For your heroism I grant you immortality.

For your hubris I cast you out of heaven.

For your actions I close the afterlife to you.

May you live forever and despair.

Dying is easy. Living is harder.

He learned it the hard way. Was still learning it, after all those years. They say, time would heal all wounds, but that was nonsense. Time only dulls the pain, covers the wound with fresh tissue, but the scar and the pain remains.

The medallion too. It remained by his side, through thunder and lightning, through the fire and snow. It was at his side every minute of his life, since his first love gave it to him. It was dripping from the rain now as he was caressing it with his thumb. For luck, for rememberance. Maybe for hope, that there was one being in this fortress who could give him what he desires.

Probably not.

"You ready?"

"Hm." Roland grunted, stowed the medaillon away under his shirt, then raising his long staff with the amber at the tip. It was faintly glowing as it was sensing his abilities.

"Doesn't look ready." Garmin, one of his fellow sellswords, pulled at the leather strings around his arms to secure the cloth and the chainmail beneath it.

"When is one ready to shed blood, cause havoc and destruction?" asked a tired Roland. That was his normal state. He was tired all the time and it was a tiredness not even the longest sleep could resolve. Only the last, long, cold sleep he desired for such a long time.

"Well, probably never. At least our payment is good enough so we can live off it for a few weeks."

Roland blinked, a weary smile startled the beard around his mouth. "In your case wine, fine women and music."

"And you a new pipe, tobacco and wine?"

"Eh, probably a few nights of good sleep and a nice, long book. Maybe I learn something from their library." As he spoke, he pointed with the glowing amber in the direction of the fortress, sitting on a hill, shielding the village behind it. Only the fortress was their goal, the village was to be unbothered.

The gate was protected by wards and stone as well. The narrow walls forcing carriages and approaching armies into a small path, leading to the gate. The wooden gate was engraved with sigils, wards and runic inscriptions, some of them faintly glowing in the dark night. They surely didn't want to have unwelcome guests.

Roland had exactly the right spell for it. It was fairly simple. When spoken, it hooks onto the target and overloads the runes with energy. It wasn't working all of the time, because some bannisters or wards were designed to exactly prevent that, but in these times one seldomly thinks about overloading runes.

"Ah, there comes your girlfriend." laughed Garmin, stepped aside. "Have fun."

"She is not..." Roland sighed, Garmin was gone the moment the Dragonborn appeared in his sight. Xera was as beautiful as ever, her golden-scaled tail swinging slighty behind her. She was clothed in a linen dress, she would prepare for the battle an hour before it. They were not partnered in any way, but they tend to share a bed before and after battles. 

"Hey, love." he grinned wearily under his beard, got a sweet little kiss from Xera, her lips with the small golden scales on the outside dry, soft and tender.

"He." she grinned as well, positioned herself at his side. He laid an arm around her hip, smelling her scent which always reminds him of fire and coal. A pleasent scent, at least for him. "What do you think?"

"Me?" He huffed. "I think we shouldn't be here."

"Oh?" Her face turning to him, looking a bit down as she was taller than an ordinary man. "Why do you think this way?"

"I don't know. My gut tells me that there is something strange about this fortress. About this situation. I mean, it is a really large fortress with strong fortifications and even stronger wards..."

"Wait." She grinned, her face with the dragon-like features and the a-bit-too-large mouth with the small glands in it beautiful as the setting sun and gruesome as the darkest night, lights up. Her golden scales shimmering in the torches and fires, the black eyes with the golden sprinkles wide open, full of laughter. "Are you scared?"

"Me? Of what?" asked Roland surprised, turning his entire body to her, not letting go of her hip. After all these years it was still a strange feeling looking up to her, but also a welcome one, feeling her heat and her strong skin made out of thousands of small golden scales.

"Of death. Wounds. For the first time I see you uneasy." The second kiss was a short and tender one. "Is that all? A feeling in your gut?"

"Do you not feel such a thing when you look at this thing?" He pointed with his staff in the rough direction of the fortress which walls they attempt to conquer in a few hours.

"No", she whispered, "I only feel the heat of the battle and the anxious anticipation before it. It is a battle like every battle before it. Different circumstances, but blood and flesh and the clashing of steel and flesh and claws and teeth." Her red tongue licked rapidly over her lips, tasting the air like a lizard. Well, she was part lizard. Part dragon. Nearly a pureblood as she told him proudly somewhere in the past. He felt like it was decades ago.

"I know." He grinned and gripped a little bit firmlier, nodging her closer to him. "The heat of the battle is where I am feeling alive. Mostly."

"And...?"

