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Brinsingr War-Born was at his wit's end.

The large Nord had never taken well to losing. When it came to spars with his friends he was more gracious a loser, but when it came down to performing inadequately out in the field — where he was charged with protecting others; where his performance mattered most — Brinsingr always took it very hard on himself. Great Nord warriors were not supposed to lose fights, after all.

But he had lost, twice — two fights that he could very well have won — and both losses had struck tremendous blows against his psyche. The sheer act of losing in itself was not the sole thing affecting him so badly; what had truly shaken him was how utterly crushed he'd been left after each defeat. He had new, ugly scars to commemorate each loss, now. Not all of them were physical scars, either.

Now, a few days after those losses that had brought him so low, Brinsingr's condition remained tenuous and unstable. A latent, deeply-buried anger rushed hot through his veins, seething beneath his exterior. Its only outward manifestations were a permanent, uncharacteristic scowl that furrowed his brow, and a newfound lust for violence which was nothing like the man's usual, ecstatic zeal for combat.

He had spent the afternoon in Vvardenfell, taking care of a problem involving helping a group of ghost hunters deal with a body-possessing Dunmeri spirit. Brin had been accompanied on the task by two of his comrades: an Ashlander Dunmer named Willow, and his best friend Tarveth Dren. Willow had taken her leave of the two when they'd reached the nearest town, but just as the two arrived, another familiar face had greeted them: Teleri Maryon, Brinsingr's wife-to-be. The Nord's foul mood had deteriorated almost instantly upon greeting his fiancée, and they'd rejoiced upon seeing each other again. So it was that the three of them entered the local tavern, hoping to rest after the exhausting afternoon.

Brin was first to enter, bowing his head slightly so that he didn't hit it on the doorframe. He stood tall in his new gear: a suit of the thickest, heaviest plate armor that he could bear in battle. He'd spent days killing all manner of beasts, monsters, and anything else stupid enough to get in his way, just so he could acquire the material needed to craft it. It had been bloody business, one that his friends had expressed some distaste for. But look how it paid off. I'm nigh unkillable now.

The Nord scanned the inside of the tavern critically for a few moments as Tarveth and Teleri behind him entered the tavern. A few patrons stared at the newcomers nervously — though Brin couldn't tell if it was because of the massive, heavily armored Nord that had just entered, the one-eyed Dunmer man with a coal-and-chalk skull painted onto his face, or the Dunmer woman bearing twin axes at her hips and werewolf-claw scars wherever her macabre-looking enchanted robes didn't cover.

"Hm. Cozy place," Brinsingr concluded, his features stern as he spared his companions a sidelong glance. His hard look softened when Teleri came by his side, however. When he saw her look up at him and saw her dark lips curl up into a smile, he even managed to smile back.

Tarveth went and leaned against the bar, resting his weight on an arm. Brinsingr loped over to the bar and rested his weight on his arms upon the countertop, while Teleri came to stand calmly between them, her black braided hair swaying elegantly with each step.

"What's your poison, you two?" asked Tarveth as he began to idly play with his boot knife, twirling it around his fingers deftly. No sooner had he gotten the words out did Brin place his order in loud, accented Dunmeris.

"Bartender! Strongest sujamma you've got. Leave the bottle." The man fished in his satchel for a moment before placing a pouch of coins on the countertop, for the bartender to pick up.

Teleri answered Tarveth in her usual manner, pleasant and equable as ever. "Nothing for me right now. Thank you..."

She then slipped her pale gray hand into Brin's much larger one, and asked him, "How did it go with your brother after I had to leave?"

Brinsingr tensed up suddenly; her question had hit a raw nerve. Several days ago, he had met his long-lost brother Reinhardt in Teleri's home in the Rift while he'd been visiting her. This was the same man who, eleven years ago, he had been forced to kill in self-defense — Reinhardt had not taken well the news of his older brother's lycanthropy. Out of shame, Brin had left his brother to bleed out and die on the forest floor after their battle, but apparently such had not been the case.

Reinhardt claimed to have been saved from death when an ancient supernatural being — a leszniy, spoken of only in the most ancient of Nordic tales and legends, hearkening back to the days of Atmora — had found him and suffused itself into his dying body. The act had brought him from the brink of death, as well as brought to life other latent abilities that had long lay dormant in Reinhardt's blood, giving him control over forces of nature — thus, also making him a member of the class of warrior that people knew as Wardens.

Brinsingr had found it all too difficult to believe, but if his brother spoke the truth, then he supposed that Reinhardt should have been powerful enough now to take him in a fair fight. A Dragonknight against a Warden should have been an easy match, even if said Warden had been empowered by a powerful spiritual being. Embittered and arrogant, the man had thus underestimated his new foe, and in their battle, he had gained the first of his two crushing defeats.

Through clenched teeth, Brin finally brought himself to answer Teleri's question. "I've been convinced. Reinhardt really has been empowered by a leszniy."

Just then, the bartender came by and took Tarveth's order for a drink. Squeezing his hand, Teleri gave him a soft smile. "I told you not to be so doubtful, dear. Our world is a strange one."

Brinsingr made a sour face, thinking back to his battle with Reinhardt. "I am convinced, because the bastard actually knocked me flat on my arse. He strikes like an enraged bear with those twin axes, and moves like greased lightning. I was caught off-guard. I..."

He grit his teeth again, and when the bartender conveniently dropped off his bottle of sujamma, he grabbed the bottle and took a long pull from his drink. From the side, Tarveth quietly observed the scene, allowing Brin to speak. The boot knife now rested idly in his hand.

At length, Brin set down the bottle. A low, rueful growl rumbled from deep within his chest. "A good Dragonknight should be better than any damn Warden, mark my words..."

This was the first indication Teleri had that something was very wrong with her beloved Nord. She spared a worried glance at the bottle of sujamma in his grip, noting how heavily he was drinking; Brin didn't usually look quite so simultaneously enthusiastic and dour at the same time when he tucked in, and it worried her.

Though he did not speak his thoughts aloud, Tarveth shared her worries — Brin had not been himself today. He knew his battle-brother well enough by now. He had a good feel for his character, but the man who stood at the bar with him, with the way he'd been acting as of late, was not acting like the Nord he'd grown used to fighting alongside.

Just then, Brin let out a long, draining sigh, and in that moment all his strength and conviction appeared to leave him. The huge Nord sagged like a deflating netch, yet he remained silent, staring off absently. Gripped weakly in his hand, his bottle of sujamma lay forgotten. Having seen him deflate, Teleri wrapped her arms around him in a comforting manner. "Brin... it's alright. You're a fine Dragonknight and a wonderful shield."

Brin sighed heavily at her words. "I've found that hard to believe lately, Tel..."

Her response came immediately, certainty giving her words strength. "And I've believed myself to be a sub-standard healer of late, but I have taken the words of my friends on the matter and have proven myself of late."

Some weeks ago, Tarveth had received a concussion and had neglected to see Teleri for healing until his condition had deteriorated greatly. Working under pressure, Teleri had made a mistake with her magic that had cost Tarveth his sight. He had been rendered blind by the accident, but just a week ago Teleri had worked with another friend of theirs, also a healer, to fix Tarveth and give him back his sight — no easy feat, even with magic. It had taken much preparation and a risky ritual to accomplish it, but they'd succeeded.

Before Brin could respond to her, he was distracted by the local bard in the corner of the tavern when she began to pick out a lively tune on her lute. The cheeriness and carefree attitude of the song was quick to annoy the foul-tempered Nord. Glaring at the performing Dunmer lass in the corner, Brin grit his teeth and uttered lowly, "I wonder if I can pay that bard and tell her to sod off for a bit... I'm not in the mood for cheery drinking songs right now."

Tarveth's gaze turned grim as he studied the Nord. He decided to test the waters. "That's not like you, Brin..."

Brin arched a brow and turned his head to level a cool glare at Tarveth. The Dunmer returned the stare expressionlessly, neutrally. After a short pause, the Nord issued his reply. "I'm not in a good mood. That's why."

The Nord sighed heavily again, suddenly appearing to grow interested in the countertop. "I've not proven myself of late... if anything, I've only proven to myself that I'm getting..."

Here, the man seemed unable to get the words out for a moment. Through clenched teeth, he ground out the final words. "Soft. Weak."

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, an old memory arose. It brought with it no images; only a voice, brimming with all the arrogance and haughtiness of the one it belonged to, with such intensely painful clarity that it was as if the years that had separated him and the voice's owner had simply vanished in that moment. How the mighty have fallen. You've allowed yourself to grow weak. What has happened to you, Brinsingr? My mighty Ebonarm?

Beside him, Teleri sighed softly. "Brin, we've discussed this before... You are a good fighter, a strong defender, a faithful friend, and that is all you need to be."

It was Tarveth's words, however, that snapped the Nord out of his thoughts. "Killing everything isn't the path to strength, Brin."

Brin's scowl intensified by a modicum, and he turned to face the Dunmer. "Oh, but it is. I'm nigh unkillable now."

In response, Tarveth simply nodded. "Yeah, I had thoughts like that too, once. Kill everything! Blood for power!"

The one-eyed mer suddenly scowled at the memory of those darker days of his youth, days where he'd hungered for power and had gone through great and terrible lengths to acquire it. His voice dipped low. "You lose something vital along the way."

A short pause stretched out before them. Brin chose to speak, his voice growing irritated. "I have not lost anything."

"...Your composure, clearly," Teleri pointed out quietly. Neither man chose to acknowledge her comment.

Tarveth spoke again suddenly, stating with dark conviction, "The Brin I knew last week would've done more to save Farwen."

Farwen. That was the name of one of the ghost hunters they'd been charged with protecting that afternoon, a kindly Altmer. She'd had an ancient Dunmeri spirit invade her body and attempt to possess her. Brinsingr had not had faith in the woman's ability to muster her will and drive the spirit out of her — when she'd begged them to end her life and end her suffering at the hands of the malevolent spirit, Brin had obliged. Even now, his battle axe still held the stench and stain of her blood.

A part of Brin wanted to argue against Tarveth's words, but deep inside, some part of him knew the Dunmer was right. The realization only served to anger him further. He snapped back at the elf, "Well, excuse me for not being in a good mood after being crushed like a whelp and allowing those around me, who trusted me to keep them safe, die."

He then shook his head vehemently and muttered, "Damned Halls of Fabrication..."

The Halls of Fabrication had been the site of his second crushing defeat, and arguably the most painful one he'd experienced in his life. The Halls were said to be a part of Sotha Sil's Clockwork City, and was home to a large number of extremely powerful and dangerous automata called fabricants. Brin had heard of trouble in the area and had gone to investigate Tel Fyr — the Telvanni mushroom tower that served as the entrance to the Halls of Fabrication. He ended up joining with a group of eleven other warriors, all sellswords of varying background and skill, to assist the Dunmer wizard Divayth Fyr quell the threat that lurked in the Halls beneath the tower.

Tarveth knew this story already. He replied sternly, "I know you're capable. I didn't know them. Were they capable?"

"They were capable. Some more than others," the Nord admitted dourly. When he spoke, his voice was like the rumble of a Karth Gorge landslide. "When I did my job, they melted the opposition. But the moment I faltered..."

Brin's free hand on the countertop slowly curled up into a tight, enraged fist. "The moment I faltered, everyone died. Like a scythe to wheat they fell. So much blood... so many bodies... I couldn't..."

He felt a sharp stab of pain through his mind, as if someone had just jammed a pair of iron spikes into his temples. Horrifying flashbacks from the Halls of Fabrication suddenly struck him. He could recall everything as if he were living it in that moment. Everyone falling around him, dying; lightning filling the air with such intensity as to nearly blind him; his body burning and torn apart by metal talons, ripping into his armor and the flesh that lay beneath; and the piercing shrieks of automata on the attack...

"Brin!" Tarveth said sharply, seeing his friend gripped so suddenly by his horrific flashbacks.

Teleri, who had stepped back a moment to give Brin some space, made the decision to wrap her arms around him tightly in a comforting embrace. "I know how this feels, Brin... when Tarveth lost his sight, I felt the same. But I worked hard, I studied hard and we fixed it. I proved that I could do better and be better. How can you prove this to yourself?"

Brin was not listening. He couldn't, still far too tightly gripped by his horrifying flashbacks to focus on her words. He recovered enough of his wits only to gently pull himself from her grip. Shaking his head, eyes still shut tightly with pain, Brin took a couple of shaking steps away from the bar. "I... I need... I need... air...!"

He couldn't stand being inside anymore. The room suddenly felt too small for him, the walls posed to crush the life out of him. Brin staggered towards the entrance and all but battered down the door in his rush to escape. He couldn't care less if he tore the door off its hinges. He just needed to get out.

Tarveth watched Brin shove his way out of the tavern, before turning a grim look upon Teleri. The woman met his gaze with a sigh, before moving from the bar to follow the Nord. Tarveth lingered just long enough to pay for his untouched drink before joining her outside. What is happening to you, Brin?

The two Dunmer found their Nord just outside the tavern, leaning his head heavily against a tree, taking desperate, gasping gulps of air. He had his eyes shut to vainly fight back against the tears that nevertheless crawled down his cheeks. The man was very obviously putting all of his effort just to not break down completely.

"Brin..." Teleri took a tentative step towards the Nord, watching him carefully for any indication he'd heard her. He did not react to her words. His entire body trembled in every limb. She had to fight the overwhelming urge to go to him; she knew he probably didn't want her too close right now. Tarveth, meanwhile, kept a watchful distance with his arms crossed over his chest, always observing — but worried deeply for his comrade and dear friend.

At length, Brinsingr's flashbacks finally faded into the back of his mind once more. When his wits returned to him, he was finally able to grind his jaw in utter fury at himself. "Damn it... damn it, I was too weak... but never again..."

