The road to Riverwood stretched ahead, flanked by tall trees on either side. The early morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patches of light onto the dirt path. Tsun walked in the shade of the trees, keeping to the darker side of the road. Even though the sunlight didn't touch him directly, he felt uneasy under its warmth. It was a discomfort he couldn't quite place, a nagging tension that sat at the back of his mind. Freyja walked a few paces ahead. She glanced back at him occasionally, her demeanor more relaxed than it had been days earlier. They had settled into a rhythm, relationship shifting into something resembling companionship.
"You said you wanted to learn magic," she said, breaking the silence. "What brought that on?"
Tsun shrugged. "It's useful. I figure if I'm in a place like this, might as well pick up every tool I can."
Freyja nodded, her face thoughtful. "I don't know much about it. Never had the chance to see if I had any magic in me."
"Why not?" Tsun asked, glancing at her.
She opened her mouth to answer, her expression shifting as if she were about to say something. Then, she hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Just never had the opportunity," she said finally, her tone clipped.
Tsun raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
After a moment of silence, Freyja spoke again. "Anyone who does have magic goes to the College of Winterhold. If you want to learn, that's the best place to go."
Tsun nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."
They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Tsun asked, "So, will Riverwood have a comfortable inn? Sleeping on the ground is starting to lose its charm."
Freyja snorted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "No."
Tsun sighed dramatically.
She glanced at him, her smirk fading. "Riverwood's barely holding together. It's the front of most attacks from the Stormcloaks, and they're short on everything—food, supplies, even people. With the plague sweeping through Skyrim and winter making everything worse, it's a wonder the village hasn't been abandoned yet."
Tsun raised his eyebrows at that. "Why are we stopping there, then?"
"They still have supplies for those who can pay," she replied simply.
They continued walking, their footsteps crunching against the dirt road. The conversation turned to lighter topics—stories about Skyrim's provinces, the differences between the holds. Freyja's tone remained matter-of-fact, but there was a slight warmth to her voice now. As they approached a bend in the road, Tsun suddenly stopped. His hand came down on Freyja's shoulder.
"There are three people hiding in the bushes ahead," he said quietly.
Freyja frowned, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the treeline. "Bandits," she spat. "They're like cockroaches nowadays."
"We kill them?" Tsun asked.
"What else would we do?" Freyja replied, giving him a sharp look.
"I don't know," Tsun said, his tone light. "Take them to the guard?"
Freyja let out a short laugh. "What do you think the guard will do with them? Put them in a cozy cell and feed them three meals a day?"
Tsun sighed, shaking his head.
"Maybe a nice mug of Black-Briar mead to wash down their supper," she added, her tone mocking.
"Okay, I get it," Tsun said, rolling his shoulders.
He glanced at her, his expression serious. "When I say ready, I want you to swing your sword at me."
Freyja blinked, her brow furrowing. "What?"
"Swing your sword at me," he repeated.
"Are you some kind of idiot?"
"Just do it," he said firmly.
Freyja huffed, drawing her sword. "Fine."
"Now," Tsun said, clapping his hands together.
In an instant, Tsun disappeared, and in his place stood a man with greasy hair and a confused expression, holding a sword. Freyja didn't hesitate for long. She stepped forward and sliced cleanly through his neck. The man's head hit the ground with a dull thud, his body crumpling next to it.
Meanwhile, Tsun appeared beside another bandit, thrusting his fingers into the side of the man's neck. The bandit let out a strangled gasp as Tsun drained him, his body withering until it was nothing more than a lifeless husk.
A twang broke the silence as a crossbow bolt slammed into Tsun's shoulder. He grunted, flexing his muscles to force the bolt out before turning to the source. Another bandit was frantically reloading the crossbow, his hands shaking as he tried to fit another bolt.
Tsun clapped again, switching places with the crossbow itself. Now standing on the bandit's hands, he looked down at the terrified man.
"Seems like you have your hands full," Tsun said with a dark grin.
