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Title: Vasa Jijri ("Under the Skin")
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fantasy, Family, Angst
Warnings: Racism, threats of racially motivated violence, mildly violent bullying, religious drug use, non-consensual drug-use, under-aged drug use, accidental poisoning, harm to children.
Details: Gen, pre-canon, prequel, fantasy, magic, demons, Faustian deals, tragic love, family, cultural differences, distant fathers, questionable parenting decisions, anthropomorphic animals, fantasy racism, angst, lies and deception, stealth crossover, unbetad.
Characters/Pairings: OCs, Frida, Fruki, Skald the Elder, Dro'marash, Bulfrek, mentions of others.
Wordcount: 8,515
Summary: The father he had never met had left him with a Breton name. Growing up in Dawnstar, his mother's people had bestowed the ignoble kenning of "Honeymilk". His mother's friends among the Khajiit caravans outside the city called him ja'ahn kriniit, which in Ta'agra meant "laughing boy". But the caravan leader, Ri'yaan, had always called him ahzi' ja'ahn—"my boy"—and when he was young, it was this name he had loved best.
(The story of a half-Nord boy growing up in Dawnstar, and his friendship with the Khajiit of the caravans.)
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four
Breakfast the next morning was warm buttered bread with honey, and afterward J'draash handled business with the visiting townsfolk so that Ri'yaan could introduce Kevin to knife-fighting like he had promised. Near mid-day, Kevin's mother arrived for a visit, and as usual she and Ri'yaan spent much of that time in private. Though Marash tried to distract him with some exaggerated tale from the caravan's trip up north, it was difficult for him to think of anything else.
Kevin knew that his mother and Ri'yaan were talking about his father.
Ever since he was a small boy, the people of Dawnstar had called his mother Sigi the Steadfast for the unwavering faithfulness she showed to her distant husband. As he had grown older, Kevin had come to learn that the name showed more than mere honest respect—often, it was spoken with pity.
While it wasn't unusual these days for a child to have only a mother or a father—and indeed, the Empire's recent war with the high elves had made the situation all too common—Kevin had always understood that in many ways his circumstances were different. His father, though absent, was still alive, and though it was a lesser sin compared to who his father was, like most of the things that he had no control over it seemed impossible for others to forget. But though Kevin had been made painfully aware of his father's absence for all his life it was only in recent years that he had come to understand that he was not the only one who suffered for it...
Only as he had grown older had Kevin come to understand how lonely his mother was.
It hurt him very much to think about it, and never was it more prominently on his mind than when his mother spoke alone with Ri'yaan. And though when he was little Kevin had begrudged her the secrecy of this time alone, he now understood that her grief regarding such things was not something she had wanted him to see. All the same, it was a relief to him once she emerged from Ri'yaan's tent shortly later.
This time, at least, she had not been crying.
Afterward, Kevin accompanied his mother back into Dawnstar. There were things the Khajiit would need, both during their stay and in preparation for their departure, and because they were barred from the town it was up to Kevin's mother to arrange things for them. Blades would need to be sharpened at the forge, and an order of arrowheads placed for Ma'shiija. Fresh provisions would need purchasing to replace those that had spoiled or been consumed. As well, the Khajiit were poor farriers and would need someone with skill to check the shoeing of their horses.
Kevin was happy to help his mother with these errands, and recounted to her the events of his first night as he did so. His mother listened with a smile.
After their visit to the blacksmith, she allowed him to take Ri'yaan's list to Frida on his own.
A healer of celebrated skill, according to his mother the old matron had delivered every child born in Dawnstar for the past twenty years or more. Frida was well respected in Dawnstar, and one of the few that his mother could honestly call a friend. Her husband was an alchemist dedicated to the perfection of his craft, and was often traveling in search of new ingredients and new knowledge. With her husband's frequent absences, Frida and Kevin's mother walked a lot of common ground, and over the years they had come to understand each other in a way few other people did.
When Kevin entered the Mortar and Pestle, Frida's shop and dwelling that was right across the way from their home, the old healer greeted him as she so often did with a smile.
"Greetings, child," Frida said. "I hope your mother is well."
"She is, ma'am," Kevin told her.
"And what is it that brings you into my shop alone this day," Frida asked him with a smirk. "Hoping to beg a little honeycomb off my shelves?"
"No ma'am," Kevin said quickly. "Ri'yaan's caravan arrived yesterday and my mother sent me over here to..."
Catching the amused glint in her eye, Kevin trailed off.
"But you already knew that," Kevin said sheepishly as he slid the list his mother had given him across the counter.
Frida smiled at him as she took it.
"I did already know that," Frida confirmed, giving the scrap of parchment a quick glance.
"Hmph," she muttered after a moment's study. "Their usual order of remedies. "
Her irritation, though affectionate, sounded genuine. Frida had always been civil to the Khajiit, though according to his mother she had been slow to warm up to them. That had eventually changed as, over the years, they had proven one of her best sources for exotic components for her craft. Frida therefore appreciated the Khajiit more than most, though she often despaired—and quite loudly—that she would never understand them.
"Not that I'd ever be fool enough to turn away good business," Frida said, "but sometimes I wonder what use they even have for it. The potions of warmth I understand, but they always seem to order more curatives for disease than anyone would ever need..."
"It's because of the sabrecats," Kevin said, shifting his feet as he traced a whorl in the wood of the counter with his finger.
Frida's shop was always full of strange and interesting things. Most of those things were also expensive. Kevin's mother had impressed on him long ago that he was not to touch unless he was told to. It often wasn't easy, as his curiosity frequently got the better of him, but he did try.
"What about them?" Frida asked as she busied herself collecting ingredients for Ri'yaan's order. "And bring me those purple flowers there, would you?"
Frida came around the counter and walked over to the heavy table beneath the stairs that housed her equipment. Kevin grabbed the bundle of flowers from where they hung near the door and followed. Frida lit the small tabletop furnace, stoking it carefully. Kevin handed her the flowers and then climbed halfway up the stairs and lay down on his belly so that he could watch Frida work through the space between the steps.
