Chapter Text
The autumn frost took Skyrim by force but even the cold couldn't put a damper on Tahir's mood. Everything was going so well at the moment, and not even the war had continued, though he knew it was inevitable that it would. Ulfric Stormcloak was not a patient man and it had been the better part of a year since the peace council. For all Tahir knew, he could be in the process of striking soon.
Somehow, the wedding had gone mostly unnoticed by enemies, but Balgruuf had informed Vilkas that security on the city had been fortified and General Tullius had been in command while he was away. Any move made to attack Whiterun wouldn't have escaped his notice, anyway. He had been gone for only just under a week. With some embarrassment, Vilkas admitted to Tahir that the safety of the city had escaped his concern leading up to the wedding.
Not that Tahir blamed him—he had been the same way. His mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of the wedding to care about what was happening in Whiterun.
Seeing his parents go back to Hammerfell had been difficult. The farewell was long and emotional. Munir had returned to Winterhold as well, and it was frustrating because they hadn't even been able to travel some distance together. Tahir, Vilkas, Farkas, and Firien had taken the southwestern road out of Riften, Munir had taken the northern, and Kadir had business in Cyrodiil, so he and Muna had gone directly south, through the mountain pass. Tahir wasn't worried; they had a well-stocked escort for protection and speedy travel.
He had been kept busy by helping the citizens of Whiterun prepare for winter. He spent most of his days chopping and stacking wood, sheering sheep, harvesting crops, and placing winter shutters on whichever buildings needed them. He was glad to help out around the city where they needed it, and even more glad to hear "Hail, Companion" from passersby instead of "Hail, Thane" or "Hail, Harbinger." He was finally free of those titles.
His wedded bliss with Vilkas was exactly that—blissful. They had taken up residence in Vilkas' room, which was more private than it had ever been since Farkas was still staying at Breezehome with Firien. Farkas had confided in Tahir that while he missed being around his Shield-Siblings all the time, as well as going out on jobs, he enjoyed having a private life with Firien so much more. It left Tahir and Vilkas to be as loud and unashamed as they wanted.
Firien, however, was getting antsy. She was always hunting for something to do, and spent most of her afternoons and evenings wandering around outside of the city walls, just walking aimlessly until her legs were sore and tired and then she would return to Breezehome. She had reconnected with her Companion life a little more, even going as far as visiting the Bannered Mare with them again and accepting minute jobs around the city. More often than not, Hulda would give her drinks on the house as thanks for all she had done for Nirn.
No one else seemed to care, though.
Tahir had always known this would be a thankless job for her, but it still angered him to witness it.
The ringing clang of steel bouncing off steel echoed throughout the training yard as she faced off against Njada. Vilkas had warned her to go easy on Firien, but Firien had a few choice words about that. Thus, Njada went at Firien with everything she had, but they were pretty evenly matched.
"They're still at it?" Athis asked, sitting across from Tahir. He wore a fur cloak and was huddled into it. Today had been colder than normal. It made Tahir wonder when the first snow was going to happen.
"Aye," Tahir said. "Firien is getting tired, though. I can see it."
She snapped her head around to glare at Tahir, only to have Njada knock into her full force with her shield and send her to the ground with a muffled grunt.
"You bitch," Firien hissed angrily, scrambling back to her feet.
"Don't get distracted," replied Njada snidely. "That's basic training right there, Dragonborn. Are we sure you really defeated Alduin? You can't even beat me at a spar."
With a growl of frustration, Firien tossed her axe aside and launched herself at Njada, tackling her to the ground. Tahir and Athis leapt to their feet and sprinted over to separate them. Tahir hauled Firien off Njada but was too late. Blood was pouring from Njada's nose and staining her teeth as she laughed from where she lay in the dirt.
"You're so sensitive," she goaded as Athis helped her to her feet. "It's a miracle you've gotten this far at all."
She spat at Firien's feet, the glob of blood splattering in the dirt.
"Njada, enough," Tahir said firmly. "Go clean yourself up and... I don't know, do something less aggravating."
"Why should I listen to you?" she demanded. "You're not Harbinger anymore."
