Aithne's story part 79 - Return to Winterhold
Entry posted by jfraser in Aithne's story
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The cold bit differently when it was chosen.
Aithne always noticed that first -- the distinction between weather endured and weather arrived at by will. The College of Winterhold shimmered into being around them in a rush of magic and sea wind, the familiar stone arches snapping into place as if they had merely been waiting for her to remember them. Snow scurried across the courtyard in thin, whispering sheets. The sea roared below the cliffs, patient and eternal.
Aithne staggered half a step as the teleport completed, the Staff of Magnus heavy and solid in her grip. Her wards flared out of instinct before settling, and she took a breath, grounding herself in the sensation of stone beneath her boots.
They were back.
Her family -- Nyatt and Chyehye -- appeared beside her in the afterglow of the spell. As did Merks. For a heartbeat, no one spoke. The College loomed, unchanged in its ancient caution, as if it hadn’t yet decide whether they were permitted to exist within its walls.
Aithne let out a long, quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Home.
Nyatt glanced around with a low whistle, ears twitching as he took in the gray towers and the yawning archway ahead. Chyehye’s eyes were sharp and thoughtful, cataloguing lines of sight and exits, the way she always did when entering unfamiliar territory. The orcs shifted, massive and uneasy, their armor ill-fitted to marble corridors and academic quiet.
Merks, for his part, simply nodded once, as if confirming something he had already known would be true.
“Still standing,” he said.
Aithne smiled faintly. “Winterhold tends to manage that much, at least.”
They moved quickly through the courtyard, Aithne guiding them by habit rather than conscious thought. Every turn felt etched into her bones. She half-expected to hear Mirabelle’s voice calling out instructions or see Tolfdir wandering too close to an active ward, oblivious as ever.
When she finally reached the door to her suite, her hand paused on the latch. There was a sharp fear that someone else would open it from the inside. It would be like Savos to take away her agreed-to suite the moment she seemed to disappear.
The door swung inward with a familiar creak, revealing the small, well-appointed space beyond. The shelves were bare, the desk untouched, the worktable standing exactly where she remembered leaving it.
Aithne laughed softly, the sound breaking out of her before she could stop it. Relief loosened something tight in her chest, something she hadn’t even realized had been braced.
“Well,” she said, stepping aside to let the others in, “it appears Savos is an elf of his word.”
The orcs filed in, ducking their heads under the doorframe, glancing around with something like suspicion. The suite was not designed for bodies like theirs, nor for lives like theirs. Aithne turned to them once they were all inside.
“I need to talk to Savos and get this staff where it can do some good. Technically you two aren’t supposed to be here, so please stay here until I get back. I’ll bring food with me.”
Chyehye shrugged while Nyatt let out a laugh and said, “Where would we even go? Do what you must. We can speak about what comes next after we have eaten and rested.”
Aithne nodded and turned to Merks, but he motioned at nothing in particular. “I’d better check on my professors. If we’re going to be here awhile, I’ll need to catch up on my studies.”
Aithne laughed. “I did say you should stay.”
Merks snorted. “You know I couldn’t do that, my lady.”
“Do me a favor while you’re out and order us dinner and breakfast. I have no idea how long I’m going to be caught up with Soren.”
“Of course.” Merks gave her a bow and slipped back into the corridors of the College, footsteps fading quickly into the stone.
Aithne gave her spouses brief embraces, adjusted the Staff of Magnus against her shoulder, and left the room, turning the opposite way Merks had gone.
She had nearly reached the stairwell when a familiar shuffle of boots and robes echoed ahead of her. A moment later Tolfdir shuffled around the corner with a distracted murmur to himself, nearly colliding with her before stopping short.
“Aithne?” Tolfdir blinked behind his spectacles, eyes widening. “By the Divines -- what are you doing back here?”
She shrugged. “I still have research to do.”
“Is that all? Not to gloat about being right?”