He slowly straightened, his hands at his sides clenched into fists, and turned to face the two Dunmer. His features were set into a firm, cold, hard stare. "Never. Again. I will not be crushed. I... will... not... break... again."

In a quiet voice, Teleri tried to respond. "I'm not asking you to..."

The Nord plowed onward. "We are the ones who are never meant to be broken," he uttered, grimacing at the words he spoke. "Well, I broke. But... I am amending that. One. Kill. At a time."

Standing behind Teleri, Tarveth remained ever watchful, maintaining a guarded silence. He knew what was happening to his friend, and he knew full well that when a Dragonknight got into this state, nothing could dissuade them. The mer could only hope that Brin's path remained a steady one, and didn't lead anywhere near the path he'd once trod.

The Nord suddenly pointed a finger at his breastplate. "This armor alone — gods, I must've had to kill a legion of foes before I got this. But it was worth it."

"Brin..." Teleri tried to speak again, but the chill that ran down her spine stopped her. She still remembered the last time Brin had lost himself to his rage. It had been painful enough when his rampaging werewolf had killed her, but at least she could've blamed it all on the wolf — but there was no more wolf pushing Brinsingr to rage anymore. This was her Brin, he was angry, and it terrified her.

Brin's stern features could have been carved out of the side of a mountain. "And you know what? I'd gladly kill a hundred more foes to get even stronger. Always stronger, always! I can't..."

His voice faltered, and his features twisted with pain and self-loathing. "I can't fail again. I cannot break again!"

Meeting his pained and angry features with a look of utter sorrow, Teleri couldn't do more than shake her head slowly at him, tears working their way down her pale gray cheeks — tears of pain, seeing her Nord so obviously in pain, and tears of fear.

Brinsingr suddenly shut his eyes. Something deep inside him realized that he wasn't in his right mind — that something was wrong with him. He turned away to lean heavily against the nearby tree again. "Just... go. Please. I need... time to think. Need time... to set myself right..."

When Tarveth sensed the change in Brin, he chose to break the silence. "You're volatile, my friend. We won't leave you alone."

Teleri managed to muster herself enough to softly add, "I will keep my distance, but I am not leaving."

Brinsingr grit his teeth and growled. "Just listen to me. I need... space. Privacy. I don't want you around. I... am afraid of... myself."

He let out another sigh, as if making a great concession. "Like you said, Tarveth: I am volatile."

Tarveth's response was surprisingly gentle. "I know you're scared, Brin. You've lost sight of yourself."

The Nord was not certain how his teeth had not shattered by now, with how hard he was gritting them now. "No. I know I've done the right thing, in becoming stronger. And I stand by what I said — I would gladly kill anything that stand between me and the power I seek. But..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. The Nord groped for words, but none came to him. Tarveth took the opportunity to speak again. "Three questions, Brin."

Tarveth held up a finger. "What is your name?"

The Nord didn't know what the Dunmer was getting at, but he humored him and answered loudly. "Brinsingr War-Born. Descendant of Stigandr." He paused, made a sour face, and added, "And a fucking Dragonknight."

Teleri glanced over to Tarveth with worry; the Brin they knew never swore like this. Tarveth then raised a second finger. "For what do you stand?"

Brin's response was immediate. "I stand for myself, for my friends, and for those who require my protection."

That sounded more like the Brin they knew; perhaps there was hope yet for him. A third raised finger joined Tarveth's other two. "For whom do you fight?"

The Nord turned fully to face the pair of Dunmer. "For those weaker than I. For those who are not strong enough to do what must be done."

Tarveth lowered his fingers and nodded once. "So speaks your soul. So speaks your mind. So speaks your body."

Then Brinsingr bowed his head slightly. "And I will acquire the power I need by whatever means necessary to achieve those ends."

In that instant, a bitter coldness that could have come from the heart of Atmora itself crept into Brinsingr's voice. "Even if it means taking lives."

Tarveth had to fight the chill that ran down his spine, but he managed to keep his face impassive; mastering one's expression was a skill that Knights knew well, and he was no exception. "Ask yourself those questions as I did. As long as those answers remain unchanged, your trinity remains strong."

"Brin... this..."

Teleri's voice was soft and quavered slightly when she spoke. She could not even find the words she sought. All she could do was shake her head and pray that this change wasn't real — in spite of seeing it happening right before her eyes.

"This is not about trinity," Brinsingr muttered loudly, looking at each of his friends. "This is about strength of arms. Strength which I once had — and somehow lost. That's the one sure thing in this world — strength of arms means power, and power... means the ability to do. And I am a doer. I do the hard things, the things that others can't do — because I'm the only one who can."

"This is about trinity, dammit," Tarveth snapped impatiently, frustrated. "As soon as a Knight loses balance he loses control. And you are losing your goddamn control."

Brin met his impatient frustration with some of his own. "My mind works. My heart beats stronger than ever. My soul rests safe within this impenetrable vessel of mine. And I am not losing my goddamn control. If I was..."

The Nord shook his head severely at Tarveth, with a funereal set to his jaw. "If I was... you would know."

Tarveth's response was immediate. "I know. So why else would I say it?"

Resting her weight on a crate after having the strength in her legs threaten to fail her, Teleri nodded her silent agreement on the point. It took a moment for Brinsingr to realize he'd just been verbally bested. Another flare of anger sparked to life within him, and he grit his teeth once more. "Get out of here. You're just making me angry, now. And you do not want to deal with a pissed-off dragon."

There was a sudden, short throb in his mind, and the Nord rubbed his temples with his hands. "Make that a pissed-off, half-drunk dragon."

His arms folded across his chest, Tarveth stood defiantly in place. He answered in his usual, unwavering manner. "You wouldn't be the first."

Teleri's voice cracked as she spoke again, but the strength in her tone hinted at firm certainty. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I am not seeing you go down this path, Brin." Tarveth met Brin's glare head-on, unflinching. "I am not fucking going to see you end up like this."

"I am not going down any path that was not laid out before me without purpose," the Nord barked angrily. "My purpose in life is to be a shield, and a shield needs strength to prove its purpose — this is what I am supposed to do, isn't it?"

Tarveth shook his head. "A shield is meant to defend. You are turning yourself into a sword. A sword you've forged in fire so hot the metal is brittle. You're losing balance, Brin. But you haven't lost it. You need to calm down. You need to breathe."

Brinsingr scowled deeply at the one-eyed mer now, feeling all his anger boiling hot within him. It took all his strength not to shout and instead speak, albeit in a strained voice. "Leave. Now. Or I will erupt like god-damned Red Mountain. I can breathe once you leave and quit acting like you are the morally superior one here."

If the Nord had hoped to strike at a chord with Tarveth with his words, none of it showed on the mer's face. At length, Brinsingr just sighed and turned to begin walking away from the other two, making for the bridge that led out of town and into the wilds. Perhaps there he could find the privacy he thought he needed.

As Brinsingr walked away, Tarveth turned to shoot Teleri a look. The woman was clearly having difficulty reining in her emotions. "If I push him, I'll burst the boil. There'll be pain. But there'll be relief in the long run. If I don't, who knows. But this is up to you."

Teleri met his gaze evenly for a few long seconds. Slowly, she nodded. A tear tracked its way down her cheek. "Do something... please... I... don't know him..."

The woman had to place a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Tarveth had gotten all the blessing he needed. His jaw set with determination, the mer turned towards the departing Nord and moved to intercept him. Teleri hesitated for only a moment before following him.

Brinsingr had made it halfway across the bridge when Tarveth and Teleri reached him. They stopped at one end of the span, and Tarveth shouted. "And when will the killing end?!"

Hearing his friend's voice, Brinsingr halted and turned halfway towards them. "When I've gotten all the power I need!"

"You already have it, you fool!"

Brinsingr shook his head gravely. "No. Not yet. Not quite yet... and you would do well to not call me fool again."

"Ill do so as long as it takes, until you open your goddamn eyes," Tarveth bit out in frustration, "while you still have two of them."

His burn scars and missing eye cavity seemed to sting again. The old wounds reminded him of the mistakes he'd made and the price he'd had to pay for them, when he'd walked a path just as dark as the one his dear friend was on the brink of stepping onto now. I will not let you walk this path, Brin.

"Brin... please!" Teleri pleaded, hoping he would hear her. The Nord made no indication of it at all. It was as if he were deliberately ignoring her.

Tarveth spoke again, uttering his words loudly, with the tone of someone delivering an ultimatum. "Keep going down this path and you are going to lose something precious. You hear me? Power is power, all-consuming, corruptive, evil unchecked. And it destroys that which is most delicate, most sacred." I know, because I've already lived this. I will not see you suffer as I did.

The big Nord shook his head in disagreement. "No. Power lets us do things. Without power, we are helpless. You have power — I have power. This is why we are chosen to do the hard things that others cannot. This is why we are heroes."

"Balance, Brin," Tarveth continued. "Power with balance is a blessing, a miracle, an unstoppable force of nature."

He then shook his head dourly. "Don't tip the scales."

"I have both," came the obstinate Nord's reply. "You should have seen me fighting just a few hours ago — facing down the largest kwama warrior you've ever seen, big as a giant. I took it on and slew it and all its minions by myself. And it felt damn good."

Vicious laughter suddenly bubbled out of the Nord. "It felt real damn good."

Tarveth was unimpressed; if anything, his features had grown more stark and severe. "So you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the death, and you enjoyed the solitude."

"I enjoyed being able to see how much stronger I've become," the Nord agreed.

"Keep walking on, keep killing, you'll have all the solitude you could ever want," Tarveth remarked. "Because that's where you're headed. Away."

Scowling, Brinsingr uttered lowly, "You don't understand me." He folded his arms over his broad chest. To the Dunmer, it was like watching a keep door being shut. "I'll show you in the end. I'll show you how wrong you are... but first I just need some fucking peace and solitude. Are you going to give it to me?"

Tarveth's response was immediate. "No. Because Brinsingr War-Born would never throw his companions aside for the sake of power."

The Nord felt his heart lurch in his chest at those words. It made him uncomfortable enough to cause him to unfold his arms anew. "I'm not throwing you aside. I am asking... very, very nicely... and in no uncertain terms... to give me some damn breathing and thinking space."

Again, the Dunmer shook his head. "That isn't going to help you now."

Brinsingr's mouth grew taut with irritation, before he let out a heavy, decisive sigh. "Fine. If you won't leave me alone, then I will just walk away."

The big Nord then did exactly that, turning his back on his friends to cross the bridge. Or at least, he tried to. He had taken all of two steps when he heard a massive wingbeat behind him. The Nord's head snapped upwards, just in time to catch sight of Tarveth leaping over his head, aided in the maneuver by two large, brown dragon's wings that sprouted out of his back. His gaze tracked the Dunmer's flight perfectly as he soared over his head and came to land on the other side of the span, touching down on the ground with only the lightest tap of his boots on the flagstones. As he straightened, the mer's great leathery wings furled and disappeared behind him.

"Walk off this bridge and you've tipped the scales." Tarveth's posture was taut, and demanded attention. He would not be ignored. "This isn't what you want. Listen to me."

Brinsingr did not reply immediately, choosing instead to simply level a withering glare at the Dunmer. Tarveth refused to wither, meeting the stare with one of his own. For several long seconds, the two held each other's gazes, looking each other in the eye. Dark lilac and steel blue clashed in a short but brutal contest of wills. Neither man or mer backed down. Two Dragonknights stood before each other, each possessing a warrior spirit so sharply honed that neither would bend. They had come to an impasse.

Teleri saw this, and her eyes widened with dawning realization. She knew what was going to happen. Desperately, she shook her head and mustered her voice one last time, to plead. "Brin... Don't..."

But Brin wasn't listening to her.

"Tarveth," the large Nord ground out at last, setting his jaw with resolve. "Please forgive me."

That's all the warning I'm getting. The words had not even come to Tarveth's mind as a thought, and yet he reacted instantly with serpent-like reflexes — reflexes honed by intensive Dragonknight training and aided by Tsaesci ancestry. He drew his stalhrim greatsword as quickly as a normal man could blink, but Brinsingr merely raised a hand and cast his spell: Petrify. The volcanic earth beneath Tarveth's feet shattered and bent to Brin's will as he commanded it to rise and grasp the lithe mer, encasing him in a sheath of hot, black stone up to his neck. Tarveth froze and snarled in surprise, finding himself trapped. Dammit. Too slow.

Brin slowly approached the Dunmer, who glared up defiantly at the Nord. Brin stopped short just a few feet away. When he spoke, Tarveth could hear the tightly-leashed rage simmering beneath the larger man's deceptively calm baritone. "I asked nicely. I'm done with that. Goodbye."

He then turned and made to walk around the Dunmer. Seeing Tarveth trapped and fearing for both of them, Teleri struggled back to her feet and ran to catch up with the retreating Nord. "Brin! Stop!"

Hell no. I am not letting you walk away like that. While he would not be considered a burly mer, Tarveth Dren was anything but weak. He summoned his strength, before exerting all the force outward, towards the Nord passing mere feet from him. His effort proved enough to break through his sturdy stone sheath and let him lash out with a leg to try to trip Brin.

Instead of a graceless tumble onto the flagstones, however, upon tripping the huge Nord turned his fall into a practiced forward roll before coming up onto his feet again and twisting around to face Tarveth with a nimbleness that belied his stature. Perhaps he hadn't been trained from birth to hone his skills like the Dunmer, but Brinsingr was anything but clumsy.

"You are not leaving this bridge," snarled Tarveth as he paced back before Brin. His ashen gray skin steamed from the heat of the stones that had encased him. Nothing in the Dragonknight's demeanor hinted at even so much as minor discomfort. He jerked his chin up at Brin. "Go on, then. Erupt. Get the fire out of you."

