Child (Book 2)

Prologue

She could hear her daughters crying out, as well as the mortal she chose; the Dragonborn. Her mortal was in danger; and at the hands of a Daedric Prince of all things. No, she could not allow that to continue.
"What nerve they have." She mumbled to herself as she opened her deep violet eyes.
She stood from her throne, letting her light, wispy robes fall down to flow onto the marble stairs. She gracefully stepped down into the water on bare feet, letting it soak into the bottom of the thin lavender fabric as flower petals and leaves drifted up from her feet. She walked among the trees and stopped to look out at the stars, and very distantly, she could see Nirn.
She wondered what would've happened had decided to stay in the mortal plane, no matter how impossible. Being one of the last Aedra in existence was never easy. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could hear their prayers; most of them for things she either couldn't or wouldn't give them. The crying of her daughters and her mortal however, was something she couldn't ignore. She stepped quietly through the water until she made it to the door on the other side of the room. She closed her eyes, forced some patience into her angry heart, and stepped through the door.
When they opened again, she had to raise her wrist to her mouth to avoid vomiting. The entire room stank of rotting flesh, and in front of her was a long hallway, walled with cages made of bone, holding the departed souls of werewolves. They were packed tightly in the cages and many of them reached their arms and snouts through the bars to claw viciously at the air around her. If she could not protect her mortal, this would be their fate.
She walked through the hall a little faster, stepping over the bones and antlers strewn across the floor. Oblivion was a disgusting place. She pulled her hood over her face and crown, hoping to keep herself from glancing at the hounds. Finally, she made it to the steps of Hircine's throne.
"Ahh, Kyne!  To what do I owe the pleasure?" He said happily.
"You know exactly why I am here, Hircine." She snapped. He groaned.
"Oh, right. I do. I should've known you'd be angry with me for that. Why do you refuse to understand that lycanthropy is my gift to the mortals? I am giving your dear little dragonborn a gift! Be thankful she hasn't been taken in by some other Daedric Prince, they wouldn't be quite so nice."
"It is not a gift, Hircine. It is an abomination, and you will remove it from my mortal at once!" She almost shouted. She had very little patience for Daedra.
"It was her choice Kynareth, it's always been a choice." He said offhandedly as he sat back in his throne. The Goddess of Nature could no longer contain her anger. Her eyes went white instead of violet, and suddenly wind and rain surged down the hallway from the door, forcing Hircine's back into his throne.
"It was very much not her choice! She was forced by another mortal, and you know it! It is no gift, it is an abomination to nature, you and your creation are an abomination to everything I've created! I command you to release my Dragonborn mortal of your curse immediately!" She shouted as the storm blew through the throne room. After a moment she composed herself and the storm calmed with her.
"I-I understand.. But she cannot be free of lycanthropy just because of the fact that it was not her choice.. " the King of Manbeasts stuttered.
"Explain. Now." She commanded.
"I didn't give it to her. I can't take it away." He explained. The Goddess understood instantly. "Only the witches who stole that power from me can take it away." He continued.

~

I woke to a terrible ache in my head and burning just behind my eyes. As I opened my eyes, I saw I was sitting up against a tree next to a small pond, and above me I could see the blue sky and clouds against orange leaves and birch branches. I clench my hands and the ground is covered with short grass and dry dirt. I must be somewhere in the Rift.
Could it all have been a dream? While it seems likely, I couldn't imagine how I got from the Pale to the Rift.
Could the tribe of Spriggans have succeeded? I crawl forward a bit to a pond to look at my reflection. Though it's hard to see, my eyes are clearly bright silver. I blink several times and look very closely. I watch my reflection for several minutes, turning my face at different angles to make sure I'm not just seeing things. The tears spring up in my eyes and I begin to sob hopelessly.
I can't return to Whiterun or Vilkas; not like this. I made a promise to him that, regardless of Skjor or Aela's actions, I broke. Not only that, but I hurt him. I won't go back, not until I can find a way to cure both myself and him.
If a goddess couldn't heal me, then the next best place might be the College of Winterhold; the best and brightest mages in all of Skyrim, if not Tamriel. I've never heard of them doing such a thing, but it's the only place I can think of that might have the knowledge to try. However, I doubt they'd volunteer their services for free; that is, if they even let me in to plead my case. The College is known for being very discerning in who they let through the door, and seeing as I have very little magical ability myself, I doubt my application is one they'd take.
I might know someone that could help me get in, or at least get a word in.
I reach into my bag and dump the contents out on the ground, trying to find Marcurio's letter. I pick up the first piece of paper I find, but quickly discover it isn't what I was looking for.

Dear Perizada,
   You have not written back to me in many weeks, and I grow worried.
Mother and Father have written, the money we have earned is benefitting them greatly. Please send more for me to send to them whenever you can. Please write back soon, and please try writing in the Nordic script I taught you instead.
     With love,
         Your Brother

I want to tear the letter to shreds, but once again all I can do is stare in shock at the letter. I killed Perizada, a young Redguard girl, and her brother, and I've probably indirectly killed their parents in Hammerfell too since they'll starve without the money. I look down at the gold diamond ring resting on my finger. It was Perizada's, and I have just noticed that it has dried blood on it. How cruelly ironic it is that I took the ring off her body, hopefully to remember her by, and it has quite possibly her brother's blood on it. I pull the ring off and dunk it in the water,  vigorously trying to wipe the blood off of it as tears roll down my cheeks. I couldn't go back to killing again, not after this. I love the Companions, but I can't go back there.
I forcefully wipe the tears from my face and pull the top half of my armor on. As I'm shoving everything back into my bag, I find my hood again and remember sneaking out of Whiterun to Rorikstead with it on. I remember distantly thinking about whether or not the Companions would come looking for me if I married Erik and never went back. Will they search for me, even if they haven't the slightest clue where I could be? Aela assumed I was going back to Whiterun after she killed Skjor. Part of me doesn't want them to find me. They'd only be disappointed. I pull the hood tightly around my face and walk to the road, starting my journey to Riften.