Mist and All

by Vivifriend

Summary:

While lamenting the disappearance of her business partner Ulag, Ysolada is approached by a fetching Altmer who agrees to take her job. But Seanwen is very much not what he seems. And he has his own reasons for being in Whiterun.

 

Set immediately following chapter 20 in Snowflake's Chance.

Chapter 1: Help Wanted

"Damn it Ulag," Ysolda grumbled, perching on a chair set precariously on the wall, staring out over the tundra.

"Evening Ysolda," Commander Caius greeted, pausing by her chair. "Bit late to be out here, isn't it? Especially with the vampires about." He pointed toward the mist gathering along the hollows.

"We don't know if there's any out there right now," she countered. "And besides. Aren't we sheltering part of the Dawnguard right now? I'll just run along to Jorrvaskr and alert them if we have any trouble."

"Suppose you might have a point," he acknowledged, rubbing at a new scar on his arm.

She eyed it, biting her tongue before she could pitch one of her salves, returning a fresh glare to the tundra. If Ulag had pulled through like he promised, then I'd be able to offer a 'healing' salve for that. Get a new customer among the guards. A small chuckle slipped past her lips. Wouldn't that be something. Something to be proud of.

"How long do you intend to stay out here?" he asked, shifting uneasily on his feet.

Oh, he's being noble. Making sure the unarmed merchant comes to no harm. Giving him a winsome smile, she rose, the chair teetering alarmingly. "I should go and see if Hulda needs a hand in the Mare. She's ever so busy with Saadia running the General Goods store now."

"Good of you to give her some help," he said gravely, frowning at the chair. 

She chanced a glance back when she reached the stairs, shaking her head when she realised he was still focused on it. It's just a chair Caius.

 

Her mood soured again when she reached ground level, and she stalked toward the Bannered Mare, smile affixed in place, agitation putting a bit more aggression into her walk than she normally showed. I need that sap. Before the caravans get back. Sighing, she pushed the inn door open, slipping inside, hoping that luck would be on her side and there'd be a mercenary or two available for hire.

 

"Ysolda, right?"

Lowering her mead to the table, she tilted her head, looking up into the face of a very lean Altmer with bewitching orange eyes and long auburn hair. "I am. Are you by chance a mercenary?"

He smiled, cat like, dropping into the empty chair across from her, pulling a deck of playing cards out of his pocket. "Hardly. Although if the job is intriguing enough, I might be persuaded to consider taking it on. I have time before I need to be anywhere else."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him properly, noting the way his hair was completely clear of tangles, his clothing neatly pressed, and very expensive to her trained eye. How did I miss how he's dressed? Obviously not a mercenary. "It's a dangerous job. I fear someone like you might have difficulty with it."

His eyes flashed, a slight chill running down her spine as he met her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, Ysolda shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

Finally, he laughed. "You, sweet merchant with the sob story of your poor, dead, parents, should know better than to make assumptions based on appearance."

Flushing, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

He clicked his tongue, dealing out some cards to her side of the table. "Before my ma and da passed, I told them that one day, I'd become the best trader in Skyrim," he quoted, giving her a long look. "Your ma and da, the Sanguinite Bards and...," he lowered his voice. "They were traders of a sort too if I'm not mistaken."

"How could you possibly know that?" she hissed, lifting the cards off the table, recognising the game as one Mikael had taught her.

"I'll give you a few clues over the next few days. We'll see if you figure it out by the end of it." He rested a card on the table. "Your move, gorgeous."

 Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the game, not too surprised when the Altmer defeated her easily.

"Well played. Although you lost, I'll reward your willingness to play with my name."

"It seems only fair since you know mine," she responded, accepting another mug of mead from Hulda with a nod. 

"You may call me Seanwen," he said. "Another round?"

"What will this round get me?" she asked, emboldened by the alcohol buzzing in her blood. 

"Impress me well enough, and I'll take your job. No difficult questions asked."

She licked her lips. "I really don't want to send you to your death."

"Darling. I was the youngest Grand Champion in the Imperial City Arena. There is nothing that could phase me about your job."

"Well, alright then. If you're sure," she agreed, looking at her cards.

He beat her again, swifter this time, though Ysolda felt she was finally getting a handle on how he played. Well, and with an unusually adept ability to read her.

"So, what is this job?" he asked, resting his elbows on the table, smiling at her.

"Best spoken of in a quieter location," she responded.

"Excellent."

Biting her lip, she pushed her chair back, moving toward the door, pleased when Seanwen followed without further comment.

Stepping onto the Mare's steps, she turned toward him, finding him very close. "We could talk here, or my home might be more comfortable."

He smiled, reaching out to tilt her chin with one long finger. "I would love to see your home."

She tingled, arousal singing, elevated by the mead. "This way," she said, reluctantly pulling back, leading him through the quiet streets. 

Closing the door behind him, she turned, elated when he braced himself over her, lifting her chin again and leaning in to press a searing kiss to her mouth. She returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to rest her hand on the back of his neck, groaning when he trailed kissed down her throat, pushing up against her door to give him better access to her cleavage.

"Pleasure first," he murmured. "Then business."

She shivered, tugging at the hem of his shirt, stymied by his tugging her skirts up.

Draping her leg over his hip, she writhed when he pushed her underclothes to the side, long fingers sliding through her folds, curling into her, his mouth muffling her wanton moan.

Breathing heavily, she let out a startled gasp when he swiftly pulled his fingers back and thrust into her, dizzying pleasure thrilling through her, a mind-numbing orgasm washing over her, twisting her up.

Her legs trembled, and she braced against the door as his thrusts became harder, heat rebuilding at an impossible rate, his breath hot on her neck. 

She came again when he did, falling limply against the door, Seanwen holding her up with a low chuckle.

"Sanguine blessed," she murmured, steadying herself slowly.

He snorted. "You're not wrong."

Breathing out hard puffs of breath to help regulate her heart some, she straightened, nodding slightly, moving toward her table. "Give me a moment and I'll start the fire."

"No need," he said, "assuming it merely needs a light?"