"Marash says that sabrecats used to be Khajiit, a long time ago," Kevin told her as Frida retrieved other ingredients from a nearby shelf. "He says that Shor cursed them back in the days of Wulfharth. He changed them into beasts and took their reason, and now their children hunt for Khajiit and try to steal their minds away from them. Marash says a sabrecat can spread its curse with only a scratch of its claws..."
Frida laughed, looking up at him with a wry smile.
"Superstitious nonsense," she said. "That's witbane, child. A grave illness, to be sure, but no more supernatural than that chill you caught last month."
Kevin made a face at the unpleasant reminder.
"Are you sure?" he asked, frowning.
Frida had crushed the flowers into a fine powder and was carefully measuring them into the strange, roiling creation of glass that bubbled over the furnace.
"Hm? Yes," Frida said shortly, distracted in her work. "Of course, I can easily see how a story like that might have gotten started. There are, after all, curses that do spread like that."
"You mean like vampires?" Kevin asked. "And werewolves?"
During their visit, the Vigilants of Stendarr had warned strongly about the threats posed by the abominations created by the power of the daedra. Vampires were the creation of Molag Bal, Daedric Prince of Domination, and lycanthropes like werewolves the servants of Hircine, but both could spread the curse to others with their blood or with their bite.
"Yes, like vampires and werewolves," Frida said. "And the Dunmer tell stories about the Blight that erupted out of their mountain in Morrowind long ago. But these are all things that have been witnessed and recorded. They are well known, because people have seen them, or have known others who have seen them. But I've never seen a Khajiit turn into a sabrecat, and I've never heard of anybody who has. I'd be willing to bet that if you put him to the question you'll find that Marash hasn't either."
There was a sharp note of exasperation in her voice. Kevin thought it was likely because she was busy. Though he half wanted to argue, Kevin decided to let it go. Moving to the shelf beside her she retrieved a couple of small bottles, wrapping them in a soft piece of cloth.
"Here," Frida said, "take these. The rest will need to cure for the rest of a day and night. Tell Ri'yaan I'll bring them to the caravan when I make my own visit tomorrow."
Kevin clambered down from his spot on the steps to accept the bundle, and handed her the money his mother had given him for Ri'yaan's purchases in return.
When Kevin left the Mortar and Pestle it was still afternoon, but a cold wet wind was blowing off of the harbor, seeding the air with a damp early chill. Yet Kevin's mind was elsewhere as he thought over what Frida had said. It was always difficult weighing the words of one adult he knew over another, when both were people he trusted. But though he loved Marash's stories nearly as much as Ri'yaan's, Kevin was well aware that the Khajiit loved to boast and exaggerate—indeed, it was one of his most favored ways to pass the time—whereas Frida was rarely given to such. And so he supposed that it was likely that Frida was right, and that sabrecats were not cursed after all...
Though their size and hunger were still frightening enough for any Khajiit unfortunate enough to meet one.
Kevin was so absorbed in his fancy as he made his way back up the thoroughfare toward the inn to meet his mother that he failed to realize he was not the only one walking that street. In fact, though his ears were usually quite sharp, between the sound of the winds and the surf he failed to notice he was being followed until those stalking him were very close indeed.
And by then, of course, it was already too late.
The first shove sent him falling, and though he managed to keep his feet underneath him Kevin quickly found himself on his knees. He managed to catch himself from landing face first in the gritty, mud-churned snow, but he lost his grip on the bundle he carried in the process. The cloth unwrapped itself, sending the bottles spilling out onto the street. Fortunately they did not break. Frida always used hardy stoneware for her brews, and many of the guards—all of whom used them quite often—boasted they could take a beating from a troll without having a single one of her potions shatter.
Though as far as Kevin was concerned, comparing Hjalfi—the young son of Jarl Skald the Elder himself—with the likes of a troll was to do the hairy, reeking beasts a foul disservice.
"What's in the bottles, baby? More honey for your milk?"
"Go away," Kevin said, trying to ignore him.
He warmed his frozen hands under his arms before trying to retrieve the bottles from where they lay in the snow. Unfortunately, Hjalfi wasn't alone. Bulfrek was with him. Bulfrek...wasn't terrible, Kevin thought. Or at least he wouldn't have been if not for Hjalfi. But Bulfrek's parents both served the Jarl loyally, just as his grandfather had served Skald's father long ago, and Bulfrek seemed doomed by both honor and expectation to suffer their very same fate. As a consequence, he was constantly following Hjalfi's lead, and always did anything the other boy told him to, usually without question.
Bulfrek kicked the bottle under Kevin's fingers out of his reach, towards Hjalfi. The Jarl's son picked it up, examining the label with a laugh.
"Warming potion?" Hjalif mocked. "It's summer, you milk drinker. If you can't stand the cold even in summer, maybe you should go back to High Rock where you belong."
Kevin finished retrieving the remaining the bottles, and dragged himself to his feet. The knees of his leggings were soaked straight through, and his fingers numb from digging through the muddy slush at the road's edge, but he gritted his teeth, determined not to show his misery.
"My father isn't from High Rock," Kevin corrected, though he knew it was pointless. "And they're not for me, they're for the Khajiit, so give it back."
Hjalfi tucked the bottle into his belt.
"Then fight me for it," he challenged. "Unless you're too much of a snow-back to do even that."
"I don't want to fight you, Hjalfi," Kevin said.
And Kevin felt he would have been a fool to want to.
Hjalfi was twelve, older than him by three years, and though his recent growth spurt had left them nearly of a height, the older boy was built much more sturdily than he. Not that Kevin didn't think he could beat the other boy if he had to—even if Bulfrek decided to gang up on him as well. But it would be ugly, and he knew it would only bring him more trouble later. And one thing Ri'yaan had always cautioned him was to choose his fights carefully. There was no shame, he had said, in passing up the little ones—or even letting himself lose them—so that his opponents would underestimate him in the fights that truly mattered.
And as much as it stung him to endure Hjalfi's abuse, Kevin knew the potions weren't worth it. Ri'yaan expected him to be smarter than that, and so instead of rising to Hjalfi's provocation Kevin simply wrapped up the rest of the bottles in their cloth and started to walk away.
"You're such an idiot, Hjalfi," a voice spoke up suddenly.
Kevin and the two boys both turned, and found Fruki watching them.
