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Chapter Text

Turdas 4E 1

For all my years I've spent writing endless documents, managing expenses, charters, and whatnot for the Fighter's Guild, I, Vilena Donton, have never once bothered to write about my life.

This diary was a gift from my eldest son, Vitellus, which he purchased many years ago. His reasoning was that writing down my thoughts would be beneficial for my health and would keep me busy on dull days. He purchased one for my younger son, Viranus, as well. Viranus loved the idea and wrote in his diary daily, inundating the pages with ink and soon filled it completely. Vitellus bought him plenty more diaries to keep him busy.

Mine, on the other hand, collected dust on my bookcase, until now.

Now, I have far too much time to be alone with my thoughts. As of last week, I have officially retired as the Master of the Fighter's Guild. The title has been passed to the daring and capable, Ivan Ovidius, with fiery Modryn back as his second-in-command.

At first I dreaded leaving my beloved guild and all of its members. I had ignored all of the gossip around town that said I had lost my touch and was holding the guild back. I can be truthful to myself now and admit that the gossip was true.

That was not always the case. There was a time when I was not so overprotective and outdated, and had something that resembled a normal life within the guild.

*

Years ago, many years it seems now, I was a passionate warrior. My hair, not yet touched by silver, was a vibrant shade of golden-blonde that I kept tied in a long, messy braid. Men, that did not shy away from a bruised warrior maiden, showered me with affection, though I seldom returned it. I could not be bothered with trivial things such as love and flowers. I was utterly devoted to proving myself as a competent fighter in the guild, as my mother and father had, before illness took them.

What I did love best, was camping in the wilderness with my guildmates, where we enjoyed rowdy nights filled with laughter, mugs of weak-as-water ale, and sordid stories by a roaring campfire under a canopy of stars. My greatest honor then was being the only one in the group to make roasted rat palatable.

My tenacity and skill earned me several promotions and I was often called to take care of business in every major city within Cyrodiil. I felt like an unstoppable force and perhaps, during those years, I was.

*

In my thirties, I settled in the city of Chorrol. I did not own a house yet, my pay would never have covered it, so I used the guild as my living quarters. There were some new and familiar faces. Modryn and I had worked together on several jobs in the past, so there was unspoken trust and understanding between us. He reluctantly took care of the recruits, while I worked with peers of similar rank. It was a wonderfully comfortable arrangement that allowed me to stand out in the guild.

Then along came Julian Lucilius, an outgoing Imperial, who shared the same rank and ambition as me.

That made us rivals.

We were quite amicable at first. We would eat our meals peacefully with our friends and work together if we were teamed up for a mission. But, then we let our egos get the best of us, and began to bicker over who would get to be in charge of the more lucrative jobs that would gain recognition. We even started getting competitive during our free time. It just had to be known which one of us was more skilled with weaponry. Every weapon imaginable was exhausted during our duels and matches. Much to the amusement of our guildmates, and to our dismay, we were equally matched.

We finally agreed to settle things once and for all with a private wrestling match to see who was the best at hand-to-hand combat. It would be a tad more civilized than just beating the shit out of each other. We agreed to fight naked, as it was done by the wrestlers of antiquity, to ensure an equal match. After many unsuccessful attempts at grabs and holds, it seemed as if we were equally matched once more, and would end our final match with a tie. It was all thanks to one fortuitous maneuver that I was the one who ended up on top, pinning him beneath me, finally breaking our tie. Maybe I was still riding the high of my victory or it was the Julian's lips parted as he took quick, shallow breaths, that I bowed my head to his, inviting him in for a kiss that he readily accepted, that one thing led to another. I shall not put the words to paper.

One week shy of nine months later, our son, Vitellus, was born.

We had tried to keep our unblessed-by-Mara relationship and blessed-by-Dibella romantic escapades a secret, as well as who was to blame for my growing belly. There was only so many times Sabine could adjust or create a new breastplate to conceal my belly before it was glaringly obvious. Julian tried to avert suspicion by turning his competitive spirit to other members by asking them for friendly duels. His excuse was that I was no longer fun now that I had lost my competitive edge.

