Chapter Text
It was rare for Savos Aren's schedule to be completely clear — or rather, it was rare for it to be clear and for Savos to feel like socialising. In fact, the latter was usually the bigger obstacle. Still, today was one of those rare occasions; with Rashkan on the hunt for inspiration and the rest of the college engrossed in their own experiments, Savos had decided to use the evening to pay a long overdue visit to an old friend. Kraldar was the last remaining noble in all of Winterhold, although that did not mean much beyond him being a well-respected citizen slightly better off than the rest.
His house, big and in better shape than the others — except for the Jarl's very own longhouse — was just across the bridge. The exterior was deceiving, however: inside, the house contained only a single —if spacious — room. A large double bed stood against the northern wall; the southern one was home to an unmade single bed. A fire was crackling away in a nearby fireplace, and over it, a large kettle was filling the only room with steam and the mouth-watering smell of rabbit stew. Kraldar and Savos were seated at the biggest table — the only one suited for more than two people. Having tossed aside the ornate mantle of his robes to prevent any stains, Savos now missed its warmth as he nursed an icy cold pint of mead. Before the two, empty plates stood neatly stacked, waiting to be washed and stowed away.
"Did you like it so far?" Kraldar leaned over the table, mustering Savos intently. Maybe his perception was deceiving him, but Kraldar seemed quite tense as if he feared Savos might be displeased with the evening.
Why Savos did not know. Thonjolf, the manservant, had prepared a feast that would make even the pickiest of Jarls seethe with jealousy. Food in Winterhold was a tragedy made up of the fish inhabiting the waters around town and with horker meat in any and all variations. In spring, when the cliffs became their nesting ground, the occasional murre — a sea bird, or fish-thieving problem as far as Savos was concerned — became a welcome addition to that monotonous diet. He was used to it — as anyone who had spent his entire life in Winterhold would be — but at times, he longed for something a little more refined, something neither his own meagre cooking skills nor the Frozen Hearth could provide. Today, Savos was in luck: The first course, a generously packed plate of oysters, had already fallen victim to his appetite.
"It was truly delicious; I can't wait to taste the wonder that is Thonjolf's rabbit stew." Savos breathed in the aroma of boiling broth and spices, nodded at the manservant and smiled politely.
"I'm sure you won't be disappointed," Kraldar assured and went to get himself a bottle of ale. "I've told him to use only the best of ingredients for this special occasion."
"Special occasion," Savos scoffed, rolling his eyes. Was it? True, he and Kraldar had not seen each other in a long time — almost a year if he was correct — but was all that trouble really necessary? "If sharing a meal with me already counts as a 'special occasion', that past year must have been awfully dull," he took another sip of his mead, watching as Thonjolf stirred the stew before adding a pinch of salt. "Speaking of dull, I don't suppose there is any news from Winterhold proper? It's been quite a while since I last left college grounds."
Kraldar stroked his beard; a habit, it appeared, common to all wearers of increased facial hair. Without thinking, Savos mirrored his movements.
"Then you haven't heard about the disappeared Stormcloak patrol, I suppose. Strange thing, that. It's making me a bit anxious, to be honest. My nephew wanted to come to visit but -"
"The little boy who wanted to be a wizard? The one who scorched my beard trying to cast his first spell? That one? Oh, I know just how to awe him," Savos grinned, thinking back to how wide those eyes had grown when they had spotted their first fire Atronach. Quite the young pyromaniac, that kid.
"Oh, Savos, dear Savos," Kraldar burst into laughter, slamming his ale bottle onto the table. "That little boy is now twenty-six years old and hoping to marry."
Savos Aren, despite his long life, had never considered himself old. Advanced in years, mature perhaps, but never old — until that moment. It was frightening how much a single sentence could age a person.
He must have looked remarkably dumbfounded, for Kraldar failed to contain another outburst.
"Really? It's been so long? How come the two of us haven't aged a day?" Savos winked, a broad grin on his lips.
"Oh, please, keep talking, you old charmer," Kraldar wheezed until he finally calmed down and wiped the tears from his eyes, a frown replacing the previous merriment. "At any rate, the trip from Dawnstar isn't that far — despite the ice rendering the sea impassable — but he still hasn't arrived yet."
Elbows on the table, Savos let his head rest on his hands and examined Kraldar. Despite being so much younger, the man appeared almost his own age, and although humans and mer did mature differently, Savos was sure time alone was not at fault.
"The weather has been quite bad recently. Give it time; your nephew probably had to postpone the journey," Savos reasoned, trying to calm his friend as best as he could.
Kraldar nodded, worry still carved into his forehead. "Shor's bones, Savos, I hope you're right." An uncomfortable silence stretched out between the two, only broken by occasional sips of mead or ale, until, at last, Thonjolf brought over two steaming plates carrying rabbit stew and mashed potatoes.
Savos' stomach roared with delight, and finally, Kraldar was able to smile again. The two ate in quiet gluttony. As their plates cleared, so did the mead reserves empty. By the time they were gone, Savos felt like he was about to burst.
Yawning heartily, he leaned back in his chair. Beyond a nearby window, darkness had fallen over the town, and snowflakes battered mercilessly against the thin glass.
When had it gotten so late?
Savos dreaded the thought of having to get dressed and venture into the cold. Even more so, he dreaded getting up.
"You look tired," Kraldar noted.
"Tired, stuffed and bloated."
At that, Kraldar nodded sagely and ordered Thonjolf to bring them two short glasses of snowberry schnapps. 'Medicine', he called it. And indeed, Savos felt better after the first glass and relieved after the second. Still, he definitely did not want to face the bitter, biting cold.
"It's getting late," Kraldar announced. He looked tired too but eventually managed to get up and take the mantle of Savos’ robe, holding it out to help him get dressed. However, before Savos could reach for it, another yawn escaped him.
Kraldar smiled gently. "Maybe it's best if you stay for the night. It's dark, it's snowing violently, and we both had quite a bit to drink; I wouldn't want you to lose your way and freeze — or worse yet: slip off the bridge."
Savos eyed Kraldar, tilting his head to the side. His friend was no doubt overreacting, but in the end, he only meant well, right?
"You may be correct."
"Wonderful," Kraldar's face lit up. I could push some chairs together or…" He hesitated, staring at the floor. "We could share".
His cheeks seemed slightly redder than usual, causing a smug smile to appear on Savos' lips. He would have to take him drinking more often if alcohol had such a potent effect on the younger man.
Still, it was a rather daring request, one Savos was not entirely against — there was a certain appeal to having someone sleep next to him — but knowing how horrible of a bedfellow he was, it was better to take the chairs.
"Savos?"
"Don't take it personally," he replied, realising he had failed to answer. Missing the usual fur, he instead fidgeted with the hem of his robe. "But I would prefer the chairs."
For a split second — maybe Savos had imagined it —, Kraldar seemed disappointed, but when he spoke next, his expression was an entirely neutral one.
"No, no." He dismissively waved his hands. "Please, you're my guest — take the bed."
For a moment, Savos wanted to protest, but, like all Winterhold Nords he had come to know throughout his life, Kraldar was remarkably stubborn, and frankly, Savos did not have it in him to argue at this hour.
"Fine then." Again he tossed the mantle aside. "Since I don't have to go anywhere now: Care for a nightcap?"