"Brin," pleaded Teleri, helpless but to stand back or risk herself being hurt again, "if you've any respect for us at all, stop... for Mara's sake, stop..."

The huge Nord sent Tarveth a severe look, clenching and unclenching his fists slowly. "Tarveth... you don't want me to do that. You know I am more powerful than you. Our every sparring match is a testament to that fact. I am saying this for everyone's sake. Leave me alone."

His statement had been an exaggeration. The truth was that Brin simply didn't want to risk actually hurting him — in his state, he did not trust himself. But Tarveth had been completely unfazed by the threat. Instead, he turned side-on to the Nord with his greatsword in one hand, the tip lightly touching the ground in a familiar Akaviri fighting stance. "Erupt."

At length, the Nord simply bowed his head in defeat. Slowly, his hand went to the battleaxe he carried on his back in a sling and pulled it out. He stared at the fearsome weapon for a moment — a weapon like this would either incapacitate or kill his foe outright. Even in this state, it hurt the Nord to think about causing severe harm to his friend. Brin tossed the axe aside. Tarveth's eye narrowed in response.

Silently, the Nord reached back to grasp the long hilt of his second weapon poking over his shoulder. Metal hissed silently against leather as the nodachi's long blade was unsheathed, gleaming blood-red in the afternoon light. Brin adopted his guard stance, holding the weapon like he would a claymore. "Why do you give me no choice?"

Tarveth answered, "Because that fire will burn you from the inside out if I let it remain."

Teleri's voice cried out a moment after, her legs failing her and her knees hitting the flagstones. "Because we love you!"

At last, his love's words resounded in Brin's ears. He shut his eyes, feeling pain and anger brewing together into an explosive mix deep within him. The same voice from before, the haughty one from his memories, seemed to whisper words of venom into his ear. They're asking for it. Show them your power, my mighty Ebonarm.

The Nord shook the words out of his mind and opened his eyes again. To Tarveth, they seemed to burn like live coals as he delivered his response. "Fine. Let's dance, then."

Brin began to stalk over towards Tarveth's left flank, his eyes locked firmly onto the mer's lilac one. Tarveth strafed with him the whole time, his gaze never faltering. Both Knights circled each other like caged wolves, waiting to see who would make the first strike. Tarveth was determined to let it be Brin. Let him come to you. He needs to erupt. Let him strike...

Tarveth felt the attack coming more than anything else. Brin's hands moved simultaneously, one rising in a clench and the other shooting out in a fist. The air seemed to shiver with both spells. Tarveth rolled forward towards Brin, just as the stone beneath his feet shattered and rose like a hand clenching from below, avoiding the Petrify. Overhead, in the same instant, a massive stone of blood and heart's-flame whistled through the air like a stone giant's fist.

Brin reacted instantly, charging forward towards the Dunmer. Upon exiting his roll, Tarveth extended his sword in a thrust as he righted himself for a disarm. They were too close. Brin dropped his shoulder, allowing his thick breastplate to deflect the stalhrim blade while ramming his opponent in a full-body tackle. Tarveth staggered, but like lightning he converted the fall into a shoulder roll, rolling off the force and the pain. Having gained some distance from his foe, he quickly shifted stances. Tsaesci defensive stance became a Nordic defensive stance, gripping his greatsword in two hands with the blade pointed down and to the side, ready to turn aside any incoming blow.

But Brin did not strike. He settled back into a guard with his nodachi, still holding the Akaviri blade like one might hold a much heavier weapon. Slowly, the Nord began to approach again, glaring at his foe. The Dunmer held his gaze unblinkingly, while his foot moved silently in a single, rhythmic gesture. Instantly red-and-black spines encased his body, smoldering in the ashen air. Spiked armor. Should protect against wayward blows.

The appearance of his spiked armor did not faze Brin, but it did pose a new challenge — what was he supposed to do now that would not severely hurt Tarveth? His decision came quickly. Brin darted forward, nodachi rising for a cut. Suddenly the blade turned back, and the pommel of Brin's sword darted towards Tarveth's head like a serpent's strike. Tarveth was wise to the feint. He moved into the strike, half-turning against the blow as the pommel sailed harmlessly by his head while responding with a snap of his elbow, attempting to stun Brin as he pirouetted by his flank. There was no way the huge man could avoid the strike.

Brin didn't even bother trying to dodge. He allowed his heavy armor to take the blow instead, before sending his fist at Tarveth's head in a vicious backhanded strike. Another man would've been caught by the blow, but Tarveth's time spent blind had only enhanced his awareness of the air around him — he twisted underneath the punch and stepped away unscathed, adopting another side-on Tsaesci defensive stance before his foe could respond.

He expected the Nord to come at him again and keep up an unrelenting assault, as he tended to do in their spars. Instead, Brin merely turned to fully face him again, staring him down. The reaction irritated the Dunmer. When the Nord put all his force and emotion into a fight, it was like going toe-to-toe with a walking earthquake. Brin here was being too restrained and calculated — he wouldn't get the catharsis he needed from this fight if he didn't unleash everything he had.

"Stop holding back," Tarveth muttered loudly. His elbow was still protesting savagely after having struck Brin's armor, but none of the pain seeped into his tone. "Erupt, curse you."

Brin's eyes narrowed suddenly at the challenge in a way Tarveth didn't like. The Nord advanced slowly again, nodachi raised in a guard stance. To Tarveth, the implacable juggernaut's advance seemed every bit like the approach of a massive brick wall posed to crush him. Even the strongest walls have cracks...

He tilted his head slowly. Tarveth's free hand clenched and unclenched, the fingers forming a pattern. Brin saw this, and knew now was his only chance to react. Now, at close range, the Nord took in a sharp breath of air. He saw Tarveth's lilac eye snap wide open in realization, just before he released his breath to exhale a blast of green, corrosive dragon-fire. From the sidelines, Teleri screamed, "Brin, no!"

Tarveth's cold discipline disappeared. Panic, briefly, overwhelmed him. He recoiled instinctively, roiling clumsily from the flames, his honed reflexes saving him from another scarring — though his skin stung wildly from the near-miss, and his heart was now racing. While the Dunmer was recovering, Teleri mustered her wits again — anger overriding fear, now — and shouted. "Brin, I just gave him his sight back! Don't you dare take it away again!"

Cold anger suddenly overwhelmed Tarveth's panic. His friend had just taken advantage of his darkest fear. A line had just been crossed. Changing tactic, the Knight clenched a fist and threw it at Brin, shooting a massive obsidian shard at the man, point-blank. By now, the mer had forgotten all discipline and hearing over the roar of his own frenzied heart — a heartbeat after casting the spell he leapt at Brin with a savage swing aimed at his neck, stalhrim blade singing in the hot, ashen air.

Brin had anticipated his opponent avoiding his flame breath. He had already been moving to intercept the elf, so he was more prepared than he would otherwise have been when he saw Tarveth's hand lash out to cast his spell. The Nord was too close to dodge. All he could do was drop his shoulder and brace himself to take the blow. His foe's obsidian shard smashed into him with enough force to send Brin staggering backwards and send a massive jolt up his arm, but he quickly regained his footing and snapped his head up again. Tarveth was leaping at him, greatsword aimed at his neck in a swing. Brin saw his opening and took it, adjusting his grip on his nodachi to swing downward at the incoming sword in a textbook disarming maneuver.

In the space between heartbeats while Tarveth surged forth in his attack, his cold and calculating Tsaesci ancestry flared to life again, overriding the fury of his inner dragon. The old Tarveth, who had lived and studied the Dragonknight Arts in Akavir with the Tsaesci, and lived like they did — blood for power, Ta'avith, blood for power! — would have laughed at the obvious disarm. Mid-lunge, Tarveth shifted his body weight and plunged straight down, breaking his lunge and fluidly turning it into a low, sweeping strike aimed at Brin's legs. Don't stop moving — never stop moving!

All his life, Brin had fought opponents smaller and faster than him. His reflexes, while not as brilliant as Tarveth's, were still superb — and he knew his opponent. The nodachi in his hand hadn't even finished its swing before he realized what was going to happen. Honed reflexes and combat experience flared to life. A pair of brown, leathery dragon wings sprouted from Brin's back, and with a single beat of those massive wings the volatile Knight leapt back out of harm's way, landing at the other end of the bridge.

Tarveth's greatsword met nothing but air. The mer paused, then straightened slowly, breathing in an attempt to cool his hot blood. He couldn't lose himself now; he especially could not let Ta'avith override his wits again like that. He lifted his head again. The pupil in his lilac eye, once the round dot belonging to a Dunmer, had become a serpentine slit — another physical manifestation of his Tsaesci ancestry. It was that same ancestry that gifted him with the brilliant reflexes he needed in that moment, when he saw the flaming chain of black iron shooting out from Brin's outstretched hand, flying at him.

His sword's stalhrim blade hissed, infused suddenly with bloodmagic. The Knight dropped his blade and his body along with it, deflecting the strike. Pirouetting with the force of the chain, Tarveth came back around with his greatsword in one hand again — his other hand, extended in a Petrify. Brin hadn't even had time to drop his flaming chain before he found himself encased up to his neck in hot, black stone. Unfortunately, it was almost a trivial matter for him to summon his strength and break free of his sheath. Volcanic stone is no match for Brinsingr War-Born.

"Now what was that supposed to accomplish?" sneered the Nord as he lifted his head — only to see Tarveth with his dragon wings unfurled in mid-flight, coming straight at him surrounded by a wreath of flames. Should the Dunmer land, the ensuing fiery eruption would surely be enough to fling the larger Dragonknight back towards the town.

A dangerous, cold voice in Brin's head spoke immediately — but this time, it was his own. So don't let him land.

Brin made a split-second calculation. His hand shot up in a fist. An obsidian shard shot towards Tarveth's current trajectory. Then the Nord unfurled his wings again and leapt after it, flying straight towards Tarveth to clash with him in midair.

A part of Brin had fully expected the Dunmer to avoid his initial strike. He had been ready to intercept Tarveth if he'd avoided the giant stone flying at him, and he had been ready to dodge in the event that Tarveth reflected his own obsidian shard at him. But none of that happened. Perhaps they'd been moving too fast, the rate of closure too great for even a mer with serpentine reflexes — but whatever the reason for it, Tarveth did not dodge.

The Dunmer was struck twice over. First by the large stone, which flew into his stomach and turned his graceful aerobatic maneuver into a midair tumble, and then again by Brin ramming him in midair and slamming him towards the ground. Tarveth gasped as he found the air leave his lungs. Badly stunned, he was unable to stop himself from crashing back against the bridge. His sword clattered noisily against the flagstones with him — but the sound was unable to drown out the loud crack of his leg snapping upon impact.

Brin landed heavily on the bridge moments later. His head shot up, his gaze burning with furious intensity, ready to finish off his foe with a final strike. But then he beheld his so-called foe — Tarveth Dren, his dearest friend, his beloved battle-brother who had never done him wrong — unmoving on the flagstones, wounded badly.

Something in Brin changed, then. It was like a curse had been lifted. Whatever bloodthirsty fog had settled on his mind drifted away. A massive storm had brewed over and passed through the volatile Dragonknight. All that had now been left behind was a shocked and guilty Brinsingr, staring as Teleri rushed over from the sidelines to assess the other Dunmer's injuries.

"Oh... gods," the Nord uttered in sudden horror. "What.. have I done... Tarveth you better not be playing possum on me! I swear to the Gods! I..."

Tarveth, head ringing from his hard fall, tried to struggle onto his elbows. Even that was difficult now. "Broken... my... leg... fetcher..."

Teleri, kneeled beside him, turned to shout over her shoulder, a furious scowl on her face. "Brin! You wanted to leave. Go."

But now Brin couldn't bring himself to leave. He watched as Tel turned back to look over Tarveth's injuries, with the wounded Knight stubbornly refusing to lie down and instead support himself on his elbows. With a resentful snarl, Brin sheathed his sword and walked over to Tarveth so he could kneel before him. Tel noticed his presence and all but snapped at him. "I. Said. Go."

Then she turned back to the injured mer and warned, "This is going to hurt, Tarveth." She then gave his leg a tug to reset the bone — Tarveth's only indication of having felt the pain was the wince that flashed across his face — before pressing her palms against it to mend the bone.

Brin felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he observed the scene. "Damn it... you wanted me to fight... but... damn it. This isn't what I wanted."

Again, Tel's voice was full of cold anger. "Brin. Get. Out. Of. Here. Go home."

He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to leave. Before Brin could even speak again, Tarveth's voice cut through. Still fighting against the pain in his mending limb, he asked, "What is your name?"

The Nord answered, his voice cracking. "Brinsingr."

Now Tarveth lifted his head to gaze up at Brin. His pupil was round, his face calm. The Knight had been beckoned, and now the Dragon slept. "For what do you stand?"

"For my values and for my friends..."

"For whom do you fight?"

Tel finished healing Tarveth, allowing her magic to seek out and mend the wounds, before rising and walking off without another word, towards the small structure that housed a nearby wayshrine — where she meant to ride back home, no doubt. Brin watched her go as he gave his answer. "For the ones I love... Tel! Please! I'm sorry! I didn't..."

Too late. She walked up to the cold, blue fire that burned at the wayshrine's brazier, and in an instant she'd been teleported. Brin sagged despondently. "I didn't want this... What have I become?"

Beside him, Tarveth climbed stiffly onto a knee and, still breathing against the lingering pain, he took Brin by the shoulder and urged him to lift his head so that their gazes would meet. Brin obeyed without resistance. Steel blue and lilac once again met.

"Balance, Brin," the Dunmer Knight told him. "Restore it within, before you restore it without."

The Nord Knight nodded slowly, and spoke in a broken voice. "Aye. Balance... I lost mine. If I hadn't... none of this would've happened..."

