Chapter Text
Loredas, 27th of Evening Star, 4E 201 — The Long Road to Labyrinthian (and the Heavy Weight in My Chest)
We left just before sunrise, under a sky so dark it looked like the gods had forgotten to light the stars. Five hours of sleep. No dreams. Just the dull ache behind my eyes and the creeping dread in my chest. Morokei was waiting. And beyond him—Alduin. The end of this entire bloody cycle.
We packed up camp in silence, the kind that hangs heavy like fog. Duraz was oiling her mace, Xelzaz muttering equations under his breath, Lucien staring off into the snow like a man writing his will in his head. Serana♡ brushed a strand of hair from my face, her touch soft and grounding. She whispered, "You’ll be alright, Aurelia."
I nodded. I wanted to believe her. But my heartbeat was a war drum.
Chaotic Carriage Conversations: Volume Eight Million
We piled into Helvar’s carriage again after calling him up on his little Roovi-Twin thing Xelzaz made, crammed together with more weapons than common sense. The wheels creaked under the weight of destiny—and also Duraz’s armor.
Hour One: Education and Suffering
Lucien tried to "lighten the mood" by reading from a Dwemer lexicon theory book. His voice cracked so hard it woke a bird three miles away. Duraz interrupted every paragraph with insults like, "You said sign wave, not sine wave, you milk-drinker." Lucien sputtered, "I’m trying to educate us, Duraz!" Serana❦, leaning lazily against me: "You’re trying something, I’ll give you that." I nearly fell off the bench laughing. Mostly because Duraz made a math joke that I guarantee Xelzaz taught her for this exact occasion.
Hour Two: The Telvanni Lecture No One Asked For
Xelzaz unfurled a scroll so long it brushed the carriage floor. "A theoretical exploration of planar folding between Breezehome and Winterhold." Translation: nerd magic. He mumbled about space-time and magicka flux ratios while Lucien nodded furiously, pretending to understand. I stared out into the wilderness pretending not to be terrified, until I overheard Serana♡ murmur to Xelzaz, "You know she’s scared, right?" I wanted to shout, "No I’m not!" but my hands were trembling. They both knew anyway.
Hour Three: Cold Hands, Warm Hearts
The road cut through a frozen valley, snow piling higher than the horses’ knees. Lucien asked, "Why don’t we just summon Arvak and ride faster?" Because, Lucien, not all of us enjoy skeletal transportation. I didn’t answer. Serana❥ just took my hand under the blanket, squeezing gently. She whispered, "You don’t have to carry this alone, you know." I bit my lip. "If I don’t, who will?" She didn’t answer, but the way she held my hand said everything. I leaned against her chest and apologized. I knew already that she would. They would. Just still doesn't make sense to me yet.
Hour Four: The Great Mace Symphony
Duraz started sharpening her new ebony mace again. The screeching metal-on-metal noise could probably kill a lesser mage outright. Lucien groaned, Xelzaz flinched every stroke, and Serana❦ whispered to me, "Do you think she does it just to make us suffer?" "Yes," I said. "She’s doing it on purpose," Lucien muttered. Duraz: "You’re damn right I am."
Hour Five: Sleep, Snoring, and Subtle Affection
Lucien nodded off mid-sentence, head lolling onto Xelzaz’s shoulder. The Dunmer tolerated it for three whole minutes before shoving him upright. Serana♡ kissed my temple, thinking no one was looking. Everyone was. Duraz grunted, "Gods, get a tent already." Serana: "We have one." Me: "Jealous?" Duraz: "Of you? Ha." (Definitely jealous.)
Hour Six: The Philosophical Breakdown
Xelzaz, ever the academic, decided this was the time for a lecture. "Morokei’s staff channels magicka absorption and ward-breaking simultaneously." Lucien perked up. "Oh! That’s fascinating!" Duraz: "Here we go." Serana♡: "If I hear one more word about staff properties, I’m jumping out of this carriage." Me: "Please do. I’ll jump with you. We’ll elope midair. Marriage part two." Xelzaz: "I can actually calculate the trajectory for that." Serana❦: "Shut up, Xelzaz."
Hour Seven: The Quiet Hour
Snow whispered against the carriage roof. The wind howled low, like the world was mourning something we hadn’t lost yet. None of us spoke. Duraz’s eyes were shut, hands still resting on her mace. Xelzaz stared out the window, tracing constellations in the frost. Lucien clutched a book to his chest like a prayer. I laid my head on Serana♡’s shoulder, her thumb brushing over my knuckles in small, steady circles. I spoke softly, "Do you think I’ll make it?" She kissed my forehead. "You always do." It was a promise. It was a plea.
Arrival: College of Winterhold, Just Past Noon
We rolled into Winterhold beneath a sky finally breaking apart, shards of light spilling across the tundra. The College towered ahead, cold and divine, its arcane pulse thrumming in the air like a heartbeat I didn’t trust. Serana❥ squeezed my hand again. The cold didn’t feel quite as sharp.
