Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lucien shut the book, titled Traveller’s Guide to Cyrodiil. This was supposedly the newest and most comprehensive of such guides, “hand-picked” by his father from the Imperial library, but even so this one was eight or nine years old. He wished it weren’t, though; he missed when “young Reuben” was actually young and not the snotty self-obsessed teenager he was now. Luckily, Reuben wouldn’t be a factor on this trip. For the first time, Lucien wasn’t coming to Bruma as an ambassador for his father’s dumb business dealings, but rather on a more personal matter.

As the carriage climbed further up the hills to Bruma proper, the temperature slowly dropped and the wind picked up. It was the middle of Last Seed, so by no means was it cold, but still far cooler than in the Imperial City. Lucien was glad to finally escape the glaring sun and humidity that characterised the hotter half of the year in the capital.

At last, they arrived at Bruma’s eastern gate. Instead of continuing forward, though, the carriage turned toward the stables outside the gate. Lucien leaned over the side of the passenger area until his face was right next to the driver’s.

“Why are we stopping here?”

“They’re not letting non-military vehicles inside the gates, what with the war,” the carriage driver replied.

“Oh, please. I could bribe the guard with one percent of what I have in my wallet and he’d let us through.”

“I’d rather you didn’t do that,” the carriage driver said. By this point in the conversation the carriage had already stopped and a stable hand was coming to take away the horses.

“Come on! You’re gonna make me walk all the way? Won’t you be sorry when you hear about how poor young Master Lucien died of exhaustion walking the streets of Bruma because his carriage driver forced him out.”

“I sure will,” the carriage driver said.

Lucien walked alone up the wide stone road leading to the city gate, being careful to avoid stepping on the pebbles that had been sweeped far enough to clear the section of the road where the carts ran, but not quite off the edges. Caravans and traders lined up along the way, having been refused entry into the city and forced to wait outside for buyers to come out to them. As he approached the gate, a guard stopped him as well.

“We’re not letting travellers into the city. Go away,” the guard shouted.

“The hell do you mean?” Lucien demanded. “First you don’t let carriages in and now you’re not even gonna let one person through?”

“You know, the war! We have more important things than letting some tourists in! This is Bruma, you think we’re gonna just prop our gates wide open?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I’ve been let in plenty of times during the war already. And I’m not a tourist. Now let me through--” Lucien tried to shove past the guard to crack open the giant gate door himself, but the guard pushed him back.

“Don’t even think about it, buddy,” the guard said. Lucien jerked his hand free from the guard’s grasp. “And what do you mean you’re not a tourist? You’re obviously not here for business!”

“I’m Lucien Draconis. Let me into your stupid city or I’ll get your boss out here.”

“Draconis? A redguard? Who do you think you’re fooling?”

Lucien leaned back shifting his weight onto one foot, and put his hands on his hips. “Okay Nord,” he started, “first of all, if you knew anything about anything you’d know Draconis married a redguard. And I’m his son. So jot that down in your diary. Second of all--”

Just then, the side of the gate behind the guard opened from the other side. A blonde imperial leading a pack mule emerged in the direction of the traders, but when he noticed Lucien he stopped in his tracks.

“Lucien?” he said, a mix between confusion and concern.

Lucien looked up at the man and realised who he was. “Thank the gods, Ren, help me out here! This stupid guard won’t let me--”

Ren cut him off, grabbing Lucien’s coat by his shoulder and pulling him away from the guard. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Visiting you!” He smiled and held up his suitcase as if to prove he was telling the truth.

“Why? And why now? And by yourself?”

“Because--well-- it’s kind of a long story. But I came to visit! Hi!”

“Lucien, answer my question. What happened? It’s not like you to just come out here without any notice.”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. The guard, who was still standing there, took the opportunity to butt in. “So are you two gonna leave me alone or what?”

“Oh, sorry,” Ren said, and pulled Lucien and the mule over to the other side of the road.

“Don’t apologise to him, he’s a dick,” Lucien mumbled.

Ren grabbed both of Lucien’s shoulders. “Lucien, tell me what’s going on. Stop dancing around it.”

“Uh, it-- um... can I tell you later? I just travelled all the way up here and it’s cold and--”

“No. Tell me now.”

Lucien sighed. “I don’t want you to like... flip out. Alright?”

“I’m fine. Just tell me what’s happening.”

“I... may or may not have enlisted in the army--”

“WHAT?!” Ren’s grip on Lucien tightened, and his expression changed from concerned to horrified.

“See, I told you you’d flip out! It’s fine Ren, by the time I--”

“It is not fine! It is extremely the exact opposite of fine!”

“Ren! By the time I finish basic the war’ll be over and I can just be on reserve.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Come on, Ren. Just look at it, they got Ulfric totally surrounded and he’ll probably be dead in a week. After that everything will fall in line. That’ll be it. I’ll never be in danger.”

