Chapter Text
If there was one thing that Jura knew about Nordic ruins, it was that if you lost your focus, you may end up killing yourself, and the people around you. She didn’t know how it was such a common misconception among the residents of Skyrim that all of these barrows were empty, but more than a few young would be adventurers met untimely ends at the hands of the draugr, their bodies lost and forgotten. She knew that she was expensive to hire, but most people who had the coin were either people who actually had business exploring these ruins, historians, wizards, and the like. And others? Well, on occasion, nobles would hire her to make sure that their adrenaline addict children could get their little taste of danger and then come home with nary a scratch on their hides, spouting tales of the enemies that they had “vanquished.” Usually, that kind of job offer would be made before said expedition was to take place, but this last one was an absolute mess.
The noble in question hadn’t bothered to contact the College, and in extension, her, until after his precious little son had already left to go explore their ancestral tombs. Apparently he didn’t think to warn him of his concerns that the ancient dead might not be as dead as he expected, and might not tolerate the intrusion from anyone, even their descendant.
She had contemplated not even taking the job on since it was most likely that the boy was already dead but when told that she would still be paid even if that was the case so long as she brought his body back, the Arch mage insisted that she do it. Some nonsense about fostering better relationships with the nobles of Skyrim.
She had managed to find the barrow in question with relative ease. Odahviing had given her a ride there, as she likely wouldn’t have made it there in time to save the boy’s life otherwise, and had decided to perch at the top of the barrow until she returned. Finding the boy had been even easier than finding the tomb, as she could hear the blood curdling screeching echoing through the stone halls almost as soon as she’d gone inside, along with the faint growling of draugr in the distance.
She wasted no time traversing the depths and found him locked away in a double gated chamber with draugr surrounding him on both sides. It only took a double cast of solar flare to turn the draugr on her side of the gate to ash, and a third to clear the rest of the draugr locked behind the other gate, once the Nord had let her in. She’d expected that to be the end of the job, and that they’d be leaving now that he was well and rescued, but no. He wanted to continue, despite having needed to be rescued.
She checked him over first and made sure that he wasn’t horrifically injured and aside from scrapes and bruises, he was fine. She didn’t bother wasting her magicka healing those, and gestured for him to lead the way since she was getting paid regardless of whether he came back dead or alive. If he wasn’t observant enough to avoid any of the traps that were standard in Nordic ruins, then she wouldn’t bother wasting her time or magicka on keeping him alive.
It was a long trip to the bottom of the barrow. Not only did the man trigger every single trap that he saw, he woke up every draugr that he could to “make her earn her money.” By the time that they reached the word wall at the very bottom, she’d gone through most of her magicka and potions cleaning up this fool’s mess. The only reason that she hadn’t killed the bastard yet was because she didn’t want to have to drag his body all the way out of the barrow. It almost wasn’t worth the money. Almost. For this shit he’d put her through for no particular reason, she’d be tripling the bill.
The ominous chanting emanating from the word wall was a welcome sound as it meant that this nightmare was just about over, but she knew from experience that there would be at least two deathlords in the final chamber, so she strictly ordered the man to wait outside the chamber so that she could deal with them without having to worry about him meeting an untimely death at their hands.
“Stand right here and do not move an inch from this spot until I come to get you unless you want me to have to drag your corpse out of here.” She hissed at him through grit teeth.
I’d hate for you to die at the hands of the draugr. Then I wouldn’t get the pleasure of burning you alive myself.
Fuming, she threw open the doors to the final chamber, dual casting solar flare the moment the doors crashed into the stone walls, the clanging immediately grabbing the attention of the three deathlords shambling around inside. They swiveled towards the unholy shriek of steel against stone, screeching at the intrusion, but their screams were drowned out by the boom of golden magical fire exploding into them.
She didn’t hesitate to bombard the draugr with a rain of holy fire. Even as the dank and dreary tomb lit up like the sky in the middle of a dragon attack at noon, she didn’t relent in the onslaught. Even as she had her remaining eye closed to protect it from the searing light of her magic, she didn’t halt. Letting those draugr get too close would be a death sentence, and she had absolutely no intention of dying here. It wasn’t until she’d used most of what was left of her magicka that the three finally died. Even with her mortal eye closed, she could tell that the life had left the ancients with her other eye, her better eye.
She ceased her assault with a sigh, and slowly lowered her hands, allowing the cast of solar flare that she’d had been about to release on the already dead draugr fade away back into her raw magicka supply. No point in wasting magicka now when her levels were already so low. She couldn’t help but still be angry that this job had required so much magic and potions simply because of one arrogant sack of Nord shit who didn’t see the value in any form or fashion of fighting that didn’t involve swinging a hunk of metal at skulls. They’d already be on the way back to Winterhold if he hadn’t spent so much effort in making sure she fought every damn draugr in this ruin.
“Alright, it’s fine. It’s safe for-” she began to call over her shoulder to her client before a searing pain stabbing into her back cut her off. Falling to her knees, more in shock rather than weakness, she gripped at the slimy stone floor of the ruin as she realized that it wasn’t just pain digging under her ribs, it was a blade. She’d missed a draugr.
