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Chapter Text

“They are coming for us”, Nimriel told her husband, “the Thalmor have found out.”

“I feared as much”, Tiberius replied (not that he had used his real name since the great war had ended), “how close are they?”

“Too close I fear”, Nimriel answered, “I don’t think we can get away this time.”

Husband and wife quickly woke up their daughter, Ti’alma. “Wake up, we don’t have much time”, Nimriel told her.

“Listen very careful Tirana Almaris”, Tiberius continued, the use of Ti’alma’s full name woke her up instantly (they usually shortened it to Ti’alma), “the Thalmor have found us, so we will need you to do something for us.”

Nimriel had taken Ti’alma’s bow and some food and handed it to her daughter.

“The Thalmor won’t stop at anything to capture your mother and I”, Tiberius continued, “but we belief you might just be able to make it to safety. We need you to travel to Skyrim, if an Imperial patrol wants to stop you, tell them this: ‘I am Tirana Almaris De Agnis’.”

“De Agnis?” Ti’alma asked, having never heard the name before.

“It’s my family name”, Tiberius replied, “but we really don’t have time to explain. Run, mother and I will hold them off.”

Tears in her eyes, the young bosmer (as far as she knew that is) left her childhood home and disappeared into the Valenwood forest.

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“So you’re finally awake”, a strange man said while Ti’alma was still busy waking up, her last memories were kind of fuzzy.

“Where am I?” Ti’alma asked, “and why are my hands bound?”

“I’m afraid you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time lass”, the stranger answered, “but I believe we are headed towards Helgen.”

“Where’s Helgen?” Ti’alma now asked

“In Falkreath Hold”, the stranger answered. When that clearly didn’t ring a bell, he continued, “Skyrim.”

“You mean I actually reached Skyrim”, Ti’alma almost cried out before sobering up and remembering her hands were still bound and she still had no idea why.

“You still didn’t say why we are all tied up”, Ti’alma told the stranger, who sighed before he was rudely interrupted by one of the others.

“Those Stormcloaks are the reason we are tied up”, the other man said, “if they hadn’t been causing trouble, the Imperials wouldn’t have been searching for them and I would have been safely in Hammerfell by now.”

“You happen to be in the company of Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm”, the first man proudly said.

“You mean that’s Ulfric himself?” the second man exclaimed, “we’re all going to die.”

“He’s wrong isn’t he?” Ti’alma asked the first man, “we’re not really going to die are we?”

“I’m afraid the thief is probably right”, the first man answered.

“I’m too young to die”, Ti’alma began to panic, “I’m barely 20 years old.”

“Calm down lass”, the first man intervened trying to calm down Ti’alma, “could you try and tell me your name? My name is Ralof.”

“Ti’alma”, Ti’alma finally managed to say, well technically her full name was Tirana Almaris, but she hated being called that, as Ralof clearly wasn’t an Imperial soldier, she didn’t use the full name her father had told her to use.

“Come on”, Ralof told the second man, “tell her your name.”

The second man glared at Ralof before finally answering, “I’m Lokir, are you happy now?”

Ralof ignored Lokir and spoke once again, “this is Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. The Imperials gagged him because they were afraid he would shout at them.”

“Why are they afraid of people shouting at them?” Ti’alma asked, “I can shout too you know.”

“Not in the same way”, Ralof answered.

“Did they think he would shout as well?” Ti’alma now asked, referring to the last man on the cart.

“A bunch of forsworn tried to ambush us as well”, Ralof answered, “the Imperials killed most of them, for some reason they took him prisoner instead. And to answer your question: no, they didn’t fear he would shout at them. They cuffed that forsworn brigand after he bit an Imperial’s ear off.”

The carts reached Helgen and the Imperials ordered their prisoners to stand up. A highly decorated Imperial officer was watching quite gleeful as the prisoners were forced to walk onto the square.

“General Tullius himself”, Ralof remarked, “and those damn Thalmor, I bet they had something to do with this.” Ti’alma doubted that since they didn’t exactly look trilled, but she didn’t really object to the damned part of Ralof’s sentence.

“Wait”, Lokir still tried, “we’re not rebels, tell them we are not rebels.”

“Face your dead with some courage thief”, Ralof replied.

“You have to tell them, this is a mistake”, Lokir continued. The Imperials ignored him.

A female officer walked forward, “Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time!”

“Damn imperials, they do love their lists”, Ralof sneered.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm”, an imperial soldier began reading his list.

“It has been an honor jarl Ulfric”, Ralof said.

“Ralof of Riverwood”, the soldier continued. Ralof followed Ulfric. “Lokir of Rorikstead.”

Lokir panicked once again, “no, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this.” Lokir ran away.

“Archers”, the female officer ordered. An arrow rapidly ended Lokir’s run. “Anyone else feel like running?” the officer asked.

“The reachman”, the soldier now continued as if nothing had happened. The forsworn looked back with disdain, but he did start walking towards the block. “You there, step forward”, the soldier now spoke towards Ti’alma, “who are you?”

“My name is Tirana Almaris De Agnis”, Ti’alma managed to answer, finally remembering her father’s instructions.

“Not many bosmeri would choose to come alone to Skyrim”, the soldier remarked.

If she wasn’t afraid, Ti’alma would probably have sneered something like, ‘I wonder why that would be’, but she was afraid and kept her silence.

“Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list”, the soldier asked.

“Forget the list, she goes to the block”, the captain answered.

Ambassador Elenwen chose that moment to intrude, “I want her turned over to the Thalmor.” She clearly had heard the introduction (and probably knew more about the name De Agnis than Ti’alma did, even if it was just that Ti’alma didn’t know a thing).

General Tullius came over as well, wanting to know what Elenwen wanted this time. “What is going on over here?” Tullius asked.

“I can’t let you execute this girl”, Elenwen told the general, “I need her for interrogation.”

“Hadvar” Tullius addressed his soldier, “what did the girl say?”

“She said she was Tirana Almaris De Agnis sir”, Hadvar replied.

Tullius looked at Ti’alma a bit more closely before making a decision, “do you worship Talos girl?”

“Who is Talos?” Ti’alma replied truthfully (her parents hadn’t been stupid enough to teach their daughter about Talos while inside the Aldmeri Dominion).

“She’s clearly no Talos worshipper”, Tullius told Elenwen, “which means you have no jurisdiction, she will be coming with me.”

“I am an ambassador of the Aldmeri Dominion”, Elenwen tried pulling rank.

“I’m the military governor over Skyrim”, Tullius replied, “which as far as I know is not a part of your Dominion. Continue.”

Hadvar didn’t entirely understand the situation, but he followed his orders. “Go stand with the captain”, Hadvar ordered.

“Ulfric Stormcloak”, General Tullius began to speak, “some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t us a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

Ulfric tried to reply but was unable to.

“You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!”

A strange sound was suddenly heard, distracting everyone for a moment. “What was that?” the soldier with the list asked.

“It was nothing”, Tullius replied, “carry on.”

“Yes, general Tullius”, the female captain answered before turning towards the nearby priest, “give them their last rites.”

The priestess began speaking but was quickly interrupted by a Stormcloak soldier. “For the love of Talos”, he said, “let’s get this over with.”

“As you wish”, the priestess answered and stopped reciting.

“Come on”, the Stormcloak soldier spoke boastfully, “I haven’t got all morning.”

The captain pushed him down with his head upon the block.

“My ancestors are smiling upon me”, the Stormcloak still boasted, “can you say the same imperials?” His boasting might made him feel better, but it didn’t help when the axe chopped his head off.

“As fearless in dead as he was in life”, Ralof softly spoke.

“The forsworn is next”, the captain ordered, once again the same strange sound was heard.

“Here it is again”, the imperial soldier spoke, “did you hear that?”

The captain didn’t deign that with a response, “I said, next prisoner!”

Glaring at basically everyone who wasn’t a reachman (he was the only reachman present), especially at Ulfric, the forsworn walked towards the block. When the man had his head upon the block, almost everyone saw it.

“What in Oblivion is that?” Tullius asked alarmed.

“Dragon!” a stormcloak soldier yelled.

Forgetting about the entire execution, Tullius acted. “Guards!” he ordered, “get these townspeople to safety!”

In the meantime, Ralof had seen his chance, “lass, quickly, we won’t get another chance.”

Although Tullius had decided to leave her alive, Ti’alma still decided to follow Ralof inside one of the towers, all the surviving prisoners were now inside (even the Forsworn, although he was smart enough not to let Ulfric notice him).

“Jarl Ulfric”, Ralof asked, “what is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages”, Ulfric answered before asking him, “why did you bring the elf?”

“I didn’t want to leave her there to die”, Ralof answered, “Tullius might have decided not to kill her for some reason, but I don’t think that beast outside would care.”

Ulfric looked around, when he saw the Forsworn, he looked even less trilled than with Ti’alma.

“We have to move”, Ulfric eventually did tell his men, after which the entire group ran up the stairs.

When Ti’alma reached the upper level of the tower she saw the dragon breaking through the wall and roasting some of Ulfric’s men.

When the dragon left the hole in the wall, Ulfric and his men jumped. Ralof looked towards Ti’alma.

“See that inn on the other side?” he asked, “jump through the roof and keep going.”

Ralof jumped himself leaving only Ti’alma and the forsworn in the tower. When Ti’alma just remained standing, the reachman spoke for the first time (he had managed to get the cuff off).

“The Nord is right”, he said, “we can’t stay here.”

Ti’alma and the reachman finally jumped into the inn. When they exited the inn, the Stormcloaks had already disappeared.

Hadvar, the soldier who had read the list earlier, was outside however, and so was the dragon. Ti’alma, the reachman and the soldier hid behind a wall.

“Follow me”, Hadvar said.

Ti’alma and the reachman decided to do exactly so for the moment, the odds of the soldier knowing a way out were better than themselves knowing one after all.

Suddenly Ralof returned and began yelling at Hadvar. Both eventually decided the dragon took preference and left in a different direction each.

“I don’t know about you girl”, the forsworn said, “but I do not intend to run after a bunch of Stormcloaks.”

Ralof wasn’t that bad (as far as Ti’alma knew at least), but she didn’t want to meet that jarl Ulfric ever again, so she agreed (even if it was just because of the way Ulfric had sneered elf)

Inside the keep, Hadvar quickly cut Ti’alma’s bonds. He hesitated for a while but eventually did the same to the forsworn.

“Try to find some weapons”, Hadvar advised, “there should be some left in here.”

When they found a couple of Imperial swords, the reachman immediately grabbed two of them. “Take one as well, girl”, he said, you will need it.

“I never used one”, Ti’alma protested.

“Then you better learn quickly”, Hadvar replied.

Hadvar rummaged through the equipment chests for a while until he found some light imperial armor.

“Put it on”, he told Ti’alma, who was most certainly not used to wearing armor. Although the armor was too large for her (there were suspiciously few elf girls in the Legion after all), it would at least protect her better than the clothing she had on underneath.

After Hadvar adjusted the straps, they left the room. Almost immediately they met some Stormcloaks. The Reachman fearlessly jumped between them and cut them down with a swirl of his two swords. Following Hadvar’s instructions, they continued their way. After a while they came upon a chamber full with Stormcloaks. This time the Reachman knew he couldn’t do it alone.

“Can you use a bow?” he asked Ti’alma.

When Ti’alma answered that she could, he gave her the bow and arrows he had procured earlier (from one of the dead Stormcloaks). Hadvar and the Reachman stormed into the Stormcloaks, hacking and stabbing them while trying not to be hit themselves. Ti’alma opened fire upon the Stormcloak archers, while she did manage to take them all out, she couldn’t prevent being hit by one of their arrows.

After the Stormcloaks were taken care of, Hadvar noticed Ti’alma wasn’t looking all too good.

“Something is wrong”, Hadvar told the Reachman. The Reachman turned around and noticed an arrow sticking into Ti’alma’s arm, he smelled at the wound and immediately recoiled from it.

“The arrow is poisoned”, he told Hadvar and Ti’alma, “it has to be removed now before the poison spreads even farther.”

He thought for a while before looking at Hadvar. “Give me your dagger!” he ordered, “now Nord, I need to cut the arrow out and clean the wound, I can’t do that with a sword!”

After some hesitation, Hadvar gave his dagger to the Forsworn. Who quickly cut open the wound, took out the arrow and just in case cut away some muscle as well.

“A better healer could do this without the knife”, he admitted, “but this will at least keep you alive long enough for us to find one.”

The Reachman finished with some healing magic before he finally stopped.

“We really need to get her to a healer as fast as possible”, he told Hadvar, who didn’t waste time and continued the way, half carrying Ti’alma between himself and the Reachman. Eventually, they came into a cave, where they took out two frostbite spiders. Hadvar suddenly stood still.

“There is a bear over there”, he softly remarked, “I think it is sleeping, but we can best be careful.”

“I can take it out”, the Reachman answered, taking the bow and arrows from Ti’alma.

“No”, Ti’alma protested, “don’t kill it.” Strangely enough neither Hadvar nor the Reachman felt afraid of the bear after this. The bear did wake up, but somehow, Ti’alma managed to keep it from attacking.

Once outside, the Nord and the Reachman noticed Ti’alma had lost consciousness. “We shouldn’t have let do that”, the Reachman sighed, “she was already too weak.”

“What did she exactly do?” Hadvar asked. “Bosmer have the power to command animals”, the Reachman explained, after which he decided that although Hadvar was a Nord, he really should give him his name.

“I’m Odvan from Lost Valley Redoubt”, he finally introduced himself.

“I’m probably the only Nord you ever introduced yourself to aren’t I?” Hadvar replied before remembering Ti’alma didn’t have much time. “We have to get her to Riverwood as fast as possible”, he said.

“Are you sure there is no other option?” Odvan asked, “I can’t really say I like the idea of going into a Nord city.”

“It’s the closest place where we can find a healer”, Hadvar answered.

Chapter Text

When a forsworn walked into Riverwood, the guards didn’t know how to respond. When it turned out he was accompanied by an imperial soldier, who helped him carry a young elf, they were completely baffled. When no one even thought to stop them (which was probably due to the fact Hadvar was known in Riverwood and the elf was clearly injured), they continued their way and walked right into the ‘Sleeping Giant Inn’.

“She needs medical attention Delphine”, Hadvar spoke.

Delphine reacted rapidly and opened one of the chambers, when Hadvar and Odvan had laid Ti’alma on the bed, Delphine came closer.

“Who carved this girl’s arm up with a poisoned blade?” she asked, seeing the knife wound and the effect of the poison.

“No one”, Odvan answered, “she was hit by a poisoned arrow, after which I cut the arrow out and tried to remove the potion.”

Delphine had heard enough, “Hadvar, go get Faendal, tell him a bosmer girl is injured and I need his help.”

Hadvar left, leaving only herself, Ti’alma and Odvan in the room.

Delphine reopened the old wound, “since I know Hadvar has no magical capabilities whatsoever, I assume you did the healing magic on the wound?”

“I did”, Odvan answered.

“Good”, Delphine continued, “now put your fingers into the wound and send your healing magic into the bloodstream.”

“How exactly would I do that?” Odvan asked.

“Just send your magic through”, Delphine answered, “it will find its own way.”

Odvan did as he was asked, after giving him some magicka potions, Delphine told Odvan to continue using his healing magic, but to slowly retract his fingers out of the wound. At the end, Delphine applied a bandage with some antidote on the wound.

In the meantime, Hadvar had returned with Faendal in tow.

“Sorry I let him drag you all the way here”, Delphine told Faendal after having finished dressing the wound, “but I wanted to know if there were any specific things I had to look out for, I haven’t had cause to heal bosmer in quite some time after all.”

Faendal approached Ti’alma. “A little girl”, he exclaimed surprised, “what kind of barbarian attacks children?”

After a pointed look by Delphine, he observed her closer. “Did she by any chance try to command an animal?” Faendal asked.

“She did”, Odvan confirmed, “we came by a bear, I planned to shoot it, she screamed no and weirdly enough neither of us wanted to attack the bear after that. The bear had woken up though, Ti’alma here managed to keep it from attacking. Once out of the cave, we noticed she lost consciousness.”

“I think that’s the reason she hasn’t woken up yet”, Faendal replied, “if a bosmer is already injured, then trying to command an animal can completely take down his energy reserves. I’m no healer, but I think that with the wound taken care off she will probably be on her feet in a few days.”

“Good to know”, Delphine answered, “thanks for the information.”

“You’re welcome”, Faendal replied, before taking his leave.

Delphine still seemed to have some questions for Odvan and Hadvar though, “what exactly did she say to convince you not to kill the bear?”

“No, don’t kill the bear, that’s what she said”, Odvan replied, “I must have been mad not to just shoot the bear.”

“If I didn’t know better”, Hadvar remarked, “then I would say she Calmed us, but that would be ridiculous since that is an imperial power. Even a bosmeri with an Imperial name wouldn’t have such powers.”

“What Imperial name?” Delphine wanted to know, mostly as a means to distract the others from the Imperial power thing.

“Tirana Alma-something”, Odvan replied.

“Tirana Almaris De Agnis”, Hadvar completed.

Although Odvan noticed the name clearly meant something to her, Delphine didn’t press the matter just yet.

“Maybe now you can explain why an imperial soldier, a forsworn and an underage bosmer managed to find themselves in a cave with a wild bear”, Delphine changed the subject.

“That’s quite a long story”, Hadvar replied.

“I have the time”, Delphine answered.

Hadvar began the entire story, from the arrival of the prisoners in Helgen until the sudden arrival of the Dragon.

“You’re sure it was a dragon?” Delphine requested.

“Unless you know of any other flying fire breathing lizard”, Odvan sarcastically mentioned, “unless that, I think it’s a safe bet it was a dragon.”

“If you are sure it was a dragon”, Delphine told the two, “then the Jarl has to be warned.”

“I’ll go”, Hadvar volunteered, “I’m quite sure I have a better chance to actually reach the Jarl after all.”

“No argument there”, Delphine replied. Hadvar didn’t waste any more time and quickly left towards Whiterun.

When Hadvar had left, Odvan turned towards Delphine, “you don’t believe she is a full bosmer do you?”

“Excuse me?” Delphine protested.

“You knew the name, which clearly isn’t bosmeri. Which does raise questions. How did she even survive as long as she did within the Aldmeri Dominion?”

Delphine didn’t reply.

______________________________________________________

“Tirana Almaris, you’re finally awake”, a strange woman said, “I am Delphine, you were severely injured when Odvan and Hadvar brought you here to me.”

“It was no dream wasn’t it?” Ti’alma still dared to hope, “and I prefer Ti’alma.”

“I’m afraid not”, Delphine answered after which she went to get Odvan. Odvan came in a bit later (he had apparently decided his forsworn armor was a bit too recognizable, since he was now wearing regular leather armor).

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Better I think”, Ti’alma answered, “in a day or so, I can probably be back on my way.”

“Are you going in any particular direction?” Odvan asked.

“I don’t know”, Ti’alma admitted, “father told me to go to Skyrim, he didn’t say anything else, apart from the De Agnis thing, which he didn’t explain.”

“How would you feel about trying to get some answers about those dragons?” Odvan asked, “I’m quite sure my people would like some answers about it and it would at least keep you busy.”

Ti’alma had to think about that but finally answered, “all right, I’ll come with you.”

Delphine seemed to have overheard the conversation, since she now interrupted them, “if you want answers, I suggest you could go take a look inside Bleak Falls Barrow. I’ve heard rumors of an ancient Dragonstone being found there.”

When Odvan asked where these rumors came from, Delphine remained quite vague.

“Let’s just say that I’m an innkeeper”, Delphine said, “I do hear things from time to time. Just make sure that if you find it, I can have a look at it first. If you return I might be able to shed some light on the name De Agnis.”

“You could?” Ti’alma asked, she was quite willing to find out what it meant after all.

Odvan didn’t seem to have any problem with either (although he probably intended to bring back the original dragonstone to his own people).

Chapter Text

It was a few days later, when Odvan and Ti’alma left Riverwood. Hadvar’s uncle Alvor had been willing to make Ti’alma some proper fitting armor, Faendal had given Ti’alma his spare longbow (he didn’t use it anyhow and he felt that at least by giving it to her, another bosmer would be using it). Delphine had even been able to give them some food, water and healing potions (she was after all an innkeeper).

“Just one warning before we reach the barrow”, Odvan told Ti’alma, “the ancient Nords preserved their dead. In many old barrows, the draugr, these dead Nords, walk and fight.”

“Why would you preserve dead people?” Ti’alma asked surprised, “that’s just weird.”

“Not all people have the same burial practices you know”, Odvan replied, “what do the bosmer do with their dead?”

“Our traditions used to be that a fallen enemy has to be eaten within 3 days”, Ti’alma answered, “you can hardly keep dead bodies just lying around longer than that do you?”

“Used to”, Odvan asked.

“The Thalmor made that illegal”, Ti’alma explained, “we magically burn our dead now, without using wood obviously.”

After a while Ti’alma remembered that was not entirely honest. “If they can get away with it”, Ti’alma continued, “some still eat their enemies, and rightly so.”

Odvan chose not to remark on that, his own people had a few practices which were also frowned upon in civil society after all.

They reached the entrance to the barrow, a group of lightly armored bandits had apparently made camp.

“Could you take out the big one first?” Odvan asked Ti’alma, “I think I can raise his body afterwards to help us take down the others.”

“Really?” Ti’alma asked surprised, “I never met anyone who could do that. As far as I know at that. Father was always better at destruction magic.”

“Yes, really”, Odvan answered, “are you up for it?”

Ti’alma answered by dipping her arrow points in poison and aiming her bow (even with the Green Pact no longer legal, the bow Faendal had given her was still made out of bone. No bosmer would ever use a wooden weapon). Ti’alma hit her target, who rapidly fell down dead (the poison was quite effective). Odvan stormed towards the rest of the bandits, raising the corpse of the first dead bandit to fight alongside himself. Ti’alma shot two more bandits, after which Odvan and his raised corpse took down the rest.

They entered the barrow, for obvious reasons, Odvan made the dead bandit go first. A few more bandits were quickly taken out by Odvan and the dead bandit. In the next room, they noticed a bandit pulling a lever, this proved to be a bad idea for the bandit who got hit by a bunch of poisoned arrows.

“How do we go on?” Ti’alma asked Odvan, “pulling the lever clearly isn’t the option.”

“Maybe it is”, Odvan replied, “I think we have to solve the puzzle.” Odvan looked around for a while, after which he started turning the 3-sided statues. “I think this is it,” Odvan said, “I’ll pull the lever.”

