He paused for a moment, still crouched, and was immediately rewarded for his caution as an icicle flew over his head, no doubt launched by whatever mage within did not wish to be disturbed. The Dragonborn rushed in, and Jesper stood up, holding back from entering until he heard a familiar shout from inside followed by the sound of several bodies being thrown against a wall. 

The guard peeked his head around the corner. The Dragonborn was mopping up the cultists and seemed to be doing just fine fighting them on his own. Jesper pulled out his wooden sword and scanned the room, stepping in quietly so as not to attract any unwanted attention. His eyes widened as he saw the mutilated body of a woman. He stepped in further to see if she could be saved, but as he got closer, it was clear that he was too late. On another slab next to her, however, was a very familiar face. 

Jesper gasped and ran over to where the thief lay, terrified that he had met the same fate. Luckily, upon closer inspection he was still breathing. The guard shook him, trying to wake him up. Keith groaned, and Jesper yelped as blood dripped down onto his boots. The thief was bleeding, a lot. It would be impossible to move him unless they staunched the blood. Luckily, Jesper knew some rudimentary healing magic. It might be enough to get him to the temple of Kynareth back in Whiterun. Whispering a quick prayer to whatever Divines he could remember, the guard peeled back part of Keith’s blood-soaked undershirt to inspect the injury. 

Jesper was no medic, but it looked pretty bad. In addition to being deep, the veins around the wound were blackened. The guard’s heart sank. Poison was involved. Jesper had neither the time nor skill to worry about that, though, and pressed his hands to the wound, channeling whatever magic he could muster. Golden light shone forth, and Keith blinked, waking up. 

“Jesper?” he said weakly. “Is that you?” Hurriedly, Jesper picked a dagger up off the floor, and, trying to ignore the viscera on it, cut the thief free. 

“Yes, um, you’re going to be alright. Uh, probably,” Jesper said uncertainly. The wound had closed (for the most part), but the guard didn’t know how durable the fix had been. They needed to hurry back to Whiterun. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here.” He helped the thief stand up, looping one of his arms around his shoulder to support him. Together, they staggered out of the barrow. Jesper paused at the exit to look behind them. The Dragonborn was eagerly rooting through the decimated cultist’s belongings, ignoring them completely. Jesper took a deep breath and steeled himself for a very long walk back to Whiterun. 

As they reached the bottom of the fortifications outside the city, Keith stumbled, taking Jesper down with him. When the thief made no move to stand back up, Jesper began to panic. “Shit, shit, come on,” the guard whispered, slapping his face to no avail. His chest still rose and fell, but he did not wake. Jesper pressed his hands against the thief’s side once more, and though Keith’s breathing evened out, he remained unconscious. Looking at his hands, Jesper realized that they were covered in blood, along with the rest of his uniform. Time was running out. Growing frantic, Jesper scooped Keith up and began to run best he could up the hill. Luckily, the thief didn’t weigh too much, but by the time they reached the gate, Jesper was exhausted.

“ OPEN THE GATES, ” he yelled, glaring at the sentries posted. Seeing the body in his arms, they scrambled to obey. Jesper’s arms and legs ached. He only had to go a little bit further. 

He dragged himself through the streets of Whiterun, breath heaving. Finally reaching the temple of Kynareth, Jesper pounded on the door with his helmet, (which he immediately regretted.) Luckily, lights still burned in the window, so surely someone was awake inside. A healer opened the door, face covered with a simple cloth mask. Jesper’s hopes disappeared as he realized why. There had been a serious outbreak of bone break fever in the city, and the temple was no doubt overflowing with unfortunates who had caught it. 

“Oh dear,” the healer said, looking at the pair before her. “What seems to be the issue?”

“He- he was stabbed,” Jesper wheezed. “Can you help? I think-” he paused, trying to catch his breath. “Poison, too,” he choked out. 

“I’m afraid he can’t come in- I don’t want to risk either of you catching the fever. But I can examine him out here,” the healer said, pulling on her gloves. Jesper nodded gratefully and set Keith down carefully on one of the stone benches outside. He waited anxiously as she poked and prodded the thief’s limp body. Her expression did not look promising. “Wait here,” she instructed, and disappeared back into the temple. 

Jesper sat down heavily on the ground next to the bench. He pulled his knees to his chest and looked at Keith pitifully, trying to wish him awake again. The thief looked so vulnerable like this, dark hair spilling loose over his shoulders and his face pale as death. Surely he couldn’t die like this. Keith was the type to survive anything. He was like a skeever infestation you couldn’t get rid of- whenever you thought he had disappeared for good, he popped back up in the most unexpected places. He wasn’t allowed to die, not after Jesper had put so much effort into saving him. 

The healer returned, carrying a scroll along with a basket of herbs. She didn’t say anything to the guard on the ground and went straight over to the thief. She read an incantation, and for a brief moment, the night was alight with a flash of bright light. Keith moved his head and muttered something intelligible. Immediately, Jesper was on his feet, craning his neck to see over the healer’s shoulder. The thief squinted and tried to sit up but winced and clutched at his side. 

“Wha-” Keith was cut off by the healer shoving some sort of potion down his throat. He coughed a bit, but choked it down. She turned back to Jesper.