"No, but I am." Vilkas' voice sounded heavy. He was standing near where Tahir and Athis had been sitting, clearly having just arrived to see the tail end of the altercation. "Njada, quit taunting Firien. Firien, control your temper. You're supposed to be allies, not enemies."
Firien sneered at Vilkas before storming off, skirting around Jorrvaskr and out of sight. She left the axe where it was, discarded in the training yard. Njada sent Vilkas a rude gesture and sheathed her sword before hanging her shield up on the weapons rack and returning to Jorrvaskr, slamming the door behind her. Athis looked between them awkwardly.
"I suppose this is a bad time to tell you I have news," he said to them.
"News?" Vilkas asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, sera," Athis confirmed. "And grave news at that. I was delivering firewood to the guard barracks and I heard them discussing that Ulfric Stormcloak is reigniting the war efforts. They don't know what he's doing, just that he's getting his army ready."
Vilkas sighed, more of a forceful exhale through his nose than anything else. "Did you tell the Jarl?"
"He's aware, apparently," said Athis. "I can't imagine a counsel with him is too far off."
"Me neither," said Vilkas. "Well, I appreciate the warning. I knew it was too good to last."
"We all did," Tahir said. "I suppose we ought to warn Firien, too."
"I will leave that up to you two," said Athis warily, holding up his hands. "That woman scares me."
"At least you're honest about it." Tahir grinned at him and he rolled his eyes before saying his farewells and returning to Jorrvaskr. When he was gone, Tahir turned to Vilkas. "Who do you think she would take the news better from?"
Vilkas considered the question. As he did, the answer presented itself to Tahir.
"Farkas," they said in unison. Tahir's grin widened as he raised his eyebrows at Vilkas, who sighed.
"We should probably wait until she's not so angry," he said. "Right now would be a terrible time to deliver the news."
"Well, let's take her to the Mare tonight and get a drink or two in her," Tahir suggested. "That usually works."
"It might," said Vilkas. "Just don't promise her a good time."
"You're the only one I would promise a good time to." Tahir pulled himself into Vilkas, who chuckled before kissing him. "But yes, I'll go find Farkas and let him know."
"Thank you," Vilkas replied. "I have to catch up on missives. There's a pretty promising rescue mission out in the Reach. I was thinking you and I could handle it."
"Just like old times, eh?" asked Tahir. "It doesn't sound too terrible."
"There was also one I was thinking about sending Firien and Farkas on," he continued. "Just a retrieval of some family's old war axe out in Falkreath. Should be simple and pretty close to home. Do you think she's ready to handle it?"
"If not, she'll have Farkas with her," Tahir said. "I doubt she would put any weight on him."
"Ria, Aela, and Torvar should be returning soon, as well," said Vilkas, taking Tahir's hand and leading him toward the front of Jorrvaskr. "They left about three weeks ago, yeah?"
"Something like that."
They had left for Morthal to clear out a bandit hideout that was putting the small settlement on edge. Moreso than the dragon that still lurked at the peak of the mountain that backed Morthal. The dragon hadn't done anything. The bandits, however, had tried to invade the town on multime occasions.
Tahir sighed when they reached the steps. Vilkas would have to return to Jorrvaskr to work on the missives but Tahir had to go find Farkas. It would be best if he was the one to tell Firien that Ulfric Stormcloak was back at it.
"I'll see you at the Mare?" he asked Vilkas.
"Aye, I'll be there," he replied, kissing Tahir's cheek. "Good luck, my love."
—
"Well, that's... not good," Farkas said with a frown, staring at the notched wood of the table. In his hand, he clutched a tankard of mead. Tahir had suggested they have a drink together to ease the mood. Of course, Farkas had been willing.
"No," sighed Tahir, "it's not. Firien doesn't need this kind of stress at the moment but unfortunately, there's no way to avoid it."
"I know." Farkas sighed as well and looked out the window. She was out there somewhere, on one of her walks. Tahir could feel his ring guiding him toward the plains. According to Farkas, Vilkas not defending her against Njada had angered her even more than they had assumed. Tahir thought she was being a little dramatic, honestly. He believed she had the right to be upset about Njada taunting her, but that was Njada. Vilkas couldn't pick sides on the matter, though Tahir personally wanted to smack Njada with the flat side of his blade.