Lucien immediately started talking about "academic protocol" and how we should report findings to the Archmage first. Duraz ignored him and went to find food. Xelzaz muttered something about calibrating spells for Labyrinthian, which I translated as "nerd panic." Serana♡ just looked at me.
She didn’t have to say it. I already knew what she meant: rest while you can.
Detention, But Make It Art
Mirabelle caught me loitering on the bridge and handed me a broom like she was knighting me into the Order of Pointless Tasks. "Clear the snow."
So I did—by casting precise Firebolts in a tight spiral pattern until the slush melted into glossy ice glyphs that spelled "HI MIRABELLE." Students applauded. Mirabelle pinched the bridge of her nose so hard I thought she’d banish me to Oblivion. She didn’t. Character growth for both of us.
Library Pop Quiz (Couples Edition)
Urag grunted me into a study carrel like a cranky mountain. "Return. Read. Respect the bindings." Then he noticed Serana♡ ghosting her fingers over a row of first editions.
"Careful with those," he warned.
Serana, in her perfect velvet voice: "Always."
Reader, I watched a literal orc librarian soften. He slid us a key to a private reading room. We did not defile it—we read. I annotated three pages with "Aurelia was here" in Daedric just to annoy future me. Serana underlined a passage on ward harmonics and whispered, "You could do this."
"What, become a book?"
"Be brilliant," she said, kissing my knuckles. I pretended not to melt.
Feralda’s Courtyard Clinic
Feralda caught us on our way out and offered a "brief practical." Read: she wanted an excuse to fling Ice Spikes at me while I practiced Greater Ward. Serana❦ volunteered to be the caster.
Spike. Ward. Spark. The air rang like a bell. Students gathered on the steps, breath fogging in little clouds of awe. On the last volley I staggered—she was holding back, but not by much—and Serana let the final spike drift wide, shattering harmlessly against the snow. She looked smug. I bowed like a dramatic idiot. Feralda nodded once: tacit approval achieved, academic ego fed.
Rivals, Scrolls, And Regret
J’zargo materialized from behind a pillar as one does. "Rival. A rematch. Safer scrolls. Tested. Mostly."
"Define mostly," I said, already signing the liability waiver with my eyes.
We set three practice dummies on the quad. He handed me a scroll labeled "Flame Lance (Gentle)." I cast it. Dummy ignited politely, as if it had written consent.
"See?" J’zargo beamed. Then his scroll went off—five lances corkscrewed into the sky and spelled "J’ZARGO WINS," then exploded, showering him in scented ash. I clapped. He bowed. We called it an even tie out of pity and branding value.
Clarence’s Union Break
I summoned Clarence to help me haul a crate of focusing crystals for Paratus’s inevitable tantrum later. He took four noble steps, tripped on absolutely nothing, and disassembled himself across the flagstones like a bony dandelion. A rib landed at my feet. I reassembled him backward on accident; he gave me the most judgmental head tilt a skull can manage.
"You’ll be alright, Clarence," I said, patting his sternum. He collapsed again out of spite. I admire the commitment. He's on a union strike until I can fix the spell.
Roovi Check-In
I tapped the Roovi charm. Helvar had to make a trip back to Whiterun for 'personal stuff' he refuses to elaborateon. So Xelly got him the Roovi twin thing, "Helvar, status?"
His voice crackled through warm and gruff: "Bluesky Hall’s fine. The kid—Luma—ate two sweetrolls, declared herself 'brigadier of blankets,'. Everyone lived."
I swallowed hard. "Thanks, Helvar."
"Bring back a story worth telling," he said, then cut the line before I could get sentimental. Rude. Effective. Though Bluesky isn't done being fixed up, we at least could get it habitable for Luma and a few of the Whiterun orphans. Not many. Not yet.
Ancano Sighting (Ugh)
On my way across the Hall of the Elements, Ancano tried to lean against a pillar like a villain in a play and asked, "And what exactly did you do to the Eye?"
"Moisturized it," I said, and kept walking. He made a noise like a teapot that never boils.
Small Joys, Sharp Edges
- Duraz taught a terrified apprentice how to hold a war axe without losing toes. She growled; the kid grinned. Progress.
- Xelzaz traded a formula for a cup of mushroom tea with a wandering scholar, then admitted it tasted like regret. He finished it anyway.
- Lucien found a window ledge with perfect light and sketched the bridge, labeling it "A study in folly and frost." I didn’t cry. You cried.
- Serana♡ and I stole seven quiet minutes on the parapet. No jokes. No bravado. Just breath and cold and her thumb tracing circles on my wrist until the drum in my chest softened.
Inventory Of A Cowardly Hero (Me, Today)
Two stamina draughts. One courage I don’t feel yet. Dawnbreaker polished. Winterkiss strung. Mom’s ring warm against my finger. A heart that won’t shut up. A wife and family who won’t let me fall.
I square my shoulders. I try to believe the shape I make.
We’re here. We’re alive. And tomorrow, we walk into the maw of undead bitch-fuck again.
—Aurelia "Anxious Archmage in Training, Carriage Philosopher, Snowball Sniper, and Professional Vampire Hand-Holder-And-Licker" Cassian-Volkihar