“Hold his head still, please.”

“Uh-” Jesper hesitated for a moment, but then hastened to help when she threw him a stern look. The healer pried one of the thief’s eyes wide open, examining it under the torchlight. Keith squirmed, batting weakly at the two people who stood over him. After a moment, she released him and nodded for Jesper to do the same.

“Well, doc?” The guard asked. The healer frowned.

“It’s as I suspected. Some kind of nerve toxin. Supposed to paralyze the muscles so that the victim can’t move. However, this one seems to be targeting his eyes.”

“What can we do?”

She sighed. “Not much, to be honest. Our resources are strained at the moment. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to focus on one specific patient. My advice is to keep him somewhere warm and wait to see if it wears off. The remedy I gave him should help, and the stab wound has been healed best I can. Just bind it up and keep an eye on it.”

“Keep him warm?” Jesper repeated in a daze, trying to keep track of the instructions being thrown at him. 

“Yes, I suspect there was frostbite venom in the toxin.”

The guard glanced back to the entrance ‘apartment.’ Not an option, then. As he looked back at Keith, he could see that the thief was already beginning to shiver. At that moment, Jesper made his decision. He leaned down and hauled Keith to his feet once more. 

“Wha- where are we going?” Keith asked confusedly. 

“To the Bannered Mare.”

Keith awoke with the worst headache in his life. He groaned, trying to get his bearings. Where was he? What happened? Outside, he could hear the chirp of early-morning birds, but it was still dim in whatever room he was in. He looked around, trying to clear his sight, but it remained stubbornly blurry. Was he losing his night vision? That certainly didn’t bode well for his profession. It’s probably just the hangover. Whenever the thief woke up somewhere he didn’t recognize, he just assumed it was the result of a wild night at the local tavern. However, the stabbing in his head was far more painful than the usual result of too much ale. 

Something shifted next to him, and Keith jumped. There was someone else in the bed. Oh fuck, he thought eloquently. He had no idea who that was, and no amount of rubbing his eyes seemed to clear them. That was alright. You didn’t become a master thief without honing all your senses. He could figure out where he was without his vision, he just had to retrace his steps. What was the last thing he could remember? The painting… a deal? He had gone to Rorikstead to finally get rid of that damned painting. After that, things got fuzzy. 

He could smell a cooking fire somewhere in the building. He must have rented a room in a tavern or inn. The room’s dimensions looked too big to be in Rorikstead, so he probably returned to Whiterun. The birdsong outside sounded familiar, reinforcing that assumption. There was a draft from somewhere above him. The thief looked up, but couldn’t see the top of the room. Dread began to pool in his stomach. He couldn’t see light shining from underneath a door. In all likelihood, he was in an attic room. Which meant…

Keith turned back to the person beside him. No. No. They flipped onto their back and began to snore lightly. Behind them, Keith could see the vague outline of an egg-shaped helmet on the bedside table. It was definitely the guard. Oh god, what have I done? Keith’s mind reeled with possibilities. What have WE done? Surely not. He wouldn’t do that. Right? The thief scoured his memory for even the slightest hint of what had transpired. Nothing new appeared, however, and the fact that Keith was in Jesper’s bed remained. 

What the fuck am I doing with my life? Something had to have happened for him to end up here. But his headache was only getting worse, and thinking too hard was making his head pound even more. On top of that, his side ached and he felt unnaturally cold. All his body wanted to do was give up and go back to sleep. But of course, the guard was there, taking up too much of the damn bed. Reluctantly, Keith crawled back under the covers. Jesper was so close. And so warm…

Don’t you dare fold, a part of his brain hissed at him.

“M’here. I’ve already folded,” he mumbled in sleepy retort. The cynical part of him had no response to that.

Jesper woke up slowly, light beaming through the stained-glass window in the attic. Clearly, he had slept past his usual 7:00 wakeup. Considering he had been awake til at least midnight (a real late night for him,) it made sense. Keith was curled up next to him with one hand clutched onto Jesper’s shirtfront. When the guard sat up, Keith stirred as well, yawning. Jesper scooted back and the thief grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“Good morning, Keith,” the guard said gently, trying not to startle him. Keith turned his head in Jesper’s direction, looking slightly mortified. 

“Um, good morning, Jesper,” he said cautiously. 

“Are you feeling alright? After last night?”

“Uhh… I mean, I don’t feel great, honestly.” Keith’s face began to flush. “What, uh, about you?”

“Me? I’m fine.” Jesper tilted his head to the side. “Do you… remember what happened last night?”

“...I’m starting to think I don’t.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you were unconscious for most of it.”

“What??”

“Keith, you were kidnapped. And stabbed. And poisoned. I, uh, brought you back to Whiterun.”

“Oh. Ohhh. ” Keith patted himself down, immediately finding the bandaged wound at his side. “How did I miss that?” he muttered to himself. He also felt the laced-string neck of the slightly big shirt that he was wearing. “Wait a second, this isn’t mine.”

“Um, no. Yours was kind of covered in blood.”

Keith stood up, took a deep breath, and sat back down on the edge of the bed. The universe hates me. 

