The Dragonborn Comes (a Skyrim fanfiction)

Chapter Thirteen - Blood's Honour

I wake up obscenely early the next day, wanting to get my trip to the Glenmoril Coven over with as quickly as possible. I try to slip out of bed without waking up Marco, but to no prevail. I woke him up by attempting to subtly put on my new Ebony armour - but I had forgotten how much of a light sleeper he is.

"Where are you going?" he hisses.

"None of your business," I respond. "I'll be back by the evening,"

"Can I come with you?" Marco asks.

I take a minute to think about it. Grandfather said I shouldn't bring anyone with me but...these witches are experienced magic users and it would be of some benefit to bring Marco, a mage, with me. I just don't have to tell him exactly what we're doing.

"Fine," I nod my head. "I might need a magic user like you anyway,"

"You can use magic too," Marco reminds me. "I made sure of that,"

I don't reply to him and we sneak out of Jorrvaskr. The sky looks dreary and overcast, like it'll pour down with rain at any time. I notice grandfather is standing by the front door and I'm taken aback. He doesn't usually leave his study...

"Grandfather?" I ask.

"I wanted to say goodbye," grandfather says. "Be safe...the witches are vile creatures,"

"Goodbye," Marco hugs grandfather. "We'll be back soon,"

"Yes...we'll be back soon," I nod my head. "Let's go Marco,"

The two of us head down to the stables, in order to get a carriage to Falkreath. From Falkreath we can walk to where the coven should be...I'm not in the mood to walk all the way to Falkreath, and it would mean going past Helgen.

The Jarls are apparently coming together to discuss rebuilding Helgen and setting up a memorial to those that died there. I hope they get it done. The place is still smoldering and there's bandits there too. It's a complete disgrace and insult to the honour of those that died there.

I pay the carriage driver to take us to Helgen and Marco and I climb into the back. Marco shivers and pulls his cloak around him tighter, trying to keep warmer. He isn't wearing any armour and I don't understand why because wearing no armour is just going to get him killed.

"Marco, why don't you wear armour?" I frown. I'm wearing my beautiful new ebony armour and it fits me perfectly and it's such a relieving upgrade from the Dwemer armour.

"These robes help me cast more powerful spells. I know a spell that can alter my flesh to block out all damage and reflect other hostile spells," Marco replies.

"That's kind of creepy," I shudder.

"But useful," Marco replies. "Master Neloth also taught me some amazing new destruction spells as well,"

"How on Nirn were you allowed to leave Solstheim? I would've thought that Neloth would want you in Tel Mythrin all day every day," I wonder.

Marco hesitates a little before answering my question. "I...left Solstheim. For good,"

"You what?" I exclaim. "Why?! I thought you loved it there!"

"I do," Marco insists. "I really do. But...being an apprentice wasn't enough. And there was no way I could just set up my own mage thing, I don't have the funds or resources. But I heard about a college up in Winterhold that was special for mages,"

"You're going to join the College of Winterhold?" I ask him.

Marco nods. "I am...I'm going to spend a few more days here in Whiterun and then I shall leave for Winterhold,"