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Chapter Text

Prentis Lovrik sighed for what had to be the dozenth time in five minutes as the rain steadily pattered around him. Even with his hood up it still couldn’t keep out the chill and wetness of the wind and rain. Really, he shouldn’t complain, the storm had dulled significantly and now it was merely an annoyance. The water made trekking through the mountains south-west of Markarth dangerous, but not unmanageable for him.

He had traveled by foot from his temple in the Reach to the Rift on a mission for the leaders of his order, and decided to take a carriage back to Markarth. It had taken much haggling, but he had finally been able to convince the driver to drive him as close to the temple as possible. As soon as they got to Markarth however the fool got so drunk on ale he couldn’t get up in the morning and Prentis could not wait any longer. So he decided to walk the nearly twenty-five miles home.

Not five miles after leaving Markarth did the wind begin to howl and buckets of rain poured down upon him. During the worst of the storm he had tried to use a barrier in an attempt to keep himself dry, but that had proven to be futile. Restoration magic was never his strong suit and it had been rather difficult to sustain his barrier for so long. Sure enough, despite his best efforts, some of the raindrops did manage to make it through.

Suddenly, the steady rain slowed to a sprinkle and, had he been a younger man, Prentis might have whooped with joy. He knew that if he walked one more mile he would get to a little village where he could enjoy a warm hearth, a nice pint of ale, and perhaps a lady to share his bed with for the night.

He picked up his pace, excited for the warmth of the village after such a cold and very long night. He had always loved the little village, so small and remote it didn’t even have a name. The Nords who founded the place welcomed everyone including the elves, the Imperials, the Khajiit, and even the Argonians. On occasion the Khajiit caravans travel to the quaint little village and the children loved spending time with them.

Lightning flashed across the sky as he began to descend the mountain along the path to the village. Suddenly a shriek hits his ears over the wind. He quickly casts the spells to turn himself invisible and muffle his footsteps before he runs in the direction of the village. Prentis rushes around a bend in the road but stops dead.

Most of the houses, if not all of them, are on fire. The flames dance and roar and he listens as several dozen people scream as the bandits flank them. He can see the butcher, a kind and gentle soul who cried over the animals he had to put down for the sake of the village, lying on the ground with blood sliding down his slit throat as he chokes to death. The daughter of the town elder lies naked, screaming, and face down in the mud as three of the animals take turns on her. The body of a dark elf boy lies in the middle of the street, missing his head.

Prentis swallows hard. The Order is solitary, and rarely do members roam far past the gates of the temple. They swore oaths, though, that if they ever saw an innocent in danger they were duty bound to defend that person even at the cost of their own life. But he looks at all the dead people and all the ones being tortured. There was nothing he could do for them! He would die in the attempt to save a single life, and that life would surely be lost shortly after his head rolled.

Edging slowly down the pathway, Prentis knew that he could make it past the village without alerting the Forsworn. He stepped slowly, never losing concentration from his spells, knowing that if the spells fell from him the Forsworn would be on him within seconds. The elders daughter screams again, over and over, but over her screams he can hear the bandits moans and wet, slapping noises. His stomach twists and he clamps his hand over his mouth, not positive that if he pukes the bandits won’t see be able to see the contents of his stomach magically come flying from the air. The only thing that enters his mind as he walks away from the girl is, "coward."

“Run!” Prentis turns towards a voice that he knows.

“Run Leytiri! Run! Run Ley-ley!”

In shock, Prentis watches a High Elf woman shove a girl in his direction. The girl, a High Elf, runs on her short, stubby legs as fast as she can towards Prentis. As she passes him, her golden colored eyes pass over him briefly and he checks to make sure his spell is still active.

“Hey get her!” Two of the men with the elders daughter point at the child, Leytiri, and they get up to run after her. Leytiri’s mother, who was trying to edge her way back the way Prentis had come, instead ran towards the bandits and screamed for them to take her instead. One of the men shrugs and grabs Leytiri’s mother by the back of her hair and pushes her to the ground.

Prentis takes one step towards Leytiri’s mother, then another. If those fuckers do what he thinks they’re going to do he’ll tear them apart! Out of the corner of his eye though, he sees the other man start up the pathway that would eventually take you to the temple. Leytiri…

He takes one last look at Leytiri’s mother, knowing it would truly be the last. Watching, heart pounding as the monster positions Leytiri’s mother, dress torn, on her hands and knees in front of him. Leytiri’s mother looks up in the direction her daughter had run and looked right at him. She blinks twice, shocked, before he watches as a single tear slides down her left cheek. The monster digs his fingers into her hips as he thrusts hard inside of her. Leytiri’s mother screams as Prentis turns and runs in the same direction Leytiri had.