"Huh?" Hjalfi said, and his apparent confusion made even Bulfrek stifle a snort.
"If you don't give that back right now, I'll tell Frida that you stole it. Then see what happens when the whole town knows you for a thief."
Kevin could see, as he watched Hjalfi's face, the weight of that threat sinking in. There were few things a person could be that were worse than being a coward, but a thief was certainly one of them. And Fruki was right, Hjalfi wasn't very bright, but he understood that much. With what could only be called an angry and disgusted scowl, the older boy took the bottle from his belt and dropped into into the snow and mud at his feet.
"Come on, Bul," Hjalfi said. "He's just a waste of time anyway."
And with little more regard than that, the two boys walked away.
Kevin picked up the bottled potion and wiped it clean on his shirt—his mother would insist he change clothes when he got back to camp again, anyway. When he was finished he tucked it back in with the others, turning to smile at Fruki gratefully.
"Thank you, Fruki," Kevin said. "I hate dealing with those two."
"You know, things might be better if you did just fight them," Fruki said. "Even if you lost, at least they wouldn't think you're afraid of them."
"I'm not," Kevin insisted. "But I'd rather they think I was afraid than think I cared what they think."
Fruki frowned, seeming confused, but didn't ask. Kevin sighed.
"I have to get back to my mother at the inn so we can take the Khajiit their supplies," he said, shifting his grip on the bundle in his arms.
Then a thought occurred to him and he smiled.
"Come with me," Kevin said.
"What?"
"Come with me," he said again, smiling. "You can see the camp with me and my mother. I know you usually stay away, but if you're worried I can walk you back after."
Fruki frowned, seeming uncertain.
"And you can keep me safe from those two cheese-brains on the way," he offered, still smiling.
Frida looked uncomfortable for a moment, as if she thought he was making fun of her. Kevin knew she had trouble understanding how he could joke about something like that—accepting protection, and from a girl—as though he really didn't mind. Kevin really didn't, though if given the choice he would rather have no need. But the fact that Fruki would and did defend him when Hjalfi and the others gave him grief meant more to him than the acceptance that the other boys withheld from him ever could.
So he did joke, and easily, for the rest, as Ri'yaan had taught him to see it, was only as serious as he let it be.
Fruki did come with him. They met his mother at the Windpeak Inn, and he suffered her aghast horror at the sodden state of his clothing with as much dignity as he could muster. And they both helped his mother carry the things she had bought as they made their way toward the caravan.
Ri'yaan was speaking with the mine owner when they returned—business, Kevin knew, that was done on his father's behalf.
The quicksilver that was mined in Dawnstar was rare. It was used to make armor in the elven style that was lightweight but nearly as hard as steel. In the south, Ri'yaan had told him, there was a style of armor called "mail" that people made out of chains. Mail made from quicksilver was called "mithril", and it was even lighter than elven armor, and though not quite as strong it was much sought after by archers and swift fighters, and therefore very valuable. Kevin had asked to learn those things because he thought his father might be pleased that he had learned them. Though that much had been true, it hadn't truly helped him to feel any closer to his distant father as Kevin had hoped. Still, Ri'yaan had praised his efforts, and consoled him with the fact that one was rarely poorer for knowledge once they had it.
Fruki hung very close to them as Kevin and his mother handed the supplies off to J'draash—though the young Khajiit, for his part, seemed almost as leery of her as she was of him. His mother also handed J'draash a small bag that it turned out was filled with vegetables. Though the Khajiit's lip curled with visible distaste at the thought, his mother managed to extract J'draash's promise that Kevin would eat at least some of them while he was there.
Then, as expected, Kevin's mother sent him into the tent, insisting that he change his clothes for something dry.
Kevin huffed a breath, but he was chilled enough by then that he did not argue. Unhappily, he left Fruki to his mother's care and went inside. As he shucked his muddy clothes, Kevin considered how he might adjust his plans. His hope in bringing Fruki to the caravan had been to introduce her to the Khajiit—for her to finally know them as Kevin did—but he saw now it would be a difficult task. Fruki was nervous, as he had known she would be, but he had been surprised to see J'draash seem so. But J'draash was strange like that, even showing fear of Kevin's mother at times. Indeed, the young Khajiit had all but jumped his skin some long time ago when Kevin had praised his hand-tricks in front of her.
Though, now that he thought about it, Sigun's reaction to his description of items mysteriously vanishing had seemed oddly disapproving.
Ri'yaan, he knew, would have managed to put her at ease, but Ri'yaan was busy. And Ma'shiija was...too intense for Fruki's first meeting, Kevin felt. Marash, as ever, was charged this day with supervising Ri'yaan's safety during the meeting. If proper introductions were to take place then it would be up to Kevin to convince Fruki that she should stay.
When Kevin emerged from the tent, Fruki still hovered close to his mother, who waited patiently to take his muddy clothing and bid him goodnight. Kevin passed off the clothes to her in a bundle and then dutifully endured her kiss, hardly waiting for her to depart before taking Fruki by the hand and tugging her toward his tent.
"Come on," Kevin told her, "I want to show you what my father sent."
Though Fruki was not so fond of stories as Kevin was she loved to hear about far away places, and he knew the books would spark her interest. There was a book of old riddles, one about the Imperial City, and another about ancient Akavir that his father had picked up in Rimmen. Kevin also showed her the set of light steel daggers his father had given him for his training with Ri'yaan, which one of the letters said had been made in Rihad, in Hammerfell.
As he was pulling the other items out of his pack to show her, the small wooden box that held the orange sweets had gotten loose from the bundled cloth which had kept it safely hidden. Kevin noticed it sitting on his bedroll with a start and tried to hide it under a blanket without Fruki's notice. Unfortunately his efforts failed, and inevitably only served to stoke her curiosity about its contents further.
"What is it?" Fruki asked, intrigued by the box and its apparent mystery.
Kevin sat quiet a moment, toying with the small brass latch, and trying not to look as guilty as he felt.
"I can't tell you," Kevin told her.
Though he knew she wouldn't simply take that as his answer.
"Why not?" she asked him.
Her expression had slipped into a slight, disappointed frown, and Kevin knew his answers would only upset her further.
"Because I'm not allowed to," Kevin told her. "It's a secret.