"Go jump in the river."

Brin blinked, before cocking his head. "Wha...?"

Tarveth was insistent, his features passive. "Your blood's hot. Cool it off. Then you'll think better."

The Nord didn't bother arguing the point. With a huff, he walked over to the side of the bridge and vaulted over the railing to plummet into the cold water of the river running underneath. Hearing the splash that followed, Tarveth rose, testing his healing limb. It was a bit shaky, but it could hold his weight. Admirable healing, Tel...

Tarveth channeled his remaining energy into healing the limb, wishing he'd had his drink back at the bar, before picking his way down to the river to join Brin. The Nord had just staggered back onto the shore, now thoroughly drenched. "I feel... better. Tired, though..."

The Dunmer did not make any indication of having acknowledged Brin's remark. He focused on his own cleansing, now. Tarveth kneeled before the water's edge and took off his gauntlets to douse his arms up to his elbows. He closed his eyes, feeling the pain and fury of hot blood seeping out from him, and he took the moment to expand his senses and hone his inner calm. Brin stood beside him silently, watching as his friend did this, almost as if in ritual. After a moment of calm quiet, the Nord fluidly drew his nodachi again and sank to a knee, planting the tip of the curved blade into the ground in a gesture of respect typically used by Knights before their Masters.

"I'm sorry," said the big man, his voice full of shame and regret. "I was wrong. So very wrong, in everything."

Tarveth had opened his eye to look at Brin as he spoke. The man shook his head, still in shock at himself. "This is always a problem with me. It's always me feeling weak the first time I meet something a little too strong for me to handle. I'm... I'm not used to being broken. I've been taught never to break. We are the ones who will never be broken, I've been told." His features twisted into a look of distaste. "Well... that's horseshit, evidently."

"Bend, Brin."

The Nord blinked, and looked back up at Tarveth. "Bend?"

Tarveth nodded once. "The oak that stands unyielding against the storm's gale will topple. But the rye lets the wind's rage flow through them. Bend, Brin. But do not break. Balance."

Brin stared at him for a moment, before snorting indelicately. "Aye, I've heard that one before... and every variation of it in Eastmarch at least. But..." He sobered up, and finished, "that doesn't make it any less true."

Tarveth plowed onward. "The ones that defeat us, they are there to balance what power we have. To encourage us to grow stronger... but to remind us that to be all-powerful alone is a dream. Strength lies in number, Brin. The Tsaesci destroyed the dragons not alone, but together. A might that should have crushed them to dust was vanquished by brotherhood."

The big Nord's features twisted into a frown now. He turned his gaze upon the glassy surface of the water. A fair-skinned face stained with dust and sweat, housing a coppery beard and blue eyes, stared back at him. He was Brinsingr War-Born, but up until just a few minutes ago, he had nearly once again taken on an old, vicious mantle of his — Brinsingr the Ebonarm; a title bestowed upon him by the person responsible for interfering with his incomplete training in the Dragonknight arts, who had also tried to cultivate in the growing Knight everything brutal and monstrous about his character — tried, and nearly succeeded.

In the back of his mind, Brin could hear the haughty voice again, laughing at him. You were always my Ebonarm, Brinsingr. Nothing you can do will erase that part of your past. A seed of darkness has already been planted on your soul, and now its roots run far and deep within you. You will never be able to erase the Ebonarm without destroying yourself, first.

Another part of Brin's mind responded instantly. Shut up, Aldolin.

"Aye, you're right, Tarveth," the Nord intoned, crushing the dark thoughts that had been brewing. "I should not expect myself to be able to fight everything by myself, for everyone, but... I didn't want to accept it. I always thought that accepting it was accepting weakness. And weakness... means that I can't defend those I love against the things that threaten them."

The Dunmer couldn't help but smirk at Brin with jaded amusement. "The only one telling you that you're weak is yourself. If we thought that you weren't doing a damned good job at shielding our backs and leading the charge, we'd have complained about it. Come on."

His hands in the cold water were starting to go numb. Tarveth stood up carefully and placed his gloves back on to warm his numbed fingers. Brin stood with him, smiling wryly and shrugging. "I guess you're right. You lot do speak loudly. But you know what? We're like the pieces in a machine. A very deadly machine. We have our parts to play. The cog cannot play the same role as the piston or the lever. But they all work together to drive the same engine, the same machine. The same team."

Tarveth's wry smile had returned. "Someone's been reading up on Sotha Sil..."

Brin laughed softly, with wry amusement to match. "Blame the damned Halls of Fabrication..."

"Hmph. You'll have to take me there one day, see what the hell's going on that'll drive my brother to volatility."

The Nord frowned suddenly, feeling guilty again. Brother...?

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" The Nord couldn't help but ask. "I'm not worthy anymore, am I? I... I've failed my promise to Danion, haven't I?"

What felt like a lifetime ago, Tarveth had finally brought Brin to the final resting place of his old, beloved friend of many years — Danion the Bright; Nord, accomplished warrior, and skald, all on top of being born a dwarf. He had braved many perils with Tarveth during their years together, and upon the gravesite Tarveth had made for Danion on the road leading out of Windhelm, Brin had knelt and sworn to Danion — in the ancestral tongue of their people, Atmoran — to protect the friend he could no longer watch over on Nirn.

Tarveth's response was immediate and wholly irreverent. "Like Danion's never knocked me flat on my arse now and then. Believe me, he'd understand. We've seen students go volatile before. Happens to the best of us."

Brin tried very hard not to laugh at the thought of a dwarf that didn't even come up to Tarveth's chest knocking him flat on his rear. He tried not to laugh, he truly did. Surprisingly, he was successful. "Oh, fine... I'm... just glad that you'd still call me your battle-brother."

The Dunmer's voice dipped lower, a frown playing across his burn-scarred features. "If you'd walked off that bridge I'd have stopped. But you didn't."

It was Brin's turn to smirk and quip, "I mean, your knocking my feet out from under me precluded that."

Tarveth clapped Brin's shoulder. "Come on, Brin. Let's resolve this. Tel's probably gone home and that's where we'll find her."

A pang of sick guilt hit Brin in the stomach. Mustering his resolve, he nodded firmly. He wasn't able to keep the fear or anxiety fully out of his voice. "Right..."

...

Teleri's home, Autumn's-Gate, was in the Rift near a small village on the road to Riften called Nimalten. It was there that Brin and Tarveth headed, teleported via wayshrine. The pair of Knights had only just entered into the home's outer yard when a loud, deep, warning bark sounded. A large black hound was perched atop a large rock near the stables — Malacath. Teleri's beardog Hircine came bounding out of the stables right after and took up a position beside the other hound.

Tarveth raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Woah, easy boy, just me."

"And me..." Brin scanned the garden for Teleri, but the Dunmer was nowhere to be seen.

The Dunmer Knight kneeled before the dogs. "Where's your mistress gone, hm?"

Malacath's only response was a low growl. Hircine did not growl, but he stood at attention ready to fend off both Knights if need be. Brin decided to raise his voice cautiously. "Tel...? You here? Please... speak to me. I've cooled down, I swear!"

Tarveth sighed mournfully and withdrew a lump of raw meat from his satchel. "I suppose I'll have to give this to Serjo then..."

Unfortunately, even the prospect of being given a treat worthy enough for Tarveth's mount, a giant gray wolf, was not enough to bribe the dogs. They continued growling and standing their ground without flinching. Tarveth pocketed the meat with a frown, grousing, "Don't tell me I have to break my leg again to see the healer..."

Very quietly, they heard a voice from the closest stall in the stable next to the house. "...I'm in here..."

Brin felt his heart leap into his throat. Before he could speak, he felt Tarveth clasp his shoulder placatingly. "Wait here."

The Dunmer left Brin behind to make for the stable. At the sound of his owner's voice, Hircine turned and entered the nearest stall to check on her, leading Tarveth in. The Dunmer followed and found himself before Teleri Maryon, seated in the darkest corner of the stall. Her knees were tucked up against her chest, her arms hugging them. Close by her was her massive gray wolf mount, Koht, looking back at Tarveth with large, calm eyes, while Teleri's old, toothless wolfhound Wurfles was curled up on her other side. Teleri's red eyes locked with Tarveth's lilac one, gleaming with tears.

A moment passed without words exchanged, before the Dragonknight bowed his head once. "Tel."

Teleri wiped her cheek with her glove. "Tarveth."

The Knight took another moment, before replying. "It's ugly, I know. But it works."

"I don't know what you mean, Tarveth." Teleri hugged her knees more tightly against her chest. "I can't go through this again..."

"You won't have to."

Tel sniffled. "Thought that last time. Yet here we are..."

Tarveth took the moment to explain himself. "Dabbling in earth and fire magic takes its toll on Knights — we become... quite like... the things we command, if we lose balance of our inner selves."

He jerked his head in the direction of Brin, who was doubtless standing restlessly in place, nervous and afraid out of his mind. "We call that state of being volatility. When there's too much fire and magic in our blood. When it clouds our focus and scatters the trinity. Extreme measures have to be taken. They have to let it out."

Outside in the yard, they heard Brin's mournful cry. "Tel, please... I've changed. I really have. I've learned something, something that I hadn't quite accepted fully until now. Please... let me tell you what it is I've learned..."

Teleri raised her head at the Nord's voice, before sagging and shaking her head again. "I can't watch him do that again..."

"You won't have to. Volatility rarely occurs a second time." Tarveth's voice became insistent. "Tel. Please. At least speak with him."

The woman was silent for several contemplative moments. At length, she spoke. "Give me a minute..."

Tarveth nodded respectfully and stood to leave the stall. He walked outside just in time to see Brin standing on trembling legs. Without warning, the huge Nord appeared to break in half. He fell to his knees as the strength in his legs failed him, and he hung his head in exhaustion and sorrow. Tarveth crouched wordlessly beside his battle-brother. He had nothing more than platitudes to offer, and he was certain the Nord didn't want to hear them.

Brin suddenly spoke, in a voice so small that it didn't fit anywhere in the Nord's usual demeanor. "This... this is the one thing that can break me. My heart. Not ghouls, hags or wraiths. Not monsters, not daedra, not spirits or people. I can come back from being taken down by those. But... heartbreak? I don't know if I have the strength in me anymore. Especially not with Tel."

He paused for a moment, then added quietly, "She means too much to me. She means everything."

The Nord remained silent after that. Overhead, the skies roiled with dark gray clouds. Thunder rumbled in the heavens, and a light rain began to fall around them. Neither man or mer cared. Tarveth could only look at his brother with sorrow; there was only so much he could do, and he'd done all he could. The rest was up to them. He could only grit his jaws and wait.

Inside the stall, shielded by the rain, Tel braced herself to rise again. She found that her legs weren't quite willing to cooperate. Her beardog Hircine gave her face a few licks and sat back on his haunches, Koht the gray wolf stood beside her and backed up to give her space, and Wurfles the old wolfhound grabbed the hem of her robe in her gummy jaws and tugged it gently. The Dunmer woman gave each dog a watery smile and pets for strength and courage before rising to her feet fully and exiting the stall.

Her tread was slow and deliberate as she approached the kneeling Nord in her garden. His head was bowed, and his shoulders shook intermittently with enough force to shake even his massive frame. When she stood only a few feet away, she stopped short, and braced herself. It took more effort than she'd anticipated to muster her voice. "Brin..."

The Nord's shaking abated slightly, and he slowly lifted his gaze to match hers. "Tel..."

Teleri slowly closed the distance and held out a hand to him. Hesitantly, Brin gently grasped her hand as if it were a crystal feather and rose slowly. Tel's gaze followed his as he came to tower before her, as usual. Then her features, impassive up to this moment, softened unexpectedly. She pulled Brin into a full hug, her arms wrapping around his midsection. Brin instantly wrapped his arms around her. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely as he pressed his cheek against her head. He just managed to choke out a short string of words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

The Dunmer only tightened the hug, as much as she was able. "It's alright, love. It'll be alright..."

Love...

Hearing that word from her lips made a surge of carthatic relief flow through the man, and he all but sagged into her embrace. "I've learned... I've finally learned my lesson... I don't know why it took me this long, but I've finally learned it..."

Teleri stretched up to kiss him tenderly on his lips. "I'm glad..."

Brin gave her a wobbly smile at the kiss. "True strength doesn't lie in being unbreakable. Everyone can break. One's strength lies in their ability to come back every time they fall. And sometimes... being broken... can let you come back stronger than before. Like a broken pot, pieced back together with molten gold."

Tarveth had managed to stand completely silent by the side, but now he couldn't resist answering the remark: "Or a leg."

Brin's mouth grew taut all of a sudden, but he couldn't stop himself from bursting out with laughter. "Damn it, I was having a poignant moment here."

His battle-brother rolled his eye. "You've been monologuing all day. Spare us."

"Taking yourself too seriously got yourself into this mess, m'dear," Teleri teased him lightly. She stepped back from the hug to take his hand in hers, before shooting Tarveth a grateful smile. "Thank you, my friend."

Tarveth nodded silently, while Brin shot the elf a wry smile. "Oh sure, only bad things happen when I monologue huh?"

The Dunmer's Knight response was immediate. "Absolutely. Like the fact that you left your axe on the bridge."

Brinsingr's expression immediately fell, his eyes flying wide open in realization. He managed to bite out a quick, muttered curse, before all but battering down the front gate to Teleri's home in his haste to rush back to the wayshrine and retrieve his lost axe. The two Dunmer watched the huge Nord all but leap onto his bear mount's back and set her off at a mad dash towards the wayshrine, before exchanging a look of amusement. Teleri shook her head in a gesture that conveyed complete and utter fondness mixed with an equal amount of exasperation.

"That's my Brin, alright..."