"Yes, it's ready otherwise," she said, slumping into her chair, still tingling. Definitely a Sanguinite. I wonder what circles he normally runs in. I'm certain we'd have crossed paths if he'd been in Skyrim before.

The fire flared to life from a flames spell in Seanwen's hand and she blinked spots out of her vision, watching him walk easily back toward to her to sit down. "Now business."

She nodded, leaning forward. "Since you've already insinuated that you know the other trade my parents were in, I'll assume you know I picked it up myself."

"I did, yes. It's part of why I sought you out. Only merchant who moves Sleeping Tree Sap is what my contact told me."

"You heard right," she said. I wonder who his contacts are. "But if you were hoping for a sample, well you'll be waiting some time."

"Do tell."

"Sleeping Tree Sap comes from one tree, the so-called Sleeping Tree. No one knows how it came to be where it is, though assumptions of the origin abound."

"I'm curious what assumptions those are," he said.

"One assumption is that when Vvardenfell erupted, a piece of it settled here and sprouted the tree. The other is that it fell from a floating island."

"And which do you believe?" he asked, leaning back, crossing his arms.

"I'm not sure, honestly. It seems far fetched to me that a piece of volcano could come this far. And the other just sounds ridiculous. Who's ever heard of floating islands?"

He chuckled. "Of course. So, do you have a theory?"

"One of my clients likened the tree to the Hist trees they have in Black Marsh. Said it wasn't quite the same but reminded him of them. So, maybe this is what happens if an Argonian tries to plant a tree away from home."

"A fascinating theory," he said. "And the properties of the sap? I'm curious why it fetches such a high price for what is, in essence, a type of syrup."

"It's not handled the same as syrup," she objected. "I don't think anyone has ever actually tried to distil it down. But it makes you feel healthier than you've ever been, for a time. With the side-effect of short-term extreme drunkenness."

"Considering how many drunkards feel healthy and strong while reeling, I imagine this sap must induce quite a euphoric feeling to be so highly sought."

"Very much so," she said. "It's the best selling drug I've ever trafficked."

"Better than skooma?"

She nodded, then sighed. "Which is why Ulag's vanishing is such a blow."

"Ulag being?"

"He's been my partner in procuring sap for a good five years now. He's an Orc, and almost as strong as the Companion twins. Maybe as strong as Vilkas."

Seanwen frowned, straightening in his chair, his jaw working slightly for a moment before he gave her a warm smile. "Impressive that a pair of Nords can outfight an Orc."

"The Companions tend to be that way," she said, frowning. "If I could ever figure out the source of their strength, maybe I could find a market for that as well."

He laughed, folding his hands on the table. "It's impossible. But it's good to know that you're willing to do so much for wealth." Shaking his head, he leaned back again. "I'm assuming Ulag is late to return?"

"By nearly a week now," she said. You make it sound like you know how the Companions get their strength. Maybe I can find that out over the next few days as well. She sighed. "The thing about the sap, and part of what makes it so difficult to source, is it's in the middle of the Sleeping Tree Camp. Which is protected by a Giant family and their herds of mammoths."

"Do you think Ulag tried to fight them?"

"He wasn't that stupid," she responded. "He was a hunter in his stronghold before he got bored of it. So, he could sneak with the best of them, but he had the muscle needed to protect the sap he gathered."

"Have you ever considered taking a bounty out on that Giant family?"

"No. Their protection of the tree is the only reason it hasn't been drained completely dry."

He nodded. "I can understand that reasoning," he said. "So, get in, find out what happened to Ulag, drain some sap and come back? That's it?"

"That's more than enough," she responded, staring at him. He claims he was the Grand Champion of the Arena. But everyone knows that Cyrods aren't much for a fight. But maybe he fought monsters as well.

"I don't know my way around Skyrim very well, yet. But I suppose a clairvoyance spell will lead me there easily enough. Although, a local guide would be better."

Why am I not surprised? "I can go out there with you, but I'll have to hang back. I'm not stealthy enough to approach the camp without rousing ire."

"That's quite alright. How will I tap it?"

"There's a tap already in place. If Ulag did his job right, there should even be a bucket still attached."

"That would certainly make things easier," he mused. "Very well. Shall we leave in the morning?"

"Yes."

His smile turned sultry, and he leaned forward. "Not going to ask me to spend the night?"

She licked her lips, arousal rising again. "Would you spend the night here?" she asked. "I'll even cook you breakfast before we go."

"It would be my pleasure."

Chapter 2: Nighttime Excursion

Summary:

Seanwen goes poking around Jorrvaskr.

Ysolda was a deep sleeper, Seanwen taking some amusement in knowing that he'd had much to do with influencing that. Silently, he slipped out of the bed, snapping his fingers, frowning at the Dremora Butler who materialized in front of him.

"You summoned me, master?" he asked, voice threaded with a hint of disdain.

"My stealth gear, Darius," he ordered.

"As my lord commands."

Moments later, Seanwen was dressed in all black, his long hair braided and securely wrapped around his head, hidden by his hood. Nicking Ysolda's key from her clothing, he slipped out into Whiterun's streets, pausing almost immediately at the side of a shop, watching a guard wander past, hiding a yawn. It would be so easy to put you to sleep until I'm done with this. But better you instead of someone who may be more alert.

He hadn't needed to ask where Jorrvaskr was. The bard Mikael had recognized him on sight and practically thrown himself at his feet when he'd entered the Drunken Huntsman the night before. Had gone into great depths describing every landmark, and every person he considered noteworthy in the city, pressing a copy of his pathetic book into his hands.

The Gildergreen loomed above everything at the top of the stairs, and he paused, looking it over. Kyne's tree. I wonder if the sap from this would have similar effects to Sleeping Tree Sap. He smirked, moving swiftly toward the stairs to the right. There is no way She'd allow that to happen. She'd be furious if any of us attempted messing with her beloved tree.

Leaping to the wall around Jorrvaskr with the aid of a little brush of magic, he circled to the back of the building, holding very still when he spotted someone sitting on the porch. 