Fruki seemed to have trouble accepting this, and had no problem letting him know it.
"I don't believe you," she said. "You're lying."
"I'm not lying," Kevin insisted, beginning to feel upset himself. "It's true."
"Why would your father give you anything that's a secret?" she asked.
"They're not from my father," Kevin said. "They're from Ri'yaan, and he's said I'm not supposed to share them."
Though clearly still intrigued, Fruki immediately turned wary and distrustful. That was the exact opposite of how Kevin wanted her to feel about the Khajiit, especially Ri'yaan. It hurt him. And though in his heart he knew it was a mistake, Kevin didn't want her to feel like that, so with a sigh he opened the box to her sight.
"There, see?" Kevin said. "It's nothing bad. Just...they're special. Even my mother doesn't know I have them."
"What are they?" Fruki asked him, looking over the paper-wrapped items curiously.
"Candies," Kevin said. "They're from the south where the Khajiit are from."
Fruki looked at them skeptically for a moment.
"How are they special?" she asked him with a frown.
Kevin found himself at a loss for how to explain.
The sweets were special to Ri'yaan because the Khajiit believed the je'm'ath was sacred, and because they were special to Ri'yaan and a secret shared between them they were also special to him. Kevin knew that he was betraying that secret now, though, and even if he explained he didn't think Fruki would understand. It would be as it was with Frida when he had told her about the sabrecats. Such things the Khajiit had taught him, and he understood in his heart, but when spoken to a Nord they suddenly became nonsense. And Kevin thought he could endure that when it came to Marash's yarns. But Ri'yaan's tale about the Moons was on its own special and important, and shared between the two of them, and he could not stand to see it made less.
The thought alone made Kevin's stomach ache.
"They...just are," Kevin said with a self-conscious shrug, hoping she would drop the matter.
And Kevin wished desperately then that he hadn't brought her there, but he didn't know what he could now do about it. Asking her to leave would only make Fruki angry. He had already abandoned her once in favor of the Khajiit when he had run away from their game the day before, and he didn't know if he did so again whether she would forgive him.
Fruki, though, seemed to have noticed the sudden sharp turn in his mood, and possibly even felt sorry for having caused it, though she would not know how she had.
"Can...can I have one then?" she asked.
And though a part of him wanted very badly to say no, more than anything Kevin was just happy to find her willing to try.
"I guess you can have one," he said reluctantly. "Because you're my friend."
In Dawnstar she was really the only friend he had.
Slowly, and with all the respect he silently felt the je'm'ath was due, Kevin lifted one of the sweets from the box and unwrapped it, handing it to Fruki. She smiled as she took it from him. Almost as an afterthought he unwrapped one for himself also, because he thought he might as well.
"They're a beautiful color," Fruki said, looking at hers. "What do they taste like?"
"Uh," Kevin stopped to think, wary of making the same mistake Ri'yaan had in defining the flavor. "Kind of like snowberries. Only more sour. Kind of."
Fruki crinkled her nose a bit at that description, but cautiously she place the candy in her mouth. Kevin did the same. He watched her test it on her tongue for a moment, moving it around, before quickly spitting it out into her palm.
"It's good, but it feels strange," she said, "like there's ants on my tongue."
Kevin had to smile.
"It's supposed to," he told her, his own candy clicking against his teeth. "It's better once your whole mouth feels like that."
Reassured, Fruki put the candy back in her mouth, licking the stickiness from her hand.
They spent some time looking through his books after that. Fruki was better at the riddles than he was, but it soon became difficult for her to focus on them as the je'm'ath left her feeling light and drowsy. Though it was not yet even close to nightfall, she told him she was feeling tired, and so reluctantly Kevin offered to walk her back home as he had promised.
Men often had difficulty interpreting the expressions of Khajiit, but time and familiarity had ensured it was a problem Kevin and his mother never had. Kevin caught Ri'yaan's look of surprise as he and Fruki exited the tent together, and realized that if the Khajiit were only now through with his business with the mine owner, he probably hadn't realized that Kevin had returned. There was a disquiet there as well, and what may have been sadness before the feeling he saw appeared to resolve itself into something more approving and well pleased—
Which was quite how Kevin's mother had seemed when first he had begun spending time with Fruki, though he never had understood why.
Though Kevin would have liked to go to him and introduce Fruki properly before going, he was wise enough to keep his distance. The senses of all Khajiit were keen, and he knew that if they went close enough Ri'yaan would catch the scent of orange candy and je'm'ath, and he would know immediately that Kevin's promise to him had been broken. And though he felt uneasy with the thought of keeping his betrayal hidden, Kevin dreaded Ri'yaan's disappointment in him even more.
From afar Kevin offered his reassurances that he would be back well before dark, and ushered Fruki back toward Dawnstar.
It should have been a short and simple journey, for Fruki's home was just at the edge of town and very close by, but the je'm'ath had made both of them somewhat sluggish. Indeed, Fruki's steps had turned heavy and her pace uneven. As they walked, Kevin soon found her hanging onto him, and once or twice he had been forced to rescue her balance from an unsteady wobble. They were within sight of the town when Kevin truly became concerned, for though the je'm'ath normally left him feeling warm when few other things did, beside him Fruki was shivering. Then, quite suddenly, Fruki stopped in her tracks, and her legs folded slowly under until she was resting on her knees.
"Fruki?" Kevin asked her, worry in his voice. At first she didn't answer. "Fruki? Are you okay?"
"Kev...I don't feel good," she said slowly, with a frown.
Then Fruki leaned forward and vomited in the snow. Alarmed, Kevin spoke her name again.
"Fruki?"
"A little better," Fruki mumbled just then, closing her eyes.
And Kevin certainly couldn't fool himself anymore. Something was wrong.
"Come on, up," Kevin said urgently, pulling Fruki's arm. "We need to get you home..."
When Fruki barely reacted to his urging, Kevin pulled her arm over his shoulders, and did the best he could to drag her to her feet.
As they drew closer to town, they caught the eye of Fruki's father, who was outside chopping wood for the night's fire. Dropping his axe he came rushing up to meet him.
"What is it, boy?" her father asked him anxiously. "What's happened?"
