Dreams Deferred

 

Previously: What Should Have Been

They left long before the sun. Zahra was so tired she slept through the carriage ride, longing for her own bed in Falkreath. In some ways, all this travel had been good for her; she'd never missed a place before. And she never imagined falling in love with a place like Falkreath and considering it home, but such was life. She didn't just miss the lake and the quiet life at the manor, she missed going into town on errands and seeing familiar faces.

 

She slept for a time and dreamed of home, but then the cold started creeping, seeping through the carriage, under her clothes, and into her bones. It troubled her dreams; she couldn't recall a cold so deep and persistent it actually woke her from her sleep.

 

We're not heading back into Western Skyrim, she groggily realized, sitting up and trying to focus. 

"You're awake," Eyvindr smiled at her. It wasn't a fully happy smile; Bjorg had spent the a good portion of the night lecturing him on the danger of coming to the Palace of Kings. He probably felt like he was losing his family all over again, but it didn't justify traveling even further away from home.

 

"Where are we?" Zahra demanded. "You're taking us further east!"

 

"North actually," he corrected her. "One last stop."

 

"Eyvindr--"

 

"I promise," he assured her. "One last stop. This one's more for you than me."

 

Zahra's brow furrowed. "For me?"

 

"You've never been to Winterhold, have you?" he asked.

 

Her eyes widened as she tried to make sense of him. She couldn't recall ever being in Winterhold, and from she read and heard, aside for the college, nearly no one lived there and it had nothing going for it. It was pretty much a place people stopped en route to warmer climes.

 

"Why the fuck are we bound for Winterhold?" she rasped, more so to herself than him.

 

Now his eyes widened, amused. "Seriously? You really have to ask?"

 

***

 

 

Winterhold was beyond cold and desolate to the point of baffling. Zahra was familiar with the infamous Great Collapse that washed half the city into the sea and left the remainder a crumbling wasteland. There were only a handful of buildings still intact, including the College. Even so, the towering city walls and gates were enough to remind travelers of the greatness of Skyrim's former capital.

 

There were few people in the streets, and even fewer city guards, and despite the destroyed buildings all around them, the city had a strange coziness to it. Zahra felt oddly at home here even though she couldn't recall the place.

 

"I wrote ahead to the College, before we left for Whiterun," Eyvindr said softly, as he watched his betrothed move dreamily through the town, mouth open in silent awe. "A messenger arrived in Windhelm last night. They've given us special dispensation to see their Arcanaeum, but nothing more."

 

"How?" Zahra gasped, breathless. "I heard they were...exclusive...and...and restrictive--"

 

"They are," he are nodded. "I had to offer a not-so-small donation, of course. And it didn't hurt to mention that I was bringing my betrothed, a current baroness and former court mage." He smirked. "As always, my dear, your status opens doors."

 

Zahra's heart pounded fiercely in her chest as he led her though the city up to the famed bridge of the College. It was Eyvindr who spoke, showing their pass and guiding her across the bridge. She couldn't think just now, much less speak.

 

She had always wanted to attend the College of Winterhold, and now that she was here, Zahra realized it was far greater than anything she'd ever imagined. The building was enormous, seemingly going on forever. It was far more beautiful than anything in her dreams, and unlike the halls and palaces she'd visited thus far, its beauty and history had been perfectly preserved.

 

It would seem mages have higher standards than royalty, she marveled. 

 

 

 

 

"Professor Mirabelle Ervine, I presume?" Eyvindr introduced himself to a busy-looking Breton mage with short dark hair. "I am Eyvindr. I wrote to you."

 

The mage looked up, blinking rapidly to clear her thoughts. "Ah, yes...of course." Her eyes turned to Zahra. "This is perhaps, Lady Zahra then."

 

"Professor," Zahra greeted tightly. She couldn't believe she was speaking to a real professor from Winterhold, with the robes, poise, and everything.

 

"Welcome to the College of Winterhold," Mirabelle nodded, closing her book and standing up straight. "I believe you've been cleared to see our Arcanaeum. It's a rare honor, of course, so I will take you there myself. Follow me."

 

The couple wordlessly complied, with Zahra holding her breath as her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

 

"This institution has existed since before the Third Empire," Mirabelle explained, pushing open the greats and leading them into the entryway. "This is the Hall of the Elements, just through the gate there is where the apprentice mages attend their lectures."