Frowning, he watched, trying to make them out properly, a metal cube gleaming in their hands. After a moment, lights emanated from the cube, illuminating the surrounding area, giving Seanwen a quick view of a lean Redguard man with yellow-gold eyes before it went dark again. Blinking small spots out of his vision, he almost missed the man rising and heading inside.

  

He waited, watching the training yards, a cool breeze brushing against his face. Silence stretched on, and he jumped down from the wall, slipping toward the building. Ugliest thing I've ever seen. But what else would I expect from Nords?

To his surprise, the door was unlocked, and he whispered a muffling spell under his breath, pressing inside, pausing as he eased the door closed.

The interior was surprisingly still, and he crept through the shadows, trying to memorize the layout, drinking a night eye potion to aid his movement. Large feasting tables surrounded a banked fire, the scents of roast venison still hanging on the air.

A noise drew his attention, and he moved carefully that way, not too surprised to find himself near a kitchen, stopping, listening hard.

"He'll be home soon," a matronly voice chided. "Here, try this."

"I know he will," responded a light masculine voice. "But I'll never be comfortable when he goes into Blackreach."

Probably the Redguard. What did Mikael say his name was? He thought about it, listening to the woman chide him gently again while offering him more baked goods. Right. Nevian. Married to a man named Lucien. Which Mikael was relieved by because it means he's not competition.

Pensively, he pulled away from his spot, casting a fresh invisibility spell when he heard footsteps, watching a small candlelight bob ahead of a Breton man.

He frowned, watching him limp toward the kitchen, moving closer.

"Is your leg acting up again?" Nevian asked.

"As an excellent reminder for why Isran left me behind, yes," he responded, voice heavy with irritation. "Sorry to bother you so late Tilma, but do you happen to have any tea I could use to try and get more sleep?"

"Of course, dear," Tilma responded, voice warm.

Seanwen rolled his eyes. I will never understand people who get all their pleasure from catering to others in this fashion.

"Thank you, Tilma. You worrying over Lucien?"

"As always," Nevian said. "But I should be heading to bed soon. And you need to get off that leg. As soon as you're up for travel I intend to drag you with me to Haafingar."

"Glad you saw reason."

He snorted. "I know how I am when Lucien's gone. And he's going into a cleared ruin. Isran is going into danger. I'm honestly impressed you didn't manage to convince him to strap you to a saddle."

"Lewin's fault," he grumbled.

Seanwen perked up, moving even closer. How do you know Lewin?

"He's a good healer," Nevian retorted. "Better than you, and even you admitted to me this morning that he was right."

"Better than Vitene too, though I don't think she cares."

"Stop this," Tilma ordered. "You're both riling each other up."

No, don't stop this. I want to hear what's going on. Flitting through his repertoire of spells, he moved close enough to see into the kitchen, watching an old Nord woman pour tea into a mug, pushing it toward Celann, Nevian holding his own steaming cup.

"You're right," Nevian said. "And the only thing that will make Celann fit for travel is rest." He frowned, resting his hand on his chin. "Aela and Skjor will get back before I go. Unless they run into trouble, but we don’t anticipate any from the job they took."

What's in Haafingar that Lewin's going after? Seanwen frowned, grimacing when he bumped a barrel slightly, catching it, glancing swiftly toward the trio.

Nevian straightened fast, looking his direction, and Seanwen cursed inwardly.

Celann turned that way as well. "Invisibility?" he asked, his fingers gleaming with green light.

Hissing his irritation, Seanwen darted for the nearest door. His spell won't break mine unless he's inordinately strong, but I don't want to wake the whole place up.

Pushing outside, he continued running, taking to the walls as soon as he got a moment, laying a myriad of false trails before casting chameleon and heading back to Ysolda's. Damnable werewolves. It isn’t fair that they’re so easily alerted. Grumbling, he locked Ysolda's door behind him, stripping out of his stealth gear, summoning Darius back with an irritable snap, passing his armor back and moving back to the bed.

Ysolda hadn't moved during his excursion, and he settled back into the bed easily, staring at the ceiling. I'll probe tomorrow. Find out if Ysolda's met Lewin. He rolled over with a small sigh. I'd ask Mikael but he's less likely to notice men beyond making sure they're not a threat to his conquests. And knowing Lewin's habits, he'd only be at the Inn if he thought I might be there. Though with his finding his soulmates, will they curb his attempts to undermine me? Will he stop trying to get revenge? Scowling, he twisted to his other side. He better not. I'm certain I'm more interesting than some plaything of Vaermina and a Nord werewolf.

 

Somehow, he dozed, half waking up when Ysolda slipped out of the bed, tuning her out and turning over when she mentioned something about breakfast, waking fully when something fatty hit a hot pan, the scent of fresh bread wafting through the house.

Mouth watering, he rose, snapping his fingers and trading out his clothes with Darius, cheerfully shooing the scowling Butler back to the Myriad Realms with a thought.

Heading into the kitchen, he sat at the table, watching Ysolda cook, her hair already neatly done up in a bun.

"How far is the tree from here?" he asked, gauging her mood.

She didn't turn, her attention almost fully on the pan. "About half a day's walk," she responded. "I know a lot of the short-cuts, but we'll need to be leery of a couple of hollows where bandits like to lay low."

"Alright," he agreed. "Tell me about the Dawnguard? I heard they were in town recently, but I don't know much about them."

"Oh. They're a vampire hunting order," she said. "Just a few days ago a large group of them showed up to re-supply with the Khajiit caravan, then rode out to who knows where. But they left a couple of them in Whiterun. Their wizard, one of the leader's, and I'm not sure of the third." She hesitated, tapping her chin. "To be honest, the last one might just be a Vigilant. He was wearing that gear, so I tried not to get his attention."

"Do they have many Vigilants in their ranks?" Couldn't be. Not if they're working with the Companions.

"A lot of former Vigilants," she said. "One of them even got herself knocked up by one of the Companion twins." She pulled back, dishing the food up. "But he dotes on her. It’s honestly cute to see." Shaking her head, she smiled at him. "Mikael was quite disappointed. But he has a thing for Imperial women so I can understand why. Funnily enough he never dared approach her cousin, Copper. I think they intimidate him."