“No”, Ti’alma objected, “I’m bosmer, I have a better poison resistance than you.”

“The combination is correct now”, Odvan said, “the trap won’t go off.”

“Then there is no reason not to let me pull the lever isn’t there?”

Resigned, Odvan let Ti’alma pull the lever, which opened the gate.

The dead bandit had disintegrated after a while, leaving only Odvan and Ti’alma to continue through the gate. Ti’alma managed to use her power on the 2 skeevers they found, these skeevers quickly took out the wounded frostbite spider they met later on. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep them under control, Ti’alma cut their throats afterwards. The reason the spider had been injured became clear when they noticed a freshly caught victim hanging in a net.

“Help me”, he said, “I can get you further in, all you have to do is cut me down.”

Odvan cut him down, after which he quickly made a run for it. “Stop!” Ti’alma yelled, strangely enough he actually did. This allowed Odvan to come closer to him and force him (at sword point) to stay where he was.

“You are going to tell us how to continue on our way”, Odvan told him, “and that is not a request.”

“There is a door further on”, the man admitted, “you can only open it with the key.”

“Where is this key?”

“I don’t know that”, the man lied.

“Where is the key?” Ti’alma asked in turn, Odvan pushed his sword closer to the man’s neck.

“It’s this dragon claw”, the man admitted. Odvan took the claw from him and dismissively looked at the man, “run, if I ever see you again, then you die.”

The man didn’t waste any more time and fled the burrow.

This time, they didn’t came across bandits but a whole bunch of draugr, luckily both of them were quite skilled at sneaking and managed to go on without having to fight any of them. Afterwards they came at a metal gate, pulling a chain proved sufficient to open it. Then came the lock the man had spoken about.

“Let’s see”, Odvan said, “there are three movable rings with symbols on them. The same symbols are on this claw.”

“He said this was the key”, Ti’alma volunteered, “maybe that was true in more than one meaning. Make sure the movable rings represent the symbols in the order as on the claw, then insert the claw.”

“You may be right”, Odvan answered, after which the two of them started turning the rings. “The moment of truth”, Odvan said, “let’s open this gate.”

Ti’alma’s theory proved correct and the gate opened.

Both entered the chamber and noticed a strange circular wall with a stone coffin in front of it.

“I’ve seen such a wall before”, Odvan said almost mesmerized, “the one back home always makes me think of a strange word, Feim.” He walked up to the wall and seemed not to see anything else for the moment. “Fus”, Odvan said, without even noticing he said it.

Then all oblivion broke loose as one very angry and mighty draugr burst out of his coffin. Ti’alma ran backwards and pulled her bow, Odvan pulled his swords and stormed at the draugr deathlord. Contrary to the bandits earlier, this thing was quite able to defend himself against the dual wielding Odvan. But it was still alone against Odvan hammering at it with his swords and Ti’alma peppering him with arrow after arrow. It took longer than either had hoped, but at the end the draugr fell down and didn’t come back up again.

“I think this is what Delphine wanted”, Odvan mentioned, having found a stone with a carved map on it.

“In that case”, Ti’alma replied, “let’s get out of here.”

“No argument there”, Odvan answered.

Luckily, it seemed easier to get back out then it had been to enter. Half an hour later, they were outside once again.

“That Delphine might better have some answers now”, Odvan said, “otherwise I most certainly won’t be happy with her.”

“I’ve never had that much excitement in my whole life”, Ti’alma protested, although she did want answers about her name.

Not entirely sure whether Ti’alma was serious, Odvan continued on in silence. It was a few hours later when they returned to Riverwood. They weren’t alone however, a dragon swept down over the village as well.

Chapter Text

“Can’t we just leave them to deal with that dragon themselves”, Odvan suggested.

“They did help us”, Ti’alma objected, “and I doubt Delphine could explain the significance of that stone if she would die.”

“In that case I hope we survive, cause my mother would be rather pissed if I would die defending a Nord village”, Odvan replied, “she would probably raise my corpse just to be able to send me back to Oblivion herself.” Resigned that he would have to fight, Odvan began shooting ice spikes at the dragon, immediately cursing himself as the dragon rewarded him with a stream of fire.

Ti’alma, in the meantime, tried to use her bosmer powers on the dragon. It was just a beast, wasn’t it? It didn’t prove that easy however.

“You dare to use your powers on me elf!” the dragon roared, having noticed her attempt at controlling him, “do you take me for some puny beast!”

Her attempt, however futile, proved sufficient a distraction to allow Delphine (who somehow managed to get hold of armor and weapons) to fire a few arrows through the veins on one of the dragon’s wings. The dragon went down.

Taking his chance, Odvan ran to the dragon, so did Delphine and the guards. The dragon managed to fatally harm two of the guards, but at the end, the dragon fell to their swords. The day would probably be remembered long, just because of them taking down a dragon. But what happened next made sure it would never be forgotten. A light began to envelop the dragon, after which said light moved towards Odvan. When it was over, Odvan seemed to shine and from the dragon nothing but its skeleton was left. The shine quickly dissipated, but the guard couldn’t stop staring.

“Dragonborn”, they kept repeating.

“Dragonborn”, Delphine agreed, having observed it all, “come to the inn, I can shed some light on the situation.”

Wanting the answers as much as anyone else, Odvan followed Delphine (and Ti’alma followed Odvan). Inside, Delphine entered her own room and closed the door after them. After opening a secret door in the wardrobe, she went through it and down a stair. Ti’alma and Odvan followed.

“What do you know about the blades?” Delphine asked them when the three of them had reached the secret chamber.

“Didn’t they use to guard the emperors?” Odvan answered after a while.

“That’s not exactly untrue”, Delphine admitted, “but we stopped being the Imperial bodyguards when the Septim line died out 200 years ago.”

“What you are saying is that you are a Blade”, Ti’alma recapped, “and you used to guard the Septims. What does that have to do with us?”

“With you? Nothing whatsoever, but it does pertain to Odvan”, Delphine answered, “our order is descended from ancient Akaviri dragonhunters. We later swore allegiance to Reman Cyrodil, the first dragonborn emperor. Not because he was emperor, we were the first to call him that anyhow, but because he was dragonborn.”

“I suppose you are now going to explain why those guards called me dragonborn”, Odvan interrupted.

“From time to time, there have been people with a second soul, a dragon soul. Those people can absorb the soul of a dragon, killing them for good. We, the Blades, remembered what most had forgotten: a dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer”, Delphine continued.

“What does the map have to do with it?” Ti’alma asked.

“The dragons weren’t just gone the previous millennia”, Delphine explained, “they were dead. Someone is bringing them back, at least that’s what I’m pretty sure is happening. This map shows the location of ancient dragon burial sites, if we could check one of them, then we could be certain.”

“How about this one?” Odvan suggested pointing at a burial mound a few miles west of Lost Valley Redoubt, “I think I know the place.”

“No offense to your people”, Delphine replied, “but they aren’t exactly known about their friendliness to outsiders.”

“My mother wouldn’t kill me”, Odvan answered, “and since neither of you is a Nord, I think I can persuade her to leave you in peace.”

“That might be the case for me”, Delphine answered, “I’m Breton after all, but how can you be sure that your mother will leave Ti’alma alone. She is after all clearly neither Breton nor Reachman.”

Odvan didn’t seem to want to answer that question, but eventually he saw no other option, “my mother is a mighty … witch and is occasionally able to see glimpses into the future. She told me that if I would meet a young half elf, that I had to do anything in my power to keep her alive.”

“That’s why you knew”, Delphine grasped.

“Knew what?” Ti’alma asked, “your mother couldn’t be talking about me, I’m a full bosmer.”

“I’m sorry, but you are not”, Delphine answered, “when you were laying here, I noticed you diverged from the other bosmeri I know. At first I thought the differences between you and Faendal were due to you being female. But then I noticed your amulet. Amulets like these were used by humans who wanted to prevent magicians to identify them as human.”

“Why would anyone want to pretend being an elf?” Odvan asked.

“During and before the war”, Delphine said, “some human Blades used amulets like these to go undercover in Valenwood and the Summerset Isles. They don’t alter your looks, only how a magician sees you trough his spells.”

“You are still wrong”, Ti’alma maintained, “mother was bosmer, father was bosmer, I am bosmer.”

“Do you know how to discover the purpose of an amulet?” Delphine asked, knowing that Ti’alma would never really believe her until she saw the truth for herself.

“By using an Enchanter”, Ti’alma answered, “but that would destroy the amulet, father said to keep it on.”

“It won’t destroy it if you just lay it on the Enchanter”, Delphine explained, “as long as you don’t invoke the Enchanter, it will remain as it is. Even more, these amulets often contained a second enchantment with a message on it, one only a specific person can read.”

Ti’alma still didn’t believe it all, but she did want to know what the amulet actually did. She laid the amulet down on the Enchanter and listened, that’s when the second enchantment on the amulet became active.

“Daughter, if you hear this, I am no longer alive”, her father’s voice said to Ti’alma (the others weren’t able to hear the message, since it was completely tuned to Ti’alma), “this was not the way I intended you to find out but mother and I haven’t been entirely honest with you. We were Blade agents working inside the Aldmeri Dominion, an organization that used to work for the Empire. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to give a longer explanation, but this last thing is important. My real name was Tiberius De Agnis and I hail from the Imperial city of Cyrodiil. Furthermore, you have a human half-sister, Rhiannon De Agnis. I believe she now lives in Skyrim.”

“What just happened”, Odvan asked alarmed.

“There was a message connected to my Amulet”, Ti’alma explained, “it was all true. I’m not a real elf, I’m just a half-breed.”

“I can assure you that none here will hold that against you”, Odvan answered, “we Bretons and Reachman are all half-breeds after all.”

“Really, Ti’alma asked surprised, “I didn’t know that.”

Feeling a bit less bad about not being completely bosmer, she continued, “father told me he and mother were Imperial agents inside the Dominion, which is probably why they were after them, he said they worked for the Blades.”

“Then they were brave people”, Delphine answered, “not many of us would have dared to remain inside the Dominion, you can be proud of your parents.”

“I was always proud of my parents”, Ti’alma replied before continuing, “father said he was Tiberius De Agnis from the Imperial city and he also said I have a half-sister named Rhiannon, right here in Skyrim.”

“Ria is in Skyrim?” Delphine asked surprised.

“You know this Rhiannon”, Ti’alma grasped, “how?”

“She used to spend her summers at Cloud Ruler Temple”, Delphine explained, “her grandfather, I suppose yours as well at that, was Grandmaster of the Blades when he died defending Cloud Ruler Temple.“

For obvious reasons, Ti’alma was still a bit in shock about the whole thing, it was after all not every day that you discovered that your parents were Blades, your father was an Imperial and your grandfather had been Grandmaster of the Blades.

“I’ll help you find her if I can”, Delphine promised, “but the dragons take precedence for the time being.”

“Thank you anyway”, Ti’alma finally said, not entirely sure how she felt about all of it yet.

“If you want, you can stay behind here when we go check the dragon burial site”, Delphine proposed.

“I don’t think I could handle staying here alone”, Ti’alma answered, “I want to go with you.”

“In that case”, Delphine concluded, “I propose we leave early in the morning. Don’t forget that you may both use everything in this room to outfit yourselves. Just leave my own gear alone.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Ti’alma Odvan and Delphine left Riverwood. Ti’alma had chosen to take a sword with her, she couldn’t actually use a sword yet, but Delphine and Odvan had promised to teach her. The sword was a little weird and curved, but since Delphine had explained that the Blades had always used such swords, Ti’alma couldn’t be convinced not to take one. In some weird way, carrying the katana made her feel closer to her parents, even though she never saw them use them (for obvious reasons, spies didn’t carry them, since they would be a dead giveaway). Delphine had likewise chosen to bring her katana as well. The Thalmor might recognize the curved blades, but if a dragonborn had come, then the time for secrecy was over.

A few miles west of Riverwood, Odvan insisted he had to change his clothing since he refused to enter the Reach dressed as a Nord (that’s how he said it). A few minutes later, Odvan looked like a Forsworn once again. Finally having time to actually observe the Forsworn armor, Ti’alma decided she liked it.

“Real bosmer armor is also with fur and animal skulls”, she happily observed, “it’s nice that your people do the same.”

“I never understood why you Reachmen insist to outfit yourself in such flimsy armor”, Delphine remarked, “at least my armor has a chance to stop a sword.”

“We enchant our armor”, Odvan defended his people’s preferred armor, “and it’s better not to be hit at all.”

“Do you think you could get some of that armor for me as well?” Ti’alma asked, clearly agreeing with Odvan over this.

“Why not”, Odvan decided, for some reason not exactly complaining to a young woman wanting to dress herself in his people’s flimsy armor.

“Someone is following us”, Ti’alma noticed after passing the border to the Reach.

“I know”, Odvan replied, “it are only my people, don’t worry about it.”

Odvan stopped walking and turned around. “I am Odvan, son of Deirdre”, he said, “come and meet me!”

Looking back towards Delphine and Ti’alma, he spoke again. “Now we just wait”, Odvan said, “I hope they are my mother’s people, but otherwise … no Reachman would dare provoke a matriarch by killing her son.”

“Since when do we work with outsiders, Odvan, son of Deirdre?” a female Forsworn spoke once her men had surrounded them.

“Especially outsiders carrying these swords”, the woman continued before Odvan had been able to answer, “yes, I know the significance of your swords. I know that the Blades accompanied the accursed Talos when he massacred our people.”

“The matriarch Deirdre has ordered me to do whatever I can to keep Ti’alma safe”, Odvan said, “Delphine knows more than we do about these dragons.”

“I won’t go against a matriarch”, the woman said, “so the girl is safe, for now at least. But I will not make a decision about the Breton yet.”

She looked towards her men. “Escort them to the camp”, she ordered.

Not bothering to disarm them, they could paralyze them quickly enough anyhow, the forsworn brought them to a secret camp. After the illusion magic hiding the camp was been put back into place, the woman spoke again.

“It’s time for some answers”, she said, “and I can better like them.”

Odvan began to speak, “we have a problem worse than the Nords. A dragon has destroyed an entire Nord Village.”

“Good for it”, the woman replied, “I fail to see the problem.”

“Your people want to rule the Reach, don’t you?” Delphine interrupted, “you won’t have any Reach left if these dragons are left free rein.”

The woman seemed to accept this, but she still insisted upon more information.

Seeing that she had no choice, Delphine complied, “the Blades were dragonhunters at first. It was thanks to us that they haven’t been seen for the last few thousand years.”

“You do seem to have missed some”, the woman remarked. “No we haven’t”, Delphine answered, “they aren’t just coming back, they are coming back to life.”

“How can I know you are even telling me the truth?” the woman requested.

“That’s why we came here”, Odvan now interrupted, “there is an old dragon burial site close to here, we planned to head there and observe it for ourselves.”

“In that case”, the woman said, “lead the way Odvan.”

Ti’alma, Delphine, Odvan and the other forsworn left the camp.

“Odvan”, Ti’alma couldn’t help asking, “who is she?” It was after all clear that the woman was important among the Forsworn.

“She is Kaie”, Odvan explained, “the daughter and heir of our king Madanach.”

“Do you mean your king is still alive?” Delphine asked surprised, “I would have thought Ulfric and Igmund would have made sure he didn’t survive the fall of Markarth.”

“So did we”, Kaie observed, having heard the entire conversation, “for some reason they left my father alive and have put him in Cidhna Mine.”

When they finally spotted the dragon, no one had to be warned to keep out of side.

“I think it’s the same one that attacked the Nord village”, Odvan observed.

The dragon kept shouting strange words until suddenly the dragon burial site ruptured open and a dragon skeleton came out, skin began to grow back on the skeleton until a fully-fledged very much alive dragon stood up.

The older dragon suddenly began to speak to Odvan, "Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi. You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." The dragon turned towards the newly reborn dragon, "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre."

The older dragon flew away (most likely planning to revive more dragons), meanwhile the younger dragon fired its firebreath into the group of forsworn. The forsworn rapidly spread and returned fire, so did Delphine, Ti’alma and Odvan. The dragon proved quite strong, but it couldn’t long withstand a barrage of arrows and destruction magic. When it was unable to stay in the sky, Delphine and half of the forsworn stormed at the dragon, viciously cutting and stabbing it. The dragon did manage to kill one of them, but that didn’t stop the onslaught for long (since Kaie had promptly raised his body to continue the fight). When the dragon finally succumbed and Odvan absorbed its soul, most of the forsworn were too tired to even ask what just happened.

Apart from Kaie that is. “What just happened with you and the dragon?” she asked Odvan.

“I’m still not sure about that myself”, Odvan answered, “according to Delphine I am Dragonborn and therefore able to absorb their soul.”

“Which is the only way to definitively kill a dragon”, Delphine continued, “that’s why I followed Odvan, the Blades have always been tasked with the fight against dragons, which is why we support dragonborns. They are after all the ultimate dragonslayers. The important question isn’t that though, it is why are they coming back now.”

“I don’t suppose you can answer that one”, Kaie asked. “Not for sure”, Delphine admitted, “but I believe the Thalmor are involved somehow.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them”, Ti’alma remarked, “they are barbaric enough, they even forbid us eating our enemies for Yff’re’s sake.”

Giving that most of the group were Forsworn, only Delphine seemed a little disturbed by Ti’alma’s remark.

“I would advise you not to make such comments when around other people than Forsworn”, Odvan remarked, before asking Delphine, “to find out if the Thalmor are involved, what is our next move?”

“For one”, Delphine answered once she had sufficiently recovered from the shock of a young girl calling people barbaric for forbidding an act most other people would consider barbaric, “we need to find out whether the Thalmor are actually involved, which implies that someone needs to steal information from within the Thalmor embassy.”

“Easier said than done”, Kaie remarked, “you need to get in first.”

“I can get someone in”, Delphine replied, “but it can’t be me or Ti’alma. No half-bosmer would survive long in there and the Thalmor know me by face.”

“I will go then”, Odvan answered, “I doubt they know me.”

“You can’t go either”, Delphine answered, “a dragonborn is able to learn the thu’um faster and easier than any other mortal. It is vital that you learn how to do this, which is why you should seek out the Greybeards in High Hrothgar. They can learn you to use it.”

“What is this Thu’um?” Kaie asked, still not fully trusting Delphine.

“Voice magic”, Delphine answered, “Ulfric used it on your people. Odvan should be able to learn it much faster and better though.”

“If you are correct”, Kaie remarked, “then Odvan could simply shout back if we would ever fight the Stormcloak again. I can’t say I dislike that. I know someone who could procure the necessary information from the Thalmor, you only have to get her inside. I want something in return tough.”

“I might have guessed that”, Delphine answered, “what do you want?”

“I want the girl to come with me to Markarth”, Kaie answered, “our breakout plan is set in place, we only need someone to go inside and tell this to my father.”

“You want to let an underage girl be incarcerated into Cidhna Mine?” Odvan asked a little bit outraged.

“Not for long”, Kaie answered, “and you told me yourself she is an half elf, half elves don’t age much slower than a Reachman or Breton, which means she is as much an adult as you are. I haven’t heard her complaining anyhow.”

“I’ll do it”, Ti’alma said, “I only need to get in, tell your father it’s time to come out and come back out, that’s it?”

“Exactly”, Kaie answered.

Chapter Text

“You look weird in that armor”, Ti’alma remarked, seeing the Forsworn Kaie in leather armor.

“That might be true”, Kaie admitted, “but we would never be able to get inside Markarth if I would wear forsworn armor. Just as you would stick out carrying that curved sword you and the Blade use. Why were you carrying one anyhow? It’s not as if you are old enough to have been one of the Blades.”

“My parents were Blades”, Ti’alma answered, “not that they carried those swords, which would have been stupid inside Valenwood, but it makes me feel closer to them in a way.”

“I’ll keep it safe”, Kaie promised, understanding there was probably more to the story, “I’ll make sure you have it back during the actual escape. After all, it’s not as if anyone would even care about one Blades sword during my father’s escape from Cidhna Mine.”

“How will you make sure I will even be able to get inside Cidhna Mine”, Ti’alma asked in sight of Markarth.

“Basically”, Kaie answered, “I will bribe the guards. It will take some time tough, just take a chamber in the Silver-Blood Inn for a few days and keep yourself busy.”

They came closer to the gate, Kaie decided to wait a while before entering, making sure no one would link her and Ti’alma together. Without much problems, Ti’alma gained entrance to the city. Hiring a chamber in the Inn didn’t take much effort either.

It didn’t take long for Ti’alma to decide that she wanted to see the city for herself, this was after all the first time she had ever been in a not bosmer-build city. She had been in Riverwood, that was true, but Riverwood was a wooden village and not a city of stone like Markarth. The city was most certainly like nothing she had seen before.

“What’s up there?” Ti’alma asked one of the guards after a while, pointing up to one of the stairs.

“The temple of Dibella”, the Guard answered. Curious about who Dibella was, Ti’alma decided to take a look at her temple.

“I’m afraid the Inner Sanctum is currently closed”, a priestess told her upon entering. “That’s okay”, Ti’alma answered, “I was just curious about Dibella. I’ve never heard of her, is she one of the Aedra?”

“You never heard of Dibella?” the priestess replied asked half in shock, only just managing to retain from asking where she grew up, “Dibella is indeed one of the Aedra, she is the Goddess of Love and Beauty. This temple is dedicated to women wishing to explore their sexuality.”

Only then noticing the various imagery in the temple, Ti’alma couldn’t help flushing (she was after all barely out of puberty, being half-elvish made that come a bit later than with humans) and decided she knew enough about Dibella.

She resumed walking through the city, only stopping when she suddenly noticed a warrior arguing to a priest.

“What you mean the Hall of the Dead is closed”, the warrior angrily stated, threatening the priest, who calmly stated he couldn’t open the doors for anyone. The warrior angrily left.

Curious, Ti’alma now approached the priest. “I overheard you talking to that warrior”, she admitted, “he sounds dangerous, wouldn’t it have been safer to just open the doors for him?”

The priest sighed, “actually it wouldn’t, I found some of the corpses inside partially eaten. I won’t let anyone inside until that malice is dealt with.”

“I could take a look for you”, Ti’alma proposed, although she didn’t really see the problem.

“I couldn’t let you do that”, the priest objected, “it could be dangerous.”

“It’s only corpses that are eaten isn’t it?” Ti’alma asked.

“Your point being?”

“Last time I checked, I was still alive”, Ti’alma replied, after which the priest gave in.