At the same time, the current Guildmaster gave me leave from my usual duties and had me take care of various paperwork and expenses. This temporary position proved to be valuable later on. And not once did the he ask who was the father was of my unborn child.

When it came time for the birth, I, alone, rushed to the Chapel of Stendarr. Julian prepared to leave for a mission near Kvatch with a small crew. It was his best bet to avoid suspicion. The Guildmaster, bless his soul, quietly pulled Julian from the mission and demanded that he go to the Chapel immediately, or he would regret his decision for the rest of his life.

Between my curses and the care of the Chapel's healer, I remember seeing Julian in full armor crashing through the doors of the birthing room. There was a mix of fear and excitement on his face and it almost brought me to tears. I'm sure he was thankful that he wore thick gloves, because I would have crushed his hand otherwise with my constant squeezes. He never let go once during the labor that lasted well over an hour.

Then, there he was, our child. Our little crying bundle of joy. With my brown eyes and a tiny tuft of auburn atop his head that matched his father. He was the sweetest thing. Julian adored him and begged the healer to hold him after me. Between the kisses on his forehead, he whispered as light as air, “Vitellus! Vitellus! Our sweet baby boy.”

When I was properly cleaned up and rested, we left the Chapel and headed back to the guild. Julian was prepared to wait outside until all the excitement died down. In my exhaustion, I told him that I was done pretending and we entered the guild together. Everyone who was not out on a mission cheered us and gathered around Vitellus, cooing over him in every way. Julian and I received rounds of congratulations for our healthy boy. All our efforts were for naught, as it seemed that no one was surprised at the identity of Vitellus' father.

*

The next few months proved that the guild was truly a family. When Julian and I were exhausted, many others pitched in to help feed or clean “The Guild Mascot”. Brothers, Lum and Kurz gro-Baroth, took considerable care of Vitellus and played with him constantly. I had never heard Orcs use a “baby voice” before, but the sound never failed to elicit a laugh from Vitellus.

We knew that the others needed rest from their contracts and that the guild was not a suitable place to raise a child. Julian and I pooled our coin together and bought a humble wood shack at the end of the city. We became neighbors to Modryn, who, in his own way, was pleased we were his new neighbors. We spent considerable time baby proofing the shack, making sure there wasn't a single weapon or heavy piece of armor left in range of Vitellus' curious little hands.

Julian and I would switch between which one of us would take a job and which would stay at home. Still, many of the members of the Guild would drop by to offer their time; even Modryn.

There was one memorable occasion that occurred when Julian and I returned home after Modryn watched over Vitellus for the day, and I looked over at a colorful drawing left on the table that depicted Vitellus and Modryn fighting a pair of goblins. At least, I think they were goblins. When I said that Vitellus drew very well for a toddler, Modryn looked me dead in the eyes, and with a deadpan expression said, “I drew that for him.” I don't think there was ever a time I more deeply offended him than that day. Miraculously, he still came over to watch over Vitellus, but never let me see another one of his masterpieces ever again.

*

Two years later, I was appointed the second-in-command to the Guildmaster. I initially objected, stating that Modryn, with his diligent attitude, was more suited for the job than myself. I kept quiet about how I lost some of my ambitious streak after realizing that the higher ups dealt more with paperwork and meetings rather than physical jobs. But, the Guildmaster and the previous second-in-command stated that I had been a great asset in the past when I assisted with desk work.

I finally accepted the promotion and was congratulated by friends when we went to get drinks later at The Grey Mare. Several of which joked that the only reason I got the promotion was to make sure that Julian and I were separated so that we didn't get physical in a ruin or a dank cave. Like the good-humored man he was, Julian laughed and turned to me saying, “Oh, no, Vilena, they're on to us!” I tried to hide my smile behind a mug of ale and joked that I would demote all of them if they didn't behave themselves.

We proved that we didn't need an exotic location to get physical. As parents, all it took was for Lum and Kurz to take Vitellus to the range behind the guild to teach him the basics of archery. Within minutes of our newfound privacy, we became intimate as Julian knocked over the utensils from that morning's breakfast and took me wildly on the the table. Our stamina wasn't the same as before we had a child. Minutes later, we stumbled to the bed and collapsed, in desperate need of a nap.

