Elder Scrolls One Shots

Pieces of You II

You could not believe your eyes. The man who was dead just minutes ago was breathing. And no matter how much you asked for it, the woman's voice would not return to guide you. He looked so peaceful compared to how you felt inside, like you would never get the image of his desecrated corpse free from your mind's iron grip.

You thought to take him to a hospital, but he no longer seemed injured. Maybe you were the one who needed a hospital, feeling like you were going mental over the situation. You couldn't leave him there, naked and alone. Perhaps he was just a civilian in need of help. He didn't seem to have a connection to the farm as the old woman had been long dead and bared no resemblance to him. So you got the idea to take him to your home in Chorrol, not too far from Applewatch farm. You would have to leave right then to be able to bring him in under the guise of darkness. Where prying eyes would not see and assume wrong doings. Your image was fragile, you had saved the world and yet somehow, people still hated you. They thought you had a hand in the crisis or somehow Martin Septim's death was your fault. Far from the truth, he was your friend. A dear one that you would have done anything for. But you digressed, you had work to do.

You found a dark, hooded robe nearby that looked to already be his. He was filthy, covered in caked layers of blood and grime from the dirty flooring. But the robe hid it for the time being. Having no other way to haul him about, you took the horse outside that was most likely his also. It looked at you curiously, then to the man and huffed. But it had no qualms in letting you and the man mount it, as if it sensed your good intentions.

You set off as quick as you could after securing the man to you with a bit of rope. The horse was fast and nimble. Well-balanced and rode smoothly. The perfect mount that must have cost a fortune. That's when you really began to wonder who he was and what he did for a living. If he was someone truly important, surely you would know? Unless he was someone important bound to secrecy and a life in the shadows. Thieves guild or Brotherhood. Hell, he could be Mythic Dawn for all you knew. But the black robe and dark horse gave you a ball of unease in the pit of your stomach. And a true moral dilemma to weigh on your consciousness.

The entire way home you considered your options. Sure, the mysterious whispering woman had spoken to you in your head, told you to patch him up, brought him back to life as a "gift", and called you a listener. Nothing insane about that. But she never said you had to keep him around. And yet the rational side of you wondered that if the voice was something darker, if he was something darker, would it have truly been wise to be rid of him? With no way of knowing the consequences until they had come? Most likely not. So with a bit of reluctance, you arrived at your home near midnight and brought him in, slung over your shoulder like a hunter holds his prized kill.

You brought him quickly to the spare room, one that had its own bathroom and a door that could be locked from both the inside and outside. A risk should he lock you out, but handy should you need to lock him in. There was no other escape except through the one door. And with your bedroom directly in front of his, you would be able to keep a close watch on him. You kept your weapon on you and sat on a chair near the bed. You had decided not to leave the room until he had awoken, locking it from the outside and stashing the key in a place only you knew. A small hole in the wall behind a painting. As the hours wore on, you became more and more tired. You had not intended to fall asleep, but you had. Trapped in nightmares of his gruesome fate over and over again until you had woken up with a scream trying to crawl its way out of your throat. You breathed deeply, beads of sweat making their way down your forehead. You looked over to the man and were startled to see his eyes meet yours, tired and weak.

You gripped the weapon in your lap, prepared to be attacked. But he was too weak to move much, except to sit up and look around a little. He looked confused and, if you were not mistaken, a bit scared. He was clearly not a weak man, he was tall and muscled. Possibly Imperial or Breton.

"Who are you?" He asked softly, his eyes trained blearily on yours. His voice was deep yet ever so soft, like velvet to your ears. It unnerved you.

"I should be asking you the same thing." You said distrustfully.

"I'm..." he paused, putting a hand on his head as if he had a headache. "I can't seem to remember. My name... it's Lucien, I think. That's really all I can remember about myself." You considered him for a few long moments but ultimately decided, after you had sheathed your weapon, that he could do no harm in such a state. It's not like he could be lying, really. You had found him dead. Literally dead.

"__." You told him your name. "This is my home, Arborwatch. I found you near Bruma. You were... hurt. So I brought you here to fix you up." You lied, unwilling to tell him the truth that might just break him in such a fragile state of mind. He looked down his robe at all the blood, at his hands and felt his hair. He tried to stand up but quickly lost his balance and you rushed forward in time to keep him from hitting the ground. "Slow down there, Lucien. You were severely injured. I have no doubt you'll need time to heal."

"Why am I covered in blood? Is it my own?" He asked weakly as you helped him sit down on the edge of the bed.

"I have no doubt that it is." You admitted. You felt the queasiness in your stomach again but fought it. "I can help you get cleaned up. If you'd like." He looked at you oddly, a bit of pink tinting his cheeks.

"You mean like a bath?" He asked. "As in I'll be naked?" You sighed.

"You were naked when I found you, there's nothing I haven't seen." You said, but it was a bit too true and you must have gone a bit pale in the face. He didn't seem to notice but accepted your help. You ran the bath first, then helped him to it. He insisted on removing the clothes himself and acted a bit shy, but was otherwise complacent with your help in scrubbing off the layers of blood and dirt.

"Do you know what happened?" He asked as you helped work away the grime in his hair. Long, black hair that gave you a feeling he used to have a status somewhere with someone.

"No. All I know is if I hadn't been there, you'd be dead." You tried not to think about it.

"Thank you, __." He said. You hummed in reply. You helped him to get out and dry off, but refused to let him put the cloak back on. Instead, you gave him some of the spare clothes the house had come with. A set of  white pajamas and a white robe to pull over it. It made him look almost like someone from a looney bin, but nothing about him said crazy. Only hurt and in need of help. "I don't have a single wound or scar on my body." He remarked.

"I guess I put you together pretty good then." You almost wished you hadn't said that, images of his corpse flashing before your eyes. His empty eye sockets, organs, and handling the lower half of his jaw.

"Are you alright?" He asked you. You had gone quiet and could feel the coolness of your face from the lack of blood. Your breathing was a bit fast, but you managed to calm back down.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You lied. "You should rest, it's late and we both need it." You helped him get tucked into the bed, then grabbed the key from behind the painting. You unlocked the door and closed it behind you without locking it again. He couldn't even walk, there was no sense in treating such a kind soul like an animal.

You fell uneasily to sleep in your own bed to more nightmares, borderline night terrors of finding him at Applewatch. And you knew then that they would perhaps never leave. You swore that as you fell asleep you heard the woman whisper, but you were already being consumed by the darkness.