"I suggested taking her to the Bannered Mare and giving her a few drinks to loosen her up," Tahir said. "But, ultimately, we thought it would be best if you told her."
"Me?" asked Farkas, alarmed.
"We would be there, as well!" Tahir said hurriedly. "But she takes bad news best from you. The perks of her being in love with you, I guess."
Farkas blushed, causing Tahir to grin slyly at him. Something about Farkas just sparked a gentler side in Firien, and that was alright with him. He was glad she had managed to find solace in Farkas. He was the calm to her storm, which she needed.
"I'll tell her," said Farkas at last. "At least that way, I can try and calm her down after if she takes it poorly. Which... she probably will."
"Ah, most likely," Tahir agreed. "By the way, I know you said you enjoy it here, which I'm completely alright with, but will you ever come back to Jorrvaskr?"
"I dunno," said Farkas quietly, looking out the window again. "I'm enjoying this pretend married life we have here."
"Why not make it official?"
Farkas snorted. "The mere suggestion of marriage would terrify her. We both know that."
"True," sighed Tahir. "I'm sure you'll get her some day."
"If not, I'm content with this," said Farkas, and he sounded it. "If she never wants marriage, I can forsake tradition to keep her happy."
"You're very considerate toward her." Tahir raised his tankard to Farkas before taking a sip of the mead.
"She's just... been through so much," Farkas said. "And that's just since she arrived in Skyrim. If anyone deserves a break and some happiness, it's her. Damn Ulfric for ruining that."
"I wish she didn't have to deal with it," Tahir admitted, "but we all know she will likely be at the center of it all. Ulfric wants her on his side. How long until Tullius decides the same?"
"I've put myself between worse enemies than them," Farkas growled. "Ulfric and Tullius don't scare me."
"I wouldn't expect them to." Tahir laughed slightly. If Farkas placed himself before Alduin and the Thalmor for Firien, mortal men like Ulfric and Tullius were nothing.
As they continued to talk, the world outside the window got darker and the pull on Tahir's ring got lighter, indicating Firien was returning to Breezehome. Tahir was a little anxious, knowing this was likely going to end poorly. Firien was not going to be happy to hear about the war efforts picking back up.
The tension was thick when she finally entered. Her mouth immediately twisted into a frown when she saw them sitting together at the table.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, removing her cloak and hanging it on the hook on the wall.
Damn, she was perceptive.
"We were just waiting for you," Tahir said, carefully avoiding telling her there was nothing wrong. "We're going to meet Vilkas at the Bannered Mare soon. We figured you might want to join us."
"That sounds pleasant," Firien mumbled. "When?"
"We can probably leave now, if that works for you," he said. "I know you just got back."
"Now is fine," replied Firien, reaching for her cloak. "May as well head there before I get too comfortable here."
"That's a good way of looking at it," Farkas chuckled, glancing at Tahir.
"What?" she asked sharply, looking between them.
"Nothing," said Tahir, standing. He went to her and slid his arm around her shoulders. "Shall we be off?"
"I suppose," she said, and Tahir retrieved her cloak from the hook and handed it back to her.
"Do you need your furs?" he asked as Farkas stood as well.
"I think so. It is chilly out." She accepted her cloak from Tahir and shrugged his arm off so she could put her cloak on. He saw her dagger was strapped to her thigh, and wondered if she thought she would need it.
Farkas nodded and hurried up the stairs. Tahir listened as his footsteps sounded across the floor. He heard the sound of a drawer opening and then closing a few moments later, and Farkas reappeared at the top of the stairs, holding Firien's fox fur shawl. He descended the stairs and crossed the room, dropping it over her shoulders and securing it in place. She looked up at him gratefully, a small smile on her lips.
"Let's go," said Tahir. "That ale isn't going to drink itself!"
He led them outside, and true to Firien's word, it was freezing out. He wondered if tonight would be the first night it finally snowed.
They rushed out the door, heading toward the Bannered Mare, which awaited them on the other end of the city with promise of warm food and cold drink. It was crowded that evening, but they got in with little issue. Farkas led them to an empty table, and Olfina stopped by rather quickly to take their orders. Tahir ordered for Vilkas as well, who still hadn't shown up.
"Firien."