Copper. He bit back a snort. They would intimidate someone like him. "Do you know Mikael well?"

"We like looking at women together," she admitted. "And sometimes he's good for a lay. When we're both between partners."

"Did he give you a copy of his book as well?"

She let out a low scoff. "That book got him relegated to Falkreath for months." She scowled down at the plates for a moment, looking up at him with a wry smile. "It was supposed to be permanent, but he came whining back to Whiterun a couple days ago, begging Delacourt, the current bard, to let him trade off nights with him. He relegated him to the Huntsman which is why he wasn't performing at the Mare last night. Guess one of the women in Falkreath smacked him over the head with her broom because he hit on her lover one too many times."

"He didn't realize she wasn't interested in men?"

"I get the idea that she just wasn't interested in him," she said. "But he can be extraordinarily bad at reading women. So, perhaps I'm wrong."

"How did he make it as a Bard?" Perhaps he spent too much time attending gatherings with other Sanguinites. Lost his ability to properly seduce anyone. He gave Ysolda a critical look. Bet she can still net interest. For all that she was agitated last night, she has a shrewd mind. For a Nord anyway.

"Oh, he made a deal with the court wizard when he first came to Whiterun. And they became quite good friends. The only way to get Farengar to leave Dragonsreach is involve Arcadia, or an order from the Jarl, so, I doubt he knew the reputation he gained around the bulk of the city. And he'd always vouch for him at Dragonsreach." She sighed, bringing the plates over. "He was also close to the Jarl's late brother. Poor man was gutted when I informed him that Hrongar had been killed by a vampire."

We are very far off topic. "So, the Dawnguard," he prompted. "What did you think of them?"

"Isran and Celann were the ones most often in Whiterun," she said thoughtfully. “They kept to Jorrvaskr for the most part, trained with the Companions.”

"Alright. Anyone new come through lately? From the direction of Markarth, perhaps?"

She considered it. "The companions got a new whelp from the Reach a few weeks ago. I haven't quite memorized his name yet. And then, oh, there was Copper. They came through with the Companion twin, Vilkas, a very tall Nord woman, a young man who looked very familiar for some reason, and a Breton man who I never saw without either Copper or Vilkas. Lewin, they called him."

So Vilkas is one of the Companion twins. She’d insinuated that last night but now I’m certain. Oh, how very fascinating. "You say that Vilkas is a twin?"

"He is. Did you meet them in Markarth?"

"Briefly. I had an errand for my father there." Well, sort of. I offered. "I met Vilkas and Copper in passing. Lewin I’ve met before, and I admit, I’m a bit surprised he’s still traveling with them.” He’s never been one for traveling companions. Not since Aurane. It irritates me that that has changed. “You say Copper intimidates Mikael?”

"Mmhmm," she said. "They also scared one of my best customers away." She shook her head, breaking a chunk of bread off. "I'm sure I'll bring Saadia around to my way of doing things, but I despise having to start over."

"I can understand that" he agreed. "How did Copper scare your customer away?"

"Belethor ran the General Goods store. Only, it turns out he was supposed to be an indentured servant in Cyrodiil, and Copper's family holds the contract. Only, Copper claims that he convinced their family to take his sister on instead.”

"I can imagine that would make him unpopular around here," he agreed. "Nord 'honor' being what it is."

"Very. But his apprentice Sigurd, and a former barmaid Saadia took over. They're trying to do everything by the book. But it will only be a matter of time before they realize just how much money can be made if they're more... flexible about their goods."

"Not everyone realizes that" he mused.

"Oh, I know. But I have high hopes for these two. Just need to work on them a bit more."

He smirked. "I wish you luck. Tell me about Vilkas' twin?"

"Mm, Farkas. He's a sweet man. But a bit... dim. Vitene has him wrapped completely around her finger. But they do make for a lovely family. I can admit that."

I really don't care. However, I will remember that they exist. I may have to explore it as an avenue of driving a wedge between Vilkas and Lewin.

"And Vilkas?"

"The surly one. Or that's what everyone calls him around here. If he doesn't have his nose stuck in a book, then he's ordering some of the newer Companions around the training yard." She smirked. "Every once in a while, I can convince one of them to buy a vial of sap after a particularly difficult training session. He had a thing with Carlotta for a while which infuriated Mikael. I'm sure he'll be even more upset when he realizes that she's with Delacourt now."

"You haven't told him?"

"They're not exactly keeping it a secret. I'm admittedly, a bit curious to see how long it takes him to realize."

He chuckled. "Alright. I can see that." Antagonistic to each other. But I have no reason to exploit it. They may also be a couple who like that dynamic and I don't want to take the time to figure that out.

"Now Lewin was interesting," she said.

"How so?"

"He was quiet. Content to allow Copper and Vilkas to do all the talking when they visited the stalls. But I bet that he knows everyone's name now. Every merchant. And all their usual stock. Just had that observant behaviour, you know?"

"Did you approach him?"

"No. I try to keep a decent distance from Vilkas. He's like a dog with a bone when he thinks someone is getting up to something potentially illegal. He's very protective of his brother, you see. and I've seen the lengths he'll go to ensure he stays out of any type of trouble. I figured it was safest for my health if I gave both Lewin and Copper a decent berth."

Seanwen nodded slowly. "You assumed that anyone he was with would garner the same treatment."

"Definitely."

"Something to keep in mind should I be in Whiterun the same time he is. Pity Lewin is with them. I noticed he was quite fetching."

Giving him a sympathetic smile, she rose, collecting the dirty dishes. "Maybe you'll get lucky and they'll have a falling out before they get back. You can swoop in and pick up the pieces."

He frowned, leaning back in the chair. “It’s an intriguing thought." Maybe not a falling out. But perhaps... If I assist the cultists in whisking Copper away, then perhaps I'll have a chance. If I speak quickly, I should be able to talk them into taking Vilkas as well. I can’t imagine Vaermina would be upset at the idea, I’m certain she’s not happy with anyone who has gotten close to Copper.

Chapter 3: Sleeping Tree Sap

Summary:

Seanwen and Ysolda retrieve the sap.