*

Months later, Vitellus was thrilled to hear that he now had a baby brother. The four of us were greeted by the others waiting in the Guild Hall. Julian held the baby as Vitellus proudly announced to everyone that his name was Viranus, and that he was his new best friend. Sabine teased Lum and Kurz saying that now they each had their own Donton boy to play with and train. It warmed my heart to see Julian carry our child so proudly. It was so different than when we tried to hide our relationship in the past. Now everything felt so open and carefree, as it should.

For over a decade, we lived a happy life as a family. Our main troubles at home being scrapped knees, drawings on the wall, and the odd wild animal brought back as a pet.

Soon after, I found myself with another promotion. “Grey and frail,” is how the Guildmaster described himself to me one day, though I only agreed with the former. He told me that he watched over the guild prosper for many years and knew when it was time to call it quits and enjoy a rare treat for a warrior; a fulfilling retirement. He found it fitting to pass the position to me. I was dumbstruck. I didn't feel like I was ready to lead the guild and wanted to work with him for the remainder of his years. He told me his decision was final and that he was ready to move back to Anvil where the remainder of his relatives lived. With teary eyes, I accepted my final promotion and damn near hugged that man so tight, he nearly had to fight me off for air.

With my promotion came the responsibility of choosing my second-in-command. Julian had spoken to me years ago and told me that if I ever become Master, he would never wish to become my second-in-command. He did not wish for others to think he earned his position through our relationship and was content with the position of Guardian for the remainder of his career. It didn't take long for me to decide who would take on the role of Champion, as I settled on Modryn. In his usual fashion, he thanked me by saying I only chose him because I wanted someone new to take on the mountains of paperwork. But, he accepted the position and he has been taking it seriously ever since.

The Guild was at its peak, with new recruits ready to take on the world, as I had in the past. Only a few contracts went sour and a handful of cases of infighting over bruised egos occurred, but were swiftly dealt with.

*

The road to my “downfall” as it should be called, began after the Cheydinhal contract. The contract had us investigate disappearances of several civilians and apprentices of the Cheydinhal chapter of the Mage's Guild. What we were told to expect was the possibility that the disappearances were caused by some necromancers looking for new subjects to test on. Julian volunteered to take his crew with him, hoping that this contract would renew goodwill between the Fighter's and Mage's Guild

When the crew returned a week later, they explained the enemies they encountered appeared to be band of wizards cast out from House Telvanni, who traveled from Morrowind, and were set on harnessing powers from Varla and Welkynd stones deep within ancient Ayelid ruins, in an attempt to gain new powers. The treasure hunting civilians and apprentices of the Mage's Guild just happened to be snooping around the wrong ruin on the wrong day.

They also explained that Julian was one of the two dead bodies laying in the cart they brought back.

Once the crew had rescued all the civilians and mages and were nearing the exit, they were attacked by the last wizard outcast and their fire atronachs. Julian gave the order for his half his crew to lead the escape, with the remainder helping him hold off the wizard. Their mission was successful, the civilians and mages were saved and the wizard was beheaded by Julian, but too late was his shield arm in stopping the wicked flames of the atronachs from burning his chest. He was beyond the help of a healer or potions.

My heart felt like it stopped as I lifted the fabric off his body. It took all I had not to collapse to my knees and bawl like a child. His face was mostly untouched, but his chest was a mess of melted and melded armor, cloth, and flesh. I touched his face and wanted to beg him for forgiveness. I had sent him to his death. If I had known the week before that we were spending our last day together, we would have eaten a better meal, kissed more, and said 'I love you' in sweeter ways.

Then something cracked inside me when I looked at the body beside him. It was a young woman, not much older than Vitellus, who had joined the guild a year ago. She was talented and had quickly earned the rank of journeyman. But that glittering future ended in flames.