"I don't know, sir," Kevin said as Fruki's father lifted her up into his arms. "We were walking together when she just got sick."
"I will take her to Frida," the man said, nodding to their home. "Go and get her mother. Tell her to meet us inside."
Kevin nodded, and went obediently.
By the time they arrived at the Mortar and Pestle, Fruki's father had lain her in Frida's bed upstairs for the old healer to examine. Kevin was relieved to see Fruki awake, responding to Frida's words and her touch, though just barely.
Kevin watched as Frida examined the girl, looking closely at her eyes, and feeling her hands.
"Her temperature is down and the centers of her eyes contracted," Frida said. She shook her head with a frown. "If it came on as sudden as you say then it's likely not an illness, I'm afraid, but some form of poisoning. Fruki, have you eaten anything today?"
Her words froze Kevin deeply, leaving him dry-mouthed with shock. Yet Fruki was just aware enough to answer.
"Sweets," she said softly, her voice quiet and weak. "Kevin's. From the caravan."
Frida stilled, and when her attention turned to Kevin, her expression was almost impossible to read. Fruki's parents, too, turned their eyes upon him. Her mother's were accusing and full of hate, as if she looked upon something disgusting. In that moment Kevin almost wished he would die.
After far too long the scrutiny was finally broken, the voice of Fruki's mother tight and angry as she spoke to her husband.
"Go and fetch the guard," she said.
And without a word, Fruki's father went.
A tense beat passed and none of them moved, nor hardly even breathed. Then Frida stood, retrieving a small red bottle from one of the shelves. This she handed to Fruki's mother.
"Make her drink this," Frida said. "It will help her fight off the effects of what ails her. I will take the boy downstairs and speak with him."
Fruki's mother seemed at first as if she might argue, but care for her daughter soon had her dismissing Kevin from her thought's entirely.
Kevin didn't want to go, not while Fruki might still be in danger, but once Frida's hand lay upon his shoulder he felt he had little choice. They descended the steps and she led him behind the counter, to the corner on the far side of her shop. She guided him to her stool and made him sit, kneeling down carefully so that she could look him in the eye. She examined him briefly as she had done Fruki, raising his chin to look at his eyes, and she felt his forehead and cheeks with her hand. At once she frowned deeply.
"Where did you get the sweets Fruki spoke of?" Frida asked him slowly.
Her voice, though calm, was dangerously serious. Kevin was so scared at first that he could not speak. She sighed at this failure, and he was forced to turn his eyes away.
"Kevin, Fruki's father will be coming back any minute with the Jarl's men," Frida said, very carefully, "and when they come and ask what's happened, I cannot lie to them."
She reached out just then and firmly squeezed his hand.
"But I know you are a very smart boy," she continued. "At least smart enough to know what could happen to your friends at the caravan if rumor were spread that Khajiit had given sweets to Nord children that were laced with moon sugar."
And the still urgency in the words, as well as his own shock finally forced him to stare back.
"I won't make you tell me what happened," Frida told him, her gaze searching in spite of her words, "but when those guards arrive I want you to be very, very careful about the answers you give them."
She said no more after that, returning upstairs to Fruki and leaving Kevin there as they awaited the rest. Kevin's heart was beating so rapidly with fear that he felt dizzy, and his stomach was tight. Or perhaps, he thought, part of that was the je'm'ath—
Moon sugar, he now realized with horror.
Kevin knew of it, of course. Moon sugar and skooma were the poisons of which Fruki herself had spoken only yesterday—ignorant words, he had thought then, to which he had so firmly refused to listen.
Years ago, when Kevin had grown aware of the mistrust the townsfolk felt toward the Khajiit, he had of course begun to ask why. And it had seemed each person in Dawnstar carried their own list of reasons. For some it was the sheer strangeness of all beast-folk, for others their reputation for theft, while for others still it was for fear of Thalmor spies. But many more had spoken of the Khajiit as peddlers of filth and petty evils—which Kevin at the time had hardly understood. But as always where the Khajiit were concerned, he had refused to accept the first answer given—or the second or third—at face value.
And he had taken his questions to Ri'yaan, as he had always done, only to have the Khajiit turn anxious and point him toward his mother instead.
Kevin had been confused, and to this day still did not understand why, but he had taken his questions to his mother as he was told. Sigun had frowned to hear them, but in the end she had explained. Moon sugar, she had told him, and skooma which was made from it were dangerous medicines the use of which the Khajiit were reputed for. And she had been adamant in her warnings that he was never to touch either one.
Of course, he had not understood then why he ever would.
Earlier this past spring, a ship from Solitude had docked in the harbor carrying lumber and grain bound for Solstheim. Late into that night, Kevin had awoken when one of the sailors had come to their home. Kevin had never seen an Orc before, though he had heard of them, yet even so Kevin could tell that something about him was wrong. Orc-kind were widely known for their strength and hardiness, yet the man who appeared at their door had been very thin, almost sickly, and had spoken to Kevin's mother in the tone of someone begging. And though Kevin could easily read his mother's pity for the wretched thing, still she had been quite angry as she turned him away.
Come morning, Kevin learned that the whole thing had been a cruel jest played on all of them—that when one of the local fishermen had heard the Orc asking around for skooma, he had mentioned Sigun's friendship with the Khajiit, suggesting her as a source. Yet even more than his mother's embarrassment and her outrage, Kevin vividly remembered the Orc's humiliation and shame, and the hostility and ridicule he had faced from both the townsfolk and his fellows. Indeed, his captain had made overtures that they might leave him behind—
A notion turned aside by nothing less than the Jarl's insistence that Dawnstar did not want him.
After the sailors had gone, Kevin had asked his mother about it—how the Orc could have wanted the skooma so much when it made people hate him that badly. And it seemed he had at last found the right question, for his mother had finally explained the true danger of such things as skooma and moon sugar. At first they made a person feel good, she said, but they would need more and more to feel that way, until finally they would get sick without it. It was a sickness, she had warned him, that could not be cured if the victim did not want it, and for those like the Orcish sailor—who were so far lost to the illness that they often did not—there was little they could do but extend their pity.