Seanwen seemed unbothered by the pace she set, so Ysolda moved as swiftly as she dared, skirting the biggest puddles of water with the same feeling of distaste she saw mirrored on his face as they moved across the Tundra, her bucket catching against her legs every few steps.

"Anything I need to know about Giants?" he asked.

"They tend not to react too strongly unless you upset their mammoths," she responded. "Most of the Giant camps in the area have treaties in place with Jarl Balgruuf. They stick to their hollows when they're on the plains, and then we give them a wide berth during migration season."

"What happens if they kill a traveler?"

"Farengar, the court wizard, uses some sort of magic to discern if the traveler was treading in their territory before deciding if he'll call in the Companions."

"Is it common for travelers to go after them?"

"The mammoth tusks provide a very large amount of ivory," she said. "And they're in high demand for goods for everything from musical instruments, jewellery, medicines and home-made sex toys."

He snorted. "I'd heard rumors that Nords use mammoth tusks to fuck."

"It's very true," she said, flushing brilliantly when he arched a brow at her. "I haven't gotten one myself yet. As I mentioned, the tusks are in high demand. And they sell for a lot more if they're whole. I traded one to a Khajiit merchant in exchange for two barrels of moon sugar a few months back. Normally I've only been able to afford a pound or two here or there." I'm certain Ma'dran made a killing on that tusk. "Some people harvest tusks from the skulls you can occasionally find in the tundra. But it's a toss-up on if they'll be usable or not. A tusk riddled with holes from lying out in the sun for months isn't of nearly as much use for anyone."

"Does anyone find use for them?"

"Alchemists. I've been told that ground mammoth tusk has some useful properties."

He nodded, flicking his hair over his shoulder, looking up at the sky. "How close are we?"

She looked around, gauging their location. "At our current pace we should make it there in the next hour."

"Good."

"There is a cave in the camp. It's possible Ulag ducked into it if he managed to piss off the Giants."

"I'll duck my head in then. Is it large enough for Giants?"

"Yes."

He grunted, and she glanced at him, noting the sour expression on his face. "I have seen fighters foul them up against each other before," she offered. "If you get into trouble, you could do that."

"I'm not concerned," he said. "They won't detect me. But it will take more magicka than I hoped since I won't be able to duck out of sight for a while."

"I suppose that makes sense.”

He nodded, then glanced down at her with a wicked grin. "Have you figured out who I am?"

"A high ranking Sanguinite at least," she responded. Which was a stroke of luck. I've never been able to be this open about the properties of the sap without getting side-eyed. It took me almost a year to find Ulag, and I'm certain it will be just as long until I can replace him. Unless the caravans have a suggestion. Maybe Ma'dran will be willing to give me a recommendation as thanks for the tusk and sap supply. It won't hurt to ask.

He chuckled. "At least," he agreed, a thread of mocking in his voice.

"I know you're not Sanguine himself," she said, flushing when he tilted his head with an arched brow.

"And how do you know that?"

"He's been through Whiterun before," she said. "He likes to play games with people every so often and he gave me a ring to sell the next person he tricks."

"And you know he hasn't just changed his appearance because...?"

"He goes by Sam," she responded. "And I figure you would have mentioned the ring or the tricking if you were him."

With a laugh, he looked at the sky. "Always Sam. It's such a simple name and yet so many people never realize." Dropping his gaze back down, he grinned at her. "You're right. I am not him."

Always Sam. So, have you run into him often? Maybe you're really a Dremora and I'm just not seeing the real you?

She worked at it as they travelled, pausing as soon as she felt the ground move just a bit. "Feel that?" she asked.

He nodded, reaching hands up to braid his hair, winding it around his head. "Mammoths," he guessed.

"Yes. Last time I was out here there were three Giants and the same number of mammoths."

"Good to know. How much sap was Ulag supposed to gather?"

"He was just supposed to trade the bucket for a fresh one," she explained. "Then pour it into as many of the eight bottles I sent with him as would fit."

He nodded. "I'll leave the bottle pouring to you and swap out the buckets swiftly."

"I'll wait here, maybe duck behind these rocks. Sometimes the mammoths are in a bad mood and are more likely to take offense."

"Understood." Snagging the bucket from her hand, he cast a spell, vanishing from her view.

 

She paced while she waited, chewing everything over. If he's close to Sanguine himself, then he may have told him directly about my family. Funny that they would have garnered so much attention. I'm not certain if I should be flattered or concerned.

A familiar bucket becoming visible alerted her to Seanwen's return, and she moved quickly toward it, levering her pack over her shoulders, crouching down to start pouring the precious sap into her bottles.

Seconds later, Seanwen himself appeared, sitting on the ground, long legs crossed at the ankles. "Found Ulag in the cave," he said companionably. "He is very dead. Based on some correspondence I skimmed, he was hoping to oust you as the provider for the caravans. Cut out the middleman as it were." He tilted his head. "You have a good ally in this Ma'dran though. He expressed great distaste in the suggestion."

She sighed, still focused on transferring sap. "I wish I could say I was surprised," she said. "But I believe he's been sneaking a vial or two. I just got eight full out of this bucket."

"How did you get it to move so swiftly?" he asked. "Sap is generally slow moving."

"And Sleeping Tree Sap is mostly no different," she said, passing him a bottle of the violet liquid. "But the trick is agitation. If you spin the bucket just enough, you can pour it out. And your pace was brisk enough that it was ready. But it's why I started transferring it as soon as I saw the bucket. If it sits it gets slow again."

He nodded, passing the bottle back. "Any drops left in the bucket? I'm curious about the effects."

"Sure," she said, passing it over to him, watching him swipe a few out and suck them off his finger, biting her lip, trying not to think too hard about it.

With a chuckle, he reached a hand out for her.

She accepted, and he tugged her close. "Mmm, hits fast, doesn't it?" he asked, offering a few drops on his finger to her.

Sucking his finger into her mouth, she ran her tongue over it, swallowing down the sap, feeling it warm her throat as he almost lazily tugged his pants down, pulling her over him.