Ti’alma entered the Halls of the Dead and began looking around, what could have been eating the corpses? At first she thought, maybe a bosmer still following the Green Pact, but such a bosmer wouldn’t just take bites from random corpses. Furthermore, you had to eat your enemy within three days, which clearly wasn’t being done.

“Not many would blindly walk into a crypt”, a voice said, “smelling of blood and steel, but not of fear. I feel the hunger inside of you. Gnawing at you. You were young when you first tasted human flesh, weren’t you? An accident of course. Then the hunger set in. Curiosity, what’s the harm in one bite?”

The woman who was speaking was now in front of Ti’alma, “it’s okay, now. You’ve found a friend who understands you. You can let go of your guilt.”

“Which guilt?” Ti’alma asked not entirely certain about it, “every bosmer knows that an enemy must be eaten within three days, whatever the Thalmor say. A Thalmor justiciar one day wanted to search our house, I don’t know what exactly happened, but at the end there was one dead Thalmor. Mother invited the neighbors and we ate him. Why would I feel guilt about following the Green Pact?”

“Namira, the Lady of Decay, accepts that”, the woman answered after having processed all that (Ti’alma obviously hadn’t intended to divulge all of that), “she has a place where we can sate our appetite without judgment.”

“So you mean that if I would bring my enemies there”, Ti’alma answered, “I can follow the Green Pact without Thalmor interference? Where is this place?”

Deciding for herself that it wouldn’t matter for Namira why people chose to eat other people, the woman decided to answer that, “it’s inside Reachcliff Cave. But the dead have stirred from their slumber recently, and I was forced here.”

“Draugr?” Ti’alma asked, “we don’t have those in Valenwood, why did you Nords ever decide to put your dead in crypts? If there are no bodies left, then they can’t walk can’t they?”

“I can only agree with you”, the woman answered, “and I’m not a Nord.”

“I don’t think I would be much help with them”, Ti’alma admitted, “I have to stay in this city for a few days and I don’t know where I will go afterwards.”

“I don’t suppose I will be able to stay here much longer”, the woman decided sighing, “tell the people of Markarth, their dead won’t be disturbed anymore, I have bigger plans. If you change your mind, then you can find me near Reachcliff Cave. Almost forgotten: my name is Eola.”

“Ti’alma”, Ti’alma replied.

After having left the Hall of the Dead, Ti’alma sought the priest who had let Ti’alma in, in the first place.

“The problem is taken care of”, she told him, “the dead are safe.”

“Divines preserve you, you’re hero. We’ll re-open the Halls of the Dead right away. Here, take my Amulet as a reward”, he answered, giving her an Amulet of Arkay.

She walked through the streets some more, before deciding to head back to the Inn.

It was then that a guard suddenly yelled, “hold the thief.” A few other guards came running and suddenly, Ti’alma found herself surrounded by guardsmen.

“The nerve”, the first guard said, “trying to pick a guard’s pockets.” After which he held up a gold ring. “That little she-elf stole my old gold ring right out of my pocket.”

None of the guards questioned why he still had the ring then.

“We should make an example of her”, the guard said, “we can’t have people stealing from us, can’t we?”

The other guards seemed to agree with this and without bothering to pass by the Jarl (or even the Silver-Bloods, as they had more influence over the guards anyhow), they brought Ti’alma straight to Cidhna Mine.

Chapter Text

A female Orsimer approached Ti’alma. “All right prisoner”, she said, “Eyes front. You’re in Cidhna Mine, now. And we expect you to earn your keep. There’s no resting your hide in a cell in this prison. Here, you work. You’ll mine ore until you start throwing up silver bars. You got it?”

Having understood that the guard who lied to get her in here, was the one bribed by Kaie, Ti’alma didn’t protest.

“All right, open up”, the orc ordered, after which the gate into the mine was opened.

Inside, she was immediately spoken to by an old man sitting near a fire. “What are you in for, new blood?” he asked.

“Stealing a silver ring from a guard”, she answered, “and that without the ring ever leaving his pockets.”

Blatantly ignoring the advise the man gave after this (basically working of her time), she asked about Madanach.

“No one talks to Madanach, I’m afraid. Not without getting past Borkul the Beast”, the man answered, clearly talking about an orsimer standing in front of a locked door, “and you don’t want to talk to Borkul the Beast.”

Once again ignoring his advice, Ti’alma approached the giant orc. “The new meat”, he sneered at her, “go bother someone else.”

“I need to see Madanach”, she said, trying not to let the orc get at her.

“You want to talk to the king in rags”, Borkul answered, “fine, but first you got to pay the toll.”

“I don’t think Kaie would like that”, Ti’alma replied (having been told that Kaie’s name opened most doors among forsworn).

Having grown close to Madanach (not that way), Borkul had no intention of going against Kaie’s interests. “Fine”, he grunted, “enter.”

Ti’alma entered the door and through the hallway, she finally reached a cavern containing an actual bed and even a small office. Since only one man was in there, it was immediately clear this was Madanach.

“You don’t look like your daughter”, Ti’alma mentioned.

While it was obvious he heard her, Madanach finished his letter first before responding.

“Where did a bosmeri girl meet my daughter?” Madanach asked in return. “You could better ask her that”, Ti’alma replied, “she told me to give you a message: It’s time.”

“There is a man in here, Braig, go talk to him first”, Madanach answered after which he turned back to his desk and began a new letter, “ask him why he’s in here.”

Resigned to the fact that Madanach wouldn’t do anything before she did as he asked, Ti’alma went on to search Braig.

“Madanach told me to ask you why you’re in here”, she told him after having found him.

“My story huh”, he answered, “let’s hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains around your wrists.”

At first, Ti’alma wanted to tell Helgen, but she decided it wasn’t entirely true, at least if you didn’t literally mean chains.

“My parents got word that the Thalmor were on to them”, she told him, after which she gave a very summere summary of her story, “they told me to flee Valenwood. I think the Thalmor killed them both. I went all the way north, until I reached Skyrim. In there I ran into an Imperial ambush against Stormcloaks. The Imperials tied me up as well and brought us all to Helgen. A dragon came and while the city was destroyed by it, I escaped.”

“Do you have any family left?” Braig asked, clearly planning to go somewhere with it.

“I have a half sister somewhere”, she answered, “but I have never seen her, all I have is her name.”

“I had a daughter, once”, Braig began his own story, “she’d be 23 this year. Married to some hot-headed silver worker or maybe on her own learning the herb trade. The Nords didn’t care who was and who wasn’t involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, that was enough. But my little Aethra didn’t want to see her papa leave her. She pleaded to the Jarl to take her instead. And after they made me watch as her head rolled of the block. Afterwards they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver.”

Ti’alma returned to Madanach, “I talked to Braigh.”

“Imagine hearing a story like that, over and over. Each time a different family. Each time a different injustice”, Madanach replied, “my daughter is right, me and my men should be in the hills fighting. There is one last thing tough.”

Not entirely trusting this, Ti’alma still asked, “what is it?”

“Have you met Grisvar the Unlucky?” Madanach asked, “he’s rightly named, and he’s also a thief and a snitch. He’s outlived his minor usefulness. Take care of him, and then we can leave Cidhna Mine for good.”

Ti’alma left Madanach, not entirely clear about what exactly he wanted, she decided Borkul might know.

“Madanach said someone named Grisvar the Unlucky had to be taken care of”, Ti’alma told him, “he didn’t explain what he meant by that.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?” Borkul answered when he finished laughing, “he meant he had to be killed.”

“How?” Ti’alma asked him, “I’m quite sure he’s stronger than I am and he would probably notice if I would swing one of those pickaxes at him.”

Borkul took some kind of a weird knife out of his pocket. “Take this”, he said, “sneak up to him and use it to slit his throat.”

Hoping for the best, Ti’alma began searching for Grisvar, someone finally told her where to find him. Ti’alma sneaked up to the man and utterly failed in cutting his throat. He was bleeding quite severely tough. Knowing that if she didn’t, he would start fighting back, she just stabbed and stabbed until at the end Grisvar stopped moving. The blood all over her clothes (not that she would miss the ragged clothes she had been forced to wear when she was brought to the Mine, especially as they contained plant-material), Ti’alma returned to Madanach.

“I presume that blood is Grisvar’s?” he asked, not waiting for a response before walking out to the Mine itself, where the other prisoners had already assembled.

“What’s going on, Madanach?” the man who first spoke to her in the Mine asked, “you wouldn’t have old Grisvar killed unless you weren’t planning on needing him.”

“My brothers”, Madanach answered, “we have been here long enough. It’s time to leave Cidhna Mine and continue our fight against the Nords. Through this gate, just beside my quarters, is a tunnel. A tunnel that leads right through the old Dwarven ruins of Markarth, into the city. Well, what do you say, my brothers?”

“The Reach belongs to the Forsworn”, all of them yelled in turn.

“Let’s go”, Madanach said, leading all of them to the tunnel.

The tunnel ended at a locked door, Madanach somehow had the key though (Ti’alma considered it rather stupid of the Nords to lock someone in and give them the key to their own prison, but who was she to complain?). Through the door, they came in the subterranean ruins of the ancient Dwarven city, at first they didn’t meet any resistance. After a while they began to come across frostbite spiders, which were quickly taken care off. The Dwemer Spheres they met deeper in the city, proved more of a challenge. It was only thanks to the abundance of magicians in the group, that the things were eventually destroyed.

It was then, that they found Kaie. She had smuggled in a set of Forsworn armor for everyone of Madanach’s followers (apart from Borkul, the orsimer happily put on his own steel armor, which was smuggled in as well).

“Odvan told me you had asked for a set of our armor”, Kaie said grinning, giving her a brand new set of enchanted Forsworn Armor, “and no, it doesn’t contain plants.”

“Thank you”, Ti’alma answered.

After they had all changed in their armor (Ti’alma had seen fit to throw her prison rags on the ground afterwards, not planning to ever use them again), the Forsworn armed themselves with the weapons Kaie had also delivered. Happily, Ti’alma spotted her Katana and longbow among them.

When everyone was outfitted properly, they went outside. It seemed the guards had expected them though.

“Madanach! Think you can escape my prison do you? You’ll pay for what you’ve done to my family!” the nobleman apparently leading them yelled.

“Your family? You’ve poisoned the Reach long enough with your silver, Thonar!” Madanach replied, after which the Forsworn attacked.

Ti’alma was aware that Kaie had bribed the guard for it, but that didn’t make her hesitate to join the mayhem.

Thonar was the first to fall, which mostly proved him an idiot for his not wearing armor, Kaie gleefully raised his corps and ordered it to help attack the guards. Swords, arrows, axes and destruction magic swept a devastating path throughout the city of Markarth. Ti’alma let the Forsworn do most of the work, until she saw the guardsman who had falsely accused her (okay, he was bribed by Kaie, but he still took the money didn’t he?). She quickly shot him with a paralyzing arrow, after which she tried to drag him through Markarth

“Just kill that guardsman”, Kaie told her. “That bastard took money to let me be thrown into that mine”, Ti’alma responded, “I won’t let him get off that easy.”

“I was the one who paid him, you know”, Kaie answered. “That’s beside the point”, Ti’alma answered, “he took your money.”

Since they were almost out of Markarth anyhow, Kaie decided to give in and help Ti’alma drag the guardsman. Once outside the gates, Ti’alma stole a horse and with Borkul’s help pulled the guardsman on the horse and tied him on it.

“What are you planning with that guardsman anyhow?” Kaie asked her.

“You don’t want to know”, Ti’alma truthfully replied, “where will I be able to find you?”

“I will make camp in Druadach Redoubt”, Madanach answered, “just ask any forsworn and they can point you right to it.”

“Almost forgotten”, Ti’alma remembered, “how do I reach Reachcliff cave?”

“Do I want to know why you want to go there with a captive guardsman?” Kaie asked.

“Probably not”, Ti’alma answered.

Chapter Text

“I knew you’d change your mind”, Eola said when she saw Ti’alma, “who’s on the horse?”

“Him?” Ti’alma replied, “he took a bribe to throw me in Cidhna Mine, there was a jailbreak and I managed to paralyze him in the following mayhem. I thought about your words and they did make me think, there is no reason not to follow the Green Pact after all. We can clear out the draugr and then you can get your people.”

“I like your thinking”, Eola answered grinning (the guard seemed to have good meat on him after all), “help me clear out the draugr and we have a deal, Namira isn’t a jealous Lady anyhow, respect her in there and she will have no problems with you.”

“No problem”, Ti’alma replied, “I’m not in the habit of insulting Daedric princes after all. Is it possible that I don’t eat anything plant-related with him? And are you capable of finishing in 3 days?”

“That will be no problem”, Eola answered.

Eola helped pull the guardsman from the horse, the guardsman (who was obviously scared, he had heard Ti’alma and Eola discuss eating him after all) was paralyzed once again, layed down just inside the entrance of Reachcliff Cave and tied up again. Afterwards, Ti’alma pulled her bow and Eola prepared herself for the use of magic. It didn’t take long for the first draugr to be encountered, with Ti’alma’s arrows and Eola’s fire atronach and destruction magic, it stood no chance whatsoever.

They went deeper in. Unfortunately the draugr there proved more of a challenge. Having spend all her arrows earlier, Ti’alma was forced to engage in close combat using her katana. At the end, Ti’alma’s katana and Eola’s magic proved sufficient to finally destroy the last draugr inside. After helping Ti’alma drag the captured guardsman to the dining hall, Eola promised she would go get her people.

Having spend the night in the cave, probably having slept better than the guardsman, Ti’alma was swinging her katana in the dining hall. She had to practice anyhow, and she had a hunch Namira wouldn’t care. This didn’t mean she didn’t stop when she heard the first person arrive, this happened to be an altmer tough. The altmer in question was lucky that Eola came right after him, because Ti’alma had almost severed his head from his shoulders.

“Sanyon is one of us”, Eola yelled.

“Is he Thalmor?” Ti’alma asked, still not lowering her katana.

“No, I am not”, Sanyon answered, “I take it you have had bad blood with them?”

“That’s an understatement”, Ti’alma replied, lowering her katana, “they killed my parents.”

Half an hour later, the rest of Namira’s cult had also arrived, Eola somehow managed to force the guardsman to walk on to the altar and lay himself down on top of it.

“I’m a priestess to Namira”, she explained to Ti’alma, “I have power over people this close to her altar.” Eola indicated Ti’alma should come to the altar as well. “You brought him”, she said, “you may cut the meat.”

Ti’alma grasped a dagger and cut open the guardsman’s chest, ripping out his heart. “I’m curious about the differences in taste between human hearts and altmer hearts”, she explained, “no offense meant Sanyon.”

“None taken”, Sanyon replied, having tasted altmer anyhow.

“You can start eating”, Eola said. Ti’alma didn’t make her say that twice and took her first bite from the guard’s heart.

“Mortal. I am Namira, the Lady of Decay”, a voice began speaking, “your consumption of blood and bile is pleasing to me. You’re reasons might differ from the others here, but know that you are always welcome to feast in this hall.”

“You said we had to finish within 3 days didn’t you?” Eola asked after Namira had finished speaking.

“Indeed”, Ti’alma answered having swallowed her first bite.

“In that case”, Eola said, “let’s get on with it.”

One by one, the cannibals started carving meat from the dead guard. At the table, the conversation rapidly came to Ti’alma’s remark about the taste of altmer and human hearts.

“Altmer heart tastes a bit stronger”, Ti’alma replied, “but this heart was a lot more juicy.”

“You should try dunmer”, a Nord woman, apparently named Lisbet, advised, “they taste a bit like lightly scorched meat.” “no you don’t want to”, Sanyon replied, “they taste way to sinewy, unless you manage to get hold of a child, which you won’t. Even dunmeri children still have an ashy aftertaste at that.”

“Everyone his own taste”, Eola interrupted the building argument.

“Of course priestess”, Sanyon and Lisbet replied.

It did took the 3 days, for them to finish, but at last only the bones remained.

“I am full”, Lisbet said, “how do you bosmeri handle battles? One person at a time is difficult enough.”

“If it weren’t for the Thalmor”, Ti’alma replied, “who call the Green Pact heresy, then bosmer warriors would fast for days before a battle.”

“In that case”, Sanyon remarked, “do warn us a few days before next time.”

“I’ll try”, Ti’alma promised.

After the dining hall was cleaned up, Ti’alma decided she really should head towards Druadach Redoubt. Luckily, Eola happened to know the way. So after saying her farewells to the cannibals, Ti’alma headed out.

Chapter Text

“I see you managed to find it”, Kaie told Ti’alma when she entered the redoubt, “I don’t suppose you will tell me what you did with that guard, we are used to a lot you know.”

Making sure no one else could hear her, Ti’alma replied, “I really don’t think you want to hear this.” Kaie didn’t make a fuss over it.

“Odvan and the Blade are here as well”, Kaie told her, “we were just waiting for you to arrive.”

Ti’alma followed Kaie towards them. Delphine, Odvan, Madanach and a forsworn woman Ti’alma hadn’t met before were already sitting around a fire.

“We’ll let the dragonborn speak first”, Madanach ordered (it was his camp after all).

“For one”, Odvan began, “I am indeed able to learn that shout magic. I can now almost instantly move myself across twenty or thirty passes, become ethereal and even throw people away, just by shouting at them. I did have to lie to those Greybeards, apparently they believe those shouts may only be used to pray, which would be stupid. Why would anyone not use a weapon like that?”

“Although”, Odvan remarked a few seconds after, “they did say a dragonborn can do whatever he wants with it. Well, not with those exact words, but still. The most important thing is, now I know how to learn new shouts by myself, the only thing I need is to go near one of those curved walls. Like the one up at Lost Valley Redoubt. Afterwards I can unlock the use of that shout with a dragon soul. Basically, I need to find those walls and kill dragons.”

“That would be handy”, Madanach admitted, “I take it, that the next time we are in control of Markarth, you can simply shout Ulfric away from our walls.”

“That’s the idea”, Odvan agreed, “although making sure those dragons don’t kill us all takes preference of course.”

“I won’t argue with that”, Madanach concluded, “Uaile, you’re next.”

Uaile, as the other forsworn woman apparently called, began speaking, “Delphine managed to get me an invitation to a party at the Embassy. A bosmer insider managed to get me away from the party and inside the Embassy itself, from then on it basically came down to sneaking through the Embassy and searching their drawers. I found a few dossiers about various people, including Delphine, Ulfric Stormcloak and one of Delphine’s associates, one Esbern. The dossiers I found about dragons however indicated the Thalmor know as much as we do about the dragons.”

“The Ulfric dossier was quite interesting tough”, Madanach remarked, having already read it, “it turns out the Thalmor were directly responsible for the Stormcloak’s attack on Markarth, but do continue.”

“After gathering those dossiers, I still needed to get out”, Uaile said, “I broke into the interrogation chambers, where I freed their prisoners. We fled through a hatch the Thalmor used for body disposal and went through a cavern system. We ended up somewhere to the north of Solitude.”

Delphine continued, “Uaile met up with me and together we managed to get both prisoner’s stories. One of them was a member of the Riften Thieves Guild, he was tortured by them about Esbern’s hiding place.”

“Who’s that Esbern?” Kaie asked. “Esbern was a Blades Archivist, no one knows more about dragons than him. If Esbern is still alive, then it is vital for us to get to him before the Thalmor do.”

“I can send some of my men”, Madanach offered, “and yes, I will ask them to wear Nord armor.”

“I can get them in touch with the Thieves Guild”, Delphine accepted, “thank you.”

“Who was the other prisoner?” Ti’alma asked.

“I hoped you would be the one to ask that”, Delphine answered, almost smiling, “the other prisoner was a Blades operative, captured in Valenwood, for some reason they brought him here. He’s an Imperial, who looks like a bosmer, named Tiberius De Agnis.”

“You mean?” Ti’alma couldn’t even bring herself to finish the question, but Delphine understood it nonetheless.

“Yes, your father lives”, he was badly injured tough, “we managed to bring him to the temple of Kynareth in Whiterun.”

Before Ti’alma could ask, the small hope she had for her mother was dashed tough.

“The Thalmor didn’t keep your mother alive”, Delphine said, “I’m sorry.”

“It seems we can make the Thalmor pay for their actions, while simultaneously gaining a valuable source of information about the dragons”, Madanach recapped, “our next objective is quite clear now. There is a small problem tough.”

Odvan feared that he knew exactly what is what about.

“I don’t trust your mother Odvan”, Madanach stated, “and I know her well enough to be quite aware that she wouldn’t hesitate to use your power as a dragonborn to increase her own power by putting yourself in my place. I can’t let that happen.”

“You did say that you want the world to stay”, Odvan answered, “so your solution can’t involve killing me, turning me in an involuntary briarheart would set our entire people against you. Which means that the only way you can reach that objective is by making sure none of us would accept me as king, correct?”

“Spot on”, Madanach answered, “at first I didn’t see a satisfying solution, but then Kaie told me something interesting. It seems as if your young friend here is the child of two Blades, even worse, her grandfather was the Blades Grandmaster.”

“You can’t be meaning what I think you mean can you?” Odvan replied.

“What does he mean?” Ti’alma asked confused.

“Father wants to bind you two in marriage”, Kaie answered.

“He can’t just do that, can he?” Ti’alma asked taken by surprise.

“No, he can’t”, Odvan answered, “not without our consent at least.”

“True”, Madanach admitted, “but since I know Odvan doesn’t to lead our people, it would solve a lot for him. If you agree to a marriage, then your mother can’t ever force you to try and displace me, Odvan. And Ti’alma, I promise to help you get revenge for your mother if you agree to this.”

“I don’t even know your age”, Ti’alma said after the others had given her and Odvan some privacy (it was their decision after all), “I know your mother is apparently a hagraven, I didn’t know they could even get children at that, and you are dragonborn, that’s about all I know about you.”

“I’m 18”, Odvan answered after a while, “which is younger than you at that.”

“Which doesn’t mean much since my lifespan is nearly thrice yours”, Ti’alma interrupted.

“My mother wasn’t a hagraven when I was born”, Odvan continued, “she was a mighty witch, but not yet a hagraven. She ascended when I was only six years old.”

“You wouldn’t even want to marry me anyhow”, Ti’alma said, “I don’t know if Kaie told you, but I took one of the Markarth guards prisoner, what she didn’t knew was that I ate him together with the members of a Daedric cult.”

“I grew up with a hagraven as a mother”, Odvan replied, “I can assure you, I’ve heard and even seen much worse. It is your choice whether you accept it or not, but I do like you and I think both of us could do much worse. Having an argument against my mother is just an added bonus.”