And as he waited in Frida's shop for the Jarl's men to arrive, Kevin felt very ill remembering— And frightened. And hurt. And betrayed. For he could not for the life of him fathom why Ri'yaan would have deceived him for so long the way he had.
Yet fear soon drove the question from his mind, for when Fruki's father returned not only did several of the guard accompany him, but so did Jarl Skald the Elder himself.
Kevin had always been quite afraid of Skald. Though there hadn't been much occasion for him to have contact with the Jarl personally, Kevin had accompanied his mother when she attended the yearly Holdsmoot at the White Hall, and seen him pass judgment on wrongdoings on behalf of Dawnstar and the Pale. He had also heard the townsfolk speaking over drink at the inn. Kevin knew the Jarl had always been quite vocal in his belief that Skyrim belonged to the Nords alone, and that others were unwelcome. Like many, Skald looked down on Kevin's mother for her marriage to a Breton, and for his own sin of having a father who was not a Nord, he regarded Kevin with open disdain.
Indeed, he looked at Kevin that way now.
"Ah, my lord Jarl," Frida greeted suddenly as she descended the stair. "I would the occasion for your visit were such that I might welcome you warmly, but sadly it is not so."
Skald offered Frida a shallow nod in acknowledgment.
"Frida. I've been told some very strange things which beggar my belief. Could you explain to me what in Talos' name is happening here?"
"I'm afraid, Jarl, that I've had my hands too long tied with the poor girl upstairs to get that story," Frida hedged neatly. "Though I briefly tried, the boy did not seem ready to speak."
Her eyes met Kevin's meaningfully for a few seconds, reminding him of her earlier words, and weighing them he saw the doom at which she had only hinted. For Kevin had heard folks speak openly against Ri'yaan's people only too often. Idle, though alarmingly graphic, threats were frequently expressed with little thought—sometimes when the Khajiit could even hear them—and for no greater provocation than the caravan simply being there. If blame in this should fall upon the Khajiit, the Jarl would seek their banishment from Dawnstar forever, or have them imprisoned—
Or worse. Far worse.
Though anger burned in his heart for Ri'yaan's bewildering lies, still Kevin knew he could not doom him to that. Whatever Ri'yaan's reasons, Kevin had broken his own promise. Though the Khajiit trader bore fault in what had happened, Kevin knew that the true guilt for Fruki's involvement was his own. Whatever the punishment, he must be the one to bear it.
And when the Jarl's eyes narrowed on him expectantly, he knew what he had to do.
"I— I gave Fruki some candy, and it made her sick," Kevin told the Jarl, trembling with fear he did not have to feign in the least. "They belonged to the Khajiit. I...I didn't know what they were when I took them."
Skald frowned.
"Stole them, you mean?" the Jarl asked stonily.
"I..."
And for a moment Kevin hesitated. But though few things could be worse than branding himself a thief, Kevin knew that seeing harm come to the Khajiit was certainly one of them.
"Yes, sir," he said finally.
Though Kevin would never have imagined it possible, at his admission Skald's demeanor turned even colder. And as if to prove that even now things could still grow worse, Kevin's mother arrived just then.
"What is going on?" Sigun asked.
She sounded almost as if she were preparing to be angered in advance.
"You should be more cautious, Sigun, in letting your son spend his time with animals," the Jarl said. "He's begun to learn some of their worst habits. One of the miner's daughters has been poisoned with Khajiit filth your son stole from their caravan."
The blood drained from his mother's face as Kevin watched, and she turned to stare at him in shock. For a moment, she was speechless.
"Kevin," she asked him finally, "is this true?"
And with the Jarl and his men still listening Kevin could not explain himself to her, so instead he was forced to look away.
"You may take your daughter home tonight," Frida interrupted, speaking to Fruki's father. "See that she eats well and gets plenty of water, and if she feels she must be sick again then it may be best to let her. Though she might still be weak, she should otherwise be well by tomorrow."
With a nod, Fruki's father climbed up the stairs to get her. He came down with Fruki in his arms, and the girl's mother hovering by his side. And though her husband departed silently, she yet waited.
"For his own sake, I'd best not catch that son of yours even speaking to my daughter again, Sigun," she said angrily. "So help me, if he does, I won't be responsible for what I'll do to him."
And then she was gone as well.
"Those mangy cats bring nothing but trouble," Skald said irritably. "Every year, I ask myself why I don't ban them from the Pale altogether. Given the choice, I'd as soon skin the beasts on sheer principal."
"And yet every year, I'm sure, you're reminded why," his mother countered coolly.
"Hn. They bring my folk some profit with their coming," Skald acknowledged, though not without a sneer. "But when it leads to incidents such as this, it hardly feels worth it."
"What would you have me do then, my lord Jarl?" Sigun asked of him blandly.
For ever when there were problems with the Khajiit, real or contrived, it was always his mother that folk looked to—even those who prospered from their business with the Khajiit would often not address them otherwise, given the choice.
"Tell them they must leave at once," Skald told her, simply. "They must break camp at dawn, and if they are not gone by midday, Sigun, then by Talos and all of the Divines I will see a new rug decorating my hall."
"I will tell them," his mother said. And Kevin thought he could hear her own disdain for the Jarl, though she hid it very well. "And my son? What is his punishment to be?"
Skald spared him only a glance as he considered a moment, waving a hand dismissively.
"That will be yours to decide," the Jarl said indifferently. "What happened to the girl was unfortunate, but unless her mother comes to demand satisfaction for the accident at the next Holdsmoot there is little I might do. As for the thieving... Had he stolen from one of my subjects, I would be of a mind to punish him for it, and harshly, so let that be a warning that this behavior not repeat. But the Khajiit are none of mine, Talos be thanked, and I won't punish a child whose theft was only from those who are thieves themselves."
"I see, my lord," Sigun said, as tepidly as any words Kevin had ever heard spoken.
And with that Skald beckoned his guards and left them—Sigun, Kevin, and Frida—standing alone in the shop, in silence.
"Kevin," his mother said, and she spoke slowly, hardly looking at him, "I want you to go home and stay there. Wait for me."
Kevin was so confused and frightened, and there were things he badly needed to say, but his mother's even tone left no room for argument. Yet as the door closed behind him, though his home was only feet away, he just couldn't bring himself to move the distance. He sat instead on the front step of Frida's shop, arms held tight around his chest against the cold and his own hurt as he waited. And though it had not been his intent to listen, with his head at rest against the door Kevin heard his mother and the healer speaking all the same.