She tugged her dress up, straddling him properly, not taking him in just yet, grinding against him, vision hazing slightly with purple, the effect getting more pronounced when he scooped a bit more into her mouth, the effect on her arousal unexpected, sending it higher than she'd felt the night before with the mead.

With a low moan, she moved back, easing herself onto his cock, listening to his groan with pleasure, riding him hard, relishing the tightness of his hands on her hips, dropping her head back with her first orgasm, clenching around him, the world spinning pleasantly as she picked up the pace, her only focus her pleasure now as she moved, reaching a hand down, working it beneath her skirts, coaxing herself rapidly to another orgasm, whining as he picked up the pace himself, rotating her hips and clenching hard to reach her next, collapsing against him when he came and pulled her down tightly.

"Still," he ordered, holding her close.

She grunted, trying to rub against him, and he laughed, nipping her ear. "Should've mentioned the aphrodisiac effect," he murmured. "I'd have wanted a full vial."

"Not always, this strong," she gasped out, the spinning getting a touch less pleasant, and she closed her eyes to ride it out, knowing it would clear in another few moments. "I think, because we were in the mood already," she mumbled.

"Ahhh, heightens your current emotions." He made a soft sound, helping her move off him, adjusting his pants and rising, holding her steady until she gave him a slight nod.

Taking several deep breaths, she looked up at him. "Not usually that strong."

He shrugged. "Maybe it's because you left it for so long because of Ulag getting killed."

"That could be it," she said. "I'm far from an alchemist."

With a low chuckle, he handed over her pack and bucket. "Come along. It’s time to return to Whiterun and discuss my pay."

"Of course," she agreed, moving as rapidly as she could, still coming down from the high.

"If it exaggerates your current mood, it won't work for what I'd hoped," he grumbled. "A pity."

"What were you hoping to use it for?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Mm. When used properly, aphrodisiacs can have quite an entertaining effect on arguing people. It's a toss up on if they'll make a move on each other, or if they'll separate and bolt for their partner."

"I can see that, and hate-fucking can provide quite a release. It's why Mikael has been so hung up on Carlotta for so long. He's convinced that if he could just get her to agree to a tumble that she'd realize what she's missing."

He laughed, tugging his hair free of the braid. "You might not have the best taste in human men," he chided.

Interesting that you specified. Wouldn't want to lump yourself in with that I suppose. Shrewd. She joined his laughter. "Maybe not, but he has a good eye for attractive women. And men too though he'd be hard pressed to admit that."

"Oh?"

"He's good at picking out which men might be a hurdle to his conquests."

"Ah, that explains why he described the Companion's harbinger to me the other night. Along with his relief that he was only interested in men."

"Nevian is also the Dragonborn's half-brother," she said. "That would have made him even more attractive to a lot of women."

"I've heard tales of the Dragonborn. Is she single?"

"Alas, she is married. And she was taken under the Companions wings right when she entered Whiterun, so Mikael didn't dare approach her. Her becoming a Bard only made everything worse for him."

"A pity," he agreed. "It's always interesting interacting with those who've drawn the attention of Aedra or Daedra. My mother used to tell me stories about the Hero of Kvatch."

"She knew them?" she asked. "That's fascinating!"

"It is."

"Was she also a Sanguinite?"

"Eventually. She was a Daedric scholar. But Sanguine took an interest in her which made her come to appreciate him above the others."

"She has good taste."

He smiled; the first genuine smile she'd seen from him. "She does."

"Is she still alive?"

"Last I checked."

"And your father?"

"Will outlive us all."

Wha... She stopped, turning to face him completely, seeing the knowing smirk on his face. "Did the Sleeping Tree Sap even affect you?"

"Only as far as I allowed."

She flushed, offering a bow. "My Lord. I... I should have realized."

He laughed, reaching out to rest his hand on her head. "It's always entertaining when followers don't realize who I am. Allows me greater freedom for discussion. Because I can sleep with them without their being nervous about it."

"I can see that," she agreed, her ears burning. "Still. I've treated you so casually. I'm ashamed."

He shrugged. "Don't be. You gave me some good insight about some people I was curious about."

"About the Companions?"

He grunted. "They interest me. There's something strange about them, and I've heard many conflicting stories about what that strangeness could be."

"As have I," she admitted. "But they've done a lot of good for Whiterun. It's hard to imagine the city without them."

"I would like for you to inform me if Vilkas ever returns," he said. "Especially if he has Copper and Lewin with him."

"Ah, of course my lord. It would be an honor." She hesitated. "How would I contact you?"

"Just word a prayer for my father," he said easily. "Make sure to extol his virtues so he doesn't get angry, and mention that you have news for me. I'll get it."

“Easy enough,” she murmured. “Are you coming all the way back to Whiterun?” You make it sound like you’re planning to leave.

“Only as far as the stables, I have pressing business in Windhelm.”

“You may need to disguise yourself, my lord,” she said quickly. “They don’t think highly of Mer around there.”

He smiled. “Your forewarning is understandable. But they will have no problems with me.”

She flushed, hearing the rebuke in his tone. “Of course.”

His smile turned fond, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I understand why my father speaks so highly of you now.”

She flushed harder at the praise, and he chuckled, whistling merrily as they resumed walking.

 

Stopping by the stables, he turned to her. "It was an enjoyable time, Ysolda." He leaned in, tapping her nose. "I'll ask my father to find you a proper replacement for Ulag. And I won't be needing any payment for fetching the sap. Put that money toward a betting pool with Hulda on how long it will take Mikael to realize Delacourt has courted Carlotta successfully."

Inclining her head, she grinned up at him. "I certainly will. Thank you...,"

He held a hand up, cutting off her use of an honorific, giving her a wink before sauntering toward the cart, hailing the driver cheerfully.

She watched for a long moment before turning her steps toward Whiterun proper, the lightly clinking bottles of sap music to her ears.

Chapter 4: Meeting Cultists

Summary:

Seanwen makes his way safely to Windhelm

"It is a beautiful city," Seanwen noted, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the carriage bench, studying Windhelm as it came into view. "I can see why so many believe it should be the capital."