He kicked downward, his foot connecting with the man's head. The impact sent it flying, the neck snapping with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed across the ground as the body collapsed in a heap.
"Are you well, Tsun?" Freyja called from the path.
"I'm fine," Tsun shouted back, shaking the blood from his hands. He crouched and began looting the bodies, though there wasn't much to take—just a few copper coins, a rusty dagger, and a slightly better sword than what he'd seen in the tomb. He kept the sword and the belt it came with, slinging them over his shoulder before walking back to the path.
Freyja was also looting the bodies, her movements quick and efficient. She glanced at Tsun as he approached.
"That clapping thing you do," she said. "What is it?"
Tsun shrugged. "Just a personal kind of magic," he said casually.
Freyja narrowed her eyes. "So you do know magic?" She asked.
"Only that certain spell," he replied.
Freyja could tell there was more to it but she decided not to push, it wasn't any of her business. They continued walking, the air growing colder as the morning wore on. Tsun's nose wrinkled as a faint smell began to waft through the trees.
"It smells like decay and rot," he said, his voice low.
Freyja nodded grimly. "It means we're close."
...
Riverwood came into view as they rounded the last bend in the road. The village sat by a slow-moving river, its water dark and sluggish under the winter sky. The houses were small and crumbling, their walls scorched and blackened from old fires. Makeshift repairs of mismatched wood and nails barely held the structures together.
The streets were lined with beggars, their gaunt faces hollow and pale. Their clothes hung off their bodies like loose rags, barely covering their emaciated frames. Children with sunken eyes sat in the mud, their lips cracked and hands trembling from the cold.
Piles of filth and excrement littered the alleys, the stench overpowering. Flies buzzed around the remains of a bonfire where corpses had been burned, leaving behind a greasy black residue on the ground.
As Tsun and Freyja entered the village, hands reached out to them, voices hoarse and desperate.
"Please, spare some food..."
"My baby hasn't eaten in days..."
"Anything, please..."
Tsun clenched his jaw, his eyes scanning the broken figures around him. Their ribs stuck out painfully against their skin, their movements weak and sluggish. Some had sores on their faces and arms, oozing and red. Others sat motionless, their eyes blank and unseeing, waiting for death to come.
"This is..." Tsun started, his voice trailing off.
"This is Skyrim," Freyja said, her voice cold. "The war, the plague, the winter... it's all killing us."
Tsun's fists tightened at his sides as he took it all in. The air was thick with despair, every corner of the village radiating hopelessness. It wasn't just poverty—it was the slow, rotting death of a place that had been abandoned by its leaders left to decay.
"Let's just get what we need and leave," Freyja said, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She couldn't bear to see this, she hated it all.
Tsun watched Freyja walk off toward one of the sturdier-looking buildings, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders.
"You go on ahead," Tsun said as he crossed his arms.
She paused for a moment, giving him a strange look. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Look around," Tsun said, keeping his tone neutral.
Freyja frowned, like she wanted to argue, but after a second, she just nodded. "Don't wander too far. Meet me back here when you're done."
With that, she disappeared into the building, leaving Tsun standing in the middle of the muddy street. He glanced around, pulling his hood lower to shield his face from the sun. The village stretched farther than he'd thought. It wasn't tiny—there were probably close to a hundred buildings scattered along the riverbank—but almost a third of them were destroyed. Their roofs sagged or were entirely gone, the walls blackened with soot. Those ruins weren't abandoned, though. He could see shadows moving inside, the huddled forms of the homeless crammed into spaces where the wind blew through broken beams.
The streets were packed with people, but it wasn't lively. They moved slowly, their faces drawn and pale, their clothes barely enough to keep out the cold. Some were barefoot, their toes blackened with frostbite. Most kept their heads down, their eyes darting around nervously. Tsun noticed the guards next. There were only a few of them, and they didn't seem interested in doing much beyond standing near the gates or the barracks. He guessed they were there to watch for Stormcloak attacks, but they didn't seem to care about the people dying right under their noses.