The idea was so ridiculous, Aithne found herself laughing. “No, of course not. I would have been happy to have been wrong.”
The old profeeser nodded, then leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. “Please, tell me. I won’t tell the others, I swear. How did you know?”
Aithne tilted her head. “I told you. I came from the future.”
Tolfdir stared at her for a long moment, then gave a small, uncertain laugh. “Of course you did.” He smoothed his beard, nodding as if humoring a bright student who had wandered too far into theory. “Yes. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?”
But as she listened past his words, past the practiced geniality, she caught the truth beneath it.
An incredible coincidence, his thoughts murmured. Or an imaginative excuse.
Her mouth tightened slightly, though she kept her tone mild. “Believe what you wish. It doesn’t change what’s coming.”
“No,” he agreed with a sigh. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
He glanced down the hall toward the Arch-Mage’s quarters, then back at her. “Well. If nothing else, it’s good to see you unharmed. The College can always use…prepared minds.”
“That is a truth that can never be denied.”
Tolfdir offered her a polite nod and continued on his way, already drifting back into half-formed theories.
Aithne exhaled, rubbing her thumb along the smooth grain of the Staff. One disbelief down; many more to go, no doubt. Not that it mattered, she supposed. The college knew about the dragons – that was the important part.
She took two steps forward before nearly colliding with someone rounding the corner at speed.
“Ah!” The woman yelped, stumbling back a pace.
Aithne blinked. “Colette?”
The Restoration master stared at her as if she’d materialized out of thin air. Her expression cycled rapidly through shock, suspicion, and something that looked dangerously close to regret.
“I…you’re here,” Collette said finally. “You’re really here.”
Aithne inclined her head. “Apparently so.”
There was an awkward beat of silence. Then Collette straightened, squaring her shoulders as if bracing herself against something internal.
“I owe you an apology,” she said abruptly.
That, at least, took Aithne by surprise.
“For my behavior. Before. The jealousy. The rudeness.” Words tumbled over each other now that she’d committed to speaking. “It was unprofessional, and unfair, and I’m sorry.”
Aithne’s grip tightened slightly on the Staff. “Thank you,” she said carefully. “That’s…unexpected.”
Collette let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yes, well. Certain illusions don’t survive contact with reality.” Something brittle flickered in her eyes. “Urag and I are no longer together.”
Aithne’s breath caught, just barely.
“I see,” she said.
Collette’s mouth twisted. “It turns out admiration from afar is quite different from a relationship. He’s a good man, in his way, but -- being with him was…” She winced, color rising in her cheeks. “Physically painful. I thought I could manage it. That it would become easier. It didn’t.”
It was a pain Aithne was all too familiar with, but instead of the fear it had instilled in Colette, Aithne found herself suddenly flushed in lust. She had to restrain herself from letting out a moan.
“I’m sorry,” Aithne said after taking a deep shaky breath, and meant it in more ways than one.
Collette nodded, visibly relieved by the absence of judgment. “I just wanted you to know. And to say…I hope the College treats you better this time.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Whatever time this is.”
With that, she stepped past Aithne and continued down the hall, footsteps brisk and purposeful, as though speaking the truth had restored something of her equilibrium.
Aithne did not move.
The corridor seemed suddenly too narrow, the stone pressing in. The Staff of Magnus felt heavier, anchoring her to the present even as her mind betrayed her. Urag’s laugh echoed from a memory that was and was not hers. A ring on her hand she had once worn. A life lived alongside another, choices made from an entirely different fork in time.
And then -- Nyatt’s quiet warmth at her side. Chyehye’s fierce, steady presence. The life she had now, chosen with eyes open, heart scarred but whole.
The memories collided, overlapping images jarring against each other until her sense of self trembled at the fault lines. Aithne stood in the hallway of the College of Winterhold, caught between who she had been, who she might have been, who she was, and who she still could be.
And for a long moment, she did not know which of them would speak first.
Edited by jfraser
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