Tahir froze at the sound of Ysolda's voice. Firien's expression dropped as well, and it was quickly replaced with an blank look as she looked up at Ysolda. Farkas looked wary as well, and he draped his arm over Firien's shoulder and pulled her into him.
"Yes?" Firien asked coolly.
Ysolda bit her lip uncertainly, looking between Firien and Farkas. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for how cruelly I treated you before. You saved us all, and even if you hadn't, what I did was unfair. I just hope that you and Farkas can find happiness together and someday start a family. It's... it's what you deserve."
There was something odd and unidentifiable in Firien's expression as she quietly said, "Thank you, Ysolda."
Ysolda nodded briefly and glanced at Tahir before scurrying away and disappearing into the crowd. He looked at Firien, whose gaze was now downcast.
"Well, that was big of her," he said.
"Yes," agreed Firien, her voice still low. "It was."
"Are you alright?" Farkas asked, leaning in toward her.
"I am fine," Firien replied, finally looking back at him. She smiled but something about it didn't reach her eye. Was it something Ysolda had said?
As they waited for Vilkas, Olfina brought them their food and their first round of drinks. Farkas and Tahir chatted animatedly while Firien only sipped at her wine and picked at her food. It made Tahir uneasy. Something was clearly bothering her, and they hadn't even told her about the war yet. Did she already know? But something told Tahir that if she did know, she would have said something in fury when she first returned to Breezehome.
Vilkas showed up just as Farkas went to get them another round of drinks. He sat beside Tahir and kissed his cheek before digging into his meal, wolfing it down hungrily. Tahir imagined he hadn't eaten in some time, as he had spent most of the day in Kodlak's study, sorting through missives.
"Ysolda apologized to Firien," Tahir said when Vilkas finished eating. "Wished her and Farkas a happy life together and everything."
"Really?" Vilkas looked at Firien with raised eyebrows, and she only shrugged listlessly in response. "Do you forgive her?"
"I feel indifferently about her," replied Firien. "I accept her apology, but forgiveness is irrelevant."
"Alright, then," said Vilkas uncertainly.
Farkas returned then, carrying three tankards and a goblet. He handed them out, with the goblet going to Firien. She tipped her drink back quickly, much to Tahir's satisfaction. She clearly had a reason to want to drink, which made his job easier.
He kicked Farkas under the table, and Farkas glared back at him. He jerked his head toward Firien, who was too busy staring out toward the rest of the tavern to notice. Farkas sighed.
"Firien," he began. "There's something we need to tell you."
Firien turned her head, looking at him in an almost dazed manner. Wherever her mind was, it wasn't here. But she quickly focused her attention on Farkas.
"Ulfric has restarted the war efforts," she said, surprising them all. "Is that it?"
"How did you know?" Vilkas asked.
"I have been waiting for it to happen," she sighed. "I knew he would not withhold his movements for too long. He would not want to give the Imperials any chance to progress or to call in reinforcements from Cyrodiil."
She fell quiet and dropped her gaze, staring at her hands, which were clasped in her lap.
"We know this is stressful," said Tahir, hoping to comfort her even just a little, "but we're here with you. Whatever attempt Ulfric may make at dragging you into his war, we'll be there to defend against it. You don't have to deal with him alone."
"I had only hoped for more than a few months' peace," replied Firien. "But I appreciate it nevertheless."
She stood from her chair.
"I will take my leave now," she said, and something in her tone was odd. Tahir couldn't quite place what it was.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Farkas asked, readying himself to join her.
"No, one of my heart, it is not necessary." She leaned down and kissed Farkas, surprisingly open about her affection toward him in that moment. She cupped his face in her hands and rested her forehead against his for a moment, her eyes closed. Then she straightened up and looked at Tahir and Vilkas in a manner that made Tahir think she had more to say, but then she turned on her heel and left the inn, leaning them confused in her absence.
"That was... odd," said Vilkas slowly. "Is she alright?"
"She's probably immensely angry and doesn't want us to deal with it," sighed Tahir, looking at Farkas, who was only frowning at the table.
"Well, I suppose all we can do now is wait for the Jarl to summon me," Vilkas continued, glancing warily at Farkas. "We can't defend the Imperials, but we can defend Whiterun and its people. I suppose it may be best to tell him about the Underforge in case we need to use it to get people out of the city."