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Brinsingr War-Born was at his wit's end.

The large Nord had never taken well to losing. When it came to spars with his friends he was more gracious a loser, but when it came down to performing inadequately out in the field — where he was charged with protecting others; where his performance mattered most — Brinsingr always took it very hard on himself. Great Nord warriors were not supposed to lose fights, after all.

But he had lost, twice — two fights that he could very well have won — and both losses had struck tremendous blows against his psyche. The sheer act of losing in itself was not the sole thing affecting him so badly; what had truly shaken him was how utterly crushed he'd been left after each defeat. He had new, ugly scars to commemorate each loss, now. Not all of them were physical scars, either.

Now, a few days after those losses that had brought him so low, Brinsingr's condition remained tenuous and unstable. A latent, deeply-buried anger rushed hot through his veins, seething beneath his exterior. Its only outward manifestations were a permanent, uncharacteristic scowl that furrowed his brow, and a newfound lust for violence which was nothing like the man's usual, ecstatic zeal for combat.

He had spent the afternoon in Vvardenfell, taking care of a problem involving helping a group of ghost hunters deal with a body-possessing Dunmeri spirit. Brin had been accompanied on the task by two of his comrades: an Ashlander Dunmer named Willow, and his best friend Tarveth Dren. Willow had taken her leave of the two when they'd reached the nearest town, but just as the two arrived, another familiar face had greeted them: Teleri Maryon, Brinsingr's wife-to-be. The Nord's foul mood had deteriorated almost instantly upon greeting his fiancée, and they'd rejoiced upon seeing each other again. So it was that the three of them entered the local tavern, hoping to rest after the exhausting afternoon.

Brin was first to enter, bowing his head slightly so that he didn't hit it on the doorframe. He stood tall in his new gear: a suit of the thickest, heaviest plate armor that he could bear in battle. He'd spent days killing all manner of beasts, monsters, and anything else stupid enough to get in his way, just so he could acquire the material needed to craft it. It had been bloody business, one that his friends had expressed some distaste for. But look how it paid off. I'm nigh unkillable now.

The Nord scanned the inside of the tavern critically for a few moments as Tarveth and Teleri behind him entered the tavern. A few patrons stared at the newcomers nervously — though Brin couldn't tell if it was because of the massive, heavily armored Nord that had just entered, the one-eyed Dunmer man with a coal-and-chalk skull painted onto his face, or the Dunmer woman bearing twin axes at her hips and werewolf-claw scars wherever her macabre-looking enchanted robes didn't cover.

"Hm. Cozy place," Brinsingr concluded, his features stern as he spared his companions a sidelong glance. His hard look softened when Teleri came by his side, however. When he saw her look up at him and saw her dark lips curl up into a smile, he even managed to smile back.

Tarveth went and leaned against the bar, resting his weight on an arm. Brinsingr loped over to the bar and rested his weight on his arms upon the countertop, while Teleri came to stand calmly between them, her black braided hair swaying elegantly with each step.

"What's your poison, you two?" asked Tarveth as he began to idly play with his boot knife, twirling it around his fingers deftly. No sooner had he gotten the words out did Brin place his order in loud, accented Dunmeris.

"Bartender! Strongest sujamma you've got. Leave the bottle." The man fished in his satchel for a moment before placing a pouch of coins on the countertop, for the bartender to pick up.

Teleri answered Tarveth in her usual manner, pleasant and equable as ever. "Nothing for me right now. Thank you..."

She then slipped her pale gray hand into Brin's much larger one, and asked him, "How did it go with your brother after I had to leave?"

Brinsingr tensed up suddenly; her question had hit a raw nerve. Several days ago, he had met his long-lost brother Reinhardt in Teleri's home in the Rift while he'd been visiting her. This was the same man who, eleven years ago, he had been forced to kill in self-defense — Reinhardt had not taken well the news of his older brother's lycanthropy. Out of shame, Brin had left his brother to bleed out and die on the forest floor after their battle, but apparently such had not been the case.

Reinhardt claimed to have been saved from death when an ancient supernatural being — a leszniy, spoken of only in the most ancient of Nordic tales and legends, hearkening back to the days of Atmora — had found him and suffused itself into his dying body. The act had brought him from the brink of death, as well as brought to life other latent abilities that had long lay dormant in Reinhardt's blood, giving him control over forces of nature — thus, also making him a member of the class of warrior that people knew as Wardens.

Brinsingr had found it all too difficult to believe, but if his brother spoke the truth, then he supposed that Reinhardt should have been powerful enough now to take him in a fair fight. A Dragonknight against a Warden should have been an easy match, even if said Warden had been empowered by a powerful spiritual being. Embittered and arrogant, the man had thus underestimated his new foe, and in their battle, he had gained the first of his two crushing defeats.

Through clenched teeth, Brin finally brought himself to answer Teleri's question. "I've been convinced. Reinhardt really has been empowered by a leszniy."

Just then, the bartender came by and took Tarveth's order for a drink. Squeezing his hand, Teleri gave him a soft smile. "I told you not to be so doubtful, dear. Our world is a strange one."

Brinsingr made a sour face, thinking back to his battle with Reinhardt. "I am convinced, because the bastard actually knocked me flat on my arse. He strikes like an enraged bear with those twin axes, and moves like greased lightning. I was caught off-guard. I..."

He grit his teeth again, and when the bartender conveniently dropped off his bottle of sujamma, he grabbed the bottle and took a long pull from his drink. From the side, Tarveth quietly observed the scene, allowing Brin to speak. The boot knife now rested idly in his hand.

At length, Brin set down the bottle. A low, rueful growl rumbled from deep within his chest. "A good Dragonknight should be better than any damn Warden, mark my words..."

This was the first indication Teleri had that something was very wrong with her beloved Nord. She spared a worried glance at the bottle of sujamma in his grip, noting how heavily he was drinking; Brin didn't usually look quite so simultaneously enthusiastic and dour at the same time when he tucked in, and it worried her.

Though he did not speak his thoughts aloud, Tarveth shared her worries — Brin had not been himself today. He knew his battle-brother well enough by now. He had a good feel for his character, but the man who stood at the bar with him, with the way he'd been acting as of late, was not acting like the Nord he'd grown used to fighting alongside.

Just then, Brin let out a long, draining sigh, and in that moment all his strength and conviction appeared to leave him. The huge Nord sagged like a deflating netch, yet he remained silent, staring off absently. Gripped weakly in his hand, his bottle of sujamma lay forgotten. Having seen him deflate, Teleri wrapped her arms around him in a comforting manner. "Brin... it's alright. You're a fine Dragonknight and a wonderful shield."

Brin sighed heavily at her words. "I've found that hard to believe lately, Tel..."

Her response came immediately, certainty giving her words strength. "And I've believed myself to be a sub-standard healer of late, but I have taken the words of my friends on the matter and have proven myself of late."

Some weeks ago, Tarveth had received a concussion and had neglected to see Teleri for healing until his condition had deteriorated greatly. Working under pressure, Teleri had made a mistake with her magic that had cost Tarveth his sight. He had been rendered blind by the accident, but just a week ago Teleri had worked with another friend of theirs, also a healer, to fix Tarveth and give him back his sight — no easy feat, even with magic. It had taken much preparation and a risky ritual to accomplish it, but they'd succeeded.

Before Brin could respond to her, he was distracted by the local bard in the corner of the tavern when she began to pick out a lively tune on her lute. The cheeriness and carefree attitude of the song was quick to annoy the foul-tempered Nord. Glaring at the performing Dunmer lass in the corner, Brin grit his teeth and uttered lowly, "I wonder if I can pay that bard and tell her to sod off for a bit... I'm not in the mood for cheery drinking songs right now."

Tarveth's gaze turned grim as he studied the Nord. He decided to test the waters. "That's not like you, Brin..."

Brin arched a brow and turned his head to level a cool glare at Tarveth. The Dunmer returned the stare expressionlessly, neutrally. After a short pause, the Nord issued his reply. "I'm not in a good mood. That's why."

The Nord sighed heavily again, suddenly appearing to grow interested in the countertop. "I've not proven myself of late... if anything, I've only proven to myself that I'm getting..."

Here, the man seemed unable to get the words out for a moment. Through clenched teeth, he ground out the final words. "Soft. Weak."

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, an old memory arose. It brought with it no images; only a voice, brimming with all the arrogance and haughtiness of the one it belonged to, with such intensely painful clarity that it was as if the years that had separated him and the voice's owner had simply vanished in that moment. How the mighty have fallen. You've allowed yourself to grow weak. What has happened to you, Brinsingr? My mighty Ebonarm?

Beside him, Teleri sighed softly. "Brin, we've discussed this before... You are a good fighter, a strong defender, a faithful friend, and that is all you need to be."

It was Tarveth's words, however, that snapped the Nord out of his thoughts. "Killing everything isn't the path to strength, Brin."

Brin's scowl intensified by a modicum, and he turned to face the Dunmer. "Oh, but it is. I'm nigh unkillable now."

In response, Tarveth simply nodded. "Yeah, I had thoughts like that too, once. Kill everything! Blood for power!"

The one-eyed mer suddenly scowled at the memory of those darker days of his youth, days where he'd hungered for power and had gone through great and terrible lengths to acquire it. His voice dipped low. "You lose something vital along the way."

A short pause stretched out before them. Brin chose to speak, his voice growing irritated. "I have not lost anything."

"...Your composure, clearly," Teleri pointed out quietly. Neither man chose to acknowledge her comment.

Tarveth spoke again suddenly, stating with dark conviction, "The Brin I knew last week would've done more to save Farwen."

Farwen. That was the name of one of the ghost hunters they'd been charged with protecting that afternoon, a kindly Altmer. She'd had an ancient Dunmeri spirit invade her body and attempt to possess her. Brinsingr had not had faith in the woman's ability to muster her will and drive the spirit out of her — when she'd begged them to end her life and end her suffering at the hands of the malevolent spirit, Brin had obliged. Even now, his battle axe still held the stench and stain of her blood.

A part of Brin wanted to argue against Tarveth's words, but deep inside, some part of him knew the Dunmer was right. The realization only served to anger him further. He snapped back at the elf, "Well, excuse me for not being in a good mood after being crushed like a whelp and allowing those around me, who trusted me to keep them safe, die."

He then shook his head vehemently and muttered, "Damned Halls of Fabrication..."

The Halls of Fabrication had been the site of his second crushing defeat, and arguably the most painful one he'd experienced in his life. The Halls were said to be a part of Sotha Sil's Clockwork City, and was home to a large number of extremely powerful and dangerous automata called fabricants. Brin had heard of trouble in the area and had gone to investigate Tel Fyr — the Telvanni mushroom tower that served as the entrance to the Halls of Fabrication. He ended up joining with a group of eleven other warriors, all sellswords of varying background and skill, to assist the Dunmer wizard Divayth Fyr quell the threat that lurked in the Halls beneath the tower.

Tarveth knew this story already. He replied sternly, "I know you're capable. I didn't know them. Were they capable?"

"They were capable. Some more than others," the Nord admitted dourly. When he spoke, his voice was like the rumble of a Karth Gorge landslide. "When I did my job, they melted the opposition. But the moment I faltered..."

Brin's free hand on the countertop slowly curled up into a tight, enraged fist. "The moment I faltered, everyone died. Like a scythe to wheat they fell. So much blood... so many bodies... I couldn't..."

He felt a sharp stab of pain through his mind, as if someone had just jammed a pair of iron spikes into his temples. Horrifying flashbacks from the Halls of Fabrication suddenly struck him. He could recall everything as if he were living it in that moment. Everyone falling around him, dying; lightning filling the air with such intensity as to nearly blind him; his body burning and torn apart by metal talons, ripping into his armor and the flesh that lay beneath; and the piercing shrieks of automata on the attack...

"Brin!" Tarveth said sharply, seeing his friend gripped so suddenly by his horrific flashbacks.

Teleri, who had stepped back a moment to give Brin some space, made the decision to wrap her arms around him tightly in a comforting embrace. "I know how this feels, Brin... when Tarveth lost his sight, I felt the same. But I worked hard, I studied hard and we fixed it. I proved that I could do better and be better. How can you prove this to yourself?"

Brin was not listening. He couldn't, still far too tightly gripped by his horrifying flashbacks to focus on her words. He recovered enough of his wits only to gently pull himself from her grip. Shaking his head, eyes still shut tightly with pain, Brin took a couple of shaking steps away from the bar. "I... I need... I need... air...!"

He couldn't stand being inside anymore. The room suddenly felt too small for him, the walls posed to crush the life out of him. Brin staggered towards the entrance and all but battered down the door in his rush to escape. He couldn't care less if he tore the door off its hinges. He just needed to get out.

Tarveth watched Brin shove his way out of the tavern, before turning a grim look upon Teleri. The woman met his gaze with a sigh, before moving from the bar to follow the Nord. Tarveth lingered just long enough to pay for his untouched drink before joining her outside. What is happening to you, Brin?

The two Dunmer found their Nord just outside the tavern, leaning his head heavily against a tree, taking desperate, gasping gulps of air. He had his eyes shut to vainly fight back against the tears that nevertheless crawled down his cheeks. The man was very obviously putting all of his effort just to not break down completely.

"Brin..." Teleri took a tentative step towards the Nord, watching him carefully for any indication he'd heard her. He did not react to her words. His entire body trembled in every limb. She had to fight the overwhelming urge to go to him; she knew he probably didn't want her too close right now. Tarveth, meanwhile, kept a watchful distance with his arms crossed over his chest, always observing — but worried deeply for his comrade and dear friend.

At length, Brinsingr's flashbacks finally faded into the back of his mind once more. When his wits returned to him, he was finally able to grind his jaw in utter fury at himself. "Damn it... damn it, I was too weak... but never again..."