Crime was everywhere. He saw men exchanging stolen goods in the shadows of alleyways, women glaring at each other as they argued over scraps of bread, children darting through the crowd with quick hands and sharper eyes. It wasn't hidden—it was all out in the open, as if nobody cared enough to stop it.
Tsun's jaw tightened as he kept walking. He hadn't felt much when he killed those bandits on the road, or the Draugr in the tomb. They'd deserved it, and it had been easy to justify. But this... This was something else.
People shouldn't have to live like this.
He rounded a corner and stopped. A man stood in the middle of the street, his hand raised as he yelled at a small girl cowering in front of him. The girl couldn't have been older than six or seven. She was thin—too thin—and her hair hung in tangled clumps. Her face was smudged with dirt, and bruises were already forming on her arms where the man had grabbed her.
"You little thief!" the man roared. He yanked her up by one arm and slapped her hard across the face, the sound echoing in the narrow street. "You think you can steal from me?"
The girl whimpered, clutching a loaf of bread to her chest as tears streaked down her dirty cheeks. "I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice small and desperate.
Tsun felt something twist in his gut. He crossed the street in three strides, his cloak billowing behind him.
Before the man could hit her again, Tsun grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him off the ground. The man let out a startled yelp, flailing as Tsun spun him around and slammed him into the wall of a nearby house. The wooden planks groaned under the impact.
"Who the hell—" the man started, but his words died in his throat when he got a good look at Tsun.
Tsun was taller than him by at least a foot, his shoulders broad and his frame hulking. His cloak and hood shrouded his features in shadow, but the man could see the sharp edges of his jaw and the cold look in his eyes.
The man swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. "You—you can't just—"
Tsun didn't let him finish. He reached into his belt pouch and flicked a gold coin at the man's chest.
"Leave," Tsun said, his voice deep and quiet, but carrying an unmistakable threat.
The man's hands trembled as he fumbled for the coin, his eyes darting to the girl and back to Tsun. He stumbled away without another word, disappearing into the crowd. Tsun turned to the girl, who was still crouched on the ground. Her face was red and swollen where the man had struck her, and her wide, terrified eyes were locked on him.
He knelt down, lowering himself to her level. She flinched at first, shrinking away, but he reached out and gently patted her head.
"Don't get caught next time," he said, his tone softer. He reached into his pouch again and pulled out a silver coin, placing it in her small hand. "Keep this safe. Don't show it to anyone."
The girl stared at the coin, her fingers trembling as she clutched it tightly. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you..."
She turned and ran, disappearing down the street. Tsun straightened, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched her go. He didn't stop there however. As he walked through the village, he intervened wherever he could.
A group of older boys had cornered a younger child in an alley, kicking him as he curled up in the dirt. Tsun grabbed the biggest one by the collar and lifted him off the ground, his voice low and menacing as he ordered them to leave.
A woman screamed as a man tried to drag her into one of the abandoned houses. Tsun's hand closed around the man's wrist like a vice, twisting until he let go and fell to the ground, clutching his arm in pain.
He broke up a fight between two men over a sack of grain, their fists bloodied and their faces twisted with rage. Tsun didn't bother with words—he shoved them apart, his glare enough to send them stumbling away in opposite directions.
With each encounter, his frustration grew. How could things be so bad? How could a place like this even function? By the time he reached the edge of the village, his jaw was tight, and his fists ached from clenching them. He stopped, leaning against a tree as his thoughts raced.
Even if he wasn't human anymore, even if he didn't belong here, he couldn't just watch this happen.
So do something about it.
The thought echoed in his mind, clear as day.
Tsun straightened, his eyes narrowing. He had the power to act. This second life wasn't meant for sitting on the sidelines. He could make a difference, right here, right now. Without another word, he turned and strode into the forest.
...