"Is there no other way?" Tahir asked.
"Other than sewer systems?" Vilkas replied. "No. The Underforge is their best bet. And since we're not using it the same way we used to..."
"I think it would be a good idea to use it as an escape route," Farkas said in agreement. "But the less people who know in the meantime, the better."
"I will do my best to make sure only Balgruuf and his immediate circle know," promised Vilkas. "We don't need people abusing it."
Olfina appeared then, bearing more drinks from Hulda, including another goblet of wine for Firien. Tahir drank it instead, and it steadily became more and more difficult to focus on any discussion of war. Soon enough, none of them were truly talking anymore, and more of just staring in different directions while nursing their drinks.
Tahir's mind was abuzz with the possibility of a battle, but he found it challenging to put those thoughts into words. So he kept them to himself. He had never been in an actual battle before and the thought made him a little nervous. Sure, he could hold his own in a fight, but he had never been forced to cut down countless soldiers and essentially become a killing force. He could do it with little issue, he knew, but the thrill of the experience was filling his stomach with nerves. In a full-scale battle such as the one to come, he would be more concerned about those around him anyway. He could turn his woes for himself off long enough to kill and keep killing, and maybe even enjoy it, but knowing those he cared for where in the same battle, facing the same dangers? That scared him.
"We should get back to Jorrvaskr," Vilkas mumbled tiredly, pressing his forehead to Tahir's shoulder.
"Aye," said Tahir, looking at Farkas, who was gazing absently at the fire pit, his eyes glossy and drooping with inebriation. "That may be best."
The three of them stood in near perfect unison. Vilkas gathered their tankards and Firien's goblets and took them up for the bar as Tahir and Farkas made for the door. Vilkas set everything down and said farewell to Hulda before they left, exiting the Bannered Mare and entering the biting cold of the autumn chill. They said goodbye to Farkas and Tahir and Vilkas headed up to Jorrvaskr.
It was strange, Tahir thought as they climbed the stairs to the Winds district. The pull on his ring was getting lighter, not stronger like it usually did when he went to Jorrvaskr and Firien was at Breezehome. Perhaps she had forgotten something there and went to retrieve it. The alcohol likely kept him from noticing the change of direction in the ring's pull.
Well, he was glad he would be able to see her again tonight and to sympathize for her having to deal with this awful news.
The mead hall was quiet and empty, but still warm thanks to Tilma's efforts of keeping the fire going. Vilkas led Tahir downstairs by his hand, and he noticed the pull continuing to grow weaker. He frowned. Why would Firien be down here?
"Firien is here," he said.
"What makes you think that?" Vilkas asked, and then he seemed to remember as he glanced down at Tahir's hand, which bore both his wedding band on one finger and his enchanted ring on another. "Oh. Right. I wonder why."
Vilkas pushed open their bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar. To Tahir's surprise, it was empty. Firien was nowhere to be see. Confused, he crossed the small hall to Farkas' room, but it was dark and empty and unlived in. He could smell Firien's scent, however, but it was murky for some reason. He quickly returned to Vilkas' room and grabbed a lantern before going back to Farkas'.
Everything was undisturbed, dusty even. The only thing out of place was a porcelain vase on the end table beside the bed bearing fresh sprigs of the last growth of lavender before the winter air sent it to dormancy until spring. That was odd. Had Tilma put it there?
Tahir's frown deepened. If she wasn't here, that could only mean—
"Tahir," Vilkas said sharply from the other room. "Her necklace is here."
Tahir hurried back over, not even bothering to close either door. He set the lantern down on Vilkas' study table and sure enough, Firien's necklace was resting innocently on Tahir's pillow, the leaf pendant glimmering in the lantern light.
"For gods' sakes," he growled angrily, snatching the necklace up.
He sprinted from the room, not even bothering to explain his thought train to Vilkas. He would figure it out. He always did.
Tahir raced up the stairs and through the mead hall before bursting out into the cold once more. Whiterun's buildings passed by in a blur as he ran through the city, making his way toward the city gates. She could not do this, not now.
He debated on stopping at Breezehome, where he could see the lights on within, but decided against it for fear of losing time and gaining distance. How had Farkas not figured anything out yet?