Or so she thought, but a heavy steel boot planting between her shoulders and kicking her all the way to the ground while pulling the blade out dashed the idea out of her mind.
Oh this son of a bitch is not doing what I think he is…
“You know, it occurred to me on the way down here… Watching you kill all those draugr... I won’t have to pay you at all if you don’t make it out of here. You should be thanking me really. I mean,” he chuckled and started walking away from her prone form, leaving her to bleed out on the floor. “you’re already in a tomb. No one will even have to worry about burying you.”
Oh that son of a bitch is going to pay.
After having slain Alduin together, Miraak knew that there was no mortal in this world or the next that could possibly take out Jura. Although he would’ve preferred if she’d simply retained a teaching position at the college, he was well aware of the fact that she’d be bored out of her mind with being unable to go out and do jobs herself, so he never opposed her doing these jobs, on the condition that either he went with her, or that little vampire friend of hers went with her. That being said, he was less than pleased when he woke up from a nap alone in her bed only to hear that a job came in and she’d left in a rush at the insistence of the Arch-Mage.
He’d never been overly tolerant of nonsense, but hearing the details of this so very important job from Tolfdir, a familiar surge of anger rose up in his chest. Jura hated having her time wasted, and this seemed like it would be a massive waste of it. Even if he knew the particular barrow in question, from back before it was a ruin, he knew that there would be more draugr inside than usual. Even if she was powerful, he knew that she was fond of ensuring her enemies were dead, and that even her reserves of magicka had a limit.
While he always worried about her, he’d always, for the most part, done so in silence, but not this time. He was no seer, but he had a bad feeling about this job. It just reeked of shit, as Jura’s little friend Rei would put it, and he could not simply wait there for her return. Dropping by the alchemy floor to pick up some health potions for her, just in case, he didn’t wait any longer to leave on Sahrotaar to find his precious pyromancer.
It didn’t take long to touch down at the ruin, hidden deep in the mountains of Eastmarch. It would’ve been hard to find on foot, but easily spotted from the back of flying dragon. Odahviing was still waiting outside, and the crimson dragon confirmed that sun haired pyromancer had yet to return from inside. Entering the barrow, he wasn’t surprised by the bodies of freshly killed draugr strewn everywhere. He knew all he had to do to find her would be to follow the trail of bodies, and so that’s what he did. He could tell by the way that some still sizzled and smoked that they weren't’ killed more than a few hours ago, so he doubted that she’d made it to the end of it yet.
Miraak did not slow or stop his descent down into the barrow. He couldn’t. His heart pounded with anxiety as he traversed the depths. There were too many bodies. They were too hastily killed. Some were barely out of their resting alcoves but from the charred corpses, it was clear that they’d been killed by her. And yet, she never bothered to wake up Draugr simply to kill them. If they weren’t actively awake and about to attack, Jura never bothered with killing them. She considered it a waste of time and energy, and even with the way she limped, she was still a thief at heart, and harbored an intense hatred for loud noises, both being around them as well as causing them. There was no way that she would’ve been so careless to wake them.
It wasn’t hard for him to figure out what her client had been doing. Jura might’ve been a klutz, but she never triggered every trap or woke every draugr in a ruin. With her ruby eye, she could tell which draugr were permanently dead, and which would need to be killed once again if they stirred, and while she might not be able to sneak around the living, the dead were oblivious enough that she could avoid waking them even while escorting a client. Granted, it would require a cast of muffle for both of them, but such would barely touch her magicka reserves. No, this was not the result of her being clumsy. This was the result of her client sabotaging her work. If the little fox didn’t kill her client, he most certainly would.
Ignoring the smoke still wafting through the tunnels, Miraak made his way down into the final chamber. He could hear the word wall reverberating through the stone as he approached, and he knew that she’d at least had the chance to learn the word. He took that, and the distinct lack of fresh blood all throughout the ruin as a good sign and despite the fact that he’d yet to meet up with her inside the ruins, he knew that she had a head-start on him, and it was very possible that she’d already exited the ruins. With that in mind, and the knowledge that she was most likely already waiting for him outside with their dragons or meditating on the word wall as she so often did, his heart was set at ease as he opened the heavy doors to the chamber, and let them swing open gently, being careful not to slam them against the stone walls, lest he disturb her should she be inside.
The first thing Miraak noticed was the prevalent stench of burning flesh. The second was the shallow puddle of still wet blood that he’d stepped in as he entered the word wall chamber. The third was that Jura was slumped against the word wall, as opposed to sitting in front of it. And the final was that she was alone.
His heart pounded in his ears as he was immediately by her side and didn’t bother looking for where she was injured as he pulled out one of the potions he had hoped that he wouldn’t be needing. She was still alive and in that moment, nothing else mattered.
“Jura, wake up.” he hissed, holding the potion to her lips but not daring to pour it down her throat lest she drown in it.