He slowly straightened, his hands at his sides clenched into fists, and turned to face the two Dunmer. His features were set into a firm, cold, hard stare. "Never. Again. I will not be crushed. I... will... not... break... again."

In a quiet voice, Teleri tried to respond. "I'm not asking you to..."

The Nord plowed onward. "We are the ones who are never meant to be broken," he uttered, grimacing at the words he spoke. "Well, I broke. But... I am amending that. One. Kill. At a time."

Standing behind Teleri, Tarveth remained ever watchful, maintaining a guarded silence. He knew what was happening to his friend, and he knew full well that when a Dragonknight got into this state, nothing could dissuade them. The mer could only hope that Brin's path remained a steady one, and didn't lead anywhere near the path he'd once trod.

The Nord suddenly pointed a finger at his breastplate. "This armor alone — gods, I must've had to kill a legion of foes before I got this. But it was worth it."

"Brin..." Teleri tried to speak again, but the chill that ran down her spine stopped her. She still remembered the last time Brin had lost himself to his rage. It had been painful enough when his rampaging werewolf had killed her, but at least she could've blamed it all on the wolf — but there was no more wolf pushing Brinsingr to rage anymore. This was her Brin, he was angry, and it terrified her.

Brin's stern features could have been carved out of the side of a mountain. "And you know what? I'd gladly kill a hundred more foes to get even stronger. Always stronger, always! I can't..."

His voice faltered, and his features twisted with pain and self-loathing. "I can't fail again. I cannot break again!"

Meeting his pained and angry features with a look of utter sorrow, Teleri couldn't do more than shake her head slowly at him, tears working their way down her pale gray cheeks — tears of pain, seeing her Nord so obviously in pain, and tears of fear.

Brinsingr suddenly shut his eyes. Something deep inside him realized that he wasn't in his right mind — that something was wrong with him. He turned away to lean heavily against the nearby tree again. "Just... go. Please. I need... time to think. Need time... to set myself right..."

When Tarveth sensed the change in Brin, he chose to break the silence. "You're volatile, my friend. We won't leave you alone."

Teleri managed to muster herself enough to softly add, "I will keep my distance, but I am not leaving."

Brinsingr grit his teeth and growled. "Just listen to me. I need... space. Privacy. I don't want you around. I... am afraid of... myself."

He let out another sigh, as if making a great concession. "Like you said, Tarveth: I am volatile."

Tarveth's response was surprisingly gentle. "I know you're scared, Brin. You've lost sight of yourself."

The Nord was not certain how his teeth had not shattered by now, with how hard he was gritting them now. "No. I know I've done the right thing, in becoming stronger. And I stand by what I said — I would gladly kill anything that stand between me and the power I seek. But..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. The Nord groped for words, but none came to him. Tarveth took the opportunity to speak again. "Three questions, Brin."

Tarveth held up a finger. "What is your name?"

The Nord didn't know what the Dunmer was getting at, but he humored him and answered loudly. "Brinsingr War-Born. Descendant of Stigandr." He paused, made a sour face, and added, "And a fucking Dragonknight."

Teleri glanced over to Tarveth with worry; the Brin they knew never swore like this. Tarveth then raised a second finger. "For what do you stand?"

Brin's response was immediate. "I stand for myself, for my friends, and for those who require my protection."

That sounded more like the Brin they knew; perhaps there was hope yet for him. A third raised finger joined Tarveth's other two. "For whom do you fight?"

The Nord turned fully to face the pair of Dunmer. "For those weaker than I. For those who are not strong enough to do what must be done."

Tarveth lowered his fingers and nodded once. "So speaks your soul. So speaks your mind. So speaks your body."

Then Brinsingr bowed his head slightly. "And I will acquire the power I need by whatever means necessary to achieve those ends."

In that instant, a bitter coldness that could have come from the heart of Atmora itself crept into Brinsingr's voice. "Even if it means taking lives."

Tarveth had to fight the chill that ran down his spine, but he managed to keep his face impassive; mastering one's expression was a skill that Knights knew well, and he was no exception. "Ask yourself those questions as I did. As long as those answers remain unchanged, your trinity remains strong."

"Brin... this..."

Teleri's voice was soft and quavered slightly when she spoke. She could not even find the words she sought. All she could do was shake her head and pray that this change wasn't real — in spite of seeing it happening right before her eyes.

"This is not about trinity," Brinsingr muttered loudly, looking at each of his friends. "This is about strength of arms. Strength which I once had — and somehow lost. That's the one sure thing in this world — strength of arms means power, and power... means the ability to do. And I am a doer. I do the hard things, the things that others can't do — because I'm the only one who can."

"This is about trinity, dammit," Tarveth snapped impatiently, frustrated. "As soon as a Knight loses balance he loses control. And you are losing your goddamn control."

Brin met his impatient frustration with some of his own. "My mind works. My heart beats stronger than ever. My soul rests safe within this impenetrable vessel of mine. And I am not losing my goddamn control. If I was..."

The Nord shook his head severely at Tarveth, with a funereal set to his jaw. "If I was... you would know."

Tarveth's response was immediate. "I know. So why else would I say it?"

Resting her weight on a crate after having the strength in her legs threaten to fail her, Teleri nodded her silent agreement on the point. It took a moment for Brinsingr to realize he'd just been verbally bested. Another flare of anger sparked to life within him, and he grit his teeth once more. "Get out of here. You're just making me angry, now. And you do not want to deal with a pissed-off dragon."

There was a sudden, short throb in his mind, and the Nord rubbed his temples with his hands. "Make that a pissed-off, half-drunk dragon."

His arms folded across his chest, Tarveth stood defiantly in place. He answered in his usual, unwavering manner. "You wouldn't be the first."

Teleri's voice cracked as she spoke again, but the strength in her tone hinted at firm certainty. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I am not seeing you go down this path, Brin." Tarveth met Brin's glare head-on, unflinching. "I am not fucking going to see you end up like this."

"I am not going down any path that was not laid out before me without purpose," the Nord barked angrily. "My purpose in life is to be a shield, and a shield needs strength to prove its purpose — this is what I am supposed to do, isn't it?"

Tarveth shook his head. "A shield is meant to defend. You are turning yourself into a sword. A sword you've forged in fire so hot the metal is brittle. You're losing balance, Brin. But you haven't lost it. You need to calm down. You need to breathe."

Brinsingr scowled deeply at the one-eyed mer now, feeling all his anger boiling hot within him. It took all his strength not to shout and instead speak, albeit in a strained voice. "Leave. Now. Or I will erupt like god-damned Red Mountain. I can breathe once you leave and quit acting like you are the morally superior one here."

If the Nord had hoped to strike at a chord with Tarveth with his words, none of it showed on the mer's face. At length, Brinsingr just sighed and turned to begin walking away from the other two, making for the bridge that led out of town and into the wilds. Perhaps there he could find the privacy he thought he needed.

As Brinsingr walked away, Tarveth turned to shoot Teleri a look. The woman was clearly having difficulty reining in her emotions. "If I push him, I'll burst the boil. There'll be pain. But there'll be relief in the long run. If I don't, who knows. But this is up to you."

Teleri met his gaze evenly for a few long seconds. Slowly, she nodded. A tear tracked its way down her cheek. "Do something... please... I... don't know him..."

The woman had to place a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Tarveth had gotten all the blessing he needed. His jaw set with determination, the mer turned towards the departing Nord and moved to intercept him. Teleri hesitated for only a moment before following him.

Brinsingr had made it halfway across the bridge when Tarveth and Teleri reached him. They stopped at one end of the span, and Tarveth shouted. "And when will the killing end?!"

Hearing his friend's voice, Brinsingr halted and turned halfway towards them. "When I've gotten all the power I need!"

"You already have it, you fool!"

Brinsingr shook his head gravely. "No. Not yet. Not quite yet... and you would do well to not call me fool again."

"Ill do so as long as it takes, until you open your goddamn eyes," Tarveth bit out in frustration, "while you still have two of them."

His burn scars and missing eye cavity seemed to sting again. The old wounds reminded him of the mistakes he'd made and the price he'd had to pay for them, when he'd walked a path just as dark as the one his dear friend was on the brink of stepping onto now. I will not let you walk this path, Brin.

"Brin... please!" Teleri pleaded, hoping he would hear her. The Nord made no indication of it at all. It was as if he were deliberately ignoring her.

Tarveth spoke again, uttering his words loudly, with the tone of someone delivering an ultimatum. "Keep going down this path and you are going to lose something precious. You hear me? Power is power, all-consuming, corruptive, evil unchecked. And it destroys that which is most delicate, most sacred." I know, because I've already lived this. I will not see you suffer as I did.

The big Nord shook his head in disagreement. "No. Power lets us do things. Without power, we are helpless. You have power — I have power. This is why we are chosen to do the hard things that others cannot. This is why we are heroes."

"Balance, Brin," Tarveth continued. "Power with balance is a blessing, a miracle, an unstoppable force of nature."

He then shook his head dourly. "Don't tip the scales."

"I have both," came the obstinate Nord's reply. "You should have seen me fighting just a few hours ago — facing down the largest kwama warrior you've ever seen, big as a giant. I took it on and slew it and all its minions by myself. And it felt damn good."

Vicious laughter suddenly bubbled out of the Nord. "It felt real damn good."

Tarveth was unimpressed; if anything, his features had grown more stark and severe. "So you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the death, and you enjoyed the solitude."

"I enjoyed being able to see how much stronger I've become," the Nord agreed.

"Keep walking on, keep killing, you'll have all the solitude you could ever want," Tarveth remarked. "Because that's where you're headed. Away."

Scowling, Brinsingr uttered lowly, "You don't understand me." He folded his arms over his broad chest. To the Dunmer, it was like watching a keep door being shut. "I'll show you in the end. I'll show you how wrong you are... but first I just need some fucking peace and solitude. Are you going to give it to me?"

Tarveth's response was immediate. "No. Because Brinsingr War-Born would never throw his companions aside for the sake of power."

The Nord felt his heart lurch in his chest at those words. It made him uncomfortable enough to cause him to unfold his arms anew. "I'm not throwing you aside. I am asking... very, very nicely... and in no uncertain terms... to give me some damn breathing and thinking space."

Again, the Dunmer shook his head. "That isn't going to help you now."

Brinsingr's mouth grew taut with irritation, before he let out a heavy, decisive sigh. "Fine. If you won't leave me alone, then I will just walk away."

The big Nord then did exactly that, turning his back on his friends to cross the bridge. Or at least, he tried to. He had taken all of two steps when he heard a massive wingbeat behind him. The Nord's head snapped upwards, just in time to catch sight of Tarveth leaping over his head, aided in the maneuver by two large, brown dragon's wings that sprouted out of his back. His gaze tracked the Dunmer's flight perfectly as he soared over his head and came to land on the other side of the span, touching down on the ground with only the lightest tap of his boots on the flagstones. As he straightened, the mer's great leathery wings furled and disappeared behind him.

"Walk off this bridge and you've tipped the scales." Tarveth's posture was taut, and demanded attention. He would not be ignored. "This isn't what you want. Listen to me."

Brinsingr did not reply immediately, choosing instead to simply level a withering glare at the Dunmer. Tarveth refused to wither, meeting the stare with one of his own. For several long seconds, the two held each other's gazes, looking each other in the eye. Dark lilac and steel blue clashed in a short but brutal contest of wills. Neither man or mer backed down. Two Dragonknights stood before each other, each possessing a warrior spirit so sharply honed that neither would bend. They had come to an impasse.

Teleri saw this, and her eyes widened with dawning realization. She knew what was going to happen. Desperately, she shook her head and mustered her voice one last time, to plead. "Brin... Don't..."

But Brin wasn't listening to her.

"Tarveth," the large Nord ground out at last, setting his jaw with resolve. "Please forgive me."

That's all the warning I'm getting. The words had not even come to Tarveth's mind as a thought, and yet he reacted instantly with serpent-like reflexes — reflexes honed by intensive Dragonknight training and aided by Tsaesci ancestry. He drew his stalhrim greatsword as quickly as a normal man could blink, but Brinsingr merely raised a hand and cast his spell: Petrify. The volcanic earth beneath Tarveth's feet shattered and bent to Brin's will as he commanded it to rise and grasp the lithe mer, encasing him in a sheath of hot, black stone up to his neck. Tarveth froze and snarled in surprise, finding himself trapped. Dammit. Too slow.

Brin slowly approached the Dunmer, who glared up defiantly at the Nord. Brin stopped short just a few feet away. When he spoke, Tarveth could hear the tightly-leashed rage simmering beneath the larger man's deceptively calm baritone. "I asked nicely. I'm done with that. Goodbye."

He then turned and made to walk around the Dunmer. Seeing Tarveth trapped and fearing for both of them, Teleri struggled back to her feet and ran to catch up with the retreating Nord. "Brin! Stop!"

Hell no. I am not letting you walk away like that. While he would not be considered a burly mer, Tarveth Dren was anything but weak. He summoned his strength, before exerting all the force outward, towards the Nord passing mere feet from him. His effort proved enough to break through his sturdy stone sheath and let him lash out with a leg to try to trip Brin.

Instead of a graceless tumble onto the flagstones, however, upon tripping the huge Nord turned his fall into a practiced forward roll before coming up onto his feet again and twisting around to face Tarveth with a nimbleness that belied his stature. Perhaps he hadn't been trained from birth to hone his skills like the Dunmer, but Brinsingr was anything but clumsy.

"You are not leaving this bridge," snarled Tarveth as he paced back before Brin. His ashen gray skin steamed from the heat of the stones that had encased him. Nothing in the Dragonknight's demeanor hinted at even so much as minor discomfort. He jerked his chin up at Brin. "Go on, then. Erupt. Get the fire out of you."

