Chapter Text
The sun was well above the horizon when he finally awoke. Evidently the late-night dragon fight had worn him out more than expected. Nyxallia was still peacefully asleep, so Papyrus took the opportunity to get his armor and robes back on before she could see his face properly. He took a few coins down to buy food for the both of them. They'd need it for their journey.
When he returned, Nyxallia has finally stirred and sat up on the side of the bed. Without her armor and helm, he realized she wasn't just slim. She was thin, her face sunken nearly to the point of looking gaunt. Muscle was starting to appear in her arms, but it was evident she hadn't been eating well before now. She eyed his spoils with a ravenous hunger in her eyes, one that suggested a lifetime of not having enough.
He beckoned her to the table and laid out his purchases: some fresh cooked beef and a roasted goat leg with some bread and cheese for the immediate, and he made sure she watched him carefully pack away several portions of salted salmon and venison for the road. He'd also filled their wineskin, though they would need to stop by the river for more water.
Almost as soon as he plated food for her, she tore into it as if she was afraid he'd take it from her before she could finish it. He ate slowly, hoping she would pick up on his calm, but he also knew from past experiences that this sort of hurt took months if not years of consistency to resolve. In no time at all, she was up and buckling her armor on.
"So, where is this High Hrothgar?", he asked, eager to distract her.
She paused in securing a boot, "There's a map in my pack there, let's plan our path out."
He finished pouring himself a glass from the wine bottle nearby, then grabbed the parchment sticking out, easily within reach of his long arms. She finished her boots and greaves quickly, then helped smooth out the map before returning to her gauntlets.
"It's up on the Throat of the World here. We have a long mountain climb ahead of us."
He nodded, eyeing the roads they could potentially take.
"Unless you know something I don't, the best path seems to be to go south through Riverwood, past Helgen, and then east towards Ivarstead."
"Yeah, that's right... Ivarstead is a pass-through for pilgrims who want to climb the Seven Thousand Steps. It would be good for you to pick a standing stone while we're there..."
She pointed at a marker for the Guardian Stones, just a short distance up the road past Riverwood.
"Standing Stone?", he queried.
She struggled to reach the straps for her chestplate, the back half hanging pitifully from her side.
"Yeah, they're... magic? They can give you blessings. These three can make you a better warrior, thief, or mage."
He stored the information away for later and watched quietly as she tried and failed to get her armor the rest of the way on. He held a hand out to her, which she promptly ignored for a few more moments. Then, with a sigh of resignation, she walked over to him so he could properly fasten her armor on.
He continued their conversation, "So we go through Riverwood, get a blessing from the magic rocks, pass by Helgen, go through this mountain pass, and then north to Ivarstead. And depending on how late we get there, we can either take a rest or go straight up the mountain. Does that sound right?"
He tugged the fastenings into place as she shifted a little uncomfortably in the armor.
"A little tighter, please. Yeah, that seems as good a route as any. Fewer potential bandits to deal with, but maybe more wolves."
He lashed the armor down until she indicated it was sufficiently snug, and then tucked the laces inside the plating so it wouldn't come loose.
"Wolves seem easy enough to deal with."
She nodded, then stalked over to the nightstand to retrieve her pauldrons, helm, shield, and sword. By the time Papyrus finished eating, she had finished gearing up, repacked the map, and begun loading her belongings onto her back. He offered her a glass from the wine bottle before corking it up and hanging it off the side of his own pack. She downed it quickly, seemingly also concerned it would disappear before she could finish.
In no time at all, they were out the doors of the inn and on the road south. He couldn't help but notice how hungrily she eyed nearly every deer and rabbit that ran across their path. Even the salmon leaping upstream were not missed by her intense gaze. While she traveled quickly, no small plant or mushroom of potential value was missed. She took small samples from every patch of mountain flower, every thistle, every shelf mushroom on a tree stump. She even captured a couple of bees flying around the entrance to Riverwood. He couldn't help but wonder if there were a purpose to this.