"Is it really true what Skald has said?" Kevin's mother asked.
Her voice was audibly hesitant, as though she feared the answer.
"It is, I'm afraid," Frida told her, gently, "though I suspect there's more to the story than that. Kevin claims not to have known the sweets were drugged, and that much I believe. It is where and how he got them that must be our concern."
Silence fell between them in which understanding seemed unspoken, though his mother soon broke it with a shuddered sigh.
"Moon sugar..." Sigun said, as if she could not believe it. "Frida... Have I been wrong letting him spend time among Ri'yaan and his people all these years?"
Frida was slow to answer, and delivered her words delicately.
"Such questions might be better asked once you have all the facts, Sigun," Frida cautioned. "Once you sort this out with Ri'yaan, then you may worry about your son."
Though muffled by the door, Kevin heard his mother release a faint laugh.
"I will always worry, Frida," she said. "I've spent so much of his childhood holding on as tightly as I could that I too often fear letting go. You know his father and I agreed long ago that when Kevin is old enough, if he chooses to go, then Ri'yaan would take him south for a time. But he's growing up so much faster than I'd expected, Frida—so fast it hardly seems fair. I can't imagine what I'll do if he doesn't choose me."
"You mustn't think of it that way," Frida said. "It is not you or his father that he will be choosing but himself. Whatever his choice, Sigun, Kevin loves you, and he will always be your son."
Whatever more was said, however, Kevin didn't hear it, for it was at that moment that the fell prey to ambush.
He was dragged through the snow and mud by his clothing for several feet before he managed to right himself and break loose. His attackers had managed to encircle him, however, and he therefore could not escape. Hjalfi was one of them, which was no surprise, nor Bulfrek who stood to Kevin's right. Lond he was surprised to see, though he supposed if he thought about it he shouldn't be. The boy was Fruki's cousin, after all, and his older brother, Jod, was one of Skald's personal guard, from whom he had no doubt learned of events. The fourth was Irgnir, an older girl of Hjalfi's age. Kevin did not know her well, save that she sometimes played with Fruki.
Kevin knew exactly why they had come, and in his sadness and guilt he was prepared not to fight it.
Lond gave him a shove that sent him toppling over onto his side in the mud, and Hjalfi kicked slush into his face.
"What happened, Honeymilk?" Irgnir said tartly. "Did you get confused, or were you just so bad at being a Nord you tried being a Khajiit instead?"
"He sure knows how to steal like one," Hjalfi taunted.
"Honeymilk?" Bulfrek said. "More like Sugar Boy."
In spite of his determination to take their punishments silently, Kevin cringed.
"Hah! Sugar Boy!" Hjalfi repeated delightedly. "You gonna steal us some moon sugar, Sugar Boy?"
Kevin heard Hjalfi move behind him, and soon found himself being dragged to his feet. He might have expected to be thrown down again, but instead Skald's son pulled his arms behind him, holding him firmly in place, and turned him to face Lond. Seeing in the boy's anger what was about to happen, finally Kevin tried to struggle, but it was no use.
"Go ahead, Lond," Hjalfi said.
Lond stared at Kevin a moment, hesitating, though eventually he did draw near, his hand closing into a fist. With Hjalfi holding him in place, Kevin could neither dodge the blow nor block it, so he prepared himself the way Ri'yaan had taught him. He breathed out when the punch came, and hooked his ankle behind Hjalfi's knee so that the momentum sent them falling backwards instead.
Kevin was far from heavy, but still his weight knocked the breath out of the unsuspecting boy, who let go of his arms almost immediately.
Once they hit the ground Kevin rolled clear. Though his stomach ached and it was difficult to breathe, he recovered himself quickly and tried to make a break for it. Irgnir saw the move coming and tried to cut off his escape. Kevin dodged her grab and tripped her, sending her down into the snow at Hjalfi's side. Lond closed in and threw another punch toward Kevin's stomach. This time he was able to block with the outside of his arm, and followed it with a blow to the side of the jaw with the heel of his open hand. Lond dropped down onto his knees clutching his face, and Bulfrek took off running.
Irgnir recovered herself just as Hjalfi also regained his feet. With a tug at the other boy's elbow, she tried to draw him away. Hjalfi didn't listen—instead he charged. And if any of what had happened while he was down had somehow caught his notice, his strategy certainly didn't show it. There was a look of wide-eyed surprise on Hjalfi's face as Kevin ducked his blow, and as the older boy swept past he landed a swift punch beneath Hjalfi's ribs.
Hjalfi landed face down in the snow. Though Kevin heard him moaning, he didn't stick around to watch him get up again.
Kevin's house was not far away, but that was not where he headed. Though he was certain even Hjalfi would think twice about pursuing him inside, the fight had left him soaked and muddy once again. With his mother so disappointed in him, the last thing she deserved was to come home and learn he had been fighting. Unfortunately his last set of dry clothes was still back in the tent at Ri'yaan's camp. Though Kevin wasn't sure he could bear to face the Khajiit right now, his situation left him little choice. With luck, he thought, he might be able to slip in unnoticed.
It was a long shot, but he knew he had to try.
He could not rely on the cover of night to hide him, he knew, for the Khajiit could see in darkness easily as well as a Man could in twilight. Instead he passed the camp before returning through the trees on the far side, keeping the tents between himself and the points where, at this hour, Marash likely kept his watch. Kevin made it to the back of Ri'yaan's tent with apparent success, and listened carefully to make sure that it was empty. Once he was certain, he slowly untied the straps lacing the cover of patched hides to the tent's wooden frame, and soon had a hole opened wide enough for him to creep in.
Sadly, he never got the chance. The sound of voices alerted him to Ri'yaan's approach, and it was with a faint thrill of horror Kevin realized his mother was with him. But though they spoke of him, their concern was for the incident in town—the Jarl and the townsfolk, and the danger both might represent. Kevin thought it likely his mother had just missed his fight with the children from town—she had to have come here straight from Frida's, and so probably still believed he had gone home as she had asked.