"Brin," pleaded Teleri, helpless but to stand back or risk herself being hurt again, "if you've any respect for us at all, stop... for Mara's sake, stop..."

The huge Nord sent Tarveth a severe look, clenching and unclenching his fists slowly. "Tarveth... you don't want me to do that. You know I am more powerful than you. Our every sparring match is a testament to that fact. I am saying this for everyone's sake. Leave me alone."

His statement had been an exaggeration. The truth was that Brin simply didn't want to risk actually hurting him — in his state, he did not trust himself. But Tarveth had been completely unfazed by the threat. Instead, he turned side-on to the Nord with his greatsword in one hand, the tip lightly touching the ground in a familiar Akaviri fighting stance. "Erupt."

At length, the Nord simply bowed his head in defeat. Slowly, his hand went to the battleaxe he carried on his back in a sling and pulled it out. He stared at the fearsome weapon for a moment — a weapon like this would either incapacitate or kill his foe outright. Even in this state, it hurt the Nord to think about causing severe harm to his friend. Brin tossed the axe aside. Tarveth's eye narrowed in response.

Silently, the Nord reached back to grasp the long hilt of his second weapon poking over his shoulder. Metal hissed silently against leather as the nodachi's long blade was unsheathed, gleaming blood-red in the afternoon light. Brin adopted his guard stance, holding the weapon like he would a claymore. "Why do you give me no choice?"

Tarveth answered, "Because that fire will burn you from the inside out if I let it remain."

Teleri's voice cried out a moment after, her legs failing her and her knees hitting the flagstones. "Because we love you!"

At last, his love's words resounded in Brin's ears. He shut his eyes, feeling pain and anger brewing together into an explosive mix deep within him. The same voice from before, the haughty one from his memories, seemed to whisper words of venom into his ear. They're asking for it. Show them your power, my mighty Ebonarm.

The Nord shook the words out of his mind and opened his eyes again. To Tarveth, they seemed to burn like live coals as he delivered his response. "Fine. Let's dance, then."

Brin began to stalk over towards Tarveth's left flank, his eyes locked firmly onto the mer's lilac one. Tarveth strafed with him the whole time, his gaze never faltering. Both Knights circled each other like caged wolves, waiting to see who would make the first strike. Tarveth was determined to let it be Brin. Let him come to you. He needs to erupt. Let him strike...

Tarveth felt the attack coming more than anything else. Brin's hands moved simultaneously, one rising in a clench and the other shooting out in a fist. The air seemed to shiver with both spells. Tarveth rolled forward towards Brin, just as the stone beneath his feet shattered and rose like a hand clenching from below, avoiding the Petrify. Overhead, in the same instant, a massive stone of blood and heart's-flame whistled through the air like a stone giant's fist.

Brin reacted instantly, charging forward towards the Dunmer. Upon exiting his roll, Tarveth extended his sword in a thrust as he righted himself for a disarm. They were too close. Brin dropped his shoulder, allowing his thick breastplate to deflect the stalhrim blade while ramming his opponent in a full-body tackle. Tarveth staggered, but like lightning he converted the fall into a shoulder roll, rolling off the force and the pain. Having gained some distance from his foe, he quickly shifted stances. Tsaesci defensive stance became a Nordic defensive stance, gripping his greatsword in two hands with the blade pointed down and to the side, ready to turn aside any incoming blow.

But Brin did not strike. He settled back into a guard with his nodachi, still holding the Akaviri blade like one might hold a much heavier weapon. Slowly, the Nord began to approach again, glaring at his foe. The Dunmer held his gaze unblinkingly, while his foot moved silently in a single, rhythmic gesture. Instantly red-and-black spines encased his body, smoldering in the ashen air. Spiked armor. Should protect against wayward blows.

The appearance of his spiked armor did not faze Brin, but it did pose a new challenge — what was he supposed to do now that would not severely hurt Tarveth? His decision came quickly. Brin darted forward, nodachi rising for a cut. Suddenly the blade turned back, and the pommel of Brin's sword darted towards Tarveth's head like a serpent's strike. Tarveth was wise to the feint. He moved into the strike, half-turning against the blow as the pommel sailed harmlessly by his head while responding with a snap of his elbow, attempting to stun Brin as he pirouetted by his flank. There was no way the huge man could avoid the strike.

Brin didn't even bother trying to dodge. He allowed his heavy armor to take the blow instead, before sending his fist at Tarveth's head in a vicious backhanded strike. Another man would've been caught by the blow, but Tarveth's time spent blind had only enhanced his awareness of the air around him — he twisted underneath the punch and stepped away unscathed, adopting another side-on Tsaesci defensive stance before his foe could respond.

He expected the Nord to come at him again and keep up an unrelenting assault, as he tended to do in their spars. Instead, Brin merely turned to fully face him again, staring him down. The reaction irritated the Dunmer. When the Nord put all his force and emotion into a fight, it was like going toe-to-toe with a walking earthquake. Brin here was being too restrained and calculated — he wouldn't get the catharsis he needed from this fight if he didn't unleash everything he had.

"Stop holding back," Tarveth muttered loudly. His elbow was still protesting savagely after having struck Brin's armor, but none of the pain seeped into his tone. "Erupt, curse you."

Brin's eyes narrowed suddenly at the challenge in a way Tarveth didn't like. The Nord advanced slowly again, nodachi raised in a guard stance. To Tarveth, the implacable juggernaut's advance seemed every bit like the approach of a massive brick wall posed to crush him. Even the strongest walls have cracks...

He tilted his head slowly. Tarveth's free hand clenched and unclenched, the fingers forming a pattern. Brin saw this, and knew now was his only chance to react. Now, at close range, the Nord took in a sharp breath of air. He saw Tarveth's lilac eye snap wide open in realization, just before he released his breath to exhale a blast of green, corrosive dragon-fire. From the sidelines, Teleri screamed, "Brin, no!"

Tarveth's cold discipline disappeared. Panic, briefly, overwhelmed him. He recoiled instinctively, roiling clumsily from the flames, his honed reflexes saving him from another scarring — though his skin stung wildly from the near-miss, and his heart was now racing. While the Dunmer was recovering, Teleri mustered her wits again — anger overriding fear, now — and shouted. "Brin, I just gave him his sight back! Don't you dare take it away again!"

Cold anger suddenly overwhelmed Tarveth's panic. His friend had just taken advantage of his darkest fear. A line had just been crossed. Changing tactic, the Knight clenched a fist and threw it at Brin, shooting a massive obsidian shard at the man, point-blank. By now, the mer had forgotten all discipline and hearing over the roar of his own frenzied heart — a heartbeat after casting the spell he leapt at Brin with a savage swing aimed at his neck, stalhrim blade singing in the hot, ashen air.

Brin had anticipated his opponent avoiding his flame breath. He had already been moving to intercept the elf, so he was more prepared than he would otherwise have been when he saw Tarveth's hand lash out to cast his spell. The Nord was too close to dodge. All he could do was drop his shoulder and brace himself to take the blow. His foe's obsidian shard smashed into him with enough force to send Brin staggering backwards and send a massive jolt up his arm, but he quickly regained his footing and snapped his head up again. Tarveth was leaping at him, greatsword aimed at his neck in a swing. Brin saw his opening and took it, adjusting his grip on his nodachi to swing downward at the incoming sword in a textbook disarming maneuver.

In the space between heartbeats while Tarveth surged forth in his attack, his cold and calculating Tsaesci ancestry flared to life again, overriding the fury of his inner dragon. The old Tarveth, who had lived and studied the Dragonknight Arts in Akavir with the Tsaesci, and lived like they did — blood for power, Ta'avith, blood for power! — would have laughed at the obvious disarm. Mid-lunge, Tarveth shifted his body weight and plunged straight down, breaking his lunge and fluidly turning it into a low, sweeping strike aimed at Brin's legs. Don't stop moving — never stop moving!

All his life, Brin had fought opponents smaller and faster than him. His reflexes, while not as brilliant as Tarveth's, were still superb — and he knew his opponent. The nodachi in his hand hadn't even finished its swing before he realized what was going to happen. Honed reflexes and combat experience flared to life. A pair of brown, leathery dragon wings sprouted from Brin's back, and with a single beat of those massive wings the volatile Knight leapt back out of harm's way, landing at the other end of the bridge.

Tarveth's greatsword met nothing but air. The mer paused, then straightened slowly, breathing in an attempt to cool his hot blood. He couldn't lose himself now; he especially could not let Ta'avith override his wits again like that. He lifted his head again. The pupil in his lilac eye, once the round dot belonging to a Dunmer, had become a serpentine slit — another physical manifestation of his Tsaesci ancestry. It was that same ancestry that gifted him with the brilliant reflexes he needed in that moment, when he saw the flaming chain of black iron shooting out from Brin's outstretched hand, flying at him.

His sword's stalhrim blade hissed, infused suddenly with bloodmagic. The Knight dropped his blade and his body along with it, deflecting the strike. Pirouetting with the force of the chain, Tarveth came back around with his greatsword in one hand again — his other hand, extended in a Petrify. Brin hadn't even had time to drop his flaming chain before he found himself encased up to his neck in hot, black stone. Unfortunately, it was almost a trivial matter for him to summon his strength and break free of his sheath. Volcanic stone is no match for Brinsingr War-Born.

"Now what was that supposed to accomplish?" sneered the Nord as he lifted his head — only to see Tarveth with his dragon wings unfurled in mid-flight, coming straight at him surrounded by a wreath of flames. Should the Dunmer land, the ensuing fiery eruption would surely be enough to fling the larger Dragonknight back towards the town.

A dangerous, cold voice in Brin's head spoke immediately — but this time, it was his own. So don't let him land.

Brin made a split-second calculation. His hand shot up in a fist. An obsidian shard shot towards Tarveth's current trajectory. Then the Nord unfurled his wings again and leapt after it, flying straight towards Tarveth to clash with him in midair.

A part of Brin had fully expected the Dunmer to avoid his initial strike. He had been ready to intercept Tarveth if he'd avoided the giant stone flying at him, and he had been ready to dodge in the event that Tarveth reflected his own obsidian shard at him. But none of that happened. Perhaps they'd been moving too fast, the rate of closure too great for even a mer with serpentine reflexes — but whatever the reason for it, Tarveth did not dodge.

The Dunmer was struck twice over. First by the large stone, which flew into his stomach and turned his graceful aerobatic maneuver into a midair tumble, and then again by Brin ramming him in midair and slamming him towards the ground. Tarveth gasped as he found the air leave his lungs. Badly stunned, he was unable to stop himself from crashing back against the bridge. His sword clattered noisily against the flagstones with him — but the sound was unable to drown out the loud crack of his leg snapping upon impact.

Brin landed heavily on the bridge moments later. His head shot up, his gaze burning with furious intensity, ready to finish off his foe with a final strike. But then he beheld his so-called foe — Tarveth Dren, his dearest friend, his beloved battle-brother who had never done him wrong — unmoving on the flagstones, wounded badly.

Something in Brin changed, then. It was like a curse had been lifted. Whatever bloodthirsty fog had settled on his mind drifted away. A massive storm had brewed over and passed through the volatile Dragonknight. All that had now been left behind was a shocked and guilty Brinsingr, staring as Teleri rushed over from the sidelines to assess the other Dunmer's injuries.

"Oh... gods," the Nord uttered in sudden horror. "What.. have I done... Tarveth you better not be playing possum on me! I swear to the Gods! I..."

Tarveth, head ringing from his hard fall, tried to struggle onto his elbows. Even that was difficult now. "Broken... my... leg... fetcher..."

Teleri, kneeled beside him, turned to shout over her shoulder, a furious scowl on her face. "Brin! You wanted to leave. Go."

But now Brin couldn't bring himself to leave. He watched as Tel turned back to look over Tarveth's injuries, with the wounded Knight stubbornly refusing to lie down and instead support himself on his elbows. With a resentful snarl, Brin sheathed his sword and walked over to Tarveth so he could kneel before him. Tel noticed his presence and all but snapped at him. "I. Said. Go."

Then she turned back to the injured mer and warned, "This is going to hurt, Tarveth." She then gave his leg a tug to reset the bone — Tarveth's only indication of having felt the pain was the wince that flashed across his face — before pressing her palms against it to mend the bone.

Brin felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he observed the scene. "Damn it... you wanted me to fight... but... damn it. This isn't what I wanted."

Again, Tel's voice was full of cold anger. "Brin. Get. Out. Of. Here. Go home."

He couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to leave. Before Brin could even speak again, Tarveth's voice cut through. Still fighting against the pain in his mending limb, he asked, "What is your name?"

The Nord answered, his voice cracking. "Brinsingr."

Now Tarveth lifted his head to gaze up at Brin. His pupil was round, his face calm. The Knight had been beckoned, and now the Dragon slept. "For what do you stand?"

"For my values and for my friends..."

"For whom do you fight?"

Tel finished healing Tarveth, allowing her magic to seek out and mend the wounds, before rising and walking off without another word, towards the small structure that housed a nearby wayshrine — where she meant to ride back home, no doubt. Brin watched her go as he gave his answer. "For the ones I love... Tel! Please! I'm sorry! I didn't..."

Too late. She walked up to the cold, blue fire that burned at the wayshrine's brazier, and in an instant she'd been teleported. Brin sagged despondently. "I didn't want this... What have I become?"

Beside him, Tarveth climbed stiffly onto a knee and, still breathing against the lingering pain, he took Brin by the shoulder and urged him to lift his head so that their gazes would meet. Brin obeyed without resistance. Steel blue and lilac once again met.

"Balance, Brin," the Dunmer Knight told him. "Restore it within, before you restore it without."

The Nord Knight nodded slowly, and spoke in a broken voice. "Aye. Balance... I lost mine. If I hadn't... none of this would've happened..."

