The horse plodded forward at a steady, miserable pace, each hoof sinking slightly into the softening road. Behind me, Meridia sat with the poise of someone who had never once considered the possibility of falling off. Her arms rested lightly around my waist—not quite a hug, but far closer than any Daedric Prince had any right to be.
I could feel the warmth of her through my armor. That alone was distracting enough.
"So," I started, clearing my throat, "when you said you'd 'tag along,' I didn't realize you meant literally riding pillion like some tavern wench I picked up in Solitude."
Meridia's golden eyes narrowed against the side of my head. I didn't need to turn around to feel the glare.
"Mind your tongue, mortal, before I mind it for you. This form is a vessel of divine will. Comparing me to some ale-soaked harlot is beneath even your limited imagination."
I grinned despite myself. "Hey, some of those ale-soaked harlots were excellent company. At least they laughed at my jokes."
"I am not here to laugh at your jokes," she said coolly. "I am here to ensure my champion does not die to his own stupidity before he becomes useful."
"Useful," I repeated. "You really know how to make a guy feel special, Lady Meridia. 'Don't die, worm, I still need you to hold my Beacon.'"
She made a small, offended noise that sounded suspiciously like a huff. "You should be honored. Few mortals have ever received such personal attention from a Prince of Oblivion."
"Personal attention, huh?" I shifted slightly in the saddle as the horse stepped over a root. The movement pressed her more firmly against my back. I tried very hard not to think about it. "Is that what we're calling this? Because it feels a lot like you're using me as a portable heater."
Meridia's voice dropped, laced with dangerous amusement. "If I wished to use you for warmth, champion, I would simply command it. And you would obey. Enthusiastically."
I nearly choked. "Gods, you're impossible. One minute you're all radiant judgment, the next you're teasing like you've been practicing lines in front of a mirror for centuries."
"I do not practice," she said primly. "Perfection requires no rehearsal."
The road grew narrower as we left the denser forest behind. The trees here were thinner, twisted, their bark slick with moisture. The air already carried the faint rot of standing water.
I steered the horse around a muddy patch. "You know, back when you were just a voice in my head, I could at least pretend you were dignified. Now I've got you clinging to me like we're on a romantic getaway to the swamps. Real dignified."
Her fingers tapped once against my side—sharp, warning. "Clinging? I am steadying you, fool. Your posture is atrocious. Were I not here, you would have fallen off three times already."
"Steadying me," I echoed, laughing under my breath. "Right. That's why you keep leaning closer every time the horse stumbles. Purely professional concern."
For a moment she was silent. Then, softly and with far too much smug satisfaction: "Your heart rate increases when I do that. Interesting."
I groaned. "You can hear my heartbeat? That's cheating. That's divine cheating."
"I am a Daedric Prince. Cheating is one of our oldest privileges."
The banter died down for a while as the landscape changed. The ground grew wetter. Mist began to curl between the trees like pale fingers. The air tasted of decay and stagnant water. Even the horse grew uneasy, ears flicking constantly.
Meridia shifted behind me, her chin lifting as she surveyed the mire. "This place reeks of corruption. Not the clean darkness of my enemies, but something… sour. Stagnant. Like a wound that was never allowed to heal."
"Yeah," I muttered, the humor draining from my voice. "Morthal. In the old stories it was always weird. Missing people, weird rituals, necromancers in the swamp. Feels a lot less fun when I'm the one riding into it."
She was quiet for a beat. Then, surprisingly gentle: "You are not alone this time, champion."
I glanced back at her. The golden eyes that usually burned with arrogance were watching me with something almost like concern.
"Don't go soft on me now," I said, trying for lightness. "I was just getting used to you insulting me every five minutes. If you start being nice, I'll think the world really is ending."
Meridia's lips curved into the smallest, most arrogant smirk I had ever seen. "Do not mistake observation for softness. I simply prefer my tools in working order. A broken champion is of no use to me."
"Tool. Right." I faced forward again, shaking my head. "You're terrible at this 'comforting' thing."
"I am excellent at it. You are simply too dense to recognize divine benevolence when it wraps its arms around your waist."
I barked out a laugh. "There she is. Welcome back."
We rode on as the sun dipped lower, painting the rising mist in sickly oranges and reds. The banter continued in fits and starts—her mocking my riding posture, me teasing her about "slumming it" with mortals, her threatening to smite me if I called her "princess" one more time.
But underneath it, the unease grew. The swamp wasn't just creepy. It felt watchful. Hungry.
As the first crooked stilt-houses of Morthal appeared through the thickening fog, Meridia leaned forward until her lips were near my ear.
"Whatever festers here," she said quietly, all playfulness gone, "we will burn it out together. And when we are done… you will thank me properly for my magnificent presence on this wretched journey."
I swallowed, staring at the dimly lit town that looked like it was slowly sinking into the mire.
"Yeah," I whispered. "We'll see about that."
The horse took its final reluctant steps toward Morthal as the mist closed in behind us like a curtain.