Moonlight's Embrace (A Skyrim Fanfic) (ORIGINAL)

Deathly Slumber

WBE: 1,781
WAE: 1,934

((14th of Sun's Height, 4E 205, 5:36 a.m.))

I'd kept watch over the lass. She didn't wake, but air continued to pulse from her nose. No matter what I did, my Dragonborn continued to sleep. I had to remind myself over and over that as long as she breathed, she lived.

Karliah finally woke up as Elsweyr's sun rose over the horizon. She stretched and glanced at me, blinking away the drowsiness.

"Goodness," she murmured, her lavender eyes glinting with guilt. "I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep. My apologies, Brynjolf."

"No worries, Karliah. I've stayed awake longer, I'll be fine." The Companion was still asleep. "Get up, dog." I kicked his side, causing the burly man to shoot up. The Dunmer in our party sent me a glare.

"Don't be rude," Karliah scolded me.

"Russ? Russet, wake up!" Farkas continued to shake the lass, worry entering his tone. I simply rolled my eyes and pushed him away.

"I've already tried getting her up, icebrain. She won't wake up," I informed them.

"I have a theory," Karliah interjected. "I believe it could be the Elder Scroll. It's got to be here, then. Which did the old dragon say it was?"

"This is the last one, so... It must be Dreams."

"What do we do?" Farkas asked stupidly.

"We take her with us, defend her with our lives, and make sure we get that Scroll!" I growled angrily. "I hope you're better at fighting than thinking, because I'll need to carry her through these damn ruins."

"I'll do it," Farkas insisted. "I'm stronger."

"All grandstanding that we're apparently wooing the same woman, if your skill is with an axe, then you'd bloody better protect her with it. I'll carry her, no more arguments!" I hoisted up the lass into my arms, the dragon scales chafing against my thin fabric. I added a blanket underneath before bringing her head to rest in the crook of my arm.

Farkas frowned at me, but didn't comment further. Instead, we started down the only place that could possibly hold the Scroll-- the chapel's undercroft.

If past experience was anything to go by, undercrofts weren't to be messed with. The spirits of ancestors swarmed within them, not to mention the remains of the deceased. There wasn't much I feared, but the various types of undead weren't my favorite beasts.

Karliah pushed open the door, and a wave of stale air nearly choked me. We listened carefully, and I was relieved to hear nothing moving in the stone graves.

No zombies of undead cat-people, no dark wraiths with curving black claws, no glowing specters bent on ripping out our hearts. Stepping cautiously, we avoided the crumbling pillars and rotting wooden coffins.

"Maybe the bodies are too old, or not preserved well enough," Karliah whispered to me, her voice nearly inaudible. "Perhaps their souls have already moved on."

"That could be the case," I agreed, glancing at the sleeping woman curled in my arms. "But we should be wary all the same."

We walked a few more steps when the door creaked far behind us. The hairs on the back of my head stood up. It slammed shut. The air whooshed past us.

"Just the wind," Farkas grunted, untroubled. My skin prickled, suddenly cold. Wood creaked around us.

"They know we're here," I told Karliah in a hushed tone.

"If that were true, we'd have already been attacked," was the Dark Elf's reply. Still, I noticed that she kept her bow at the ready. "Whatever happens, don't make any--"