He bounced from foot to foot as the guards slowly opened the gates, but as soon as there was enough room for him to squeeze through, he was on his way again, racing down the path and toward the stables.
And he saw her. She was just past the stables, barely visible in the glow of the torches as she walked away from Whiterun. She was dressed for travel, with only the steel axe she had been using and he imagined her dagger as well. Her bow was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tahir called after her. "After everything, you're just going to leave now?"
Firien stopped in her tracks and turned back to him, her face a blank mask again. She waited for him to reach her before speaking.
"Everything I have done, I have done for you," she said, echoing her words from so long ago. "Everything I will do, I will do for you."
Tahir knew she was referencing not just him, but Vilkas and Farkas as well. But he was going to question her anyway.
"How is this for me?" he demanded. "For any of us?"
"You would not understand," she murmured, looking away.
"Try me," Tahir said. "Just try me."
Firien looked him over, and he saw a flicker of pain through that mask she had carefully crafted.
"Look, you don't want to do this," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "We'll help you. You know we will. This isn't what you want. You don't want to—"
"I have to," she interrupted sharply. "It is for your own good."
"How?"
Firien sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "When I died, I saw Akatosh. He gave me a choice, to continue on into the afterlife, or to come back and live again. But he showed me horrible things that would happen if I were to return—horrible things that would happen to the three of you specifically. And I can try to stop it from happening by leaving."
"How do you know he wasn't tricking you?" Tahir asked, hoping that he could coax her into staying by rationalizing with her.
"I do not know," Firien answered. "But I would rather not take the risk."
"Firien, you can't just go," he insisted. "What about Farkas? How do you know he isn't beside himself with worry right now?"
"I left him a note saying I was out for a walk."
"And you just planned to not return to him?" Tahir said in disbelief. "He didn't do anything to deserve that. You'll break his heart that way."
"If it protects him and keeps him safe, that is all that matters," she said, her voice trembling. “It was supposed to be easier this way."
“Easier?” Tahir echoed, with a mirthless, cold burst of laughter. “How is this easier?”
Tiny flurries began to fall from the sky, signaling the start of winter. Tahir stared at Firien, waiting for her answer.
“You were not supposed to find out until I was long gone,” she responded at last. "That is how it was supposed to be easier.”
“I’m supposed to be your friend!” Despite himself, Tahir’s voice cracked with hurt and at his words, Firien flinched. She turned and hid her face from Tahir.
“You are,” she said. "My choice to leave has nothing to do with you beyond trying to help you."
"Help me how?" he asked, truly not understanding what she was saying.
"When you have avoided the fate Akatosh showed that was in store for you, I will return," she said quietly.
"I don't want to let you go," said Tahir desperately.
Many emotions flashed across Firien's face and she stepped closer to him, surprising him as she closed the distance between them. She embraced him tightly and Tahir warily returned the hug before fortifying his own grip, fully intending on keeping her in place until she came to her senses. Even if it meant they stayed out there until the sun's rise.
Then, her right arm released him and he heard the sound of her dagger being unsheathed and he froze, unable to think or move.
"Forgive me," she whispered to him.
Before he could do anything, she swiftly raised her arm and something hard collided with the back of his head in a sharp burst of pain, and everything went black.
—
When he came to just moments later, he knew it was already too late. Tahir scrambled to his feet, dazed, but Firien was gone. He sprinted toward the fork in the road just beyond the stables, but he didn't see her. Her scent was still muddled and murky and impossible to follow. She had tried to hide it, to prevent them from following her. And with the winter wind picking up, it would be difficult even for Aela to track her.
"Firien!" he called, but he knew it was useless.
He stood at the crossroads helplessly as the the snowfall thickened. Firien was gone. His head throbbed painfully and he was ill-suited to go chasing after her. By the time he would be able to return to Jorrvaskr, get the twins and possibly Aela, and get ready for a pursuit, she would be long gone. She was already long gone.
He curled his fists in his fury with her, his eyes burning with outraged tears he would not let fall. How could she do this to them? To him?
Frustrated and lost, he looked back toward Whiterun, visible only by torchlight already made hazy by the heavy snowflakes. Firien was gone, and not by means out of their control this time. She had willingly left them.
And Tahir was alone.