The Hero's Wife

Crackling. Sizzling. Humming. The smell of sulfur and burned grass. Nothing grows in the blackened charred earth surrounding the portal, except the tall red-veined grass of Dagon's realm.

My husband says it's called bloodgrass. I don't care if it has a beautiful name like diamondgrass; it's hideous. And I don't want to see any more of it.

Except that I will, my husband says. Every day, more of these horrible portals will open until the Blades can figure out how to get the amulet back. The amulet that was stolen right out from under the noses of the Blades, the emperor's personal bodyguards.

I must admit that I have little faith left in the Emperor's Blades. They allowed the emperor to be killed, his sons murdered, and his amulet---apparently the only thing that is able to save us---to be taken. My husband says there is another heir, but even he is useless without the power of the Amulet of Kings.

So I watch, helplessly, as my husband approaches yet another portal to stave off a crippling attack like the one at Kvatch. Those poor people. I doubt this portal was meant for an attack like that. It is nowhere near the city walls and daedra are not pouring out of it, blessedly. But it sits not far from our house and near the road west of Skingrad.

It's a beautiful area full of lush greenery and colorful wildflowers, some in delicate white and pink, others in vibrant blue, yellow, and purple. And birdsong is usually the only sound to be heard from our home. In this peaceful place the giant portal to Oblivion rises out of the ground, a harsh reminder that even though we are surrounded by beauty we should never take it for granted, for it only takes a moment for the ugliness to spring up unexpectedly to wipe it all away.

From where I'm standing I am just far enough from the portal to not see the horrid environmental changes it produces. Supposedly, the sky looks like lava, blotting out the natural light and tinting everything in an otherworldly red light. Thunder and lightning clash and the air becomes stifling hot and humid. I've never seen it myself. But my husband has. Plenty of times.

My husband. The fool!

The "Hero of Kvatch" they call him. Talos reborn or some such nonsense. Fools. He's a farmer who happens to have gotten pretty good with an axe only because a local goblin burrow has increased in numbers in the last few years and the nasty things keep coming to our farm. He has to keep fighting them off. But suddenly he believes he's special; born to do something greater, so now he's running around the country finding these stupid portals.

And now who has to kill the goblins?

That's right. ME! His wife, left behind where it's 'safe.'

Let me tell you, no place is safe. Not anymore. It isn't safe to travel the roads and now it's not just because of the highwayman. It's because of the daedra. The ones coming out of those wretched, destructive, massive, portals to Oblivion. And my husband says it's his destiny to close them.

I hate him.

I lie awake at night wondering where he is. Wondering if he's in Dagon's dangerous realm fighting daedra or safe sleeping in an inn. Or alive... sometimes I just wonder if he's still alive. He never has time to write letters and so I just wait for him to show up on the doorstep. It can be a very long stressful wait at times.

All I want to do is punch him a million times when he walks through the door. Punch him once for every time I worry about him. And yet, every time he walks through that door, all I can do is run to him and take comfort in his embrace as I cry in relief.

I hate this life he's leading.

Now I can see him in the distance, approaching the gate, his silvery armour reflecting the angry red glow of the fiery portal. It's taken me a minute, but I finally realise that I'm wringing my hands together and my brow is creased in worry.

As much as I hate this, as much as I hate him not being here for me, I cannot deny that he isn't doing some good in the world. He has actually closed Oblivion gates. He has gone in and come out again. But not without change. He uses a sword now instead of a wood-cutter's axe. He's no longer so thin, either; carrying around all that armour and weapons has strengthened his entire body. He's well-muscled. And the look in his eyes... Oh that look... The one that says he has seen things; seen things that no one should ever be subjected to see. I wonder what horrors in Oblivion he has seen. I wonder, and yet, I do not care to know. Anything that can wipe the ever-present joy from his crystal-clear blue eyes is likely something that would strip my entire being of peace. No, I'll be content with the knowledge that he faced something dreadful---something of pure evil---and he defeated it, for my sake. For the sake of us all. That we may continue to live in the sunshine. That we may continue to laugh.

I hope I will be able to laugh when this whole ordeal is done. I hope I will still be able to smile.

He steps up to the portal, unhesitating. A soldier who has done this a hundred times. He does not look back; not at the forest, not at our house.

Not at me.

There is a blinding flash of yellow light as he crosses through to the hellish land beyond and then he is gone. Gone from my view. Gone from this very world.

I close my eyes and let the tears I was holding back slide slowly down my cheeks.

My prayer is that he will come back out of that portal. Come out alive and whole. I hope he comes out and annihilates every single daedra in this country. I know he can do it... He is a great man. And I love him.

I love him more than anything.

And I know that he can save the world.