Freyja tightened the strap on the bundle slung over her shoulder. It held the supplies she had managed to buy—some bread, dried meats, a small bag of salt, and new camping gear. She frowned at the thought of how much she'd paid. The merchants in Riverwood had demanded nearly double the usual price, but at least she'd had enough coin from the tomb to cover it.
She made her way toward the meeting spot she and Tsun had agreed on, her boots crunching over the muddy path. The streets were still as grim as before, the smell of decay and rot hanging heavy in the air. She tried to block it out, her focus on the task at hand.
When she reached the spot, Tsun wasn't there.
Freyja let out an annoyed breath, shifting her weight to one foot. She looked around, scanning the area, but there was no sign of him.
"Where in Oblivion is he?" she muttered.
She waited, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. After several minutes, frustration got the better of her. "Of course he'd disappear," she said under her breath, turning to search for him.
It didn't take long before she noticed a commotion near the river. A group of people had gathered, forming a long line that stretched toward the bridge. Freyja frowned and followed the crowd, her curiosity growing with each step.
The line led to the lumber mill across the river. The scent of cooking meat filled the air, and the closer she got, the clearer the scene became. At the head of the line stood Tsun.
He was by a large fire pit, where a thin sheet of stone was propped up by two larger pieces of rock, forming a crude table over the flames. Behind him, five skinned and dressed deer hung from wooden poles. The fire crackled, and on the stone surface, pieces of meat sizzled as he flipped them with a dagger.
People were lined up with whatever they could carry—wooden plates, bowls, even pieces of cloth to hold food. At the front, Tsun handed a steaming piece of meat to an old man, who bowed his head and thanked him before shuffling away.
Freyja pushed through the crowd. Someone grabbed her arm.
"No cutting in line!" a man growled.
She shoved him off, her glare silencing him before he could say more. She marched straight up to Tsun, her boots kicking up dirt as she stopped in front of him.
"What in Oblivion are you doing?" she demanded.
Tsun glanced at her, his expression calm. "What does it look like? I'm cooking," he said, flipping a cut of meat with his dagger.
"Why?" she snapped. "And why are all these people lining up for it?"
Tsun shrugged, turning back to the fire. "They're hungry."
She watched as he picked up another piece of cooked meat and placed it on a wooden plate held out by a frail-looking woman. The woman muttered her thanks and moved out of line, clutching the food like it was gold.
Freyja's eyes widened. "You're giving it away for free?"
Tsun nodded. "I see no harm in it."
Freyja pinched the bridge of her nose, her frustration boiling over. "You could've gotten at least a hundred gold for those five deer!"
Tsun didn't stop cooking. "Gold wouldn't fill their stomachs."
Her voice rose, disbelief lacing every word. "And what about tomorrow, when this meal is gone and forgotten?"
Tsun shrugged again. "Tomorrow is for someone else. Today is for us."
Freyja froze at his words. Her breath caught in her chest, and for a brief moment, she wasn't in Riverwood anymore. She was a little girl again, standing in her grandfather's training yard. She could hear his voice, low and steady, repeating those same words.
She shook her head, forcing the memory away. He lied to you, she reminded herself. Everything he said was a lie. There are no heroes, only survivors.
Her jaw tightened, and she stepped closer to Tsun, grabbing his arm. "Why are you doing this?" she hissed. "These people mean nothing to you."
Tsun stopped, turning to look at her. His eyes were steady, his face unreadable. "They need help," he said simply, his voice calm.
He turned back to the fire, picking up another piece of meat and placing it on a plate.
Freyja stared at him for a long moment, her thoughts a tangled mess. Finally, she let go of his arm and stepped back. Without a word, she walked away, finding a boulder nearby to sit on.
From her seat, she watched as the line moved steadily forward. One by one, the villagers came up to Tsun, accepting the food with gratitude. She could see the relief on their faces, the faint glimmers of hope that hadn't been there before.