“How about you give me a recap of exactly what happened last night?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Jesper stood up and began to pace around the room, trying to recall the series of events that led them here. “When I found you, it was in some kind of repurposed barrow. You were tied up by a bunch of necromancers. There was… a woman there, too. Um, she didn’t make it. They had already gotten to her by the time I arrived. You weren’t dead, though, just stabbed. I managed to stop the blood, but I knew we had to rush back to the city for some real healing so I carried you to-”

“Wha- hold on- you carried me?”

“Well, not the whole way. Just up the hill and to the temple.”

Keith put his head in his hands and began to mentally curse out every single Divine, starting with Mara. What did I do to deserve this unpayable debt?

“Speaking of the temple, how are your eyes? The priestess said the toxin might wear off…”

Keith raised his head and looked around, sighing. “Well, it didn’t. Not all the way, at least.” 

Jesper winced. “How bad is it?” 

“I mean, it’s not just darkness. I can still see light and shapes, it’s just pretty blurry.” The guard waved a hand in front of Keith’s face and he swatted it away. “I can see that, Jesper.”

“Yeah, but you missed the first time you tried to hit my hand.”

“Whatever. I’ll just go back to the temple and get them to fix it.”

“...Bad news about that.” Keith gritted his teeth and wondered when, for once in his life, the cards would fall in his favor. “The temple’s full right now ‘cause of the outbreak,” Jesper explained. 

“Great,” Keith said sarcastically, wondering how he would live a life of crime without being able to see where people’s pockets were. Jesper paused for a moment, turning an idea over in his mind. 

“Y’know, I might be able to fix your eyes. I have some brand new restoration techniques that I want to try out.”
“That’s… not really what I want to hear from my healer, Jesper.”

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well, you could make me go fully blind.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna do that. Have some faith in me!” Jesper sat down next to him. “Please? I really think it could help.”

Keith sighed. “Fine.” 

Though he couldn’t see it, the thief knew that Jesper was grinning as he dug through his spellbooks filled with scribbled annotations. 

“Just give me a second to find the right one.” The sound of pages turning. “Here we go. Okay, try to relax.”

As Jesper put his hand over Keith’s eyes and turned the world to black once more, the thief could not possibly be less relaxed. As the guard began to recite quietly, Keith balled his fists up, bracing for the worst. 

Instead, a sensation like a soft touch, a gentle word, and a summer’s day all at once washed over him. It was warmth. It was kindness. And it was fully, undeniably, Jesper. The presence of the guard was in every ounce of magic that Keith felt. His smile, his laugh, his awkwardness, his talent, all wrapped up in a golden light that shone around the two. The thief swore he could even hear a faint, familiar chord or two in the distance as the light faded and the guard finished casting the spell. 

As Jesper withdrew his hand, Keith looked at him, speechless. It was as if the clouds had parted to reveal some angelic figure from above. He could see every detail of the man before him in crystal clear definition. The multicolored light through the stained glass window illuminated him like a saint. His light brown hair was falling over his features, not yet having been tamed. Up close, the thief could see the slightest hint of summer freckles beginning to appear across his face. Jesper smiled nervously, and Keith had the sudden urge to reach over and tuck a lock of hair back behind his ear. 

“You alright there?” 

Keith snapped out of his trance, realizing that he had been staring like an awestruck idiot. 

“Oh- uh- sorry, I just… haven’t seen you without your helmet on in a while.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jesper said, looking rather embarrassed. “I guess it worked then?”

“Yeah. It worked,” Keith muttered into his hand, trying to cover his red face. There was a moment of awkward silence before Jesper stood up and walked over to the dresser. 

“I should probably report to Dragonsreach.” He pulled out his uniform. “I’ll definitely be back on disciplinary action for showing up this late,” the guard said sadly. 

“Mhmm,” Keith mumbled, not really listening. He was too busy trying to pull himself back together after whatever the hell just happened. By the Nine, I’m never letting him heal me again. 

“You can rest here, if you want,” Jesper said, putting on the old leather cuirass and wrapping his yellow sash around his shoulders. “The healer said you should stay warm-”

Keith cut him off. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Why’d you save me? Why go to…” he gestured to the room around them. “All this trouble?”

Jesper stopped putting on his belt. “I- I don’t know. Do I need a reason?” He looked back at the thief. “I just didn’t want you to die.”

Keith was silent for a moment. “You said that I could stay here?” 

“You can stay. I mean, you need time to recover,” Jesper said, donning his helmet. 

“Okay,” the thief whispered. His eyes followed the guard across the room as Jesper walked to the hatch, hoisted it open, and began to climb down. Just before he disappeared, Keith called out to him. “Wait!”

Jesper popped his head back up. “Yes?”

“How’d you know where to find me?”

“Oh, right! I forgot to tell you; the Dragonborn actually led me there. And dealt with the cultists.”

Keith frowned, trying to digest that information. “But… why’d the Dragonborn do that? What’d he get out of it?”
“You know what? I actually have no idea. That’s a good question…”

Across the city, standing in a house littered with cabbages, cheese wheels, and black soul gems, the Dragonborn smiled as he hung up his new painting.