As they passed through town, she diverted slightly, heading into the Riverwood Trader. The shop was a bit dark, but there was a cheery fire blazing inside, so that helped it feel more cozy. Nyxallia went straight to the counter, where a dark-haired main with a mustache and beard stood. Wordlessly, she reached into her thigh pouch and retrieved the golden claw that had unlocked the door in Bleak Falls Barrow.
The shopkeeper's expression changed to one of awe and relief.
"You found it? Haha, there is it!", he guffawed boisterously, "Strange, it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?"
He carefully took the claw from Nyxallia's outstretched hand.
"I'm going to put this back where it belongs. I'll--I'll never forget this. You've done a great thing for me and my sister."
He set the golden claw in a place of honor on his shelves, then returned with a large coinpurse, easily 500 gold by the heft of it, if he had to guess. Nyxallia took the payment, nodded appreciatively, and headed out without a word. The shopkeeper yelled up the stairs behind them.
"Camilla! Come see what just walked through our doors!"
Even with the door closed behind them, the joyous sounds of celebration could be heard. Papyrus hadn't even realized that the thing belonged to someone else. But he appreciated Nyxallia's honesty in returning it. She could just as easily have sold it elsewhere.
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A short walk later, they stood before the Guardian Stones. It was an unassuming little spot. Just three tall, carved stones set into a solid slate dais. Roots from nearby trees crawled over the dais, and smaller grasses sprung up from tiny cracks in the slate. The left stone was carved with the image of a lightly armored figure in a cowl and cape, a dagger in his right hand and a coinpurse clutched tightly under his left arm. The center stone depicted a bearded man in long, flowing robes, a staff in his right hand and his left arm outstretched as if to cast a spell. The right stone's inlay showed a man in plate armor, carrying a battleaxe in his right hand and a shield in his right. The left stone pulsed faintly at Nyxallia's presence, but the other two were flat and inert.
Papyrus found himself drawn to the center stone. Maybe it was his monster heritage, but neither the violence of the warrior nor the subtlety of the thief appealed to him. At his touch, the stone began to glow, the image of the mage disappearing behind dots and lines, as if it were a constellation in the sky. A pillar of blue light shone up from the top of the stone and disappeared into the clouds.
Nyxallia looked at him bemusedly.
"Mage, eh? Well, each to his own. It's not for me to judge."
Papyrus couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"Aren't you a mage too?"
She waffled slightly as they continued up the road.
"I can cast a few spells, sure. But I'm no mage. I only know a few things. A simple flames, frost, sparks, a basic healing spell--"
"--And your familiar."
She sighed wistfully, "Yeah... and him."
Papyrus thought for a moment.
"Well, maybe I could teach you a few things!"
Her expression hardened.
"My father always said magic had no place in civil society. He says witches and warlocks are all evil and ought to be killed on sight."
That was confusing.
"And yet, you can cast spells."
She huffed defensively, "I practiced in secret. It was the only thing that made me feel somewhat powerful."
Papyrus was quick to put the pieces together.
"Is that why he starved you?"
She stopped cold, a look of shock on her face.
"How--"
Without missing a beat, Papyrus recited the little he knew about her, "I saw your face without the helm. You look like you've lived in scarcity for a long time. Nobody eats that fast. It's not normal. You almost never raise your voice and you take up as little space as physically possible, like you're afraid to be perceived. You fight far better in defense of others than you ever have in defense of yourself, probably because you've been trained to believe you're not worth saving, and that your value comes from how useful you are to others. And even when presented with irrefutable evidence that you are more than you believe, you hide from it because it conflicts with the ideals you were bent and broken into conforming to."
Even through the helm, she looked about ready to cry.
"You're not all that old, are you? This is probably your first time out on your own, and you have no idea what to do with yourself."
She shrank a little.
"I'm only eighteen."
