Before they left, Arngeir explained to her what it meant to be Dragonborn. She was a human born with a Dragon's soul. The Words of Power were words in the Dragon tongue, and mortals could learn to use them with much practice, but for Dragonborn, or Dovakiin, it was much easier.
Arngeir gave her a map that featured locations where Words of Power were inscribed in various ancient locations. He explained that she could learn new powers from these stone inscriptions. She thanked the brothers for their instruction, and led the way back down the mountain. At the bottom, Lyara suggested they took rooms in the Vilmyr Inn once more, as it was already starting to get dark, then head over to Riften at first light.
Before they entered the inn, Lyara placed a hand on Farkas's arm to stop him.
"You know, I can continue to Riften alone tomorrow."
Farkas could barely contain his anger. It seemed that she couldn't wait to be rid of him. He had to admit, their awkward silences were uncomfortable, but he couldn't leave her. He would never forgive himself should something happen to her.
"I made a deal to be your shield-brother for the whole journey. We can part ways once I have escorted you safely back to Whiterun."
He shrugged her hand off his arm and pushed his way into the inn. Lyara paid the barkeep for their rooms and asked for her meal to be delivered to her room. She decided she couldn't face watching Farkas dangling any more wenches in front of her.
They set off early to Riften, and arrived late morning. After leaving the horses at the stable, they headed to the Bee and Barb Inn. Once again, Lyara paid for two rooms. Farkas disappeared to his room almost immediately, so Lyara took a table in the inn. She ordered some wine and sat on her own feeling miserable.
She had to sort this problem out with Farkas one way or another, she told herself. The tension between them could not continue. It was making the journey awkward, and she could not bear to think it may continue back at Whiterun. It would make her tenure as Harbinger of the Companions unbearable. More importantly, she did not want to have to face another night lying awake trying not to think about what Farkas may be doing with one of the tavern wenches.
With a heavy heart, and a heavier sigh, she supped her wine.
"You look troubled, lady."
Lyara looked up to see who had spoken. An Imperial man with a friendly face, dark hair and swarthy skin was stood next to her table. He smiled at her in an expectant fashion, awaiting an answer to his query.
"Yes, I am," she replied.
He sat down without waiting for an invitation.
"What troubles you? Maybe I can help," he asked with a soft smile that didn't match the sharpness that was in his eyes.
"A man," she responded, followed by another heavy sigh.
Her visitor leaned forward, and in a soft conspiratorial voice said, "My name is Marcurio, and for a modest fee, I can deal with your problem. You will never hear from him again."
Lyara was a little shocked, when she realised he was offering to kill Farkas. He was obviously a mercenary. She should have spotted it earlier, having been one herself for many years.
"It is not that kind of problem. It is a matter of the heart," she admitted.
"Ahh," he said. "Then that is not a problem I can help with. You might consider talking to Maramal at the Temple of Mara. He is probably the best person to advise on ... matters of the heart."
With that, her visitor stood up.
"I bid you good day," he said as he bowed his head slightly before disappearing to another table.
Lyara thought about Marcurio's suggestion for a moment. She knew a little of Mara, the Mother-Goddess and the Goddess of Love. Maybe she could meditate on her problems there, and find a solution.
She left the inn, and made her way through the streets of Riften. There were no other patrons in the wooden temple but one or two monks moved in silence about their business. There were several benches arranged to face the altar, but they were all empty. The large room had a warm glow from the candles, and the sweet smell of incense wafted in the air.
On the altar was a statue of Mara, her hands held out, and a plaintive expression on her face. Lyara walked to the front, and knelt in front of the Goddess. She placed her hand on the statue, and mumbled a short prayer to herself.
Mara, Goddess of Love. Hear me and guide my heart. Show me the path to reconcile with my companion. He does not love me, but I love him and I fear I have hurt him. I wish for us to be friends once more. Mother-Goddess, I beg for your guidance.
She felt a slight warmness under her fingers, but decided she had imagined it. Then the sensation become stronger, and the warm feeling travelled up her arms and into her body. A woman's faint voice could be heard in her head. It didn't come from anywhere in the temple, but from inside her mind.
Open your heart child, and your mind. Are you sure the one you love, loves you not?
A vision then flashed in front of her eyes. It showed Farkas as he watched her being tested by Vilkas, and the pleasure and amusement on his face was clear to see. Another vision appeared of them fighting side by side against the Silver Hand, admiration of her abilities evident on his face. She was then shown a close look of the immense pride on his face as she was inducted into the Companions. Another vision showed him while she was lying ill, close to death. The anguish on his face was raw and painful to look at. More visions came, flitting across her mind's eye, each showing a different instance of how he looked at her when unobserved, his feelings towards her plain to see on his face.
When the visions ended, Lyara opened her eyes with a gasp. She staggered to her feet, a little disoriented. How had she not seen this?
"Blessings of Mara upon you, child. Are you unwell?"
Lyara turned her head slowly to see a kindly face in a cowl. He was obviously one of the monks of the temple.
"No ... I am fine," she said, as she continued to teeter.