Wordlessly, she reached up with a bloody hand in an attempt to grasp it, but with the knowledge that she was aware enough to know what was happening, he tilted the potion for her, grabbing her hand in his own and squeezing it tight in favor of making her exert any more effort than she already had.
After he’d made her drink at least half of it up front, she finally opened that eye, clear and vibrant, simultaneously full of life and relief and rage. She tilted her head back with a sigh escaping her lips before closing her eyes again and slowly shaking her head.
“I hope Odahviing roasted that sack of human shit alive simply for the audacity of leaving this ruin without me.” She grumbled as she interlocked her fingers with his.
“He did this to you? I suspected that he’d been purposely sabotaging your attempts to traverse the barrow unhindered, but I didn’t think even a client that foolish would dare try to double cross you.” He kept his voice low and quiet to not disturb her any more than she already had been, but the tremor of fury was unmistakable in his voice.
“Mmm… Stabbed me in the back. Literally. It was supposed to be an easy job, so I didn’t bring my best potions. The ones I’d brought… Could only stop the bleeding.” Jura explained, and Miraak realized from the blood on her hands that she’d been holding her back.
He pulled her forward gently so that she was resting against his body instead of the word wall so that he could take a look at her back, being sure to be careful as he moved her so that he didn’t aggravate her injury any further and risk reopening it. Thankfully it was low on her back, and all he had to do was move her cloak to the side and pull her shirt up to see the angry, puckered hole right under her ribs.
“He’s clearly not any good at killing. He didn’t seem to realize that you can’t just stab someone anywhere and expect them to die. Letting him think I was dead was child’s play. He didn’t even hit anything important.” She sighed against his neck while he examined her wound.
She’d let go of his hand so he could do his work and instead loosely laced her arms under his in favor of gripping the back of his robes while she explained to him what all had occurred with this particular client. Ever since Alduin’s defeat, he’d exchanged the robes that had been twisted and tainted by Hermaous Mora for a set no less extravagant that she’d commissioned for him. He’d complained that they weren’t as high quality as his old ones, conveniently ignoring the fact that the methods of making that fabric had been lost, but he couldn’t argue that at least these didn’t stink of the waters of Apocrypha.
Miraak wasted no time in pouring the remainder of the potion into the stab wound, knowing full well that it would heal her far better than his poor skill in restoration. He didn’t protest or acknowledge her nails digging into his back, and simply ran his fingers through her hair slowly, as if she were a distressed kitten. He had no doubt that it hurt, not just her back but her pride as well, but he would not judge her. Not too harshly at least.
He held her in silence long after the potion had finished healing her wound and he’d straightened her cloak out for her again. He’d moved so that his back was against the word wall, much like how she’d been when he’d found her, and let her rest against him for as long as she wanted. He’d started to think that she’d fallen asleep against him, and with the amount of blood she’d lost, he wouldn’t have been surprised, nor blamed her for it. He would rather hold her here and let her rest than try to move her before she was ready for it.
“I’m sorry.”
Her whispered apology caught him off guard, as she loathed to admit that she was wrong as much as he did, but usually, he actually knew what she was apologizing for. He did not this time.
“Whatever for?” He asked, speaking in that same soft voice as per usual for these stressful jobs.
“Breaking our little rule of not doing one of these jobs alone.” She sighed against his shoulder, but didn’t look up at him.
So that was it. He’d been so worried about her, that he didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry about that at the same time. But now that she’d brought it up… He simply shook his head, and laced his arms around her and trapped her against his chest all the tighter.
“I know how you are. I know you were worried that he would’ve died had you waited. I know you refuse to let someone die when its in your power to save them. If anything, you are not at fault for this. I am, however, going to rip your client’s head off with my bare hands when I catch him.” He assured her, continuing to run his gloved fingers through her hair as he held her.
“So long as I get to watch, I’ll be satisfied.”
“Good. Do you think you can walk, or do you need me to carry you out of here?” He asked, looking down at her.
“I don’t suppose you’d carry me anyway even if I could walk?” There was a hint of humor in her voice as she looked up at him, activating her kicked puppy look. Or stabbed puppy look, in this case.
A serious question disguised as a joke. She’s starting to feel better at least.
He noted silently, unaware of his lips twisting into a little smirk at her playing coy.
“If I carry you out of here, then you’re taking a vacation from work.” He told her, offering her his compromise. It wasn’t that he minded carrying her, he just wanted her to take the time off so she could at least heal properly.
“Deal.”
Oh? No hesitation?
“For a month. At the very least.” He elaborated, a gleam of smug mischief in his eyes. She was relatively conniving as a would’ve been thief, but he had been a dragon priest. In other words, he’d been a politician. She couldn’t even hope to begin to out maneuver him.
“I’m not going to beg, darling.” She stated bluntly as she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck and laced her arms around his shoulders so that he could pick her up easier.
“A deal it is then.” He chuckled before shifting his grip on her to pick her up, and carried her out of the barrow.
She was alive and for now, that was all that mattered. Her client could be dealt with later.