“You’re not a bosmer”, Ti’alma decided, “but as it turns out I can’t claim to be a full bosmer anyhow, as long as you accept me following the Green Pact, I agree. I want my father present tough.”

“As it would probably not help her own plans”, Odvan replied, “I won’t be inviting my mother. It would be good for at least one of us to have a parent present.”

“We’ll do it”, Ti’alma informed Madanach, “but I want my father to be there for it.”

“That can be arranged”, Madanach answered, “I’m sorry I had to pressure you for it.”

“No you’re not”, Ti’alma replied. “Kaie will help you prepare”, Madanach promised, “after all I doubt you know much about Reachmen wedding ceremonies.”

“I barely even know anything about a bosmeri one”, Ti’alma retorted.

Chapter Text

“Why do you never use magic?” Kaie wondered, “is it because you don’t want to or another reason?”

“I can’t use magic yet”, Ti’alma replied, “a bosmer only starts building up magicka between her 30th and 40th year. As I’m only half bosmer, I’m not sure when, if ever, I will be able to use magic.”

“I thought elves had been known to use magic before they were even able to walk”, Kaie replied, a bit surprised.

“Altmer maybe”, Ti’alma answered, “is there a problem with me not being able to?”

“Well”, Kaie explained, “it’s more like a minor inconvenience, not an actual problem. In a Reach wedding ceremony, the bride usually uses her magic to light the ritual fire.”

“I can’t be the only one ever to have been unable to”, Ti’alma remarked.

“It’s rare among my people, but some of us are indeed never really able to use magic”, Kaie replied, “I’m afraid you’ll need to light the fire in conventional ways, a female relative of you would be better of course, but the odds of us finding your half-sister in time are quite slim. We don’t even know whether she can use magic at that.”

“So basically, all I have to do is light that fire, listen to your shaman and answer yes at his questions”, Ti’alma recapped.

“I never claimed our wedding ceremony was a long one, did I”, Kaie agreed, “Odvan has even less work, he has to kill a mighty beast and present the head as a trophy to your parents, in their absence it should be given to the camp chief. We have decided that a dragon’s head is more than enough, which means he only has to answer yes at the questions.”

“That’s not fair”, Ti’alma protested, “why can’t I just kill someone? I mean something. Instead of lighting some stupid fire.”

“You did help killing the dragon”, Kaie remarked, “so you could say you already did.” “You might have a point”, Ti’alma gave in, “I’ll light that fire.”

Suddenly, one of the Forsworn came running towards Kaie and Ti’alma. “Uaile is back”, he said.

Uaile had been the one who had travelled to Whiterun to get Ti’alma’s father. “I can’t tell you much more at the moment”, Kaie decided, “go to your father.”

She didn’t need to tell that twice and ran towards were her father would be. When she finally reached him, she barely recognized him. “Father”, she hesitantly said.

Her father quickly spoke. “I’m here”, he said.

“What happened to you?” Ti’alma couldn’t help asking.

“Old age”, he replied, “that’s it.” “But it has barely even been a year”, Ti’alma protested.

“I’m human”, he explained, “I have been using illusion magic for over 10 years, simply to mask the fact that I age faster than a bosmer would.”

“Why did you lie to me?” Ti’alma couldn’t help asking, still not entirely happy with being lied to all her life (how would you be at that), “you’ve let me think I was a full bosmer my entire life, while you’ve always known otherwise, why?”

“We couldn’t risk telling you, it would have been too dangerous”, her father replied, the rest of his explanation was unheard by Ti’alma who couldn’t help herself from hugging her father.

“I thought you were dead”, she said teary-eyed.

Tiberius kept his daughter in a silent embrace for a few minutes, but eventually he still break the silence. “Which one is Madanach?” Tiberius asked, “I want to know who forces my daughter into marriage.”

“He’s king of these people you know”, Ti’alma replied, “and he didn’t force me, I agreed to it. Odvan is a good man, he has no problem with the Green Pact and most important, I like him. And it’s not as if any full bosmer would even want to marry me, or most humans at that.”

“Of course he has no problem with the Green Pact”, Tiberius replied, “it only means that you won’t eat anything plant-related or …” he finally grasped Ti’alma’s meaning, “you didn’t did you?”

“Why not?” Ti’alma replied indignantly, “mama always said the Thalmor were barbarians in forbidding our traditions. And it is not as if a dead enemy still needs his body anyhow.”

Knowing that contradicting his dead wife would not exactly help his relationship with his daughter, Tiberius decided not to continue on the subject.

Tiberius did have his conversation with Madanach eventually, he still wasn’t happy with the whole situation, but as an Imperial he did accept the political reasoning behind it. Even more, as a blade he was meant to help the Dragonborn, being able to help the Dragonborn and his daughter simultaneously would be quite handy. Not that this stopped Tiberius from having words with Odvan as well, informing him about his life expectancy should he be anything but good to his daughter. Odvan wisely intended not to put that to the test, anyone tough enough to survive a year as a Thalmor prisoner was after all not to be trifled with.

The sun had set, a silence fell over the Redoubt. It took an hour or so, but eventually the entire redoubt was pitch black as Ti’alma began the work involved in lighting the fire. While she usually didn’t hold to the use of anything plant-related, she did made an exception concerning fires (as long as the wood wasn’t indigenous to Valenwood obviously, not that she would usually light fires for any other reason than to cook food on them). When the first sparks came a small fire slowly began to build up, Ti’alma slowly added fuel until at last, the fire was sure to last the night.

The shaman began speaking, “I call upon the Old Gods to be a witness to this union. Who speaks for Odvan son of Deirde of Lost Valley?”

Madanach stood up, “I stand for Odvan, by my right as King of the Reach.”

“Who stands for Tirana Almaris De Agnis of Valenwood?” the Shaman now asked. “I do”, Tiberius answered, “by my right as a father.” His talk with Madanach had eventually reached the subject of Reach wedding traditions after all, and he had informed the shaman that as far as he was concerned, Ti’alma had a right to use the family name.

“Odvan”, the Shaman continued, “will you take Tirana Almaris De Agnis to be your wife, raising your swords in her defense, until the Void takes you?”

“I do”, Odvan answered.

“Tirana Almaris, will you take Odvan son of Deirdre to be your husband, raising your swords in his defense, until the Void takes you?”

“I do”, Ti’alma answered.

“Remember that the Old Gods are witness”, the shaman warned, “they will hold you to your words. You have one last chance to change your answers, do you hold to your answers?”

After both Ti’alma and Odvan had answered they kept their first answers, the shaman closed the ritual.

Tiberius couldn’t help having mixed feeling when he saw his youngest daughter and her new husband heading off towards a sleeping mat.

“I do hope she won’t come to regret this”, he remarked softly, mostly to himself.

Madanach, having heard this, answered, “I can understand it if you wouldn’t trust my word on this, but Odvan is a good man. Yes, he is a warrior and he has killed, but remember this. Ulfric’s Nords killed his father when they sacked Markarth, which was just one of too many casualties. And for what? To take back a land which was never theirs in the first place?”

Glad to be distracted, Tiberius answered, “you do know that you need Nords on your side if you would ever truly want to retake the Reach.”

“I know”, Madanach answered, “we do have some Nord sympathizers, mostly the relatives of the Nords who were killed by Ulfric’s men, but it’s true that we need more of them.”

Ti’alma and Odvan had in the mean time reached a sleeping mat.

“Are you sure you are ready?” Odvan asked, not wanting to force Ti’alma. “It’s going to hurt doesn’t it?” Ti’alma asked, suddenly a bit afraid.

“It will”, Odvan replied truthfully.

“Thank you”, Ti’alma answered, actually feeling less afraid now, “for being honest. I suppose I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”

Odvan lowered himself next to his new wife and softly kissed her. Ti’alma returned the kiss, timid at first, but she quickly deepened the kiss. Ti’alma had no illusions about being the first ever to be with Odvan, the short time she had spent among his people had already shown her that Forsworn teens were quite open concerning their sex lives, it was doubtful they would even have more than a handful of virgins in their camps at that

While they kissed, Odvan slowly undid the bindings on Ti’alma’s armor while Ti’alma tried to do the same with his. Ti’alma was still fiddling with Odvan’s armor when a sudden cold made her forget all about it.

“Yff’re”, Ti’alma called out, breaking of the kiss, “how did you get your hands so …”

When Odvan’s right hand slid down between her legs, Ti’alma didn’t think off speaking.

“No one said you could only use destruction magic as a weapon”, Odvan answered nonetheless, before kissing Ti’alma again. A lot more aggressive than before, Ti’alma returned the kiss once again.

Having grasped that Ti’alma would never be able to take off his armor, at least not while his hand was between her legs, Odvan stopped for a moment.

“Hey”, Ti’alma objected actually having enjoyed it thus far, “don’t stop.”

“We have the whole night”, Odvan replied, “and longer if you want, but now I would really like to get out of this armor.”

Together they did manage to take off Odvan’s armor at the end.

“Now”, Odvan said, “where were we?”

Ti’alma, having liked it before clearly being an understatement, grasped his hand and pulled it down. Odvan could hardly object to this and recommenced.

Chapter Text

It took about a week, but eventually Delphine and the Forsworn Madanach had lend her had returned with Esbern, who immediately recognized Tiberius at that.

“Tiberius De Agnis I never thought to see your face again”, Esbern remarked, quite glad to have another familiar face around (apart from the elvish ears that is, Tiberius still hadn’t come around to having his ears changed back to their natural form after all).

“To be honest”, Tiberius replied, “you have the Thalmor to thank for that. When they captured me, the Thalmor brought me to their most skilled torturer, trying to find out how I remained undetected all this time. The amulet was safe with my daughter luckily, which means the enchantment is still usable.”

“Wait”, Delphine asked, “you mean Esbern was the one who created the enchantments we used to hide our operatives in Thalmor territory?”

“Yes, I was”, Esbern replied, “it’s not as if you didn’t know I was the best enchanter at Cloud Ruler isn’t it?”

“I suppose it makes sense”, Delphine admitted.

In the mean time, Madanach had arrived as well. “You are the Blades Dragon expert?” he asked.

“I am”, Esbern replied, “who might you be at that?”

“I am Madanach”, Madanach answered quite straightforward.

“Sweet T… Akatosh”, Esbern replied, “you are the Forsworn king.”

“I am”, Madanach agreed, ignoring the fact that Esbern clearly meant to say Talos at first before changing it quickly to a deity the forsworn didn’t dislike.

“And I would like to know how to put an end to those dragons”, Madanach continued, “we can’t use those things in the Reach.”

“I don’t know how to end them”, Esbern admitted, before quickly continuing, “I do however know how to find the information.”

“Do tell”, Madanach interrupted.

“The ancient Akaviri had a temple near Karthspire”, Esbern continued.

“Which no one can enter”, Madanach interrupted, clearly having tried to at one time.

“A dragonborn can enter”, Esbern replied, “the gate is sealed and can only be opened with the blood of a dragonborn. Inside, the Akaviri wrote down everything they knew about dragons on a wall: Alduin’s Wall.”

“Kaie”, Madanach yelled. When his daughter had arrived, he continued speaking, “you have the camp, tomorrow I will depart for Karthspire. The Blades, Odvan and Borkul will accompany me.”

“You’re not going without me”, Ti’alma interrupted.

“I wasn’t planning to”, Madanach answered, “I was quite convinced you would follow Odvan and the Blades anyhow.” Ti’alma could hardly dispute that.

The next day, the small group departed for Karthspire, Madanach clearly ignoring the twenty or so forsworn warriors who had (on Kaie’s orders) decided to travel towards Karthspire as well (just a few hundred strides to the left of Madanach’s group).

“Odvan”, Madanach asked after a while, he hadn’t wanted to ask it in the middle of one of his camps, “do you by any chance know why your mother wanted Ti’alma to stay alive?”

“I’m not sure”, Odvan admitted, before turning towards Ti’alma, “she said you had a vital role to play. My mother often has these premonitions, mostly quite vague at that, I doubt she could tell you what kind of role you would play and in what.”

“What kind of premonitions?” Tiberius asked intrigued.

“Sometimes she just knows things”, Odvan answered, before starting a better explanation, “my family used to own the apothecary in Markarth. Weeks before the Stormcloak attacked Markarth, my mother began telling everyone Nords would come. No one took it serious, just the harmless ramblings of a witch, they thought. Father was about the only one who believed her, but even he didn’t take it serious enough to act upon. He said that even if the Nords would take back Markarth, no one with any brain would attack the storeowners.”

“Eventually the Stormcloak came, proving mother right”, Odvan continued, “mother and I were outside Markarth gathering plants, father and my ten year old sister, Moira, were inside the city walls. When the defenders of Markarth fell, mother used her illusion magic to get us inside undetected. She wanted to get father and Moira out of the city as soon as possible. When we came to our store, we noticed someone the door had been unhinged. Once inside, we found Moira and father, butchered by the damn Stormcloaks. We left the city and took refuge in one of the camps. Once there, mother began to train not just healing and illusion magic, as she had before, but destruction magic and eventually she ascended as a hagraven, taking over command of the camp.”

“She still sees things from time to time, sometimes the visions are quite clear, but most of the time it’s more like a feeling. But whatever the kind, they all proved correct in the end. So when my mother said I would meet a young half elf and that it was vital to keep her alive, I knew better than to ignore her”, Odvan finished.

“I never heard those warnings”, Madanach remarked.

“You can blame that one on your guards”, Odvan answered, “mother wanted to warn you in person, but your guards told her not to waste your time and sent her away.”

They had almost reached the Karthspire camp when they saw a dragon sweeping down on the camp. When Madanach began slinging firebolts at the dragon, the dragon quickly turned towards the group. Esbern summoned a frost atronach after which he began slinging frost magic. Ti’alma and Delphine began firing arrows at the beast while Tiberius and Odvan opened a barrage of shock magic. Kaie’s twenty forsworn gave up the pretense of travelling alone and opened fire at the dragon as well.

When this barrage was reinforced by the Karthspire hagraven and her forsworn, the dragon wasn’t able to stay airborne much longer. Enraged, it swept down at Madanach (who was after all the first one to attack it), Borkul fearlessly swung his greatsword at the dragon’s neck, decapitating the beast in one mighty haw. The Karthspire forsworn now approached the newcomers.

“To what do we owe your presence?” the hagraven asked, quite civil for a hagraven at that, having recognized Madanach.

“To the dragons”, Madanach answered, “and while I believe it best to discuss this in the camp, I suggest you watch here for a while, because what’s going to happen is the main reason of our coming here.”

“What is …”, the hagraven began asking before noticing the light forming around the dragon and slowly moving towards Odvan.

“What in Oblivion was that?” one of the Karthspire forsworn couldn’t help himself asking.

After having looked at him disapprovingly, the hagraven spoke, “while Nevan was most certainly speaking out of turn, I do want an answer to his question.”

“Esbern”, Madanach ordered, “you are the expert here, you can tell her. But first we are going to enter the camp.”

The group now entered the Karthspire camp.

Not exactly having a choice, Esbern began speaking once they were seated, “from time to time, Akatosh chooses a mortal as his mortal instrument. This mortal will be born with two souls in his or her body, a mortal soul and a dragon soul. We call these mortals dragonborn, a dragonborn is the only one able to permanently kill a dragon by absorbing its soul.”

“While that is quite useful”, the hagraven interrupted, “that still doesn’t explain why a bunch of Blades are escorted to my camp by our king.” Clearly the hagraven had also recognized the katanas for what they were.

“the order of the Blades comes from the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard”, Delphine answered, “our mission has always been to find and protect dragonborns and to hunt down dragons. Tiber Septim and his heirs were dragonborns, which is why we acted as Imperial bodyguards during their reign.”

“The reason we came here”, Esbern continued, “is because the Akaviri wrote down their knowledge about dragons on a great wall carving inside the temple. Odvan, being dragonborn, is the only one able to open the doors.”

“I suppose you are aware that Deirdre will probably try to use Odvan having such a power against you”, the hagraven warned, apparently having decided to help.

“I know Orla”, Madanach answered, “but I can assure you that no one, including Odvan himself, wants Odvan to replace me.”

“I don’t suppose you want to explain why they wouldn’t?” Orla the hagraven asked.

“Because no one wants a Reach King with a Blade as a father-in-law”, Madanach answered, “not even if Deirdre herself has said that Ti’alma here will have an important role to play.”

Clearly not really liking the Lost Valley hagraven, Orla began laughing. “So you haven’t lost your touch”, she declared, “you have Karthspire’s support.” Turning towards the rest of the group, she continued, “you are invited to dine in the camp, it’s better to face the traps inside with a full stomach after all.”

Madanach accepted the invitation and half an hour later, Madanach and the Druadach group were eating together with most Karthspire forsworn (the lookouts would obviously eat afterwards).

At first Ti’alma felt a bit uncomfortable during dinner, which was mostly due to the hagraven Orla insisting on Ti’alma sitting next to her. The fact that Orla freely admitted that most stories about hagravens were quite correct didn’t really help.

“I heard that bosmeri eat their fallen enemies”, Orla told Ti’alma, “is there any truth in that rumor?” Clearly Orla considered it an interesting tradition.

Ti’alma really didn’t want to have that conversation in front of her father, not that she felt ashamed of that particular bosmeri tradition, she just knew her father didn’t exactly felt comfortable with it (neither did Esbern and Delphine apparently, judging by their facial expression).

“That is a part of the Green Pact”, Ti’alma admitted, “the filthy Thalmor have forbidden it tough.”

“By which you mean, you bosmeri still do, but only if the Thalmor aren’t watching”, Orla replied.

“I would hope so”, Ti’alma admitted, having forgotten the fact that Esbern, Delphine, her father and basically everyone inside Karthspire were listening (the forsworn didn’t seem to find it disturbing dinner conversation tough), “it’s not because the Thalmor are a bunch of squeamish barbarians, that we should give up our traditions. And it’s not as if the dead still need their bodies anyhow.”

By this time, Esbern had completely lost his appetite, Ti’alma in the mean time had lost her distrust of the hagraven.

After they had finished eating, apart from Esbern who hadn’t been able to finish his dinner having lost his appetite, Madanach, Borkul, Odvan and the Blades went towards the temple. Ti’alma had decided to continue her conversation with Orla, especially since she knew her father and his fellow Blades would be staying in the temple for quite some time.

“How did you become a hagraven?” Ti’alma asked, a bit intrigued.

“you start by training yourself in magic, especially destruction and summoning are important”, Orla explained, “but I don’t think you would be able to, since I can’t detect much magicka with you.”

“Not that I want to become like you, but that doesn’t say much”, Ti’alma replied, “bosmeri only start building up magicka between their 30th and 40th year, as I am only half bosmer, I have no idea when I will start to.”

“I could try to find out”, the hagraven offered, “while it’s rare among hagravens, I’m quite good at healing magic. My specialty is detecting diseases, I think I can alter the spell sufficiently to be able to search for magicka traces.”

“What exactly would you do?” Ti’alma asked, not entirely trusting experimental magic being used on herself (then again, who would?).

“Basically, it’s a spell allowing ones inner eye to, well not exactly see, but that’s the closest thing I can think off”, Orla began explaining, “the original spell allows me to detect diseases and internal injuries, thereby allowing myself to heal more injuries with less magicka. Instead of traces of diseases, I will now check for traces of magicka. It’s perfectly safe, well as safe as anything which involves a hagraven using magic on you.” The hagraven now had a vicious grin on her face, clearly enjoying the reputation she and other hagravens had.

“Go on”, Ti’alma decided, clearly wanting to know it herself after all.

Orla didn’t wait long and began invoking her magic. “It might tickle a bit”, the hagraven mentioned, “it did so with many of my test subjects.”

She didn’t mention that the subjects were captured Nords and that those subjects had been experimented upon with far less benign spells as well.

“I think it’s working”, the hagraven mentioned after a few minutes, “no, wait, that’s something else. I’ll continue searching.”

Another minute later, Orla once again found something, “interesting, no it’s not magicka, but, let me see …”

“See what?” Ti’alma asked.

Orla didn’t immediately answer seemingly engrossed in her spell work.

“What did you find?” Ti’alma repeated.

“A source of magicka”, Orla answered, “but the thing is, it’s not yours. At least not entirely.”

“I’m not following”, Ti’alma replied not exactly seeing how that would be possible, “how can you find magicka in my body without it being mine?”

“Never mind”, Orla answered, “I’ll continue searching for your own magicka first.”

This time, the hagraven remained silent for more than five minutes, until she finally stopped casting, “I found it, the seed of you magicka is there, I think you will be able to access it in less than a year, it won’t be very powerful tough.”

“Never mind my magicka”, Ti’alma answered, “I want to know what you meant by there being magicka being inside me without it being mine.”

“Oh that”, the hagraven replied, “that’s only a baby growing, nothing important. Although, a partial bosmeri, partial imperial and partial reachman baby could be interesting. Wait, no experimenting on forsworn babies, that’s against the rules.”

Orla seemed to have completely forgotten Ti’alma still being there and would probably have continued talking to herself if Ti’alma didn’t choose that moment to speak again, “are you quite certain? I can’t be pregnant can I?”

“Of course I’m certain”, Orla answered a bit affronted, “I am quite able to sense such things, she is going to be a mighty witch, maybe she’ll even be stronger then I one day.”

The hagraven wandered off, excitingly talking to herself, leaving Ti’alma standing a bit shocked.

Chapter Text

It took a while, but eventually Ti’alma was sufficiently recovered from the sudden shock to at least come to her senses and realize she should at least inform Odvan and her father. One of the Karthspire forsworn volunteered to show Ti’alma the way (most of them were quite capable to reach the seal after all), it didn’t take long for Ti’alma to reach the inner temple. Where she immediately saw Madanach and Esbern busily studying the great wall carving which futured prominently.

She approached Borkul, who was clearly not interested in the carving but standing guard over Madanach anyhow, “where are the others?”

Borkul pointed her back to a room next to the entrance of the hall, “there is an armory over there. Your father, Delphine and Odvan grew bored of listening to Esbern discussing that carving. I can’t say I blame them.”

After thanking the orsimer, who was actually quite glad to be distracted from the two old men who continued discussing the wall, Ti’alma went to the armory.

“Why are you so obsessed with that sword?” Ti’alma heard Odvan asking once inside the armory, “there are loads of swords with shock enchantments aren’t there.”

“That’s not the special part”, Tiberius explained, “it has a shock enchantment against regular opponents, but it also has an enchantment especially deadly against dragons.”

“That could be handy”, Ti’alma remarked, entering the armory, “but that’s not why I came. Delphine, could you please leave us for a few minutes, what I have to say is personal.”