The trio of Stormcloaks Bjorlam had picked up near the bustling mill glanced up, one of them, Alwyn, tilting her head. "It will be soon," she said, her words filled with conviction, her voice marred with tension.

"Alas that my visit falls now instead of then," he said, threading a bit of magic around his words, glancing toward Bjorlam, watching him tug his hood further over his face, rain dripping off the edge. It’s fascinating how hard he is to read. Useful for a carriage driver but frustrating for me.

"You're not from the Islands, are you, Elf?"

He gave her a winsome smile. "I'm not a Thalmor, if that's what you're trying to find out. The Dominion is so…," he considered his fingernails, "boring."

"Oh?"

"Mm, yes. Rigid ideas of what makes a God a God. Absolutely no imagination whatsoever when it comes to maintaining their doctrine." Clicking his tongue, he studied the other two, Aeta and Svenjar. They're the more dangerous to me. I can see it. But nothing I can't handle.

"So, you believe Talos to be a God?" Alwyn challenged.

"Certainly." A bloodthirsty God who fits right in alongside Dagon, but a God, nonetheless. He allowed a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. "One doesn't pull off what he did without changing themselves irrevocably." Of course, if I felt differently, I wouldn’t say so to you.

She visibly relaxed, looking over the side of the wagon. "If only more Elves were like you. Then perhaps the Empire never would have betrayed us."

Svenjar grunted, looking up from the belt knife he was sharpening. "Pah. They'd have done it eventually. If not to the Thalmor then to their own corruption. You’ve heard how they're scrambling about with the Emperor assassinated."

"You seem better informed than the Imperial held Holds," Seanwen noted, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the back of his neck. Should have used magic to get here. Skyrim weather is abysmal.

"Necessity," he growled.

"And the Jarls in those Holds are trying so hard to make it seem like everything's fine. ‘Of course the Empire will be able to protect them. The death is just rumour,’ they say," Aeta spat.

Oh, you three have been spying. How cute.

"The Imperials and their lackeys are spineless," Svenjar grumbled. "There would be panic if they learned the truth.”

"An interesting tactic to keep it secret then," Seanwen opined. "Considering a panicky populace is so much easier to control."

"No one accused the Imperials of being smart."

He laughed, bracing against the bench when Bjorlam pulled his horse up outside the stables. "You've got a point there," he agreed, climbing out of the wagon with them, tossing Bjorlam a pouch of coin.

"Walk into the city with us," Aeta suggested. "It will smooth your way with the gate guards."

"Your kindness warms my heart," he said, amused by the flush that spread along her cheeks.

Lagging slightly behind the trio, he studied the city more closely. Ugly. And I thought Jorrvaskr the peak of terrible Nordic design.

 

A flicker of magic caught his attention, and he glanced to the side as they crossed the bridge, whispering a near silent spell under his breath, spotting the shimmering outline of a living being passing them. Invisibility spell. Powerful. And the aura is tinged with Daedric influence. Not much but what I might expect of say… a cultist.

Cheered when the infiltrator proved to be heading to the city themself, he flashed a brilliant smile to the gate guard.

“What brings a strange High Elf to Windhelm?” he growled, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“He’s a traveling scholar,” Aeta said quickly. “Invoked Talos’ name in front of us.”

“She’s right,” Svenjar agreed. “He’s not with the Thalmor.”

So easily persuaded to champion me, I love it.

With a long sigh, the guard waved for the gate to open and looked at Seanwen. “Just keep your nose out of trouble while you’re here, Elf.”

"You won't even notice me past this," he promised, amused when he relaxed at his words, manoeuvring so the infiltrator was forced to slow their dart into the city.

 

"You'll probably be alright with Elda at Candlehearth," Aeta said, pointing out the inn in front of them. "Best inn in the city. If we see you there tonight, let me buy you a drink?"

"It would be a pleasure," he said. "I'll seek it out after I've had a chance to visit the market."

"Just head along that way," Svenjar said, gesturing toward a stone archway.

He nodded amiably, making it appear he was watching the trio head off, amused by the tension that leaked from several guards and citizens as they moved along. And Ysolda was worried for me. Scoffing under his breath, he moved the direction the infiltrator had, moving swiftly over the icy ground until they were back in view, slowing as they turned into a residential area, making it look as though he was admiring the architecture, pausing near a pillar when the infiltrator approached a manor. Interesting. And most likely to be who I’m looking for. Perfect.

Glancing around, he cast his own invisibility spell, moving to the door, whispering an open lock spell under his breath and slipping inside, locking it behind him.

Moving silently up the stairs, preparing to cast a ward, he paused and snorted at the sight of the silver-streaked werewolf in front of him.

"More effective for most intruders than the spells I was expecting," he said, cleansing his invisibility spell. "You could attempt to kill me, but I wouldn't recommend it."

The werewolf snarled, taking a step forward.

He shrugged, drawing his sword, calling a flames spell to dance around his free hand. A show of force seems the most likely to entice them to listen to me. "As much as it would anger Vaermina to lose one of her cultists to me, she would forgive me in time. Time that I have."

The werewolf chuffed, flanked swiftly by his allies, magic flickering around the tips of the Breton's fingers.

"So, Mord, Bruson, and you'd be Crushes-Bone," he said, turning his flames white with a push of magicka. "I'm almost certain that Mirona told you that an ally of Vaermina was offering aid?"

Mord frowned, eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"

"Her ally's representative," he responded. "I can tell you that her child did not enjoy the time spent in Sanguine's Realm."

They visibly relaxed, Bruson shifting back to his Imperial form, twisting his neck, making a face. "Did you drag the Companion she travels with in there too?" he wondered.

He smiled, killing his flames and sheathing his blade before moving the rest of the way up the stairs, looking about the sparsely decorated house with interest. There's a lingering darkness here. Someone performed a Black Sacrament in this house. "I did. He didn't like it either."

Bruson chuckled. "Is he as fierce a fighter as rumours say?"

"Mm. Decent. Why?"

Crushes-Bone made a scoffing sound, her tail thumping against the wall. "He wishes to trap one of the Companion’s Circle. Has focused on this one."