His heart pounds in his chest as he races towards the bandit and Leytiri. He didn’t know if the bandit wanted to kill her, enslave her, or worse, but he wouldn’t let it happen.

Just as Prentis rounds another bend he hears the bandit curse, “get the fuck down from there!”

His eyes lock onto Leytiri, already halfway up a tree like a little monkey. The bandit reaches for her foot and she kicks him. “Get down you brat!”

Leytiri situates herself onto a branch, out of his reach. Her eyes are filled with tears and there are smudge marks of dirt on her cheeks and clothes, but she is unhurt. Her eyes find Prentis and he flexes his fingers, willing himself to disappear from her sight, but her eyes never leave his.

The bandit roars and pulls his sword from his belt. “If you don’t come down now I’ll run you through girl!”

Prentis raises his hand and twirls his fingers until a ball of ice forms in his palm. Illusion and destruction spells have long been his most powerful magic, and Leytiri, wide eyed, watches as the ice ball floats in his hand. He forms the ball into a dagger and he flings it with all of his might towards the bandit.

The ice blade sinks into the back of the bandit's neck and through to the front of his throat. He clutches at his neck as he falls to his knees, blood pouring down his shirt into the earth below him. It takes awhile for him to die, body shaking, eventually face down choking in the mud. The entire time Leytiri and Prentis do not remove their eyes from each other.

The bandit makes one last gurgle noise in what is left of his throat as Prentis steps towards the tree, hands outstretched, willing Leytiri to jump. She hesitates for only a moment before she jumps from the branch into his arms and he holds her close to him as he turns in the direction of the temple.

The Order of the Seven had not had a new initiate in nearly ten years. Would Leytiri become one of them? One of him?

Chapter Text

Fire crackles and screams fill the air. The smoke is thick and Leytiri struggles not to throw up. Her mother's nails dig into her shoulders as they stand in their doorway, watching in horror as the butcher's blood shoots into the air from the slit in his throat. The elder’s daughter screams but Leytiri’s mother covers her eyes when she turns to look.

Two dozen or more bandits hack and slash at the villagers and burn the buildings. The men and women and children run back and forth, trying to escape to no avail. Leytiri’s mother kneels down and grips Leytiri’s face hard in her hands. “you must run to the temple and demand to see Prentis Lovrik. He is a dear friend and will come to help us. He will keep you safe. I will run for Markarth. The Order may not be able to take care of the bandits alone. We need the Jarl.”

Tears drip down Leytiri’s cheeks. Her voice quivers as she says, “no, mama! I want to stay with you!”

Her mother grips her face harder, nails biting into soft skin. “I will always be with you. Now go, run!”

Heart racing, Leytiri turns and runs as fast as she can in the direction of the path to the temple. She doesn’t make it far before a laughing bandit steps into her path. Drunk, he tries to grab her but misses.

“Run! Run Leytiri! Run! Run Ley-ley!”

Upon hearing her mother’s voice, Leytiri dashes away from the bandit as he tries to grab her again. As she makes her way up the stone path she sees a robed man standing in the middle of the road, immobile. As she passes him their eyes meet for a second before she continues on.

“Hey get her!”

Knowing that they mean her Leytiri tries hard to quicken her pace though she knows that the men are much bigger and have stronger legs than hers. Suddenly, behind her she can hear her mother scream, “take me instead!”

Leytiri pumps her legs and arms harder, trying as hard as she can to block out all of the screams, especially those that belong to her mother. ‘The Order of the Seven,' she thinks, ‘they will help mama. They will save everyone else!’

She can hear a bandit close behind her and she knows that she won’t be able to outrun him. She sees a few trees off of the path and she runs to them. A couple of the boys in the village had taught her how to climb and it was easy for her to scramble up the trunk.

The bandit reaches the tree and makes a mad swipe for her foot. “Get the fuck down from there!” He reaches again and she kicks him will all of her might. “Get down you brat!”

Leytiri wraps her legs around a branch as her eyes fill with tears. Trapped, she’s trapped. She wouldn’t be able to do what her mother asked her to do. She knew that she would die here, now. Suddenly, Leytiri sees a man behind the bandit, the robed man.