Ren didn’t respond, and instead just looked at Lucien, thinking. He released his grasp. “I have errands to run,” he said. “This conversation isn’t over though. You know where I live, right?”

“Errands? On Sundas?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t I just hang out here and wait?” Lucien whined.

“I thought you said it was too cold.”

Lucien smiled. “Okay smartass. And of course I know where you live, you’ve lived in the same place for... five years?”

“Four years,” Ren corrected. He stepped around Lucien and took hold of the mule again.

“Yeah. Well alright... don’t take too long or I’ll start rooting through your shit,” Lucien joked, starting back towards the gate.

“Oh Luc,” Ren called back to him, “For the gods’ sakes just show that guard your watch instead of trying to argue with him.”

“You’re so right,” Lucien gasped, “I totally forgot I had that! What would I do without you?” He grinned and pointed at his temple, before turning back around and heading towards the gate. Ren just shook his head, and led the mule the rest of the way to the caravans.

Like Ren said, the guard let Lucien through when he showed him his pocket watch decorated with the Draconis family crest. He felt kind of dumb for not thinking of that at first, but that’s how things always went between them. He pulled his coat collar up around his neck. What WOULD I do without him? he wondered. He started to think being in the army would be harder than he’d thought. He’d been physically away from Ren for far longer, but had always been able to at the very least write to him. This time he’d be truly separated from him for the first time in nearly 20 years.

The wind bounced off the city walls, and as he walked through an arch it funneled it in such a way that he was blasted with a wall of cold air that almost knocked him over. It was technically summer, but the wind almost made him shiver. He wished he’d taken out his braids before he left; maybe his head wouldn’t be as cold.

At last, he reached his destination:

He fished a key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The only light came from outside, so once he closed the door behind him, he was practically in the dark. Nonetheless he navigated effortlessly across the familiar floor layout into the back room and up the stairs to the residential part of the building. He walked through another door at the top of the stairs, and was in Ren’s apartment.

On the left of the front room there was a desk with bookshelves on both sides. At the desk was a red-cushioned swivel chair which had DRACONIS etched on the back-- given to Ren from Lucien’s father as a moving-away gift. Near the right wall was the sofa that would most likely become his bed, and a low table with a stack of books on it sitting on a woven wool rug. Through the hallway straight ahead, a window with the curtains drawn back faced the street, letting light into the apartment which reflected on the hallway floorboards.

He shut the apartment door and sat down on the sofa, setting his suitcase on the floor beside him. He sorted through the books in front of him, half of which were about business and trade, and the rest about the Great War. He flipped briefly through Rising Threat, which he recalled was banned in Cyrodiil. Ren must’ve gotten it from Skyrim, he thought, putting it back on the table. He looked at his watch. 5pm. He wondered when Ren would be back.

For a while he sat in silence, the only sound coming from the children playing in the street a few houses down. After a while he turned to his side, lay down, and closed his eyes.

Suddenly the apartment door banged open. Lucien jumped up and directed his eyes to Ren, who was holding a wooden crate and frowning.

“Get your shoes off my couch,” Ren commanded, closing the door with his foot and walking through the front room towards the back of the apartment. Lucien dragged himself off the sofa and followed Ren into the kitchen.

“Excuse me, that is not a couch. It’s a sofa.”

Ren set the crate on the kitchen table and looked exhaustedly at Lucien. “Not with this again,” he said.

“What’s in the box?”

“Food.”

Lucien shifted uncomfortably under Ren’s stare.

“Ren?”

Ren didn’t move.

“Ren, can I at least explain before you give me your ‘disappointed dad’ treatment? I already get that enough from my actual dad.”

“Please do.”

“It... See, you’ve known exactly what you wanted to do your whole life. I still have no idea. The whole thing about probably being the next head of the family and the business and whatever, it’s-- it’s not me, you know? So--”

“Luc, you’re dancing again.”

“I’m not trying to! Look, I’m just trying to buy myself time to figure shit out. It’s essentially taking a gap year from life.”

“Sure, a gap year to Oblivion!”

“Come on, Ren! Did you not hear what I said earlier? The war’s gonna be over in a month. I’ll do basic training, get stationed somewhere for like a year, and be done with it.”

“And did you not hear what I said? You don’t know that for sure! What if it isn’t over in a month?”

“Now we’re just saying the same things over and over.”

“Because my point still stands!”

“There’s no point to any of this anyway; I already signed up. If I back out now I’ll be deserting the Imperial army during wartime. That’s capital punishment. So we’re looking at a chance of getting killed, or a guarantee.”

“I’m not saying desert. I’m saying you’re a fucking idiot for signing up in the first place.”

“Am I though?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

Lucien grinned. “If I’m so terrible why have we been best friends for 20 years?”

Ren couldn’t help smiling a little too. He shook his head. “Maybe we’re not. Maybe you’re that kid my parents make me hang out with.”