Kevin was forced to abandon his plans as Ri'yaan and his mother entered the tent. Instead he let the corner he had loosened fall and waited. And as their talk soon turned toward topics more personal, Kevin could not help but listen in.
"You are wanting to talk about what happened," Ri'yaan interrupted suddenly. He sounded resigned. "Do so."
Kevin's mother took a moment, seeming to collect herself some before speaking.
"You've placed me in a difficult position, Ri'yaan," Sigun said. "I must either accept that my son has begun thieving or that he's been keeping secrets from me, and I don't like either one. Though I'd almost rather believe Kevin was a thief than believe the other, because it would mean you were also keeping secrets, when you swore to me that you would never do so again."
And her voice carried a fragile edge to it that Kevin in all his life had never heard from his mother before.
"Which is it, Ri'yaan?" she prodded, the tone of hurt making her sound very tired.
Ri'yaan did not answer right away, and when he did his voice was soft, and with the campfire light casting his shadow across the tent, Kevin saw him hang his head.
"Kevin is no thief," Ri'yaan admitted, quietly. "The fault is mine."
Kevin's mother took a slow breath before speaking again.
"I've always been open to you teaching him about your people, Ri'yaan," she said, "but it was always because I thought I could trust you—"
"Trust," Ri'yaan interrupted suddenly, releasing a weary snort. "You hold no trust for Ri'yaan. You speak always of your forgiveness of him, yet at times it is as if you had never done."
A beat passed, Ri'yaan shaking his head silently.
"If you trusted," Ri'yaan said, speaking tensely, "then the boy would know by now whose son he is."
And Kevin thought his words made little sense, but his mother in turn was silent for a time.
"I know I've hurt him by hiding the truth," his mother said regretfully. "I just wish—"
Ri'yaan chuffed bitterly at her words.
"Do not speak to Ri'yaan of wishes," the Khajiit said. Sighing wearily, he lifted a hand to her cheek. "Ri'yaan would give anything to undo his mistakes, a'ahn rabiba, but he has learned his lesson about wishes. And what is it you would wish? To give him another father would be to change him, Sigi. If his father had truly been a Breton—or a Nord, or an Imperial—he would not be who he is."
And suddenly Kevin could not breathe, and though he remained very still his heart was hammering.
"I wouldn't change one bit of him, Ri'yaan, and you know it," Sigun said, with a tone that was bittersweet.
"Then that much we two still agree upon," Ri'yaan told her, "and as always it must be enough."
"I so badly want to be able to trust you, Ri'yaan," Sigun said, lifting her hand to draw his away from her face. "But after the way you betrayed me— And now Kevin. Giving him moon sugar—and without telling him what it was? How could you do that to him?"
The anger had returned to her voice. Ri'yaan turned away from it, his ears flattening.
"He knew and did not know," Ri'yaan said slowly. "The word in Ta'agra is je'm'ath, and the boy was taught what that really is, not what the profane abuses of sugar-tooths and the unclawed have made it to be. And Ri'yaan regrets deceiving him, Sigun, but he knew that if Kevin ever told you would never allow it."
"How could I?" Sigun objected, horrified. "It's dangerous—"
"Is not your faith also dangerous?" Ri'yaan asked her suddenly.
The words seemed to confuse her into silence, and after a moment Ri'yaan took the opening to explain.
"The worship of Talos is outlawed," he said quietly, "and yet still you do so, in secret. And you raise the boy to do so as well. Ri'yaan's faith is also outlawed outside his homeland by those who fear the holy sugar. And so he shares his faith only in secret, knowing you would not understand."
And Kevin could all but hear in Ri'yaan's voice how much he wished that she did.
"In Elsweyr," Ri'yaan continued, "je'm'ath is in foods everywhere. In cooking it loses potency, and children there take no harm from it—"
"It was potent enough to harm Fruki," his mother said.
Ri'yaan released a faint breath.
"That is different, Sigun," Ri'yaan said slowly. "Kevin is different, and you know it."
And when she did not speak, Ri'yaan reached out to her again, taking hold of her hands.
"You know that," Ri'yaan said, his words an aching whisper, "and when you are not angry you also know that Ri'yaan would do nothing he thought might harm our son."
Whatever her response to this Kevin was not to know, for at that moment his skulking was discovered.
Strong, furred arms closed around him, lifting him off his feet to carry him around to the front of the tent. Though Kevin struggled it was useless—he was at Marash's mercy until the Khajiit set him down on his feet near the fire.
"Ri'yaan," Marash called, humor in his voice, "look what Marash has caught."
Ri'yaan and his mother exited the tent at Marash's call, and both looked stunned to see him standing there.
"Ohra ja'khajiit m'dariit vabazeri," Marash said to his comrade, thumping Kevin on the back proudly so that he almost toppled over. "Ahn Khajiit vasa jijri."
After a startled moment, Ri'yaan let out an irritated hiss.
"Tss! Gzalziit!"
In spite of the insult, Marash merely grinned.
"Go, Marash," Ri'yaan ordered sharply, "and attend your watch more closely. The Nords may yet seek to send us trouble before the morning."
And though there was real danger in the threats Ri'yaan spoke of, Marash walked off laughing. Yet still the guard's words echoed in Kevin's head, for he knew just enough of Ta'agra to understand. "Ja'khajiit" meant "cub" or "kitten", and unlike "ja'ahn" it was not used for the children of elves or Men...
And "vasa jijri" meant "under the skin".
Ri'yaan and his mother both watched him uncertainly—no doubt they both were wondering how much he might have heard. His mother spoke his name softly, but Kevin could not go to her—the hurt inside him bit too deep. The two people he had thought he could always trust had both been lying to him all his life—
He simply could not face it.
There was no point at which he decided to run, it simply happened, and there was not thought enough left in him to care where he was going—though perhaps just care enough that he did not head out into the woods alone. Indeed, he soon found himself at the edge of town once again and stopped at the sight, not knowing where from there he should go. The cold night air and the dampness of his clothes had begun to steal the heat from his body, and breathless after his flight from the caravan the chill left his lungs aching. But he would not go home where his mother might seek him, and he could not go back to the camp...
There was only one left in Dawnstar that might still welcome him.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four