Really? And here I was worried I'd need to attempt to convince them! "I would be willing to assist you in that endeavour.”  

"What do you get out of it?" Bruson demanded.

"They've begun travelling with an… acquaintance of mine. I wish to separate them. Simple as that."

"I assume you want their travelling companion to survive?" Crushes-Bone asked.

"Yes," he said flatly, irritation simmering in his veins. So quick to go for lethal options. I know Vaermina is more creative than that, why must so many of her followers go straight for options that end in death? Frowning, he studied her, understanding flooding him a moment later when he realized that only she of the three hadn’t fully relaxed. "Ah, you need more convincing that I am who I say," he said. "Good. Well then, you must have a method to speak with Mirona. Let me accompany you."

"Impossible," she snapped.

"Oh, I think you'll find it is very much possible." He stretched. "If it's through a pocket of Quagmire I'd dearly love to see it again. It has been too long." Since I spoke to Mirona after Markarth. But Quagmire is always a fascinating realm to enter. So many little scraps of power that like to try and wrap around me. I still haven't managed to deduce if they're trying to escape her realm; or trying to trap me there too.

She stared at him, nostrils flaring, feathers ruffling without wind before finally, her shoulders sagged. "You are persuasive. Fitting of Sanguine's representative."

He grinned. "Now that we're all done posturing, tell me what you've been up to. I knew about your providing dreams to the Jarl, any results from them?"

Mord moved toward a table, sitting down and snagging a heavy wooden board, pulling a piece of parchment off it, holding it up. "He sent these out a few days ago. So, I'd say we're doing well."

Sauntering over, he lifted the parchment, running his finger over the sketch of Copper's face, noting the amount offered for a capture bounty with a low whistle. A pity that they're so important to Vaermina. It would have been so very interesting to study Lewin's soulmates. See how long it would take for me to get the answers I've been wanting. "You'll need to update the dreams a bit," he noted.

"Oh?"

"This says brown eyes. That is no longer true."

"Her eyes changed colours?" Bruson demanded. "How is that possible?"

If I didn't want that favour from Vaermina I'd almost consider amusing myself with helping them avoid these three. Not an ounce of creativity among them. "I don't know how it happened," he said. "But they're a mix of gold and pink now. Very striking."

"Easy enough to shift that. But we'll need to do it slowly, over the span of a few dreams. It will have the added benefit of making her seem more magical."

"Yes," he murmured, passing the paper back, ignoring the tiny pang of conscience. Lewin will learn to live without them again. And this much of a shock will surely be enough to force him to reveal his true power to me. Speaking of… "I came here primarily to aid you in blocking their new travelling partner," he said. "As he is a very powerful werewolf and mage."

Bruson shrugged. "I have yet to meet a werewolf I cannot outmanoeuvre."

"If you don’t want my help then I will gladly watch you fail against this trio," he said easily. "I have seen them work together; they'll have little trouble dealing with you." Even tired, Copper is more of a threat than I think you realise. The danger, I suppose, of having known them before they broke away from Vaermina.

"What did you have in mind?" Mord asked, moving to Bruson’s side.

"Get him arrested alongside Copper."

"Copper?" Bruson asked, glancing at the wanted poster when Seanwen gave it a pointed look. "Ah right, her alias in Skyrim."

"Her name is Canda," Mord said, patting Bruson’s arm and moving toward the fire. "Did you want something to eat?"

And risk having to clear poison? "No. I want to get an idea of the vibe of the city."

"Your funeral," Crushes-Bone hissed.

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. "The biggest hurdle will be splitting them away from Vilkas. It seems unlikely that even Windhelm would push to anger the Companions."

"Perhaps not. Though there is rumour that they had something to do with the failure of the Stormcloaks to take Whiterun."

Rolling his eyes, he watched Mord chop vegetables. "Whiterun is their home. I find it distinctly likely that they merely protected their home territory. Werewolves can't help it."

"True enough," Bruson agreed, rubbing his rings against his arm, smirking after a second.

"Why have you kept your werewolf nature?" he wondered. I'm certain there are methods to cure it. And I'm willing to bet Vaermina would know several.

"Made a deal with Vaermina," he said, grinning at him, eyes almost fever bright. "I'll drag this wretched creature to Quagmire when I die. And in exchange, I have something to torment whenever I get bored."

I wonder what Lewin will think of that. Maybe I'll ask him once we've got things sorted. "Did anyone try to stop the dreams?"

"We killed the Court Wizard, and the priest and priestess of Talos before they could," he bragged.

"The Priestess of Arkay fled the city," Crushes-Bone added, eyes gleaming. "Running to the Sanctuary of Kynareth well away from the city."

"There's a Sanctuary to Kynareth nearby?" he asked. Seems the likeliest of places for Copper to try to lay low when they're able to get out of Windhelm.

"There is. Why?"

"I understand why you're trying to get Copper arrested. It'll certainly weaken them. But I know these three, the prison won't hold them long. But. Copper turned to Kyne, which means a Sanctuary seems the best place to flee to for healing." Assuming they need it. I'll need to get an idea of how likely they are to get injured during their captivity.

Bruson growled low, exchanging glances with the others.

"It would be easier to smuggle her back to Cheydinhal if we're not pulling her from the prison directly," Mord said.

"And a prison escape will drain her power more," Crushes-Bone hissed. "Xhu. Well considered, dry-skin. That idea soothes my scales."

"What about the current plan had you nervous?" Seanwen asked. Of the three of you, you seem the most willing to think about short-term complications.

"We were planning to pull her, and hopefully the Companion out of the prison directly."

He nodded. "I can understand your reasoning. Do you have transportation back to Cheydinhal?"

"We'll take the carriage from the stable. I have the stable schedules memorised, and it will be easy to make the death look like a wild animal."

They'd never make it back. "How is it that Vaermina and Mirona made such a perfect weapon, and you three don't believe they'll give you trouble?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Bruson growled.

He smiled, plucking a card out of his jacket, spinning it idly in his fingers, watching the cultists watch it, wearing varying expressions of distaste. "Of course."

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 23 of Meanwhile Fics Connections