"Go jump in the river."

Brin blinked, before cocking his head. "Wha...?"

Tarveth was insistent, his features passive. "Your blood's hot. Cool it off. Then you'll think better."

The Nord didn't bother arguing the point. With a huff, he walked over to the side of the bridge and vaulted over the railing to plummet into the cold water of the river running underneath. Hearing the splash that followed, Tarveth rose, testing his healing limb. It was a bit shaky, but it could hold his weight. Admirable healing, Tel...

Tarveth channeled his remaining energy into healing the limb, wishing he'd had his drink back at the bar, before picking his way down to the river to join Brin. The Nord had just staggered back onto the shore, now thoroughly drenched. "I feel... better. Tired, though..."

The Dunmer did not make any indication of having acknowledged Brin's remark. He focused on his own cleansing, now. Tarveth kneeled before the water's edge and took off his gauntlets to douse his arms up to his elbows. He closed his eyes, feeling the pain and fury of hot blood seeping out from him, and he took the moment to expand his senses and hone his inner calm. Brin stood beside him silently, watching as his friend did this, almost as if in ritual. After a moment of calm quiet, the Nord fluidly drew his nodachi again and sank to a knee, planting the tip of the curved blade into the ground in a gesture of respect typically used by Knights before their Masters.

"I'm sorry," said the big man, his voice full of shame and regret. "I was wrong. So very wrong, in everything."

Tarveth had opened his eye to look at Brin as he spoke. The man shook his head, still in shock at himself. "This is always a problem with me. It's always me feeling weak the first time I meet something a little too strong for me to handle. I'm... I'm not used to being broken. I've been taught never to break. We are the ones who will never be broken, I've been told." His features twisted into a look of distaste. "Well... that's horseshit, evidently."

"Bend, Brin."

The Nord blinked, and looked back up at Tarveth. "Bend?"

Tarveth nodded once. "The oak that stands unyielding against the storm's gale will topple. But the rye lets the wind's rage flow through them. Bend, Brin. But do not break. Balance."

Brin stared at him for a moment, before snorting indelicately. "Aye, I've heard that one before... and every variation of it in Eastmarch at least. But..." He sobered up, and finished, "that doesn't make it any less true."

Tarveth plowed onward. "The ones that defeat us, they are there to balance what power we have. To encourage us to grow stronger... but to remind us that to be all-powerful alone is a dream. Strength lies in number, Brin. The Tsaesci destroyed the dragons not alone, but together. A might that should have crushed them to dust was vanquished by brotherhood."

The big Nord's features twisted into a frown now. He turned his gaze upon the glassy surface of the water. A fair-skinned face stained with dust and sweat, housing a coppery beard and blue eyes, stared back at him. He was Brinsingr War-Born, but up until just a few minutes ago, he had nearly once again taken on an old, vicious mantle of his — Brinsingr the Ebonarm; a title bestowed upon him by the person responsible for interfering with his incomplete training in the Dragonknight arts, who had also tried to cultivate in the growing Knight everything brutal and monstrous about his character — tried, and nearly succeeded.

In the back of his mind, Brin could hear the haughty voice again, laughing at him. You were always my Ebonarm, Brinsingr. Nothing you can do will erase that part of your past. A seed of darkness has already been planted on your soul, and now its roots run far and deep within you. You will never be able to erase the Ebonarm without destroying yourself, first.

Another part of Brin's mind responded instantly. Shut up, Aldolin.

"Aye, you're right, Tarveth," the Nord intoned, crushing the dark thoughts that had been brewing. "I should not expect myself to be able to fight everything by myself, for everyone, but... I didn't want to accept it. I always thought that accepting it was accepting weakness. And weakness... means that I can't defend those I love against the things that threaten them."

The Dunmer couldn't help but smirk at Brin with jaded amusement. "The only one telling you that you're weak is yourself. If we thought that you weren't doing a damned good job at shielding our backs and leading the charge, we'd have complained about it. Come on."

His hands in the cold water were starting to go numb. Tarveth stood up carefully and placed his gloves back on to warm his numbed fingers. Brin stood with him, smiling wryly and shrugging. "I guess you're right. You lot do speak loudly. But you know what? We're like the pieces in a machine. A very deadly machine. We have our parts to play. The cog cannot play the same role as the piston or the lever. But they all work together to drive the same engine, the same machine. The same team."

Tarveth's wry smile had returned. "Someone's been reading up on Sotha Sil..."

Brin laughed softly, with wry amusement to match. "Blame the damned Halls of Fabrication..."

"Hmph. You'll have to take me there one day, see what the hell's going on that'll drive my brother to volatility."

The Nord frowned suddenly, feeling guilty again. Brother...?

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" The Nord couldn't help but ask. "I'm not worthy anymore, am I? I... I've failed my promise to Danion, haven't I?"

What felt like a lifetime ago, Tarveth had finally brought Brin to the final resting place of his old, beloved friend of many years — Danion the Bright; Nord, accomplished warrior, and skald, all on top of being born a dwarf. He had braved many perils with Tarveth during their years together, and upon the gravesite Tarveth had made for Danion on the road leading out of Windhelm, Brin had knelt and sworn to Danion — in the ancestral tongue of their people, Atmoran — to protect the friend he could no longer watch over on Nirn.

Tarveth's response was immediate and wholly irreverent. "Like Danion's never knocked me flat on my arse now and then. Believe me, he'd understand. We've seen students go volatile before. Happens to the best of us."

Brin tried very hard not to laugh at the thought of a dwarf that didn't even come up to Tarveth's chest knocking him flat on his rear. He tried not to laugh, he truly did. Surprisingly, he was successful. "Oh, fine... I'm... just glad that you'd still call me your battle-brother."

The Dunmer's voice dipped lower, a frown playing across his burn-scarred features. "If you'd walked off that bridge I'd have stopped. But you didn't."

It was Brin's turn to smirk and quip, "I mean, your knocking my feet out from under me precluded that."

Tarveth clapped Brin's shoulder. "Come on, Brin. Let's resolve this. Tel's probably gone home and that's where we'll find her."

A pang of sick guilt hit Brin in the stomach. Mustering his resolve, he nodded firmly. He wasn't able to keep the fear or anxiety fully out of his voice. "Right..."

...

Teleri's home, Autumn's-Gate, was in the Rift near a small village on the road to Riften called Nimalten. It was there that Brin and Tarveth headed, teleported via wayshrine. The pair of Knights had only just entered into the home's outer yard when a loud, deep, warning bark sounded. A large black hound was perched atop a large rock near the stables — Malacath. Teleri's beardog Hircine came bounding out of the stables right after and took up a position beside the other hound.

Tarveth raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Woah, easy boy, just me."

"And me..." Brin scanned the garden for Teleri, but the Dunmer was nowhere to be seen.

The Dunmer Knight kneeled before the dogs. "Where's your mistress gone, hm?"

Malacath's only response was a low growl. Hircine did not growl, but he stood at attention ready to fend off both Knights if need be. Brin decided to raise his voice cautiously. "Tel...? You here? Please... speak to me. I've cooled down, I swear!"

Tarveth sighed mournfully and withdrew a lump of raw meat from his satchel. "I suppose I'll have to give this to Serjo then..."

Unfortunately, even the prospect of being given a treat worthy enough for Tarveth's mount, a giant gray wolf, was not enough to bribe the dogs. They continued growling and standing their ground without flinching. Tarveth pocketed the meat with a frown, grousing, "Don't tell me I have to break my leg again to see the healer..."

Very quietly, they heard a voice from the closest stall in the stable next to the house. "...I'm in here..."

Brin felt his heart leap into his throat. Before he could speak, he felt Tarveth clasp his shoulder placatingly. "Wait here."

The Dunmer left Brin behind to make for the stable. At the sound of his owner's voice, Hircine turned and entered the nearest stall to check on her, leading Tarveth in. The Dunmer followed and found himself before Teleri Maryon, seated in the darkest corner of the stall. Her knees were tucked up against her chest, her arms hugging them. Close by her was her massive gray wolf mount, Koht, looking back at Tarveth with large, calm eyes, while Teleri's old, toothless wolfhound Wurfles was curled up on her other side. Teleri's red eyes locked with Tarveth's lilac one, gleaming with tears.

A moment passed without words exchanged, before the Dragonknight bowed his head once. "Tel."

Teleri wiped her cheek with her glove. "Tarveth."

The Knight took another moment, before replying. "It's ugly, I know. But it works."

"I don't know what you mean, Tarveth." Teleri hugged her knees more tightly against her chest. "I can't go through this again..."

"You won't have to."

Tel sniffled. "Thought that last time. Yet here we are..."

Tarveth took the moment to explain himself. "Dabbling in earth and fire magic takes its toll on Knights — we become... quite like... the things we command, if we lose balance of our inner selves."

He jerked his head in the direction of Brin, who was doubtless standing restlessly in place, nervous and afraid out of his mind. "We call that state of being volatility. When there's too much fire and magic in our blood. When it clouds our focus and scatters the trinity. Extreme measures have to be taken. They have to let it out."

Outside in the yard, they heard Brin's mournful cry. "Tel, please... I've changed. I really have. I've learned something, something that I hadn't quite accepted fully until now. Please... let me tell you what it is I've learned..."

Teleri raised her head at the Nord's voice, before sagging and shaking her head again. "I can't watch him do that again..."

"You won't have to. Volatility rarely occurs a second time." Tarveth's voice became insistent. "Tel. Please. At least speak with him."

The woman was silent for several contemplative moments. At length, she spoke. "Give me a minute..."

Tarveth nodded respectfully and stood to leave the stall. He walked outside just in time to see Brin standing on trembling legs. Without warning, the huge Nord appeared to break in half. He fell to his knees as the strength in his legs failed him, and he hung his head in exhaustion and sorrow. Tarveth crouched wordlessly beside his battle-brother. He had nothing more than platitudes to offer, and he was certain the Nord didn't want to hear them.

Brin suddenly spoke, in a voice so small that it didn't fit anywhere in the Nord's usual demeanor. "This... this is the one thing that can break me. My heart. Not ghouls, hags or wraiths. Not monsters, not daedra, not spirits or people. I can come back from being taken down by those. But... heartbreak? I don't know if I have the strength in me anymore. Especially not with Tel."

He paused for a moment, then added quietly, "She means too much to me. She means everything."

The Nord remained silent after that. Overhead, the skies roiled with dark gray clouds. Thunder rumbled in the heavens, and a light rain began to fall around them. Neither man or mer cared. Tarveth could only look at his brother with sorrow; there was only so much he could do, and he'd done all he could. The rest was up to them. He could only grit his jaws and wait.

Inside the stall, shielded by the rain, Tel braced herself to rise again. She found that her legs weren't quite willing to cooperate. Her beardog Hircine gave her face a few licks and sat back on his haunches, Koht the gray wolf stood beside her and backed up to give her space, and Wurfles the old wolfhound grabbed the hem of her robe in her gummy jaws and tugged it gently. The Dunmer woman gave each dog a watery smile and pets for strength and courage before rising to her feet fully and exiting the stall.

Her tread was slow and deliberate as she approached the kneeling Nord in her garden. His head was bowed, and his shoulders shook intermittently with enough force to shake even his massive frame. When she stood only a few feet away, she stopped short, and braced herself. It took more effort than she'd anticipated to muster her voice. "Brin..."

The Nord's shaking abated slightly, and he slowly lifted his gaze to match hers. "Tel..."

Teleri slowly closed the distance and held out a hand to him. Hesitantly, Brin gently grasped her hand as if it were a crystal feather and rose slowly. Tel's gaze followed his as he came to tower before her, as usual. Then her features, impassive up to this moment, softened unexpectedly. She pulled Brin into a full hug, her arms wrapping around his midsection. Brin instantly wrapped his arms around her. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely as he pressed his cheek against her head. He just managed to choke out a short string of words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

The Dunmer only tightened the hug, as much as she was able. "It's alright, love. It'll be alright..."

Love...

Hearing that word from her lips made a surge of carthatic relief flow through the man, and he all but sagged into her embrace. "I've learned... I've finally learned my lesson... I don't know why it took me this long, but I've finally learned it..."

Teleri stretched up to kiss him tenderly on his lips. "I'm glad..."

Brin gave her a wobbly smile at the kiss. "True strength doesn't lie in being unbreakable. Everyone can break. One's strength lies in their ability to come back every time they fall. And sometimes... being broken... can let you come back stronger than before. Like a broken pot, pieced back together with molten gold."

Tarveth had managed to stand completely silent by the side, but now he couldn't resist answering the remark: "Or a leg."

Brin's mouth grew taut all of a sudden, but he couldn't stop himself from bursting out with laughter. "Damn it, I was having a poignant moment here."

His battle-brother rolled his eye. "You've been monologuing all day. Spare us."

"Taking yourself too seriously got yourself into this mess, m'dear," Teleri teased him lightly. She stepped back from the hug to take his hand in hers, before shooting Tarveth a grateful smile. "Thank you, my friend."

Tarveth nodded silently, while Brin shot the elf a wry smile. "Oh sure, only bad things happen when I monologue huh?"

The Dunmer's Knight response was immediate. "Absolutely. Like the fact that you left your axe on the bridge."

Brinsingr's expression immediately fell, his eyes flying wide open in realization. He managed to bite out a quick, muttered curse, before all but battering down the front gate to Teleri's home in his haste to rush back to the wayshrine and retrieve his lost axe. The two Dunmer watched the huge Nord all but leap onto his bear mount's back and set her off at a mad dash towards the wayshrine, before exchanging a look of amusement. Teleri shook her head in a gesture that conveyed complete and utter fondness mixed with an equal amount of exasperation.

"That's my Brin, alright..."