“I’ll check whether Esbern and Madanach have already found the necessary information on the carving”, Delphine decided, leaving the armory. And giving them some privacy

“Orla, the hagraven, told me she could try and find out when I would be able to use magic”, Ti’alma began.

“you didn’t take her up on her offer did you?” Tiberius replied, “hagravens aren’t to be trusted, I believe she even said so herself.”

“She wouldn’t harm me”, Ti’alma answered, “Odvan’s mother has stated that I will do something important, Orla might not like her, but she doesn’t act against premonitions.”

“So you did take her up on her offer”, Tiberius concluded, “but that’s not what you want to talk to us about is is? When you would be able to use magic is not exactly something you’d want to discuss in private after all.”

“It isn’t”, Ti’alma agreed, “it didn’t take long for Orla to find magicka, but the thing is, it wasn’t mine.”

“How can you have magicka without it being yours?” Odvan asked.

“I asked the same thing”, Ti’alma answered, “she said I am pregnant and the magicka is the baby’s.”

“According to a hagraven”, Tiberius replied, not exactly trusting anything which came out of a hagraven’s mouth, “I would like to check that for myself.”

Tiberius began casting his own magic and it didn’t take long for him to conclude the hagraven was right, “Talos, a granddaughter.”

“You’re sure it’s a girl?” Odvan asked.

“Orla said the same”, Ti’alma answered, “she said she would one day be a mighty witch, stronger than her.”

“Then she will be a force to reckon with”, Odvan proudly stated, “Orla is the strongest magician in the Reach after all. It will be a pleasure to teach our daughter.”

“I do hope so”, Tiberius agreed, clearly liking the idea of a granddaughter, “we do have to take care of a few problems first tough.”

“What kind of problems?” Odvan asked. Actually he already knew it, because they had been discussing it a bit earlier (even without the news about the pregnancy).

“Well”, Tiberius answered, “my daughter insisted on carrying a katana, we can’t have her just swinging it at her opponents, can we? Especially not if we want her to stay alive long enough to give birth.”

“No, we really can’t”, Odvan agreed, after which Tiberius pulled his own katana.

“Take your sword”, Tiberius ordered his daughter. “You want to spar now?” Ti’alma protested, clearly not exactly in the mood.

“A fight can come when you least expect it”, Tiberius answered, “now is as good a time as any, now attack me.”

Ti’alma eventually gave in and swung her katana at her father, who easily sidestepped it and quickly disarmed her.

“Again”, he ordered.

She was quickly disarmed a few more time, when Tiberius turned to Odvan, “what is her mistake?”

“She thinks too much”, Odvan replied, “in a true fight, you can’t permit yourself to think.”

“That’s one mistake, the other one is that you still think as the blade as a tool”, Tiberius taught, “the blade isn’t a tool, it is an extension of your own body. Don’t wield the blade, be the blade.”

“I don’t even have a clue what that even means”, Ti’alma protested.

“Odvan, could you take a spare katana and slowly swing it at me, the same way Ti’alma did?” Tiberius asked.

Odvan took a katana and did as asked.

“First mistake”, Tiberius said, “you overreached and lost your balance, allowing me to use your own movements to take away the blade.”

Tiberius slowly demonstrated how exactly he had disarmed Ti’alma the first time.

“The next time”, Tiberius continued, as Odvan slowly showed how Ti’alma swung the second time, “your angle of attack was a bit off, allowing me to deflect the strike and using the gained momentum to once again disarm.”

Delphine returned and took over Odvan’s task (she was after all more at ease with a katana). Tiberius now began showing her some basic Akaviri moves, asking Ti’alma to repeat them.

“Keep on practicing”, Tiberius told his daughter, “it will take months, but eventually, you should be able to perform these moves without thinking.”

After a small hour, Tiberius stopped the training, “we will have a new practice tomorrow morning and evening, in fact every morning and evening you are here.”

After Ti’alma had washed herself, having been sweating a lot. They left the armoury and headed towards Esbern and Madanach, who seemed to have found the answer they were searching for.

“Now you finally deigned fit to leave that armoury”, Esbern said, “you can see here how the Tongues of old managed to defeat Alduin the first time. They managed to use a thu’um against Alduin, allowing them to beat him.”

“Does it also mention which shout I need to use?” Odvan asked.

“It doesn’t”, Esbern confessed, “but if anyone still knows, it will be the Greybeards.”

“The Greybeards are nothing but trouble”, Delphine objected, “you should stay as far from them as possible.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have that luxury”, Esbern replied, “Odvan needs to know that shout, and if the Greybeards don’t know it, then who would?”

“Then I see no choice”, Odvan concluded, “I must return to High Hrothgar.”

“I’m coming with you”, Ti’alma proclaimed.

“Not in that armor”, Tiberius objected, seeing that Ti’alma intended to leave like that, “neither of you would even get close to High Hrothgar wearing forsworn armour.”

“He has a point”, Madanach agreed, having kept himself out of the discussion earlier, “there is some Nord armour in Karthspire camp, tell Orla I told you to borrow some of it.”

After having changed into less noticeable armor, Ti’alma and Odvan left towards High Hrothgar.

Chapter Text

“Someone’s talking to himself over there”, Ti’alma whispered, having a slightly better hearing due to her bosmeri blood, “I want to know what he’s saying, it might be interesting.”

Since it wasn’t that much of a bother to sneak closer and listen, Odvan decided to go along with it.

“Cicero should have stabbed him, mother”, the stranger could be heard talking to the coffin in the cart, “selling an inferior cart to Cicero. How will poor Cicero ever reach the sanctuary like this?”

“What is he talking about?” Ti’alma quietly asked Odvan.

The stranger, Cicero, seemed to have heard this unfortunately, “who sneaks up on poor Cicero!”

Odvan quickly acted, but strangely enough not by pulling his swords or invoking magic, “the forsworn have no quarrel with the sons and daughters of Sithis.”

This seemed to have surprised Cicero sufficiently to stay his blade for the moment.

“We wanted to know what was going on, but we didn’t trust you”, Odvan explained (not entirely truthful, but then again, it would have been stupid to admit they wanted to eavesdrop on Cicero).

“If the coffin on that cart contains who I think it contains, then it is my duty as a follower of the Old Gods to assist you”, Odvan continued, “Sithis is one of the Old Gods after all.”

“Who is Sithis?” Ti’alma asked confused.

“Sithis is the Dread Father”, Odvan explained, when that still drew a blank, Odvan continued, “the personification of death.”

“Then I agree it’s best not to get on his bad side”, Ti’alma answered, “what can we do to help?”

“We can start by checking out what exactly is wrong with the cart”, Odvan decided.

Clearly not entirely trusting Odvan and Ti’alma (the feeling was mutual though, as it was quite clear Cicero was blessed by Sheogorath), Cicero did allow Odvan and Ti’alma to approach the cart.

“The axis is broken”, Odvan noticed, “is there somewhere we could …”

“Someone’s coming”, Ti’alma interrupted, “maybe they can help?”

“Maybe they can”, Odvan agreed, “I think it’s best that I do the talking.”

Cicero, Ti’alma and Odvan waited upon the newcomers to arrive, it proved to be a big Nord with a greatsword on his back and a smaller woman armed with two longswords.

“Excuse me”, Odvan spoke once the newcomers were within range, “do you by any chance know anything about repairing carts?”

“We’re Companions of Jorrvaskr”, the man answered, clearly not wanting to help, “we are on a job and we really don’t have the time.”

The woman objected to that, “you can’t just leave them there like that, we are supposed to help people Farkas.”

“We are warriors, not carpenters Ria”, Farkas replied. “Would that by any chance be Rhiannon De Agnis?” Odvan asked, having noticed the similarities between Ria and Ti’alma and only grasping the truth after hearing the name.

It took some time for Ria to answer. “It’s Ria, I hate being called Rhiannon. But yes, that’s me. How did you know?” she finally answered, “I’m quite sure I never saw you in my life after all.”

“The girl looks like you”, Farkas mentioned, having grasped he wouldn’t get what he wanted (basically, leaving immediately) and therefore having taking a closer look at Ti’alma, Odvan and Cicero.

“What does a bosmeri girl looking like me have to do with anything?” Ria replied to Farkas.

“Everything”, Ti’alma answered, now realizing she stood before her sister, “Tiberius De Agnis is one of the Blades …” “Was”, Ria interrupted, “he disappeared during the war.” “He didn’t dissapear”, Ti’alma answered, “he was send as an agent into Valenwood.”

“And how exactly would you know that?” Ria remarked, “unless bosmeri age vastly slower than humans, you were barely even born at the time of my father’s disappearance.”

“Because he told me”, Ti’alma answered, “he’s my father too, you can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me. He’s in …”

“Sorry, but I really need a word with Ti’alma”, Odvan interrupted, when they were outside of human hearing range, he began speaking to Ti’alma, “I can assure you that sending two Companions, even if one is your sister, to Karthspire camp is a really bad idea. They wouldn’t survive it, and while I won’t have a problem with the Nord dying, I think you would prefer your sister not to.”

“I’ll make sure your father will leave a message at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood”, Odvan told Ria once they had returned to Ria and Farkas, “then you can arrange a meeting place between yourselves, it wouldn’t be safe for you to know the location of the Blades base.”

“Especially if it’s in a forsworn camp”, Farkas softly murmured, to soft for anyone apart from Ti’alma to even hear he spoke, she didn’t understand the words though.

“Farkas wasn’t it?” Ti’alma remarked, “did you know that bosmeri have exceptional hearing, I might only be half bosmeri, but I still couldn’t help hearing you murmur something. I’m not sure about human customs, but in Valenwood that would be considered quite rude.”

“Nothing”, Farkas answered, having decided he and Ria would be taking a look in Karthspire as soon as possible.

“Can someone help poor Cicero, I can never get mother home like this”, Cicero interrupted, having zero intention of continuing the ongoing conversation.

“Does anyone actually know anything about carts?” Odvan asked, wanting to get Cicero on the road as soon as possible (even if it was just that while he didn’t have a problem with Sithis, he didn’t feel comfortable enough around one of Sithis’ people to want staying around).

“I make a point not to learn too much about anything which requires butchering plants”, Ti’alma answered.

“Do I look like a carpenter?” Farkas asked.

Ria didn’t answer but kneeled down near the cart. “You only need a new axis”, she said after a while, “Farkas, why don’t you and … What is your name again?”

“He’s Odvan”, Ti’alma replied, when Odvan didn’t immediately answer (thereby confirming to Farkas that Odvan was in fact a forsworn, a reachmen name combined with mentioning Karthspire camp was a rather big clue after all).

Already knowing Cicero’s name, due to Cicero’s habit of speaking in third person, Ria began her original sentence over new, “why don’t Farkas and Odvan go to the farm a mile eastwards? I’m quite sure they can get you a new axis for the cart. If you bring it here, then I can probably repair the cart.”

While both clearly distrusting each other, the one for being a Nord and the other for being a Forsworn, Farkas and Odvan did agree to head off towards the farm.

“I suppose the Thalmor found out about father”, Ria asked, for now at least accepting the chance that Ti’alma really was her sister.

“They did”, Ti’alma answered, before telling most of her story (she did remember in time not to mention the whole forsworn angle).

“You really didn’t know anything about it until then?” Ria asked surprised, “how did you get that message.”

Ti’alma took her amulet, “when I wear it, this amulet makes magicians think I’m a full bosmer. But that’s not everything about it, with an arcane enchanter I could unlock a message magically hidden on it. To say I was shocked was quite an understatement.”

“I can believe that”, Ria answered.

Farkas and Odvan returned after a while, with a new axis.

“Can you lift the cart?” Ria asked, “then I can take off the aft wheels.”

Farkas almost reached the cart in order to manually lift it, when Odvan invoked his magic.

“I can’t hold this very long, so hurry”, Odvan warned.

Ria and Farkas quickly managed to remove the wheels and the broken axis.

Afterwards, Farkas put his shoulder under the cart, “you can stop your spell, I can hold it for now.”

Following Ria’s instructions, they eventually managed to connect the new axis and the wheels to the cart. By the time they were finished, both Farkas and Odvan were quite exhausted. They had switched between Farkas manually lifting and Odvan magically doing the same every few minutes (in order to be able to, many stamina and magicka potions were emptied between the two)

“The new axis should hold”, Ria promised Cicero.

“We must go now”, Farkas now said, “that werewolf could be making new victims.”

“You’re right”, Ria accepted (knowing fully well Farkas was the only werewolf present) before promising Ti’alma, “we’ll pass through Riverwood on our way back and leave a message as Odvan said.”

Farkas and Ria left.

“Don’t look back”, Ti’alma heard Farkas whispering from a distance, “but that Odvan is most certainly a forsworn.”

“They know you’re a Forsworn”, Ti’alma told Odvan, “I heard that Farkas whispering so to Ria.”

“Cicero could kill them”, Cicero suggested.

“That’s my sister”, Ti’alma objected, “you leave her alone.” “Cicero could also not kill them”, Cicero answered, “Cicero must be on his way after all, mother must go to the Sanctuary.”

“One thing I’ve been meaning to ask you”, Odvan told Cicero before he could leave, “why did the Black Sacrament stop working?”

“Mother still hears”, Cicero decided to answer, “but she doesn’t speak, we haven’t found the listener.”

“You mean the corpse you are transporting can speak”, Ti’alma asked surprised.

“Yes, that is the case”, a voice answered, “but I only speak to the listener, and now I’ve found her. Tell Cicero this, ‘Darkness rises when silence dies’, he will know the meaning.”

“Darkness what?” Ti’alma asked.

“No one said anything about darkness”, Odvan replied.

“Darkness rises when silence dies”, the voice repeated.

“Darkness rises when silence dies”, Ti’alma said, “now what does that mean.”

“Mother spoke to you”, Cicero gleefully exclaimed, understanding what had happened, “we’ve finally found a new listener.”

“A what?” Ti’alma asked not entirely certain

“What do you know about the Dark Brotherhood?” Odvan asked her.

“You perform the black sacrament and then they murder someone”, Ti’alma explained, “father doesn’t like them.”

“He wouldn’t”, Odvan agreed, “the Blades once lost an emperor to assassin knives after all. But then again, your father doesn’t like certain aspects of the Green Pact either doesn’t he?”

“No, he doesn’t”, Ti’alma agreed, “now what’s a listener?”

“The Night Mother, she is the one in the coffin, hears the Black Sacrament. She then communicates this to the Listener who will send a Dark Brother or Sister to the client. The client will agree upon a price and the Dark Brother or Sister will take down the target”, Odvan explained, “that’s about it, isn’t it Cicero?”

“Cicero thinks you know much”, Cicero replied, “maybe too much.”

“There was a time when the Dark Brotherhood was quite close to us”, Odvan remarked, “until the Black Sacrament stopped working that is.”

“Cicero may have heard something about that”, Cicero agreed. “Cicero must go and tell Astrid at the Falkreath Sanctuary to send someone to Aventus Aretino in Windhelm”, the Night Mother began speaking once again, “so begins a contract drawn in blood.”

“She said someone named Astrid should send someone to Aventus Aretino in Windhelm”, Ti’alma told Cicero, “and something about a contract drawn in blood.”

“You wouldn’t survive if you went with Cicero now”, the Night Mother continued, “so go with Odvan for now. But when you return to Karthspire camp, you must tell Orla to guide you to the Falkreath Sanctuary, she was once one of mine and she will keep you alive. If she refuses, repeat the sentence you told Cicero, ‘Darkness rises when silence dies’ she will also know the meaning.”

“She said that when we return to Karthspire, I should ask Orla to travel with me to the Falkreath sanctuary”, Ti’alma told Odvan and Cicero, “she said Orla was once one of hers.”

“Cicero was wondering”, Cicero said, “who is Orla?”

“Orla is the Matriarch of Karthspire camp”, Odvan explained, “a hagraven.”

“Cicero has never seen a hagraven”, Cicero remarked, “but Cicero wants to leave now.”

Cicero left towards the Falkreath Sanctuary, not entirely driving in a straight line (due to the fact that he was sort of dancing behind the reins out of pure joy). Thoughtful, Odvan and Ti’alma left once again for High Hrothgar, Ti’alma has obviously already realized she could never tell her father about the Dark Brotherhood. He just wouldn’t understand.

Chapter Text

“Those weren’t 7000 steps”, Ti’alma remarked, having reached the monastery of High Hrothgar, “at most a thousand steps.”

“I don’t think you are supposed to take that literally”, Odvan suggested, “maybe the ancient Nords had a thing about 7000?”

“That could be it”, Ti’alma agreed.

Odvan knocked on the door and a few minutes later, they opened. “They are magically sealed”, he explained, “they can only be opened by the Greybeards.”

“A bit like Sky Haven which only a dragonborn could open?”

“That’s about it”, Odvan replied, “but I wouldn’t mention it here, they have something against Blades, I still don’t know what exactly.”

A greybeard approached Odvan and Ti’alma and motioned for them to follow him. “Most of them don’t speak”, Odvan explained.

They quickly reached Arngeir, “welcome Dragonborn.” Arngeir did look a bit distrusting when he noticed Ti’alma’s sword.

“Ti’alma is not a Blade”, Odvan mentioned, “she just happens to carry one of their swords.” Arngeir still didn’t entirely trust it, but Odvan decided to ask what he came for anyhow. “When Alduin was first defeated”, he said, “a shout was used, I need that shout.”

“The thu’um you are referring is evil”, Arngeir objected, “it has no place in the Way of the Voice.”

“That might be true”, Odvan replied, “but I can’t defeat Alduin without it, if you know the shout, you must tell me.”

“We don’t know this shout”, Arngeir answered, “like I said, it has no place in the Way of the Voice.” Arngeir was silent for a while, before making a decision, “it’s time you met our leader, Paarthurnax, if anyone can help you, it is him. Follow.”

Arngeir and the other Greybeards exited the monastery through the back doors. Arngeir pointed towards a path reaching even higher, “this is the only road to the Throat of the World, but it is impossible to reach it like that. Borri will teach you the Thu’um required to reach the top.”

Borri walked forward and shouted at the ground, 3 dragon words appeared on the ground, which Odvan quickly absorbed.

“Now Borri will teach you the deeper meaning of the words.” Ti’alma saw a light, similar to the one she could see when a dragon died, leaving Borri and enveloping Odvan.

“As you can see”, Arngeir explained, “there is an icy wind on the road. It is impossible to travel through it and survive, that’s why you need the Clear Skies Thu’um. It will temporarily stop the wind, you will have to repeat the Thu’um farther down the road though.” Odvan thanked the greybeards, after which Odvan and Ti’alma began the long climb. Arngeir’s warning about the icy wind proved true, as Odvan was forced time and time again to shout it away.

“How can this Paarthurnax survive up here, all by himself”, Ti’alma wondered aloud, “the only shelter up here is that curved wall.”

“That’s indeed quite strange”, Odvan agreed, “maybe his shelter is hidden somehow?”

“I don’t require any shelter”, a deep voice answered, Odvan and Ti’alma both turned towards the sound.

“You’re a dragon”, Ti’alma sputtered.

“An astute observation”, the dragon replied.

“There’s no need to mock”, Ti’alma protested (almost forgetting the fact that she was speaking to a giant fire-breathing lizard, not that it was currently breathing fire).

“I wasn’t mocking little one”, the dragon replied, “but I believe that by now you are aware who I am.”

“You’re Paarthurnax”, Odvan had realized.

“I am”, Paarthurnax answered, “but where are my manners, there are formalities when two of the Dov meet, by tradition the elder one speaks first. Match my shout and prove for ever more that you are of the Dov. YOL! TOOR! SHULL!” Paarthurnax breathed fire towards the empty word wall. Odvan approached the wall and quickly absorbed the first word of the shout, Paarthurnax now gave him the deeper meaning of the shout. “Now greet me in the way of the Dov”, Paarthurnax said.

“YOL”, Odvan shouted at the old dragon. Fire flew towards Paarthurnax.

“Aaaah yes”, Paarthurnax replied, “Sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind. I have expected you, prodah. You would not come all this way for the pleasure of tinvaak with an old dovah. No, you seek your weapon against Alduin.”

“How did you know I came for the shout?” Odvan asked “Alduin komeyt tiid. What else would you seek? Alduin and the Dovahkiin return together”, Paarthurnax answered, “but, I do not know the thu’um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me. Your kind, joorre, the mortals, created it as a weapon against the dov, the dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds, cannot even comprehend the concepts.”

“So you’re saying we came all the way up here for nothing”, Ti’alma interrupted intending to start on the way back down the mountain.

“Your mate is impatient”, Paarthurnax replied, “I have one question for you. Why do you want to learn this thu’um?”

“If Alduin isn’t stopped”, Odvan answered, “my people will never be able to retake our lands, our daughter won’t have a chance to live.”

“Pruzah. As good a reason as any”, Paarthurnax replied, “but even we who fly on the winds of time, can’t see past its end. Those who try to hasten its end, may delay it and those who work to delay the end, may bring it closer.”

“But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough” Paarthurnax continued, “Krosis. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven, that what you name the Throat of the World?”

“You like mountains?” Ti’alma suggested, “I prefer forests myself.”

A deep laugh could be heard coming from the old dragon, “I do like mountains, but few now remember that this was the very spot where Alduin was defeated by the ancient Tongues. Vahrukt unslaad, perhaps none but me now remember how he was defeated.”

“By using the shout you say you don’t know”, Ti’alma answered, “right?”

“Yes and no”, Paarthurnax replied, “viik nuz ni kron. Alduin was not truly defeated either. If he was, you wouldn’t be here, seeking to defeat him. The Nords of these days used the Dragonrend shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the kel, the Elder Scroll. They used it to cast him adrift on the currents of time.”

“Figures”, Odvan remarked, “I Nords have never been known for their good sense.”

“It wasn’t intentionally”, Paarthurnax defended his old friends, “some hoped he would be gone forever, forever lost. Meyye, I knew better, tiid bo amative. Time flows ever onward, one day he would surface. Which is why I have lived here, for thousands of mortal years I have waited. I knew where he would emerge, but not when.”

“You obviously didn’t manage to stop him”, Odvan remarked, “so let me ask this, how does all this help me?”

“Tiid krent”, Paarthurnax answered, “time was, shattered by what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that kel, Elder Scroll, back here, to the Tiid Ahraan, the Time wound. With the Elder Scroll that was used to break time, you might be able to cast yourself back, to the other end of the break.”

“Where the original tongues could teach Odvan the shout”, Ti’alma grasped, “where is this Elder Scroll?”