 

Lectures, Zahra mentally gasped. She could imagine them too; aged mages in fine robes passing on their wisdom to a younger generation. I could have attended lectures.

 

Mirabelle led them through another set of double doors and up some stairs. There was a small entryway with a table and chairs, and some students quietly chatting. Zahra's eyes widened at the sight of an actual students in novice robes, but before she could fully process that, Mirabelle led them into the library, and Zahra's breathing stopped completely.

 

  

The ceilings reached for the heavens and the bookshelves followed; there were long ladders posted at every stack.

 

Mages milled through the stacks; those who spoke did so in hushed voices, but mostly, people were reading, completely absorbed in their books.

 

"The Arcanaeum," Mirabelle said lowly, "in layman's terms, the library. Students are allowed to read and study here, but not remove any of the books. Taking a book results in immediate expulsion."

 

"I would've slept in this place, had I attended," Zahra blinked.

 

Mirabelle's brow furrowed, as though pondering her words. "You were privately educated, were you not?"

 

"If you could call it that," Zahra replied, again without thinking. She suddenly turned to Eyvindr. "I should have been here. I should have been here." 

 

"Our children can still attend," Eyvindr gently assured her.

 

"I will drag them here, kicking and screaming, if I have to," Zahra said, eyes turning back to the great hall. Her voice broke slightly when she bitterly echoed once more, "I should've been here." 

An elderly mage suddenly arrived to interrupt them; he immediately went to Mirabelle to whisper in her ear. The Breton's brow furrowed as she turned to the couple. "A messenger has arrived for you," she raised an eyebrow, "from Jarl Kraldar."

 

*** 

  

 

 "I promise this wasn't part of the plan," Eyvindr assured her, as they were guided to a great stone fortress. It stood across a great bridge on a mountain overlooking the crumbling city. "I've never met Kraldar, and know nothing of the man."

 

"Perhaps your father knew him then," Zahra suggested.

 

"Doubtful," Eyvindr shook his head. "The old man would never come this far north, not for all the septims in Tamriel."

 

 

 

The Jarl's hall was massive, with enough tables and chairs to host all the nobles in Skyrim. In fact, Zahra guessed, as the former capital of Skyrim, this hall once probably did just that. The room smelled of smoke, mead, and cold, and was a hollow shell of its former glory.

 

At the far end of the hall was a great dais with a throne. As Zahra and Eyvindr approached, they noticed how the white-haired Jarl of Winterhold seemed dwarfed by his own castle, swallowed by its yawning emptiness. 

 

 

"I call and they come," the older man greeted, his tankard raised. "I do so love being Jarl."

"Your Grace," Eyvindr bowed. "This is my betrothed, Lady Zahra."

 

"Sorry to interrupt your tour," the Jarl shrugged. He seemed such a jovial fellow, a welcome surprise considering his surroundings. "I understand the College is indeed a fascinating place. In fact, I keep inviting the Arch-Mage to dinner and he keeps rescheduling."

 

"We are honored nonetheless," Zahra smiled tightly, even as she lied.

 

"I won't keep you long," Kraldar assured them. "My steward assures me suppers is on the way and that your room is ready. The issue, simply, is that I hear you have mines."

 

The couple exchanged a look before Eyvindr replied, "As a matter of fact, I do, Your Grace. Two of them."

 

"Mm," the Jarl nodded, savoring his mead. "You've traversed my realm, you've seen my city. So many, many things are in disrepair. The Emperor has rewarded me generously for my loyalty, so now I would like to see how I might procure the necessary supplies to get my beloved deathtrap of a city back up and running."

 

***

 

That night, as Eyvindr snored next to her, Zahra stared at the ceiling of their great stone chamber and relived every second of the tour. She lay wondering what her life might have been like if she had attended the College instead of being trained by necromancers.

 

For one, I could tell the truth of whence I came.

As much as she wished to be a young, bright-eyed student again, her new life still called to her. She was going to buy Lakeview Manor. She was going to be married to a very wealthy, handsome young man.

 

She was a lucky woman, considering her origins, and she didn't want to be ungrateful. Even so, she felt the call of Aetherius, the seductive curiosity of its mysteries. She liked Eyvindr, but she loved being a mage. She loved the power, and the respect her knowledge commanded.

 

I could've had more.

 

There was a weighty sadness as she bid that part of her life farewell. Her children would have to live that dream for her, and Zahra swore she'd make them.