To die in battle, was the one of the possible outcomes of a fighter, but it still hurt. I realized that it could be my sons, next, if they joined the guild. I wasn't sure how to tell them about their father, but I wasn't given a chance to prepare how I was going to tell them. They ran all the way from Renoit's Books to the cart, when they realized there was Fighter's Guild business going on. I tried to block their view, protect their innocence for just a little longer, begging them not to look at their father's remains.

They persisted that I let them see, and I finally relented when Modryn placed a hand on my shoulder, whispering that it would be best to let them see the horror now, than be unprepared in the future. The boys stared blankly at him, quiet for a while, until they slipped out of their daze. Viranus held his father's charred hand as he wept, while a teary-eyed Vitellus vowed to rid Tamriel of evil, his resolve to join the guild even stronger.

*

On the day of the funeral, Vitellus wore a set of fine steel armor with a claymore strapped to his back. With his auburn hair tied back and the way he poised himself, he was the true embodiment of a noble fighter. Viranus, still too young to join the guild, promised Vitellus that he would grow to be just as strong and heroic, if not more so, than him. Vitellus smiled and welcomed the idea. At his grave, I lamented to myself that I wished Julian could see his boys now and I that I would visit him often to tell him of their accomplishments.

We also buried the young fighter and I met her family, which consisted only of one older brother. He accepted my apologies and said that this was the way of the fighter; to die fighting with honor protecting Cyrodiil's people. He was at peace with his sister's choice but admitted that he would need to get used to the idea of living alone.

And now, years later, I find myself in the same position.

I should have been the first to go.

Chapter Text

Fredas 4E 1

Alessia Ottus had written about me in her book, “Guide to Chorrol,” as being 'excellent and honorable'. I no doubt believe she wrote that because of my moral standing and my regular attendance at the chapel, and nothing else.

Last night, I did not feel 'excellent and honorable', as I am ashamed to admit that I fell back in to my old ways. I stared at myself in the mirror, repulsed at the blundering failure that looked back at me. Then I sat silently in the dark, on a chair in the boys' room, as if they were going to rise from the grave to come back home and greet me.

Yet, as I awoke this morning, alone, I felt a strange sensation of calm. I picked up my discarded diary and decided that I would finish my writing. Now that I think about it, I originally bought this large house, not only because of my guildmaster's pay, but because I needed to get out of that cramped shack that was filled with memories of the man I lost. Besides, I had two growing boys, so there was a dire need for a change, as well. Now that it is just me, I would consider selling the house, but I wish to preserve my boys' memories for as long as I can.

I won't write about how I lost Vitellus and then Viranus, their deaths have been on the tongue of every town gossiper for far too long. Ivan and Modryn have already felt the brunt of my anger towards the events that unfolded with the Blackwood Company and our Guild. And without those two, there would be no closure, no peace, for me and the others. They returned Viranus' diary to me, bloody and torn. There are pages that are legible, but I refuse to read it and have instead placed it by the pillow on his bed. I can't say Ivan and Modryn didn't deserve my anger at the time, but now I know that they are the future of the guild, and of Cyrodiil's safety, as well.

I'll wait to offer them my help, let them settle in to their duties. Maybe I could offer to polish weapons or mend embarrassing holes in trousers. If, by any chance, they need me for any other guild matters, perhaps I could spare them some of my abundance of time.

Until then, I need to get out of this house and get to know people outside of the guild. Maybe Seed-Neeus, over at Northern Goods and Trade, would like to meet me at the Oak and Crosier for some tea, or whatever drink an Argonian might prefer. She seems to be a cheerful sort, especially after the return of her daughter, Dar-Ma, (all thanks to a certain new Guildmaster for rescuing her and returning her home!) that I think we can become good friends.

I'll still visit my boys and Julian. It will take time to fully heal, but I am confident in my progress. They all died the way they wanted, as warriors, and I will eventually come to accept their wishes.

I should also make plans to travel to Anvil to pay respects to the now ex-ex-Guildmaster. May he rest in peace. Without him, my life would have been quite different.

I feel like I have written so much, yet covered so little of my life. I have the rest of my years to write down events of the past and of what has yet to come. There is still time for me.

Vitellus was right. Writing can be good for one's health.