“You wound me, Ren! I didn’t know you had it in you to be so cruel!”

There was a pause. Lucien’s smile fell.

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I am an idiot. I don’t know. But the reason I came out here was just... to say goodbye. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again or anything, but basic training is like three months long. And I knew you wouldn’t be happy if I just sent a letter.”

“I’m not happy either way. But... you’re going. I can’t do anything about it now. And I am glad you actually came out here, if nothing else.” he paused for a bit. “When do you leave?”

“A week.”

“Where will you be?”

“Solitude.”

Ren nodded.

Lucien followed the stripes in the wood of the floorboards with his eyes. Ren moved over to the crate and began to empty its contents onto the table.

“Oh hey,” Lucien said suddenly, “on the way over here I saw this statue I don’t think was there last time I visited.”

“Where was it?”

“Uh, I think it was by the Northern gate. I couldn’t really see it but it looked Argonian. And big.” he stretched out his arms to show how big it was.

Ren thought for a bit. “I have no idea... but now I’m really curious,” he said.

“We still got time before dinner. We can go over and look at it.”

“Are you serious?” Ren laughed. “We’re gonna walk all the way out there to look at a statue?”

“No, we're going to stop by the statue, then-" Lucien thought for a moment- "...explore outside the gate!”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The sun was lower in the sky now, to the point where it shone between the buildings as they walked by, blinding Lucien each time. Ren’s blue cloak had a hood, so he wasn’t bothered by the light at all. Lucien wished he had a hood. The roads weren’t paved as smoothly as they were in the Imperial City and kind of hurt his feet. Ren had sturdy-looking boots perfectly suited for roads like this. Lucien wished he brought boots. He kicked a pebble down the street as he walked, until the wind picked up again and carried it away.

They walked out into the open area ahead of the Northern gate, away from the buildings. Lucien held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He could see the statue not too far away. “That’s the one I was talking about,” he said.

The statue was slightly larger than life-size, standing on a base about half as tall as Lucien. It was a strange Argonian-human hybrid; it had a human body but Argonian horns and patches of scales. “Oh, that one?” Ren said. “That’s been there for years. It’s the Hero of Kvatch.”

“THAT’S the Hero of Kvatch?” Lucien mused. “I always imagined him looking totally different.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Ren agreed, admiring the intricate detail-work of the sculpture. “I’ve heard he was insecure about his looks, and didn’t actually want it up.”

“Well I think he’s pretty hot.”

Ren chuckled.

“About your gate trip," he said, suddenly. "I actually know a nice spot a ways down the road."

It wasn’t all that long a walk to Ren’s spot, and it wouldn’t have felt that way either, if it weren’t for the snow. The farther they went from town, the more snow there was to slow down their movement. Lucien wished more and more with each step that he’d brought boots. Why the hell is there snow in the summer? This should be illegal, he thought. Eventually the pass opened up to a small cliff and steady decline overlooking southern Skyrim.

“This is right on the border,” Ren said.

“Oh, where? Like if I jumped off the cliff I’d be in Skyrim?”

“Yeah, try for yourself.”

Lucien laughed.

They stood for a while admiring the view. In the distance an Imperial army caravan made its way along the road. The sun was even lower now, and the sky turned a faint pink color.

Lucien reached for his watch to check the time, but it slipped out of his hand and tumbled off the cliff and a good distance down the hills into some grass near a path.

“Looks like you’re crossing the border after all,” Ren teased.

Lucien climbed down the cliff face and over to the area where the watch landed. After searching for a bit, he called back to Ren. “I can’t find the damn thing. Come help.”

“Alright, fine,” Ren said and came down too.

Lucien glanced around through the trees. “Ren, that caravan’s coming this way, see,” he pointed out. Ren didn’t respond and instead held up the watch.

“It was right next to you the whole time, dumbass.”

Lucien laughed. “You should hold onto it. I clearly can’t be trusted with it.”

They were just starting back up the hill when a voice called out from behind them. “More over here, captain!”

By the time the two turned around, Imperial soldiers from the caravan had surrounded them.

“I think you have the wrong people. We’re not Stormcloaks,” Ren said.

“You sure look like Stormcloaks,” one of the soldiers shouted.

Lucien started toward the soldier. “That doesn’t even make sense! Just cause he’s wearing blue?!” he cried.

“Lucien, don’t,” Ren pleaded.

He kept going, now only a few feet from the soldier. "Why would an Imperial-- and-- the Stormcloaks are racist as shit. They’d hate me!”

“Oh, shut up already!” the guard said, and raised his sword.

“LUCIEN!” Ren screamed.

The next thing Lucien knew, he was on the ground, his head throbbing. He forced his eyes open to see the feet of soldiers running around him in Ren’s direction. He felt someone grab his ankles. Then everything went dark.