Her arms crossed over her chest, and her gaze flicked back to Tsun. He worked without hesitation, flipping meat and handing it out like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Freyja didn't know what to make of him. He was strange, strong, and far too kind for someone who claimed to be a hermit. Freyja tutted before standing up and going to find somewhere to sleep, Tsun could survive on his own till morning.
After ensuring everyone at the camp had their fill, Tsun distributed the doe's pelts to those in dire need, though he wasn't versed in the art of curing leather; they'd have to make do with what they had. With his task completed, he headed toward the town center in search of an inn. The sun had long set, painting the sky in dark hues, when a shrill scream pierced the night.
"Stop it, Sven!" a woman's voice cried out, desperation clear in her tone. Tsun's brow furrowed; at this hour, the town should be quiet, with everyone safely indoors.
Following the sound, he found a grim scene. A man, whom he assumed was Sven, was on top of a woman, his weight pinning her down on the cold ground. Her clothes were torn, revealing her pale skin, her shirt ripped open, exposing her breasts as she struggled beneath him. Her pants were halfway down, and she was fighting desperately, clawing at his face, her nails drawing blood, but he was too strong, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, pressing them into the dirt.
Beside them lay a dead elf, his skin pale, his ears pointed, a pool of blood spreading from a wound in his chest. The woman's eyes were wide with terror, her legs kicking out, trying to dislodge the brute who was attempting to force himself upon her.
Without a word, Tsun moved swiftly, his steps silent on the ground. He came up from behind Sven, his large hands wrapping around the man's neck. With a sickening crunch, he squeezed, the bones in Sven's neck giving way under the pressure. Sven's eyes bulged, his movements suddenly halting as life drained from him. Tsun then tossed the now-lifeless body aside like a rag doll, the corpse hitting the ground with a dull thud. The woman, now free, scrambled back, her breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps, her torn clothes hanging off her, her body marked with the struggle - scratches, bruises, and the shame of the assault. She looked up at Tsun, her eyes wide, a mix of shock and gratitude in her gaze as she tried to cover herself, trembling from the ordeal.
Tsun quickly removed his cloak, the fabric heavy with the scent of the woods and his own musk, and draped it over the woman's shaking body, covering her exposed flesh and torn clothes. As he did so, his hood fell back, revealing his face - rugged, with sharp features, a strong jaw, and intense eyes that seemed to pierce through the night.
The woman, still catching her breath, couldn't help but blush deeply as she looked up at him. His handsome face, with its hard lines softened by concern for her, made her heart beat faster despite the terror she'd just experienced.
"Are you alright?" Tsun asked, his voice low and comforting.
Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and something else, something warmer. She nodded, trying to muster her voice, "Th-th-thank you," she stuttered out, her words trembling.
"What's your name?" Tsun inquired, his gaze kind.
"C-Carmilla," she managed to reply, still stuttering from the shock and the unexpected kindness.
"I am Tsun," he said, offering her a smile that seemed to calm her further. He then bent down, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he gently lifted her into his arms, her body feeling light against his strength.
"Allow me to walk you home, Carmilla," he said, his voice sending a shiver down her spine, making her stomach tighten with an unexpected flutter.
Carmilla could only nod, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Tsun carried her through the quiet streets, her head resting against his solid chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat oddly soothing. They reached a small, modest house, where he set her down gently at the door.
He was about to leave when Carmilla, gathering her courage, spoke up, "Do you... do you have a place to sleep tonight?" Her voice was hesitant, but there was an underlying invitation in her tone.
Tsun looked at her, considering the offer. He nodded, "Thank you, Carmilla." His voice was warm, appreciative.
She led him inside, her home modest but cozy. The door closed behind them.
___________________________
AN: Sorry to all those people who like reading about Psychopaths and all that, but tbh that really just isnt me. Skyrim is a grim place and I don't want to have the MC make it worse. He's not gonna turn into a psycho just cause of some small power trip. Anyway sex sex sex next chapter. Wooooo. Hope you enjoyed this one.
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