Heartless

Chapter 35 - Part 48

Shadow

After my little... encounter with my sister, I had her buried in the royal graveyard at the palace. Seeing my family together again reminded me of my true goal from when I left Cyrrodil: Find and bring back my father. I was determined to find him, or at least figure out what happened to him. What meant the world to me was Brynjolf and Ulylle agreed to stick with me on my quest. They were supporting me the whole way.

'Don't forget Lass, there's still Mercer to sort out.' Brynjolf had said one night.

'I know, Bryn. But my blood comes first. To find my father would be like finding a piece of me. But I'll need more than just Dragonborn blood.'

'More, Lass? You're practically a goddess, why would you need more?'

'My senses are duller than what they could be. I want to fix that. You'll be my friend no matter my blood type, right?'

'Of course, lass. Just as long as we don't run into any werewolves I'm fine. I hate werewolves.'

That was a week ago, and we were now on the Summerset Isles, looking up at the wizard's Tower. I told Brynjolf I was sick, and needed a cure. That was my reason for visiting a werewolf wizard. The truth? I wanted more knowledge on Lycanthropy before I submitted myself to it, because my sister didn't fare too well when she was infected...

'Sir, I've come to you about Lycanthropy.'

'Ah yes. Well... let me see...' hummed the wizard. 'Lycanthropy is the incurable infliction of Werewolf transformations according to the lunar calendar. One can postpone such transformations by drinking an elixir of Wolfsbane, a rare plant from Cyrrodil. Each Werewolf form is different, yours would be a pitch black full wolf, yet impossibly large in size. Without the Wolfsbane potion one will become feral and savage, preying on humans. Very few forms of Lycanthropy can go wrong, such as the wrong type, as I've had dragon shifters come to me, but also tainted blood that will eventually kill the afflicted person.'

I clenched my fists in rage. I remembered exactly who blooded my sister. His name was Sinding, and my sister had met him while he was travelling from Whiterun to Falkreath. He had been annoyed by her chatter, and told her to leave him be. Clearly, he blooded her that night, considering it was full moon at the time.

'That little son of a-'

'Lass?'

I turned, breathing heavily, to find Brynjolf looking worried. A spike of fear shot through me as he noticed the book on Lycanthropy in front of me, and narrowed his eyes at the wizard. Swiftly, I reached up and turned his head gently, my fingers on his jaw to make him look at me. Rage was burning in Brynjolf's eyes, and his hands were on the hilts of his glass daggers.

'Breathe, Bryn. In... and out. In.... and out. Keep it up. Don't look away from me, keep your eyes on me at all times, okay? In... and out. In... and out. Shhh...'

Brynjolf nodded and began slowing his breathing, turning full attention to me, holding my intense gaze as I searched his eyes for the emotions he was feeling. There were definite traces of anger clouding the exquisite malachite eyes that were locked with my fiery corundum ones, some bitterness, jealousy, betrayal and suspicion. Bryn suspected me of being a werewolf, felt betrayed that I might have lied to him, jealous because... I don't know actually... and I didn't know why he was bitter either. Huh. Weird.

I turned back to the wizard.

'I thank you for your services.'

'No problem. Take good care of your boyfriend.'

'He's not my boyfriend, and I'm not his girlfriend.' I Snapped on instinct.

I swear I felt Brynjolf's bitterness increase.