"When I am with you." Roland whispered, getting the kiss he hoped for, but the feeling was empty. It was like a candle being lit and blown out by a mischievous breeze. It was the truth but since...

The grip of Xeras hand pulling Roland to her, closing the small gap between them, was all he needed. Was all they needed. They kissed again, under the stars of the night sky, the moon hanging over them. He felt her pointy teeth, the warm tongue, her desire, her heart beating and winked as they parted for a short time.

"Sex?" he asked and Xera laughed. Her laughter was beautiful and gruesome, filled with her desire, her lust, her bloodthirst and her primal instincts.

"Yes, love." she snickered and a few moments later they were in his black tent, he feeled her heart, her beautiful breasts, her golden skin under his fingers as they played the game, panting and feeling the presence of the other one. Sometimes Roland wished it was real. Real enough that they could keep going for decades, only he and Xera. Making a fortune, learning a craftmanship - he had a knack for wood and metal - and building a house and finally seeing her belly going round and big.

But it was all a fantasy, a bittersweet dream. All for nothing. He know she wished for it sometimes as well, but she was a warrior, a sellsword through and through. She would die sooner or later, be it by the sword or by time and he would remain as he remained the last times. Empty, weary, still broken.

So he turned her on her back, finishing his job, kissing the point on her chest where her heart resides below, kissing her lips and helping her get dressed in her armour. The last time, he was afraid.

She helped him to get dressed in his cloak and the light armour he had made himself, putting his belt around his hip with the ancient sword, giving him a little kiss as the horns cried out, a long withering tune. Xera grinned, laughed and vanished.

Roland sighed, grabbing his staff and walked out of his tent, right in the arms of his commander.

"You ready?"

The battle mage saw Xera, her back strong, her face a wild mix of freedom and angry bloodlust. He still felt her skin at his fingertips, heard her moaning, her breathing, her voice as she whispered lovely words in his ears. They could have both vanished in the dark of the night, trying to get her pregnant, starting a business and a family. But that was only a dream, only a faint fantasy, ripped apart by reality and time. Roland saw the strong tail with the attached iron spikes and heard her laughter one last time, enclosed it in his heart to cherish it in the years to come.

"No", he answered, "but we have a job to do."

"You are damn right." Volker patted him on the shoulder. "So go to your post and wait on my signal."

Roland nodded, preparing the spell in his mind and stood a few minutes later on top of the box they prepared for him, with an unobstructed line of sight, so he could see the heavily protected gate.

He could see his company, friends and foes alike, but no Xera. He missed her already.

Volker came to him and as a green light flickered at the bottom of the gate, he laughed.

"Hit it, Roland."

"Hitting it."

The mage spat out a few words in the language of the Eternal Runes and the amber on top of his staff burned as bright as the morning sun. Dozens of circles, each consists of indifferent numbers of runes, forming in front of Roland and, after three seconds, fusing together into one, small beam of iridiscent energy. It rushed through the night sky, colliding with the gate, sinking in and then both gates erupted in a cataclysm of wood, iron and energy to the inside like something big has knocked at the gates.

The company cried out in relief and satisfaction, a roar of the thirst for blood, loot, victory and honour. Swords were drown, axes clashing against shields.

"Forward, to victory!" shouted Volker and Roland did what he could do best: hammering out one spell after another, shielding his company - prioritising Xera as long as he could - and firing fire, ice, wind, lighting and crippling energy at the enemy.

He did not feel a thing.

"Oh, this one.", muttered Roland to himself and caressed the leather of the red book he had found in the mostly untouched library of the fortress. He did not know what his company wanted to achieve and Volker didn't tell him - and frankly, he didn't ask - but the library was no target after all.

The book was one of two he aimed to take with him. The first one was a book full of stories from these lands and the other one appeared to be a small tome of scholary expertise on magic and artefacts. It was good to know more on those things even when outdated or not helpful at the moment.

Knowledge was eternal.

He stored the book in his small bag and ventured back to their camp. He flashed a weary smile as he saw Xera. He kneeled beside her, giving her a last, tender kiss before closing her lifeless eyes and tucking her in in the soft fabric that was her dress. He crafted it a long time ago. She was beautiful in it and should be beautiful in it even in death.

"I am sorry." he whispered. "I am so sorry I couldn't protect you. I wished we had... we had... I could have loved you." He gulped and for a moment something closed his throat. He cleared it and continued. "I could have. I wanted it. But I made a mistake a long time ago." He kissed her again before standing up. "I will never forget you, my golden sword."

She would get a shallow grave without a name and he would persist. He would continue until night falls and the stars go out and he, Roland, would remember her.