Chapter Text
“Do you think Farkas will be here again tonight?”
Cyldra’s voice quavered in anticipation at the thought of seeing the dark-haired companion once more, her coppery cheeks darkening. Annika’s face twisted into some sort of pout at this; the bosmer was actually containing her excitement, yet she was practically jumping in place, almost compensating for her short stature.
“I don’t understand what you see in him,” The woman sighed, picking up a half finished cup of mead on the nearest table to empty it. “He’s dumber than a fully decayed draugr.”
“Hey!” Cyldra protested from the counter, crossing her arms over the wood, golden gaze sending metaphorical flames at the blonde. “Don’t be mean! He’s nice, and he brought me mountain flowers, once. He remembered I love them!”
“Of course you do.” Annika murmured, walking up to the counter, setting her cup down.
Her friend gave her a look that looked more petulant than angry before taking it and walking back to the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, the nord shook her head slightly. Her infatuation with the man who was, honestly, not the brightest out of all the companions, would fade soon, hopefully. She would surely end up heartbroken if she kept harbouring such feelings for a man who was probably only being nice.
“When do you leave, again, Hildegard?” Annika eventually asked, turning the other way to face the brown-haired woman who had been, until now, busy writing a letter so quickly it was almost undecipherable, short bangs covering half of her face as she focused closely on her message.
The tavern, still empty, was so quiet that the force Hildegard was using to scribble on the parchment was clearly audible. When her name was spoken, though, she raised her dark blue eyes to Annika’s almost exasperated green ones.
“Two days. Maybe less. I wouldn’t want to make Elke wait too long,” She replied, going back to her letter as she replied quickly. “She didn’t say it, but it sounded like an emergency, to be honest.”
“You’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried!” Hildegard frowned, meeting Annika’s gaze once again. “She’s not…” A sigh escaped her, she set down the letter. “She’s always done good without me, and even when she doesn’t, it’s not like her to ask for my help. I know she’s… fragile. But not dependant.”
“And it’s not like you to be cautious.” The older one replied, leaning back against the counter.
“What’s there to be cautious about? My sister needs, actually needs, my help. I’m not going to sit there and wait, am I?”
“No, you’re not. I’m not telling you to wait, Hildegard, I just mean…”
“That I’m not thinking enough, I got it. I’ll think all you want once I’m sure Elke is safe.”
Grasping the letter tightly in her hand, Hildegard stood up, not sparing another glance at Annika as she left the tavern. The latest’s shoulders slumped. There wasn’t much she could do, once Hildegard set her mind on something.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
In a single afternoon, the letter was sent. A long missive informing Hildegard’s younger sister of her arrival, as well as a clear demand for her to stay safe and wait for her. The next day, the nord prepared to leave Whiterun, still giving the silent treatment to Annika. Yes, maybe it was a bit petty, but she was already at her limit, she didn’t need empty advice on top of that! They would talk again, probably, after all of this was settled. She knew herself, and she knew Annika knew her too. She would apologize and everything would be fine. Later.
The journey to the capital was unremarkable. Quiet. It was a good thing, in Skyrim, Hildegard wasn’t looking to get mauled by a wild bear, or worse, by a dragon. These little shits were everywhere now, ever since the attack in Helgen. She might have known how to fight, she might have been brave (more like reckless), but she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could fight a dragon.
And so, her shoulders stayed tense until, days later, she was able to spot the characteristic high bridge of Solitude. She made a mental note to scold Elke for living so far away, once everything was done.
After paying the driver and giving a friendly pat on his horse’s head, she finally entered the city. It was, honestly, her second time here, but she knew exactly where her younger sister lived, and immediately made a beeline for The Winking Skeever, the inn where she stayed; it wouldn’t be such a change of scenery, compared to where she usually worked in Whiterun. The capital was crowded, this day, and the reason seemed to be some sort of public execution. Looking the other way, she kept walking to her destination, ignoring even the imperial architecture she usually liked admiring.
Minutes passed until she found her sister, sitting in the corner of the inn’s main room, hiding in the shadows. Oh. She looked… unwell. Her long hair, usually brown and full of life, was now greying. Enough for her to see it from the other side of the room, at least. What had happened to her? Hildegard didn’t waste any more time, moving swiftly to carefully sit beside her, feeling her body warming up slowly thanks to the hearth.
“Elke.” She murmured softly, gently resting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She flinched. Hildegard’s heart dropped painfully. “… Elke? It’s me.”
Elke nodded, a trembling, pale and skinny hand tucking her hair behind her ear as she raised her head to face her older sister. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and her face was emaciated, devoid of its usual pink colour. She looked ill. Worryingly so.
“You should see a healer, what happened?” Her older sister whispered, furrowing her brow. Talos, she had never looked so weak. Her face used to be round! And now? Her cheekbones were protruding like she had suddenly revealed an elven heritage.
“I don’t think a healer can help, my sister.” Elke replied then, so quiet that Hildegard had to lean closer to hear her.
“Tell me. Tell me what’s happening.”
Her tone was sharper now, frantic, firm but more out of worry than anger. Her hand tightened on Elke’s shoulder, just a bit, enough to anchor her. To anchor herself. The few other people drinking, eating and talking were, thankfully, not really paying attention to them, aside from a short breton woman in armour, amber eyes glancing at the two every so often, curious, most probably.
“Tell me, Elke, please.” Hildegard pleaded softly, then. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“You can’t.” Elke confirmed with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I just wanted to see you. It’s been so long.”
At these words, Hildegard’s breath stopped, for just a second, along with her heart. Why did she sound like she was preparing to say goodbye? Why did she sound like she was accepting a cruel fate? Surely, someone could help her. If only she just told her!
“… No. No, you can’t speak like that. Just tell me. I’ll do everything I can to help you, I-”
“Hildegard. It’s a curse. I think. I… I’ve been plagued with nightmares. Getting weak. Cold.”
Elke swallowed, a strand of greying hair falling back over her face, her gaze moving away from her sister’s.
“I think I’m dying.”
And, if until now, Hildegard had only felt deeply anxious, she was now wondering if she wasn’t drowning. Perhaps she was trapped in a nightmare. Her sister, her dearest sister, the only light in her life, despite everything, despite the distance and the occasional disagreement and distance between them, was dying, and she was so sure no one could help her that she was prepared for the worst.
Her stomach did a thing, making her feel nauseous.
A wall took place in her mind then.
Strong, unyielding.
Hildegard refused.
Elke wouldn’t die. Because she couldn’t. Because there wasn’t a world where one of them was alive and not the other. Because, who in Oblivion would she be, if she didn’t fight tooth and nail to save her?
She wasn’t a great fighter, nor was she a powerful mage. She wasn’t the smartest either.
But she was Hildegard Red-Raven, and she would rather throw herself head first into the Deadlands than watch Elke die.