“Krosis. I now little of what passed below in the long years I have lived here, you are likely better informed than I”, Paarthurnax answered.

“Orla might know”, Odvan considered, “she travelled far outside the reach once, I think we should head back to Karthspire.” He turned towards Paarthurnax, “how long does Feim remain active? I only have the one word.”

“Not long enough to jump all the way down the mountain”, Paarthurnax answered, “especially not if you take someone with you. You could however jump and invoke the shout close to the ground, it doesn’t work immediately though, so you might still not survive.”

“I trust you”, Ti’alma assured Odvan, “and Sithis needs me alive anyhow.”

“You’re right”, Odvan agreed, after which they jumped, hand in hand, from the mountain. The fall went quite fast, Odvan managed to get a ward up to cushion the fall a bit. About a hundred feet above the ground, he shouted, “Feim.” Allowing the two of them to land without harming themselves.

After having recovered from the peculiar sensation, Ti’alma finally noticed the fact they were quite close to a city.

“That’s Whiterun”, Odvan knew, “I prefer not to go inside tough, too many Nords.”

“We don’t have to”, Ti’alma replied, “it would only keep us away from Karthspire that much longer, not that I want to reach it too soon, we will go our separate ways over there after all.”

Chapter Text

“What happened here?” Odvan asked the first person he met, almost feeling the tension hanging in the air.

“You should head on to the temple”, the woman answered (which didn’t really explain anything).

Still not really knowing anything at all, Ti’alma and Odvan entered the Blades temple anyhow. Inside they came across a most unusual group sitting at the table. Orla, Madanach and half a dozen forsworn at the one side, Farkas and Ria (disarmed) at the other and the Blades in between.

“How did you?” Ti’alma asked surprised.

“Farkas overheard you mentioning Karthspire”, Ria answered before Ti’alma had even finished her question (it was after all clear enough what she meant), “we, well actually I wanted some answers and we thought we could get them faster by taking a peek at the Karthspire camp. We would have gotten away with it if we didn’t meet that dragon on our way back. Anyhow, Farkas thought it would bring great glory to the Companions if we managed to slay a dragon, so we attacked the beast. We weren’t the only ones to have spotted it though.”

“We had seen the dragon circling around earlier”, Tiberius took over, “Delphine and I, together with Orla and some of her forsworn decided to take it down. We knew we wouldn’t be able to kill it indefinitely, but we could at least try to kill it for know so Odvan could finish the job when you would return.”

“Neither of us is a very good archer”, Ria admitted continuing the story, “so we barely even succeeded in harming the thing. We only succeeded in making the thing very angry.”

“We saw the dragon was otherwise occupied and decided to use that to our advantage”, Tiberius resumed, “as we began our own assault on the dragon, causing it to change its target and attack us. To prevent it attacking all of us at once, we spread ourselves around and continued our barrage. Unfortunately, we lost two men, but at the end the dragon was defeated. That’s when we found out who had been attacking the dragon earlier, it’s actually thanks to Orla that my oldest daughter and her companion are still alive at that.”

Farkas seemed like he would have preferred to forget that, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to owe his life to a hagraven.

“What happened to the dragon?” Ti’alma asked, having remembered that only Odvan could kill them permanently.

“I have cursed the remains”, Orla explained, “it won’t hold indefinitely, but for the time being, no one but myself can find it.”

“then you’ll have to guide me there as soon as possible”, Odvan realized, “but first I need to ask you something: do you know anyone who could help me track down a particular Elder Scroll? The only way, I can find the Dragonrend Shout is by seeing it done by the original Tongues. In order to do this, I need to read the Elder Scroll on the Throat of the World.”

“I like strong magic as much as anyone”, Orla replied, “but even I draw the line before tampering with Elder Scrolls. I would suggest travelling to the College of Winterhold, they might be stupid enough to actually work with them.”

“One other thing”, Ti’alma remarked, “I can’t travel with Odvan this time, can you find someone to travel with him.”

Orla looked at Farkas, “you don’t like to be indebted to one of my kind, I don’t particularly like having a Nord indebted to me either. Travel with Odvan until he knows the Dragonrend Shout and the debt is squared.”

“How about Ria?” Farkas asked, not entirely opposed to the idea of the debt being squared, “I won’t leave her here alone.”

“She will be safe”, Tiberius promised, “I might not have been there for her during her childhood, but she is still my daughter and she will be safe.”

“When you return”, Madanach promised, “you have my word that both of you can leave unharmed.”

Farkas eventually agreed, even if it was just because he didn’t want to let the world end either. Ria took a longer time convincing, but at the end she agreed as well (mostly because she would be able to stay in the Blades Temple and not in the Forsworn camp).

“Now that is arranged”, Tiberius asked, “why exactly can’t you go with Odvan?”

Ti’alma didn’t immediately answer. “Please don’t ask me father”, she finally said, “I just can’t tell it over here. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with the Green Pact.”

“Trust me”, Odvan continued, “you really don’t want to know.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fool we encountered on the road?” Ria asked.

“That man was clearly blessed by Sheogorath”, Ti’alma replied, “why by all the planes of Oblivion, would I follow him?”

“Matriarch Orla”, Ti’alma said in a successful attempt to end the conversation about the whole situation, “I need to speak with you in private, in the Camp.”

Orla locked eyes with Ti’alma for a while, before agreeing. Neither Tiberius nor Ti’alma were quite happy with the fact Ti’alma had decided she couldn’t tell him, but at the end, Tiberius didn’t follow Ti’alma and the hagraven outside. When they reached Orla’s altar, Orla put up some magical screens (to prevent anyone listening in).

“What exactly couldn’t you say in there?” Orla asked.

“I have a message for you”, Ti’alma answered, “I have to tell you this, ‘Darkness rises when Silence dies’ and you are to travel with me to the Falkreath Sanctuary.”

“On whose orders?” Orla asked, already having a hunch concerning the answer, but wanting it confirmed.

“The Night Mother”, Ti’alma answered, “but I’m quite sure you already knew that.”

“How exactly did you come across the Night Mother”, Orla asked not exactly having expected that, “usually the only way to even see her is by already being inside the Dark Brotherhood.”

“She was in a broken cart”, Ti’alma explained, “we helped the cart driver, the fool Ria mentioned at that, repair his cart, it was then that she spoke to me.”

“It’s quite unconventional for a listener to not have been a member before becoming the listener”, Orla remarked, “but I won’t argue against the Night Mother. At least now we know why the Black Sacrament stopped working, there was no listener anymore.” Orla seemed quite glad about there being any listener at all. “I suppose this also explains why Deirdre’s visions considered you as being important”, she added as an afterthought.

Orla lifted the wards and called one of her forsworn. “Go get Madanach”, she ordered, after which Ti’alma and Orla waited for a few minutes for Madanach. “We will have to leave Karthspire in a few days”, Orla informed him as he arrived, “I won’t be able to return for quite some time, are you prepared to directly lead Karthspire in the days to come?”

Madanach didn’t immediately answer, “it is almost unheard for a matriarch to leave her camp, but then again, you never were too traditional. What is it about?”

Orla reset her wards before answering, “the Night Mother has chosen a new listener. Apart from us three, only Odvan knows Ti’alma is the new listener. The Night Mother wants me to accompany her to a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, this information may not extend to anyone else.”

“It won’t”, Madanach promised, before turning to Ti’alma, “tell the leaders, that if they want, our old alliance can be renewed.”

“I’ll pass the message”, Ti’alma replied, assuming the Dark Brotherhood would be in favour of this.

An hour later, Odvan, Farkas, Orla and Ti’alma left the camp. Orla’s curse proved to be effective enough, as Farkas was unable to remember the location where they killed the dragon (although he remembered everything else about the encounter). With Orla’s guidance, they eventually did manage to find it. As Odvan quickly absorbed its soul, finally convincing Farkas he really was the dragonborn. Afterwards they returned to the camp.

“I have grown used to not sleeping alone”, Ti’alma told Odvan on the way, clearly she was actually talking about the other activity in bed and not actual sleeping, “I will miss you.”

“We’ll meet again as much as possible”, Odvan promised.

Chapter Text

Ti’alma didn’t bother with regular armor this time, but travelled in her forworn armor (actually a new set which Madanach had enchanted to increase her archery and sneaking skills). As she was travelling with a hagraven, it wasn’t as if most people wouldn’t already make problems about that, wasn’t it?.

“If you don’t mind”, Ti’alma asked after making sure no one was around, “why did the Dark Brotherhood allow you to leave? I thought it was a lifelong commitment.”

“It usually is”, Orla answered, “but I was quite high in the hierarchy, a speaker in the Black Hand, the Listener at the time trusted me enough to keep silent and allowed me leaving to become a hagraven.”

“But you still dropped everything when I told you what the Night Mother wanted”, Ti’alma remarked.

“Old habits die hard I suppose”, Orla replied, then Ti’alma indicated she heard someone. Orla quickly cast a detect other spell, but failed to find anyone.

A girl’s voice changed that though, “I never thought I’d ever see the day I could sneak up on you.” A girl-vampire walked towards them, “I suppose she’s the new listener?” Cicero had clearly already informed the Falkreath Sanctuary.

“I am”, Ti’alma confirmed.

“At least you notice people sneaking up on you”, the vampire answered satisfied, “almost forgotten, that Aretino kid had a nice contract for me, thanks for the information. I should introduce myself shouldn’t I? My name is Babette, I am the youngest member in the Dark Brotherhood.”

Orla snorted, “don’t believe her, she was already a member during the Oblivion Crisis.”

“I could only try”, Babette replied, clearly liking the ‘I am an innocent little girl’ routine.

“I won’ hold it against you”, Ti’alma answered, “I am Ti’alma.”

“Good meeting you”, Babette answered, “and as I said before, the contract was awesome.” Babette checked once again whether no one else was around before starting to explain the contract, “so, I entered the house in Windhelm. At first, the boy didn’t believe I was Dark Brotherhood, clearly not expecting someone looking like she would be his own age. After I showed him I was a vampire, he did believe me though. As the boy told me, they shipped him off to the Honorhall Orphanage after his mother died. The orphanage used to be run by a woman named Grelod the Kind.”

“I take it that it was run by her until you came”, Orla remarked grinning.

Babette grinned back, “Actually yes. She was apparently quite horrible to the kids and the boy saw no better option than to run away and contact the Dark Brotherhood. Which made me think, he might be a good recruit later on. Anyhow, he told me he wanted Grelod the Kind dead, without harming the children and someone named Constance Michel. I accepted the contract and travelled to Riften. Once there, I simply bumped into a guard, told him I had no parents left. After which he actually brought me to the target. Once inside it was a matter of simply waiting for the right opportunity, before I ambushed her and sucked her dry. I fled afterwards, knowing that the guards would probably assume I witnessed the vampire attack and fled in fear. A girl like myself can hardly be a vampire, can I.”

“You always were good at the sweet young girl routine”, Orla remembered fondly. In the mean time, they had reached the Black Door.

Babette indicated to Ti’alma she should answer the question, Ti’alma walked towards the door. “What is the music of life?” a disembodied voice asked.

“Silence, my brother”, Ti’alma answered, having been given the answer earlier.

“Welcome home”, the voice replied, and the door opened.

Babette entered first, “I am home, and look who I brought with me.”

“The listener I presume”, a woman who surely was Astrid answered, “and a hagraven no less.”

“Not just any hagraven”, Babette protested, “this is Orla, Speaker to the Black Hand.”

“I’m no longer a Speaker”, Orla objected, “I gave up that position when I went away to become a hagraven.”

“Speaker is a position for life”, Babette corrected, “you might have been on a leave of absence, but you are still speaker.”

Astrid didn’t exactly seemed thrilled about that, but she knew as well as everyone else that it would be stupid for her to act against the hagraven, at least openly. “As long as you remember that I command this sanctuary, you are welcome”, Astrid finally said.

“I do not intend to deny your authority”, Orla answered, “you have managed to keep your Sanctuary active, which seems to me the act of a true leader. Usually the honour has to be bestowed by the combined members of the Black Hand, but since there aren’t any other members left, you are from now on officially a speaker of the Black Hand. You already performed the duties unofficially anyhow.”

Astrid didn’t immediately react, but eventually she realized that by being raised to the position of an official speaker, she would rise with the Brotherhood as it would once again start expanding. Astrid finally brought her attention back to Ti’alma, “I don’t think I ever heard of a listener who wasn’t Dark Brotherhood before, did you ever even kill someone?”

“I don’t suppose in a fight counts?” Ti’alma asked, but continued without waiting for an answer, “I stunned a Markarth guard, tied him on a horse, brought him to a cave and ate him. Does that count?”

“Is she serious?” Astrid asked Orla.

“That guard took silver to throw me in Cidhna Mine”, Ti’alma answered instead of Orla, “in my opinion, that makes him my enemy. Yff’re teaches that an enemy must be eaten within 3 days of his death.”

“I always knew there was a reason I like bosmeri”, Babette interrupted, “one remark though, some clients don’t like it when you eat the target, weirdly enough.”

“Speaking of eating targets”, Astrid replied, “I heard someone called Grelod the Kind has been attacked by a vampire.” “My client liked it”, Babette defended herself, “he liked it so much that he asked me to turn him as well. I told him to wait a few years, it’s not always a pleasure to keep looking like a child after all.”

“I take it you want to keep an eye on him?” Astrid asked, knowing that Babette wouldn’t think about turning just anyone.

“I think he will make a fine recruit in the future”, Babette replied.

“We can always use new recruits”, Astrid admitted.

“Did the sanctuary change much after I left?” Orla asked after a while, it had after all been years since she had been there.

“It’s exactly as before”, Babette replied, “only a bit less crowded as it once was.”

“Too many died”, Astrid explained, “our previous Speaker took most of us to Cyrodiil, to try and keep the Bravil sanctuary active.”

“Where all of them died along with the previous listener”, Orla grasped.

“At least that’s what Cicero told us”, Astrid agreed, “and I suppose that otherwise we would have heard from them by now.”

“Speaking of Cicero”, Astrid realized, “You probably want to see the Night Mother he brought with him. Babette, show them the alcove with the Night Mother.”

“Gladly”, Babette answered, in fact hoping for more contracts after all. Ti’alma followed Babette, while Orla stayed with Astrid to talk about Madanach’s proposal to rekindle the old alliance.

“Would you mind if I asked you a question?” Ti’alma asked once Astrid was out of view.

“Ask away Listener”, Babette answered.

“Ti’alma is fine”, Ti’alma replied, “I never liked people using terms instead of my name. The elf, the half-elf, the girl, I prefer people just using my name.”

“I understand”, Babette agreed, having been called girl for centuries and never having liked it, “now what’s the question?”

“What happens when the listener wants someone killed?” Ti’alma asked, “it seems rather silly after all to pray to the Night Mother for her to afterwards order me to send someone to myself.”

“That would indeed be silly”, Babette agreed, “I think you can order the murder like that, but I’m not sure.”

“You can always ask such questions to me?” the Night Mother interrupted, having heard the question, “Babette is correct though, you can simply order it.”

“You heard her didn’t you?” Babette realized, as Ti’alma suddenly froze and appeared to be listening to something Babette couldn’t hear, “what did she say?”

“She said you were correct”, Ti’alma answered.

“Go to Muiri at the Hag’s Cure in Markarth”, the Night Mother continued, “so begins a contract bound in blood.”

“she gave me a job”, Ti’alma said, “she said I have to go to a Muiri at the Hag’s Cure in Markarth.”

“She actually said you had to do it?” Babette asked.

“She said I had to meet the client”, Ti’alma answered, “I suppose I have to speak to Astrid first, but you can go with me if you want.”

“Actually you don’t have to go to her”, Babette informed her, “the Listener outranks a Speaker. But then again, Astrid is dangerous, I wouldn’t get on her bad side just yet.”

“That might be safer”, Ti’alma agreed.

They quickly reached Astrid once again. “The Night Mother spoke again”, Babette said, “she said Ti’alma had to go speak to a Muiri in Markarth.”

Astrid probably would have wanted to keep Ti’alma from going just yet, but she didn’t dare to with Orla next to her. “It will be your first contract, so you may keep the full reward”, Astrid eventually said, “in the future, half of the reward goes to our stores.”

“Understood”, Ti’alma answered, “is it all right if I take Babette with me? I don’t exactly know my way in Skyrim yet after all.” Astrid didn’t see what she could do to deny it (both Babette and Orla knew a listener outranked a speaker after all, and she did ask first).

Chapter Text

“Aren’t you already tired of travelling by night?” Babette inquired, “most are after a few nights of travelling with me.”

“I like travelling by night”, Ti’alma replied, “the stars are beautiful, did you know that I never even saw stars before leaving Valenwood?”

“Never?”

“Never”, Ti’alma confirmed, “Valenwood is a dense jungle region, the place where we used to live has not a single road and there is green as far as the eye can see, which isn’t very far. With the moons out as this night, we actually have more light than during most of my childhood.”

“I didn’t know that”, Babette replied, never having been to Valenwood, “at least it probably isn’t that much of a problem that I forgot to mention the detail about travelling by night. Anyhow, you will be able to see Markarth in a few minutes.”

A few minutes later, Ti’alma and Babette reached the closed city gates. “Come back after sunrise”, a guard yelled over the wall.

“I have a ten year old with me”, Ti’alma protested (conveniently ignoring the fact that the ten year old had about 300 years experience in being ten), “do you really expect her to spend the night outside?”

“Just open the gates”, another guard argued, “it’s only two girls.” The first guard gave in and the guards opened the gates. “You can find lodging in the Silver-Blood Inn”, the friendlier guard continued after they were inside the city, “I advice you to try and come by daylight next time.”

After thanking the guards, Ti’alma and Babette entered the inn. “I need a room until sunset”, Ti’alma told the innkeeper, “one bed is sufficient.” If the innkeeper considered this odd, he didn’t show it. “I want no one to open the door”, Ti’alma added.

Once again the innkeeper agreed, asking questions was apparently not a very popular pastime in Markarth. After showing them to their rooms, the innkeeper left. Ti’alma and Babette quickly checked whether there was any chance of sunlight entering. After making sure it wouldn’t be possible, Babette prepared for the day.

“Get as much information about the targets as you can”, Babette told Ti’alma as a last minute instruction, “the gates should remain open until a few hours after sunset, so we can leave in the evening.”

Ti’alma headed outside, she quickly found the hag’s cure, but due to it being early in the morning, it took some time for the shop to actually open. Around eight, a young woman arrived, unlocked the door and went in. Ti’alma followed her inside.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked, assuming Ti’alma was a customer.

Ti’alma didn’t answer the question. She did ask, “are you Muiri?” though, at least after having satisfied herself no one else was around.

“Do I know you?” Muiri asked (thereby confirming she was Muiri).

“You don’t”, Ti’alma replied, “but you did call us.”

“By the Old Gods”, Muiri exclaimed, “you actually came.”

“Can we speak somewhere more private?” Ti’alma asked. “You can come to the back room”, Muiri suggested, “Bothela won’t arrive until ten anyhow.”

“Perfect”, Ti’alma replied, following Muiri to the back room. “Who do you want killed?” Ti’alma asked. Feeling a bit distraught about it being described like that, Muiri didn’t immediately answer. “You were the one to call us”, Ti’alma reminded her.

“Alain Dufont”, Muiri eventually answered, “he is holed up with some bandits in the Dwarven ruins at Raldbthar.”

“Kill him anyway possible or do you have further instructions?” Ti’alma asked.

“As long as he doesn’t breath when you’re finished, I don’t care”, Muiri answered, “there might be one thing though.”

“What exactly?” “It’s not a part of the contract”, Muiri explained, “but I will give an extra reward if Nilsine Shatter-Shield dies as well, she lives in Windhelm.”

“That just leaves us with one more detail”, Ti’alma remembered to ask, “what exactly are you offering?”

“1200 gold coins are yours if you return having completed the contract.”

“They are as good as dead”, Ti’alma promised.

A few hours after sunset, Ti’alma and Babette had left Markarth. According to Babette, Raldbthar was somewhere west of Windhelm, which made them decide to tackle Dufont first. Once again they travelled by night, rarely meeting anyone at all. Somewhere inside the Pale, Babette suddenly stopped them though.

“Vampires”, she explained, “more vampires than I’ve ever seen together before.”

“Will they be dangerous for us?” Ti’alma asked.

“I don’t know”, Babette admitted, “we can best just stay out of their way.” Together they waited until all the vampires had passed, afterwards they were once again on their way to Raldbthar.

A few nights later, they finally reached the Dwarven Ruins, one bandit was standing watch outside. Ti’alma grabbed her bow and knocked a poisoned arrow, after carefully aiming, she loosed her arrow and almost instantly killed the bandit. Together Ti’alma and Babette now entered the dwarven ruins and tried sneaking past the various bandits. From time to time Babette sneaked up to a bandit and slit his throat (sometimes you just couldn’t sneak past them).

They eventually reached a platform from which they had a clear view of two regular bandits and one finely dressed bandit who was most certainly Alain Dufont. Ti’alma took her bow, but Babette pointed at two levers instead. Grasping her meaning (and seeing the mounted crossbows aimed downstairs), Ti’alma went to one of the levers while Babette went to the other. Babette lifted 3 fingers, dropped one, dropped another and pulled her lever. Ti’alma pulled hers with only a small delay. The 2 crossbows fired their deadly bolts at the unsuspecting bandits, instantly killing all 3.

Ti’alma sneaked downstairs to loot Alain’s body (in order to have proof of his death), she returned after obtaining said proof.

“Those crossbows were quite noisy”, Ti’alma knew, “sneaking out will be more difficult.” More difficult didn’t mean impossible though, only having to kill two more bandits, they eventually managed to leave Raldbthar. “Now we only need to get to Windhelm”, Ti’alma proclaimed, “it can’t be harder than this after all.”

“Probably not”, Babette agreed.

When they eventually reached Windhelm, the gates were luckily unlocked. “Don’t cause any problems elf”, a guard told Ti’alma at the gates.

“Why are almost all Nords such bigots?” Ti’alma asked Babette after being out of earshot of the guard.

“We aren’t all like that”, a man’s voice could be heard (the man had clearly heard her remark), “you clearly aren’t one of these Skyrim is for the Nords types.”

“What gave it away?” Ti’alma asked only slightly sarcastic, the man didn’t take offense.

“I’m Brunwulf Free-Winter”, he introduced himself.

“A pleasure to meet you”, Ti’alma replied, “I would love to keep talking, but my niece’s bedtime is way overdue.” Noticing Brunwulf looking at Ti’alma and Babette’s ears (which didn’t exactly match), Ti’alma continued, “I am only half bosmeri, she’s my human family.”

