#The KotN quest was one of the first ones I did in Rin's playthrough and I recalled that I'd lost quite a few of my knights.

[nine-blessed-hero]

Only Shadows Walk Beside

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion CW: Angst, threatening a minor Words: 600 Context: Written for the TES Summer Fest prompt: Companion. Tagging: @tes-summer-fest, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary Also read on AO3

On the hill above the Priory, Divine Crusader Lorinda Rue sits, hugging her knees, as twilight settles a shroud around her shoulders. Three of her knights gone. Her brothers, her comrades. Her friends. She repeats their names: Sir Areldur, Sir Brellin, Sir Geimund. Lorinda presses a face already puffy and eyes already red-rimmed into her knees. Dead, because she wasn't fast enough. Wasn't strong enough. Wasn't leader enough. They knew the risks, whispers a part of her. Did they? Did they? Brellin was so young-! Areldur, for all his faults, so pious and trusting. And Geimund, so skilled, looking for orders…

Lorinda had tried to say a few words about them. Standing over their freshly turned graves, the remaining knights and the new recruits clustered, expectant. But words had failed her; only a sob made it out. She fled. Mercifully no one had followed. Sir Thedret had been so excited on her return – stumbling, confused from the Undercroft. Had named her Divine Crusader to the other's cheers. Then she had learnt of their losses. Divine fuckup, another part of her whispers. Crusader of folly. Her hands ball into fists. No leader, she. This must not happen again. Never again.

–––

The Black Arrow stumbles from the bloodworks. The Basin of Renewal may have healed her physical hurts, but it does nothing for the hollowness of her 'victory' against the Grey Prince. The Raiment of Valor hangs heavy on her shoulders, Matron Andronicus's victory lap making it feel more like a millstone than a trophy. She wants nothing more than to go down to the lakeshore behind her house and strip it off, diving deep into the precious waters. A squeal sounds, somewhere behind her, to the right. Footsteps converge on her location. She reaches for an arrow, spinning– – to find a boy, yellow haired and dressed in green, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "By Azura, by Azura, by Azura!" he squeals, hands bunched by his chest, and looking fit to burst. "It's the Grand Champion! I can't believe it's you! Standing here! Next to me!" The Black Arrow drives her ammunition back into its quarrel. "What do you want?" The boy has a book and stick of graphite. If he just wants a signature… She thinks she could deal with that. "I saw your fight against the Gray Prince! You're the best! Can I…" He suddenly goes shy. "You want an autograph? Sure." "No! Well, I mean, yes, but…" "Spit it out." "Can I follow you around? I won't get in the way, I promise." Her head spins. "What?" "I could– Carry your weapon. Or shine your boots. Announce you to your enemies. Anything you need!" The boy is a bosmer, like Brellin. So young. Her guts churn. Never again. "Please? I just want to follow–" "No!" He stares at her with wide, shocked eyes. "Piss off!" she yells. He takes a step back, autograph book clutched like a shield. "I don't need some spineless, toadying little shit hanging around me." "Are…" His voice wavers, too much courage for his own good. "Are you sure?" "Fuck off. Go on, toerag, get gone!" He takes another step back. "But– I–" In a blur of movement, one of her arrows, with their special fletching, is nocked on her bowstring. Drawn back. Pointing at him. His trews darken at the crotch. "I said: Leave." He utters a wordless, fearful, anguished cry and flees. The Black Arrow relaxes her bowstring, replaces her arrow. Nausea fills her from head to toe. Crusader of folly. She grips at the deprecating moniker as hard as the bow in her bloodless hands. Never again.