He nodded understandingly.
"You were at Helgen by sheer happenstance, weren't you?"
She finally started walking again, much more slowly.
"I'm from Cyrodiil. The province to the south. Not too far south, though. Bruma. First city you run into if you cross the border. I figured leaving Cyrodiil altogether was my best bet, and the closest border was the one with Skyrim. So, I picked a night I knew he'd been drinking and ran. I just happened to be caught in the Imperial ambush, along with a horse thief from Rorikstead."
They walked on in silence for a short while. He felt he should say something to make her feel better.
"If it is any consolation at all, I am also not very old. I'm nineteen. And I've never been out on my own either. I'm just good at reading people. I don't think anyone else would have put your story together with the little you've shown me."
Her shoulders sagged in relief.
"You'll keep it to yourself, won't you? Surely the great and mighty Dragonborn doesn't need to be known as a coward and a weakling."
"I don't know, I think growing up the way you did shows how powerful you truly are. Many others in your shoes wouldn't have made it this far. But, no. I don't intend to share your story with anyone. It's not mine to tell."
She sighed, "Thank you."
Further conversation was effectively cut off as the ruins of a village came into view. The stone tower showed signs of heavy damage, and the walls and buildings that were visible looked like they'd been the source of a bonfire. It could only be one place.
"Helgen.", Nyxallia supplied helpfully.
She looked nervous about returning here, and Papyrus couldn't blame her. They gave it a wide berth before rejoining the road to the east and through the mountains.
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By late afternoon, after traversing a freezing mountain pass, contending with a pack of wolves, and raiding the long-abandoned shack of an alchemist, the pair had made it to Ivarstead. The sun was still high enough in the sky to offer some warmth, but the fire in the Vilemyr Inn was still a welcome relief.
While Nyxallia warmed her hands by the fire, Papyrus went to the counter to speak to the innkeeper. A middle-aged man, clean shaven with a receding hairline, greeted him.
"Need a room? Maybe a drink? You name it."
"Those both sound lovely."
After a quick look over the offerings, Papyrus secured a pheasant roast, along with more bread, cheese, and wine for dinner. The innkeeper also showed him to their available room for the night. Unlike in the Bannered Mare of Whiterun, this room did not have a door. The threshold was open to the rest of the tavern. While there were two beds here, the second, he quickly learned, was used by the inn's barmaid. This meant either they would have to sleep in shifts, or one of them would have to sleep on the floor. He supposed the best option would be for him to go ahead and rest a couple hours, then give the bed over to Nyxallia, and then he could maybe get a few more hours of sleep after she woke up. He didn't need as much sleep as a human did, and this would give her some leisure time while he recovered.
She followed shortly behind, and seemed amenable to the arrangement. The innkeeper turned to leave them to their own devices.
"Let me know if there's anything else you need... and if I were you, I'd keep away from the barrow on the east side of town... it's haunted."
That got both their attentions.
"Haunted?", Nyxallia queried. "Tell me more about the barrow."
Immediately the innkeeper looked alarmed.
"There ain't much more to tell... they're haunted and you should stay away. Look, I've seen one of the spirits with my very own eyes. When it glared at me, I swear it burned right through my soul."
The two exchanged a look. After what they'd seen in barrows, it seemed a bit... unreasonable. Papyrus gave the innkeeper a wary look.
"Do the spirits haunt your town as well?"
The man shook his head, "Fortunately they seem to be sticking to the barrow. I think they're guarding it. Certainly isn't helping my business any; who'd want to rent a room anywhere near a haunter barrow?"
He shot a look at Nyxallia. Her expression told him all he needed to know; she agreed something was off about that barrow.
"We could investigate for you.", he offered.
The innkeeper threw up his hands in resignation.
"If you think there's anything you can do, be my guest."
They ate quickly and set back out. The innkeeper called after them, "Keep your eyes open in the barrow... that's how they get you!"