Clearly having no problems with hybrids, Brunwulf wished them a good night and continued strolling through Windhelm. Babette led the way to an old mansion. Once inside, she opened the gate and let herself in. “Aventus”, she called, “are you still here?”

Aventus clearly still was there, “who is …” Aventus saw Babette, “it wasn’t enough, wasn’t it?”

“You paid enough”, Babette corrected, “we just hoped you could let us spend the day here. We also need some information.”

“The Dark Brotherhood is always welcome here”, Aventus answered, “what do you want to know?”

“What do you know about Nilsine Shatter-Shield?” Ti’alma asked.

“My companion is an important member of the Brotherhood”, Babette explained, noticing Aventus not exactly trusting Ti’alma.

“She’s dead”, Aventus eventually answered, “someone broke into the Shatter-Shield mansion and killed her.”

“Someone stole our kill”, Babette cried out in outrage, “I hate it when people do that.”

“What happens now?” Ti’alma asked, not exactly that experienced after all.

“We contact Astrid and then we find out who stole our kill”, Babette explained before asking Aventus, “do you have a hammer somewhere?”

“I think so”, Aventus answered, heading off to find a hammer.

Babette, in the meantime, took a small amulet out of her pocket. “Festus Krex made these”, she explained, “destroy them and another amulet in Astrid’s possession will start to heat up. It will magically guide her towards the broken amulet. She likes to take care of situations as these herself.”

Aventus returned a few minutes later with a hammer, “I didn’t find one, but I went out and stole one from the Blacksmith, no one saw me.” Babette wasn’t fussy about how he got hold of a hammer and smashed the amulet.

“What do you know about the murder of Nilsine Shatter-Shield?” Babette now asked the boy (for some reason the boy seemed more at ease with Babette than with Ti’alma, although Babette was clearly the deadliest one of the two).

“It wasn’t the first murder”, Aventus explained, “although all others happened outside that is, the butcher never broke in before.”

“Butcher?” Ti’alma asked.

“Someone keeps killing women”, he explained, “something is always missing from the bodies.”

“Makes sense”, Ti’alma remarked, “it would after all be a waste of perfectly good meat to just leave the bodies like that.”

Which was clearly more than Aventus had wanted to hear, when he had sufficiently recovered, Ti’alma recommenced the questioning. “Do you know the location of Nilsine’s body?” she asked.

“In the Hall of the Dead”, Aventus replied, “I’ll show you the location.” Aventus walked outside, Ti’alma and Babette followed. They quickly reached a cemetery outside the Hall of the Dead, with a very fresh corpse lying there.

“There is nothing to see here?” a guard told everyone attempting to come closer.

“Is it like Nilsine’s murder?” Ti’alma asked, ignoring the fact that the guard warned everyone away.

A priestess decided to answer, “no, she was killed during a robbery and she still had all her body parts.”

“It’s guards’ business”, the guard objected, “stay out of it.”

They stepped back, noticing one man walking slowly away. “That man knows something”, Babette mentioned to Ti’alma, “his reaction to the mentioning of Nilsine said as much.”

After telling Aventus to go home, they followed the man to a store apparently called Calixto’s House of Curiosities; he went in and tried to lock the door. Ti’alma was faster though and managed to open it again, just in time.

“You’re trespassing”, the man protested, “leave or I’ll call the guards.”

“I wouldn’t”, Babette mentioned smiling (which conveniently showed her teeth), “we only wanted to talk after all. We know someone killed Nilsine Shatter-Shield, we want to know who.”

“What makes you think I know anything about that?” the man replied.

“Your facial expression said as much”, Babette answered, “furthermore, you smell like blood, you obviously killed someone.”

“I didn’t”, the man protested.

“Please, I’m a vampire”, Babette replied, “I do recognize blood when I smell it. And it’s not as if we called the guards is it?”

“What do you want?” the man eventually asked.

“Whoever killed Nilsine stole a kill for us”, Babette replied, “we want to know who did it.”

“You’re Dark Brotherhood”, the man realized, the only other organization killing people for a contract were after all the Morag Tong, who usually only employed dunmeri, “I didn’t steal your kill.”

“I didn’t say you did”, Babette replied, “but you know who did.”

“It was an altmer”, the man decided to explain, it paid to have the Dark Brotherhood on your side after all, “I saw him entering the Shatter-Shield mansion, I think he was from the Thieves Guild.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Babette asked.

“You are the butcher aren’t you?” Ti’alma asked after a while.

“Would you have a problem with that?” the man answered.

“Why would I?” Ti’alma asked, “I’ve killed for worse reasons than gathering whatever you are gathering, at least you use some part of your victims, instead of wasting good meat.”

“I am”, the man admitted, “and I don’t eat my victims.”

“Either way, if you ever grow tired of this city”, Babette told him, “then we can surely use you.”

“I’ll think about it”, the man promised.

“One more thing”, Babette asked, “what’s your name exactly? I like to know the names of potential recruits.”

“Calixto Corrium”, the man answered, not really expecting the Dark Sisters to give their names in return.

They returned to the Aretino Mansion and decided to wait there for Astrid. “She has contacts in the Thieves Guild”, Babette explained to Ti’alma, “we will get to the bottom of this.”

“Uhm, however I have to call you, do you need blood?” Aventus asked after having found both of them a place to sleep.

“Do you volunteer?” Babette jested.

“I thought you said I was too young to be made a vampire?” he replied.

“I was joking”, Babette answered, “and no, it doesn’t happen that easy, otherwise there would be a lot more vampires in the world.”

“Does it hurt?” Aventus asked intrigued. “I don’t know”, Babette sarcastically answered, “I usually don’t linger around to ask.”

“Do you need the blood now?” Aventus asked.

“I can just go out hunting”, Babette replied.

“The guards are too much on alert”, Aventus retorted, “just do it.”

“Are you certain?” Babette asked to be sure.

After Aventus answered he was certain, Babette approached him and quickly sunk her teeth in his neck (she did try not to exceed to many pheromones, an enthralled Aventus would after all no longer be a good future recruit). “Hit me”, Babette ordered Aventus.

“Why should I do that?” Aventus asked a bit weakly.

“You shouldn’t”, Babette answered relieved, “I only wanted to make sure I hadn’t accidently enthralled you. You should now drink much water, I took quite a lot of your blood after all.”

Chapter Text

A couple of days proved to be sufficient for Astrid to reach Windhelm (she clearly hadn’t travelled on foot), after which her amulet easily brought her to the Aretino mansion.

“Explain”, she ordered Babette.

Babette asked Aventus to leave first, before indicating Ti’alma should explain, it was her contract after all. “The job involved two murders”, Ti’alma explained, “the first one posed no problem, the second one though. When we came into Windhelm, we discovered someone else had already murdered her.”

“What did your investigation show you,” Astrid now asked.

“We discovered there is a serial killer active in Windhelm”, Babette answered, “when we wanted to sneak a look at Nilsine’s body, we stumbled across a fresh body, it was already being investigated by a priestess and a guard. We found out from the priestess that Nilsine wasn’t murdered by the Butcher, that’s how they call the serial killer. Our questions spooked a bystander. As I could smell the blood on him, we had a hunch he was the butcher.”

“We followed him”, Ti’alma took over, “we cornered him in his home. And interrogated him, we are now certain he is the Butcher, Babette thinks he could be a good recruit.”

“I’ll check him out later”, Astrid promised, “but what do you know about the one who actually stole the kill?”

“It proved a good thing we interrogated Calixto Corrium, the Butcher”, Babette explained, “while he didn’t kill Nilsine, he saw who did. There was a burglary in the Shatter-Shield mansion, it either was a Thieves Guild job or someone trying to make it look like one.”

“I have my contacts in the Thieves Guild”, Astrid decided, “we can work with this, Thieves Guild or not, no one steals our kills.” Astrid walked out before reentering the door, “are you coming or what?”

Ti’alma and Babette now followed Astrid outside, where Astrid tracked down an altmeri merchant. “We need information”, Astrid told her, “who burglarized the Shatter-Shield mansion?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, the merchant haughtily replied.

“Rubbish”, Astrid answered, “we know you fence for the Thieves Guild, either you know who burglarized the mansion or either you can find out, but you will tell us.”

“I can’t”, the altmeri answered, “they threatened to kill me if I tell anyone.”

“I can assure you that you may be more afraid of these three”, a man suddenly remarked, even Ti’alma hadn’t noticed him sneaking towards them.

Astrid quickly turned around, “Brynjolf, I might have known, who else would have been able to sneak up on us.”

“It seems like our reasons for being here are similar”, Brynjolf explained, “an upstart gang has tried to set up shop in Windhelm. And Niranye, we know you fenced for them, which is treason to the Guild.”

“I would start explaining”, Ti’alma suggested, “otherwise your death isn’t a possibility but a certainty.”

Being more afraid of the Dark Brotherhood than off the unknown gang, especially now the Thieves Guild seemed to team up with them, the altmeri, Niranye, began explaining what she knew, “a few weeks ago I was approached by a fellow altmeri named Linwe, he told me he planned to set up his own operation and forced me to fence for him.”

“Is this Linwe the one who killed our target?” Astrid asked.

“No, he isn’t”, Niranye answered, “he might be a thief, but he doesn’t kill his marks, he only steals from the bodies in the Hall of the Dead. His men target others though, they have burglarized houses before, I believe one of them is responsible for the dead of Nilsine Shatter-Shield.”

“Where are they holed up?” Brynjolf asked, planning to hire the conveniently present Dark Brotherhood to take care of them.

“They are in the Uttering Hills Cave”, Niranye answered.

“If you warn them, we can find you again”, Babette sweetly mentioned before the 3 Dark Sisters and Brynjolf left Niranye.

“It basically comes down to a burglar killing when he is discovered in the house”, Astrid said, “not exactly Dark Brotherhood material, is it?”

“I agree”, Babette replied, “he does need to pay the price for stealing our kill though.”

“The Thieves Guild wants them finished”, Brynjolf interrupted, “if you don’t want to recruit them anyhow, then I would like to hire you to finish off the whole gang. Do I have to perform the Black Sacrament first, or can I ask it just like that?”

“We take the contract”, Astrid replied, “it might not have been the leader of the gang, but one of his men stole a kill from us. They now owe us a death, their own will suffice.”

A few days later, they found themselves inside the Uttering Hills Cave. While Linwe might have employed decent thieves, they proved no match for the Dark Brotherhood. Between Ti’alma’s bow and Babette and Astrid stabbing around with their daggers, they cut a bloody swat through the gang. Until finally it seemed as if they killed them all, when completely unexpected, a poisoned arrow flew towards them, hitting Astrid. Ti’alma quickly returned fire, while Babette stormed towards the archer together they managed to kill him.

Ti’alma and Babette now returned to Astrid, who was already dead. “The poison was too fast working ”, Babette realized, “I fear even I wouldn’t have survived being hit with it.”

“What do we do now?” Ti’alma asked, clearly not looking forward to informing the others they had managed to loose Speaker Astrid.

“We return to the Sanctuary”, Babette answered, “we need to inform the others, especially Arnbjorn.”

“Why him?”

“He is, was married to Astrid, he will take this hard.”

“Don’t we have to inform the Thieves Guild we finished their contract?” Ti’alma asked.

“Astrid first”, Babette replied, “we can always send someone to Riften later on.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure that beast is safe?” Ti’alma asked, not to confident in the red-eyed horse.

“Shadowmere is safe enough”, Babette answered.

“In that case, you should ride him”, Ti’alma replied.

“I’m too small for him”, Babette retorted.

“Yff’re”, Ti’alma exclaimed, “I have never ridden a horse in my entire life, I don’t even know how to steer a horse.”

“Shadowmere knows the way”, Babette answered, “just hold on tight and tell the others. I’ll wait here.”

Ti’alma left Babette with Astrid’s body in the cave and somehow managed to climb onto Shadowmere.

“I don’t suppose you’d understand me if I would tell you to run to the Sanctuary, would you?” she asked, the horse began running, and quite fast at that, “all right, you clearly do.” Rather scared, Ti’alma had no other option but to hold on to the horse.

When she finally arrived, she almost fell from the horse, only to be immediately accosted by Arnbjorn.

“Where is Astrid?” he asked, “why did you come on Shadowmere?”

“Inside”, Ti’alma answered, not wanting to speak outside. Arnbjorn and Ti’alma entered the Sanctuary where Ti’alma began speaking, “Astrid, Babette and I were hired to kill a rival gang to the Thieves Guild. Since the gang stole one of our kills, Astrid decided to accept it free of charge. When we thought we killed them all, a poisoned arrow suddenly hit Astrid. Babette and I took down the archer, but we couldn’t save her, the poison was too fast working. I’m sorry.”

To say Arnbjorn took it bad was an understatement, he shouted his grief through the entire sanctuary.

“What is going on?” Festus asked, never having heard Arnbjorn losing it like that.

Arnbjorn didn’t answer, but instead approached Ti’alma, “where is she?”

“Uttering Hills Cave, not too far from Windhelm”, Ti’alma answered, “Babette is still there.”

Without bothering to strip first, Arnbjorn began his change, ignoring everyone else, he pushed open the Black Door and ran off.

“What just happened?” Gabriella asked, having only just arrived.

“Gather everyone who’s inside”, Ti’alma replied, “you should all hear this.”

A few minutes later, they were all gathered near the word wall, where Ti’alma repeated the entire story, from Muiri’s contract to the discovery that Nilsine was already murdered. She told the others how she and Babette called Astrid and started investigating. She ended with Astrid accepting to kill the Summerset Shadows, leading to her death by a poisoned arrow.

No one spoke for a while, they had all seen death before, but it usually wasn’t the death of one of their own. It was Orla who finally broke the silence, “we need someone to take over as Sanctuary leader. This can’t wait.”

“You’re a speaker”, Festus answered. “I can’t”, Orla replied, “I am already matriarch of a Forsworn Camp.”

“Babette could do it”, Ti’alma suggested, having grown to like the little vampire (and having learned she was quite intelligent at that), “she probably has more experience than any of us.”

“I could support Babette”, Nazir stated. The others quickly stated their own support as well.

“Then we are in agreement”, Orla concluded, “when Babette returns, she will be raised to the function of Speaker and leader of this Sanctuary.”

“Cicero thinks the Night Mother should have her say”, Cicero interrupted, somehow Gabriella had forgotten to retrieve him for the meeting, which made sure he had only just arrived.

The others couldn’t really argue with that, so Ti’alma saw herself being led towards the Night Mother’s alcove. “Would you accept Babette as Speaker to the Black Hand?” she asked.

“The old soul in a girl’s body”, the Night Mother replied, “she would make a worthy Speaker. Now listen, another child has prayed to their mother, go to Deirdre in Karthspire Camp. Bring Orla with you. So begins a contract, bound in blood.”

“The Night Mother approves”, Ti’alma told the others, “in the mean time, she has a new contract for us. I am told to travel to Karthspire Camp, I need to take Orla with me.”

“I would suggest to take Gabriella and Shadowmere with us”, Orla remarked, “she is the fastest rider and Madanach wouldn’t perform the Black Madanach if it wasn’t a big contract.”

“I’ll prepare my stuff”, Gabriella answered.

“One thing”, Ti’alma warned her, “my father is in the Karthspire Camp, I don’t want him to know anything about any of us being Dark Brotherhood.”

“He’s a blade”, Orla added, “which is why he knows shrouded outfits when he sees them, so I would advise against wearing them.”

Orla, Gabriella and Ti’alma began the trip towards Karthspire Camp, the trip was rather uneventful (they did meet bandits once, but, they were smart enough to run away once they saw Orla). When they reached the camp, it was even more crowded than usual.

“You arrived”, Tiberius said, embracing her, “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what exactly you were doing?”

“Sorry”, Ti’alma answered, “I really can’t tell you.”

Not entirely happy with it (an understatement), Tiberius did pass the message he was asked to deliver, “Madanach has called a meeting, it will be held at the great table in the temple, Odvan is already there.” Ti’alma rushed off towards the temple.

“Who is Odvan?” Gabriella softly asked Orla.

“Ti’alma’s husband”, Orla explained.

“She’s actually married?” Gabriella exclaimed a bit shocked, “isn’t 20 a bit young to marry, most wait until at least 50.”

“My daughter is only half bosmeri”, Tiberius added, having heard the conversation, “I am Tiberius De Agnis, with whom do I have the pleasure?”

Gabriella hesitated, but eventually answered, “Gabriella, if you don’t mind me asking, why does a bosmeri have an Imperial name?”

“By not being bosmeri”, Tiberius replied, “I did spend quite some time in Valenwood though, hence the ears. I need to get inside as well though.”

Tiberius and Orla now also entered the temple (being the last ones to arrive), leaving Gabriella behind in the Forsworn Camp. This time Madanach, Odvan, the Blades, Ti’alma, Farkas and Ria and no less than 9 hagravens were seated at the table. “Everyone here has agreed Alduin has to be defeated”, Madanach spoke first, “Odvan, tell the gathering the latest news.”

“As I am sure everyone here is already aware”, Odvan began, “the ancient Nords had used a specific dragon shout to bring Alduin down. With Farkas’ help, I managed to track down the Elder Scroll which was used by the ancient Nords to send Alduin to us. This allowed me to learn the shout.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” Ti’alma observed.

“It is”, Odvan agreed, “but what follows next isn’t. Somehow Alduin knew I learned it, the moment I did. He attacked us on the Throat of the World.”

“You’re still alive”, one of the hagravens remarked, “why is this meeting still necessary?”

“He escaped before we could kill him”, Farkas replied, “taunting us that he would revive himself by feasting on the souls in Sovngarde.”

“In order to definitively defeat him”, Odvan continued, “I need to find out how Alduin travels to Sovngarde, since the usual way isn’t really a possibility. Not that I would take that way, even if it was possible. The only solution is capturing one of Alduin’s lieutenants, the only place which offers even a chance of success is Dragonreach Castle in the city of Whiterun.”

“What’s the catch?” Ria asked, finding it all sounding a bit too convenient.

“The Jarl of Whiterun agreed that Alduin must be stopped”, Odvan answered, “he eventually even agreed that using Dragonreach is necessary to defeat him.”

“But he doesn’t trust Ulfric not to invade his city while he is distracted by a dragon”, Farkas quickly finished.

“If he wants Ulfric dead”, Ti’alma remarked, “why doesn’t he just call the Dark Brotherhood?” The Blades and Companions at the table were unified in their objection to this path, the hagravens sounded quite please with the idea.

“You can’t be serious”, Ria exclaimed.

Having a hunch his youngest daughter was quite serious in her suggestion, Tiberius also replied, “Balgruuf knows that calling the Dark Brotherhood to kill Ulfric, would get him disposed as jarl.”

“Stupid Nords”, Orla replied (drawing an angry reply from Farkas, which Orla ignored), “people are equally dead if you assassinate them than when they fall in a battle, the only difference is that assassination is handier, as it doesn’t require an entire army. Anyhow, how does this Balgruuf wants you to get rid of Ulfric without killing him?”

“He wants the Greybeards to organize a peace conference”, Odvan explained.

“Makes sense”, Madanach remarked, “Nords who die in battle go to Sovngarde, correct?”

“Only when they fight with honour”, Esbern replied, “but in essence you are correct.”

“In that case”, Madanach continued, “while I usually wouldn’t have a problem with Nords killing each other, we cannot afford them to strengthen Alduin. However much it pains me to say, until Alduin is defeated, peace is a necessity.”

“Did the Greybeards actually agree to hoist that conference?” Delphine pointed out, “it does seem like a huge part of that plan depends on them.”

“They did”, Odvan answered, “which is a moot point if the Stormcloak and the General Tullius don’t agree to the meeting though.”

“Ulfric will agree to it”, Esbern assured, “no Nord would ignore a summons by the Greybeards. And while Tullius might not be a Nord, most of his army consists out of Nords.”

“Then all we need to do is bring them the message”, Odvan concluded.

“It might be a good idea to send me to Solitude”, Ria volunteered, “I’m a Companion, and therefore respected by most Nords and an Imperial.”

“I’ve never seen Solitude”, Ti’alma remarked, “I would like to join you.”

“A good idea, as I can’t travel with you anyhow, I should be going back to Jorrvaskr”, Farkas replied, “who’s going to Ulfric?”

“If my daughters are going to be envoys to Solitude”, Tiberius stated, “then it is only right for me to take Windhelm.”

“Take Uaile with you”, Madanach decided, “she can represent the reachmen.”

“I’m not sure that’s a very good idea”, Tiberius replied, “Ulfric will have problems trusting me, as an Imperial. A reachwoman could be even more problematic.”

“You have that Blades armor here, don’t you?” Madanach asked.

“Why?”

“Wear it”, Madanach suggested, “the danger is moot as there are no Thalmor patrols in the Eastern holds, the unexpectedness alone might prove sufficient.”

The meeting came to an end and apart from the Blades and the Companions, everyone left the Blades Temple. The hagravens gathered around Orla’s altar, Orla indicated that Gabriella and Ti’alma should join them.

After Orla had set up wards, Deirdre began speaking, “we don’t think a peace conference will work, that’s why we contacted you. We want to set up a contract with a guaranteed pay, but a not guaranteed target.”

“What did you have in mind?” Ti’alma asked.

“We want your people to lay in wait outside the monastery”, Deirdre explained, “if there is no peace agreement, then we want you to kill Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, Galmar Stone-Fist and Jarl Igmund, otherwise they may live for the time being.”

“Kill Thongvor Silver-Blood and everyone else wearing that name anyhow”, another hagraven interrupted, before she had become a hagraven, a Silver-Blood had almost killed her after all.

“We take the contract”, Ti’alma decided, after which the hagravens, apart from Orla, left them.

“What do you think?” Ti’alma asked, “how would you go about killing the 2 jarls and Galmar Stone-Fist?”

Gabriella and Orla looked at each other for a while, before simultaneously answering, “Arnbjorn.”

“Won’t he need backup?” Ti’alma asked, “a werewolf might be powerful, but he can still be killed.”

“Festus and I can back him up”, Gabriella answered, “we will succeed, if the conference fails that is.”

“Thongvor doesn’t pose much problems”, Orla remarked, “Nazir is more than up for the challenge, Cicero and Veezara can take care of the other Silver-Bloods.”

“I’ll ride to the Sanctuary”, Gabriella promised, “and tell out brothers about the Silver-Blood hits.”

“Tell Nazir that if he’s in Markarth anyway”, Ti’alma suggested, “to contact Muiri at the Hag’s Cure, she still needs to pay her contract after all.”

“I’ll do that”, Gabriella replied, “I will inform Arnbjorn and Festus about the other contract when Arnbjorn is back in the Sanctuary.” Gabriella left towards the Sanctuary on Shadowmere, Orla also left for the Sanctuary, but in a somewhat slower speed.

Having finished all meetings for the day, Ti’alma tracked down Odvan, who happened to be walking away from his mother. “What’s going on?” Ti’alma asked, noticing that Odvan didn’t exactly look happy.

“My mother”, Odvan replied, “ever since she became a hagraven, all our conversations end in arguing. I do still love her, but I would simply have preferred her to have stayed human. The fact that I will have to sit at a table with the man responsible for my father and sister’s deaths doesn’t really help at that.”

For a time, Ti’alma just sat next to Odvan, until she decided to no longer wait, “would it be helpful if you would be distracted from all that?”

“If your form of distraction is what I think it is”, Odvan remarked, “then you must really like it.” “Complaining?” Ti’alma asked. Odvan didn’t answer, but lowered himself down next to Ti’alma, which probably was a sufficient answer.

Chapter Text

“Why exactly don’t you want to ride a horse?” Ria asked (she had planned to stop at the Whiterun stables and buy horses there).

“I wouldn’t know how to”, Ti’alma replied, “and I didn’t particularly like the last time I was on a horse.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t ride?”

“The horse knew the way”, Ti’alma explained, “can’t we just go with the carriage?”

“It will take a whole lot longer”, Ria answered, before giving in, “it would at least be faster than walking, a carriage it is.”

The carriage driver was a bit reluctant about riding to Solitude, “there is a war going on ladies, bandits have grown bold now the guards are preoccupied, other carriages have disappeared on the roads.”

“I’m a Companion of Ysgramor”, Ria argued, “bandits aren’t a problem.”

“Two Companions of Ysgramor might be helpful”, the carriage driver gave in, thinking both of them were Companions.

“You’re taking us to Solitude?” Ria asked.

“I will”, the driver answered, “get in back and we’ll be off.”

“Why didn’t you tell him I’m not a Companion?” Ti’alma asked once in the carriage.

“And risk him not daring to ride out?” Ria replied, “it’s not as if I told him you are a Companion.”

“You didn’t”, Ti’alma agreed, “one thing though, who is Ysgramor?”

“You really don’t know?” Ria asked surprised.

“Not really”, Ti’alma admitted, “as he is probably a Nord and stories about Nord heroes weren’t exactly promoted in Valenwood.”

“I suppose the Thalmor wouldn’t approve”, Ria understood, “it’s a long story, but then again, we do have the time. Several thousand years ago, the first Atmorans, they were the ancestors of the current Nords, came to Skyrim. Which was then settled by the Falmer.”

“I heard of them”, Ti’alma interrupted, “aren’t the snow elves those blind people who attack everyone entering their tunnels?”

“They weren’t like that at the time”, Ria answered, “but the Falmer you’ve heard of are the descendants from the falmer of that time. In the beginning, the falmeri and the Atmorans lived in peace. Then one day the falmer suddenly attacked the Atmoran city of Saarthal, killing most of its inhabitants. The Nords say the attack was unprovoked, but truthfully, I don’t think we’ll ever know the full truth. One of the survivors, Ysgramor, sailed to atmora and gathered 500 warriors to him, forming the first Companions. Ysgramor and his Companions sailed back to Skyrim were he began avenging Saarthal. In the end, Ysgramor managed to defeat the falmer, driving them away. Most of the surviving Falmer then took refuge among the Dwemer. Ysgramor and his companions afterwards turned his ship into a grand mead hall, Jorrvaskr. Which has been the home of the Companions ever since.”

“What happened to the falmer?” Ti’alma still wanted to know, “what did Ysgramor do to them to turn them into what they’ve become.”

“Ysgramor didn’t turn them like that”, Ria explained, “the dwemer were wholly responsible for that crime. They slowly began to make them addicted to a specific type of spore, this spore eventually turned them all into those blind monsters.”

“Even I consider that monstrous”, Ti’alma exclaimed, “and I grew up under Thalmor rule, so I know quite a bit about monstrous acts.”

After an uneventful journey, they reached Solitude. The presence of two armed warriors in the carriage turned out to be sufficient to scare off bandits, who could hardly know Ti’alma was still not exactly proficient with her katana after all. The Solitude guards seemed a bit suspicious about the katana, but since Ria was a Companion, they decided it would be all right and opened the gates. Ria guided her sister up on the ramp and together they entered the Castle Dour courtyard.

A door into the castle proper was guarded by two legionaries, Ria approached them, “I am Rhiannon De Agnis of the Companions of Ysgramor, this is my sister Tirana Almaris De Agnis, we have a message for General Tullius.” However much both sisters hated using their full names (they preferred Ria and Ti’alma), in this case it was rather necessary to use everything at their disposal to convince Tullius.

One of the soldiers called another legionary to take over his watch, after which he opened the door and brought the sisters to the General, “these two claim they have a message for you sir.”

“I am Rhiannon De Agnis”, Ria began, “my sister Tirana Almaris and I bring you a message from the Dragonborn and the Greybeards.”

“De Agnis as in the descendants of Agneta Poignard, the Hero of Kvatch?” Tullius asked.

“How do you know that?” Ria asked a bit surprised. After all, apart from the Daggerfall Royal Family, who took pride in a member of their family having helped ending the Oblivion crisis, the citizens of Bruma and Kvatch and obviously the vampire Count of Skingrad, most people had long forgotten about Agneta Poignard.

“No one from Kvatch wouldn’t know about the Hero of Kvatch”, Tullius replied, “but I’ll take that as a yes, what do the Greybeards want?”

“They want your presence at a peace conference in High Hrothgar”, Ti’alma answered.

“They want my what?” Tullius replied, “what reason could I possibly have to agree to such a conference?”

“Do you remember the dragon at Helgen?” Ti’alma asked.

Tullius finally properly looked at Ti’alma after which he realized, “you were one of the prisoners in Helgen. Why didn’t you just tell me you are a De Agnis.”

“Even if I had known”, Ti’alma replied, “would it have made a difference?”

“I would have made sure you wouldn’t be executed”, Tullius replied, “but you were talking about the dragon.”

“The dragon in question is Alduin”, Ti’alma continued, he has been reviving dragons all over Skyrim.”

“Alduin is a myth”, Tullius objected.

“With all due respect sir”, the female officer interrupted, “so were Dragons until the bastard attacked you in Helgen. Furthermore, the Greybeards have never intervened in worldly politics, the very fact that they chose to intervene this time is a fact we cannot ignore.”

“Even if Alduin is real”, Tullius continued, “why would this make me agree to a peace conference?”

“Odvan had almost defeated Alduin at the Throat of the World”, Ti’alma explained, “Alduin however escaped through a portal into Sovngarde, where he is now restoring his energy by devouring dead Nord souls.”

“Who’s Odvan?” the female officer asked, not having heard the name of the Dragonborn before.

“He’s the Dragonborn”, Ria explained before continuing, “while it probably is a good reason not to send more souls to Sovngarde for the moment, the main reason is the fact that we need to interrogate a dragon.”

“How exactly do you even intend to capture one of these monsters?” Tullius asked.

“Dragonreach has a trap specifically made to capture a dragon”, Ria answered, “Jarl Balgruuf however, fears Ulfric would attack Whiterun while he would be distracted by a dragon. That’s why we need a peace treaty.”

“Rikke”, Tullius asked, “what do you think about this?”

“I think we should agree to attend this conference”, the female officer, who was apparently named Rikke, replied.

“Very well”, Tullius decided, “tell your dragonborn and the Greybeards Legate Rikke and I will attend their conference.”

_________________________________

Balgruuf was the first to arrive, Arngeir was quite friendly to him (probably due to the fact that Balgruuf hadn’t taken a side in the war and actually asked for a peace conference). The next arrivals received a less friendly welcome though. Delphine, Esbern and Tiberius were probably the first Blades in a very long time to enter High Hrothgar. “So, Arngeir it is”, Delphine spoke, “you know why we are here. Are you going to let us in?”

“You were not invited here”, Arngeir answered, “you are not welcome here.”

“We have as much right to be at this council as all of you”, Delphine replied, “more, actually, since we were the ones that put the Dragonborn on this path.”

“Were you?” Arngeir sneered, “the hubris of the Blades truly knows no bounds.”

“Delphine”, Esbern calmly said, “we are not here to rehearse old grudges. The matter at hand is urgent, Alduin must be stopped. You wouldn’t have called this meeting if you didn’t agree. We know a great deal about the situation and the threat Alduin poses to us all. You need us here if you want this council to succeed.”

“Very well”, Arngeir gave in, “you may enter.” Tiberius took a seat next to his eldest daughter (Ti’alma was seated between Ria and Odvan), Esbern and Delphine took the seats next to Tiberius.

Ulfric arrived next, which meant only the Solitude party was still to arrive. When General Tullius, Legate Rikke and Jarl Elisif arrived together with the Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen. Ulfric stood up and refused to sit down again though. “You insult us by bringing her, your chief Talos-hunter, to this negotiation”, Ulfric stated, clearly talking about Elenwen.

“That didn’t take long”, Rikke remarked (she clearly knew Ulfric from before).

“I have every right to be at this negotiation”, Elenwen stated proudly, “I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to, here that violates the White-Gold Concordat.”

“She’s part of the Imperial delegation”, Tullius added, “you can’t dictate who I bring to this council.”

“Please”, Arngeir tried to difuse the situation, “if we have negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere. Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn’s input on the matter.”

All eyes turned to Odvan, who instead of immediately deciding looked at Ti’alma, “you decide.”

“By Yff’re”, Ti’alma replied, “one bigot at the table is more than sufficient, thank you very much.”

Ulfric grinned as Elenwen left the room, at least until Delphine informed him that Ti’alma meant him to be the one bigot still at the table.

“Now that’s settled”, Arngeir tried to get the negotiations under way, “may we proceed?”

“One moment”, Tullius interrupted.

“Here we go”, Galmar sneered.

“I just want to make clear that the only reason I agreed to attend this council”, Tullius continued, ignoring Galmar, “was to deal with the dragon menace. I have no authority to negotiate a permanent settlement, unless Ulfric is ready to sue for peace and turn himself over to Imperial justice.”

“Master Arngeir”, Ulfric interrupted, “are you going to just let him continue to …”

“We’re here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons”, Tullius finished, “nothing more. We consider even sitting down to talk with these rebels more than generous.”

“Enough posturing, Tullius”, Ulfric said, “if you came to talk, let’s get on with it.”

“Fine”, Tullius agreed, “let’s get this over with.”

“Are we ready to proceed?” Arngeir asked, before continuing after looking at Tullius and Ulfric, “General Tullius, jarl Ulfric, this gathering is unprecedented. We are gathered here at the Dragonborn’s request. I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?”

“Our terms are simple”, Ulfric began, “Markarth must be ceded to our control. Thongvor Silver-Blood can take over as jarl.”

“That won’t be possible”, Rikke remarked.

“You do not have the authority to decide that”, Tullius interrupted her.

“It’s not about the city”, Rikke defended herself, “the day we left for High Hrothgar, I received the news that Thongvor Silver-Blood has been assassinated.”

“And you didn’t seem fit to inform me immediately?” Tullius asked.

“I never had the opportunity”, Rikke answered.

A loud banging could suddenly be heard at the gates, when Arngeir opened the gates, he noticed a Stormcloak and an Imperial legionar glaring at each other.

“I have an important message for General Tullius”, the Tribune Hadvar said.

“I have news for my Jarl”, Ralof said.

Arngeir allowed both in. A few minutes later, both the Imperial as the Stormcloak delegation had left the table to confer with their messenger. Sometime later, both delegations were once again at the table. “We just received news that Legate Fenara Silver-Blood has been assassinated at her station in Falkreath”, Rikke explained, “I would advise to put the Silver-Blood cousins living in Windhelm under protective custody.”

“It’s too late, I’m afraid”, Ulfric replied, “unknown assailants have broken into their mansion and stabbed them all.”

“The Dark Brotherhood is most certainly behind this”, Galmar stated, “how dare you to agree to a meeting, but still send assassins after our allies.”

“Why would General Tullius send the Dark Brotherhood after one of his own legates?” Ulfric retorted, “I doubt anyone at the table has anything to do with this.” Only Ria noticed Odvan quickly glancing at Ti’alma, but she chose not to say anything.

In the meanwhile, Arngeir tried to get the negotiations back under way, “Jarl Ulfric wants the city of Markarth, what do you say?”

Before Tullius had a chance to reply, Ulfric did, “forget about Markarth, you can keep it for now, we want Falkreath and Morthal.”

“Why give up on Markarth?” Galmar asked a bit baffled.

“We won’t be able to hold it”, Ulfric replied, “not without garrisoning half our army there. The Silver-Blood family would have been able to keep the city under control, but without them? If I put any other of our other allies on the Jarl’s throne, it is guaranteed that most of Markarth’s Nords will run off and join the Forsworn. Thongvor had power in Markarth, he could have held the city, anyone else could only do so with half our army gathered over there.”

“You can have Falkreath and Morthal”, Tullius offered (actually liking the fact Ulfric had just given away valuable strategic information), “in exchange for Riften and Winterhold.”

“We will never agree to …”, Galmar began before Ulfric interrupted him.

“Deal”, Ulfric said.

“It seems we may have an agreement”, Arngeir concluded, “Jarl Ulfric, General Tullius, these are the terms currently on the table. The Empire gets Riften and Winterhold, Ulfric gets Falkreath and Morthal. Do you agree to this?”

“The Sons of Skyrim will live up to their agreements”, Ulfric answered, “as long as the Imperials hold to theirs. What about you Elisif, I’m sure General Tullius is waiting to do your bidding.”

“I have nothing to say to that murderer”, Elisif told Tullius, “General, you’ve proven yourself a good friend of Skyrim, I continue to trust that you will do the utmost to safeguard our interests.”

“Thank you, Jarl Elisif”, Tullius answered, “we agree to these terms, until the dragon menace is dealt with. After that, Ulfric, there will be a reckoning. Count on it.”

The delegations left, leaving only jarl Balgruuf, the blades, Ti’alma, Odvan and the Greybeards. “You will have my cooperation”, Balgruuf promised, “but I do wonder how you intend to lure a dragon to the trap.”

“I can be of assistance in that matter”, Esbern explained, “I have been searching the library at Sky Haven Temple, looking for that very answer. The ancient Blades recorded the names of every dragon they killed, cross-referencing this with the map of dragon burial sites, I identified one of the dragons Alduin raised.”

“How does that help?” Ti’alma asked.

“The name of a dragon always consists out of 3 words of power”, Esbern continued, “when Odvan calls him with the voice, the dragon will hear it, wherever he is. He isn’t forced to come at you, but dragons are prideful creatures. He won’t be able to resist the challenge of meeting the one who fought Alduin and survived in battle.”

“What’s his name?” Odvan asked.

“I’m not a master of the voice as these gentlemen”, Esbern answered, referring to the Greybeards, “but it’s written on this scroll. Od-Ah-Viing, as I read it, Winged-Snow-Hunter.”

Chapter Text

When Jarl Balgruuf headed back towards his city, the Blades decided to accompany him (dragons were their core business after all, they had offered to assist in preparing the dragon trap), Ria had decided to follow as well. Ti’alma and Odvan followed at a slower pace (it would take some time to prepare the trap anyhow). Somewhere halfway down, they were approached by Arnbjorn.

“I’m sorry”, Ti’alma told Odvan, “but I think he has news for my ears only.” Having already grasped that it would probably be about the Dark Brotherhood, Odvan didn’t make a fuss and made sure he was out of hearing.

“We have a situation”, Arnbjorn began, “as ordered, we were waiting outside to ambush the targets. A small Thalmor patrol managed to discover our position though, which meant we were forced to kill them.”

“A dead Thalmor is the only good Thalmor”, Ti’alma approved, “but I suppose there is more to the tale?”

“There is”, Arnbjorn answered, “The Thalmor ambassador came outside sooner than expected.”

“Sorry about that”, Ti’alma remarked.

“She noticed her patrol not being there”, Arnbjorn continued, “we managed to subdue her rather quickly, but we weren’t certain about killing her just yet.”

Having the Thalmor ambassador lying unconscious near them, Ti’alma was rather pleased, “do you have anything with you to control mages? I don’t know whether she can cast, but most altmer can after all.”

“We have taken care of her magicka”, Arnbjorn assured her, “I suppose that means you want her taken with us?”

“I sure would”, Ti’alma answered. When she noticed Elenwen became conscious, she continued, “one thing though, do you think anyone would mind me eating her? She tortured my father after all, which makes her my enemy.”

Ti’alma took a lot of pleasure in seeing Elenwen’s expression. “After that altmeri scumbag murdered my wife”, Arnbjorn answered, equally satisfied, “I can say that it would be my pleasure to dine upon a goldskin with you. Although I do prefer to do it in my wolf form.”

“No problem”, Ti’alma replied, “just leave the heart to me, I noticed it’s the tastiest part of an altmer.”

“I suppose you could call your husband now”, Arnbjorn suggested, “the easiest way to transport the prisoner is if I change and carry her on my back, could you and Odvan tie her on my back after I have changed?”

“We will”, Ti’alma promised. With a total lack of modesty (which was mostly due to the fact that he was always naked after changing back), Arnbjorn stripped himself naked, put his clothes in a bag and began his change. Rather quickly, a giant werewolf stood in his place. Odvan, who had approached them, helped Ti’alma tying Elenwen (and the bag) to Arnbjorn’s back. After which Arnbjorn ran away.

“I don’t suppose you want to explain why you had the Dark Brotherhood waiting here”, Odvan mentioned after a while.

“It’s not really a secret”, Ti’alma decided to explain, “not for you at least, your mother and the other hagravens decided upon a back-up plan. If the conference would fail, then we were supposed to kill Jarl Ulfric, Galmar and Jarl Igmund. The Silver-Bloods however had to be killed anyway.”

“You did succeed in that”, Odvan grinned before suddenly lifting her up and running of the mountain with her, shouting ‘Become Ethereal’ just in time to land them safely at the Whiterun side of the mountain.

“I think I prefer this city to Windhelm”, Ti’alma remarked having entered the city alongside Odvan, “it’s just a shame of all the trees which had to die to build all this.”

“I thought your Green Pact only forbids the harming of Valenwood trees?” Odvan replied.

“It does”, Ti’alma admitted, “that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have just used regular materials, like animal bones, stone, animal skin. There is absolutely no reason for plants to die, just so you could build a city.”

They came a shrine with a strange priest in front of it (Ti’alma had a hunch he was a bit blessed by Sheogorath), who kept on preaching to whoever was listening, “And what does the Empire do? Nothing! Nay, worse than nothing! The Imperial machine enforces the will of the Thalmor! Against its own people!”

“To which deity is this shrine?” Ti’alma asked, “I never saw a shrine like that before.” “Talos the mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassailable!” the priest replied, “when the Imperial government foolishly chose to sign the Thalmor’s White-Gold Concordat, they betrayed us all.”

“The Thalmor forced the Empire to ban the worship of Talos”, Odvan explained.

“They did something similar in Valenwood”, Ti’alma told Heimskr, “they murder people caught following the Green Pact.”

“Idon’t know about you”, Odvan said, not planning to hang around a priest of Talos if he could help it, “but I’m going on to Dragonreach.

Ti’alma on the other hand was rather sympathetic to people whose religious practices were being banned under Thalmor threats. “I’ll be up shortly”, she told Odvan, “I would like to know more about this Talos, even if it’s just because I heard father calling upon him.”

“He’s a bastard”, Odvan replied, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted to know about him.” Ti’alma did stay to speak with Heimskr though. After having spoken with Heimskr, Ti’alma continued on towards Dragonreach. The guards, who were instructed to let a young bosmer inside, left her in immediately. Inside, she was quickly guided towards the porch. Jarl Balgruuf, his guards, several of the Companions, the Blades and of course Odvan were already waiting.

“Are you all ready?” Balgruuf asked.

“As ready as we’re ever going to be”, his housecarl replied for the guards.

“Very well”, Balgruuf decided, “the porch is all yours Dragonborn.”

Odvan stepped forwards and shouted, “OD! AH! VIING!” For almost half an hour it was silent, but eventually a dragon’s roar could be heard.

“The plan isn’t to kill the dragon”, Tiberius explained everyone one last time, “don’t take any unnecessary risks. We should be able to lure the dragon into the trap and preferably accomplish this without casualties.”

“Those are my men, not yours Blade”, Balgruuf replied, before turning towards his guards, “but his words are sound. I doubt you’d want to go into Sovngarde while Alduin is there.”

The dragon swept down, over the guards, who followed their orders and pulled back. Odahviing landed on the porch and shouted fire at the group, Tiberius managed to block it with a ward. Odahviing came even closer in order to use his teeth and claws.

“Now”, Irileth shouted after which the guards lowered the yoke, trapping Odahviing.

The dragon at first futilely tried to escape, after which he began speaking, “Nid! Horvutah med kodaav. Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin. Ah. I forget. You do not have the dovah speech.”

“I don’t”, Odvan replied, “but what I do have are questions, questions you are to answer.”

“You want to hear about Alduin’s portal”, Odahviing answered before the question was even asked, “his portal is at the eastern edge of what you humans call Skyrim. It is guarded by draugr, dragons and a dragon priest.”

“How do I get there?” Odvan asked.

“You don’t”, Odahviing answered clearly laughing, “you might have the soul of a dov, but you don’t have its wings.”

“Then you will carry Odvan to that place”, Ti’alma said.

“Why would I do that oh Dovah-Kiim?”

“Because if Alduin destroys the world”, Ti’alma answered, “you will be gone as well.”

“Rightly spoken Dovah-Kiim”, Odahviing answered, “release me and I will bring the Dovahkiin to Skuldafn.”

“And me too”, Ti’alma objected.

“No”, Odahviing answered, “you might carry a Dovah-Mon, who will be Dovahkiin herself one day, but you are not of the Dov. I will carry the Dragonborn only.”

“Release him”, Odvan told the guards.

“Are you certain about this?” Balgruuf asked.

“I am”, Odvan answered. “Very well”, Balgruuf replied, “release the dragon.”

“Are you ready to see Keizal as only the Dov do?” Odahviing asked after having been released.

“I am”, Odvan answered as he climbed on the dragon, who promptly took flight.