The bandit yells and pulls out his sword. A long, scary thing that Leytiri knew would hurt her badly. “If you don’t come down now I’ll run you through girl!”

The robed man moves his fingers and she sees something blue form in his hand. A ball of ice. She watches, transfixed, as it turns into a knife. Suddenly, the man flings the weapon at the bandit and she hears it strike him.

Leytiri listens as the man chokes on his own blood. ‘That’s what he deserves,’ she thinks. ‘They hurt mom, and everyone.’

The bandit makes gurgling noises as he dies but she doesn’t stop looking at the robed man. The man steps towards her as the bandit takes his last breaths. The man lifts up his arms towards her.

She looks down at the bandit below her. She knows that this man is a dangerous person but he saved her. Leytiri uncurls her legs from around the branch and launches herself into the man's arms. He wraps his arms around her protectively and she wraps her legs around his waist. He walks in the direction of the temple and she realizes that he’s a mage from the Order. She knew that he would get help for her people! He-

Leytiri gasps as she sits up in bed. She looks around and realizes she’s in her bed, at home in the temple. Laying beside her sound asleep is a lovely dark elf man named Clavicus. His mother had named him after the Daedric prince Clavicus Vile. Why the woman would name her only child after a Daedric prince of all things she would never be able to understand, but what she did know was the man was good in bed, if nothing else.

Sighing, Leytiri reaches her hand under her pillow and finds the hilt of a dagger. The day after the attack on her village sixteen years ago she had begged Prentis to take her down to see if there were any survivors. He had told her that no one had survived, and by the time Order mages went to fight off the bandits all of the villagers were dead or barely alive and were being used. She had insisted upon seeing her mother, much to the horror of Prentis.

But he had accepted.

The leader of the Order disapproved of her going down to the village but she had insisted upon it and he finally relented. Prentis offered to carry her down the path to the village but she refused. Instead, he held her hand the entire way. She could smell the smoke on the air as they walked. Prentis told her that the smokey smell may last a while since there was so much fire the night before.

When they finally got to the village, she saw smoke rising into the air from the burned buildings. There were corpses, burned and not, spread out all over the ground. Among them she had seen her mother. Naked, face down in the grass. Prentis took off his robe and laid it over her to hide her decency. Even at such a young age Leytiri questioned why he had done such a thing. Her mother was gone and there was no soul in her body. The body didn’t care if it was naked or not.

Prentis had knelt down next to her mother and slid his hand through her beautiful red hair. Everyone always commented on the fact that her mother had red hair. Most Altmer have blonde hair, like Leytiri's. As Prentis prayed over her mother Leytiri walked over to her little house. There wasn’t much left, it had burnt to the ground. But among the mostly burnt furniture and stone walls she found a dagger. It belonged to her mother, she had kept it for safety she said. It was a beautiful thing and Leytiri was only allowed to touch it when her mother was around. The sheath had beautiful blue gems on it, her mother had said they were called sapphires.

As a child Leytiri, thought they were so beautiful but as a woman she thinks her mother was foolish. She could have sold that dagger and moved them to Markarth or anywhere else, somewhere safer. No matter how precious it was to her, she could have made a better life for us. And she would still be alive today…

Clavicus groans and stretches his arms and Leytiri lets go of the dagger. He wraps an arm around her and plants lazy kisses along the side of her neck. She sighs but tilts her head to the side to let him kiss more of her. Clavicus rolls on top of her as she closes her eyes, trying hard to block out the memories of that night sixteen years ago.

Chapter Text

“You must never wield a weapon, Leytiri. Never, not even to save your own life.”

“Why?”

“Magic is a gift. It is natural. A sword, a knife, a mace, they are violent things. They are not natural because they are made by man. Your magic is a gift because it comes from you. If you must kill, do it only to save yourself or another. And only use magic to do so.”

“I have no magic.”

“You do. You just don’t know how much yet.”

Sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, Leytiri tries to form a ball of fire in her hand but instead she can't help but to think about the first conversation she had with the Zyon of the Order. The Zyon is the leader or head of the Order, who is powerful enough to be a master of all of the schools of magic. He, or she, is supposed to be one the most powerful mages alive, if not the most. The Zyon, whose name Leytiri had never even learned in all of her years in the Order, was an old, powerful Nord mage.

There were six who stood at his side. A master of Illusion, a master of Restoration, and so forth. Most of them were powerful in more than one school of magic but they truly created miracles with the ones that they had mastered. Prentis is the master of Illusion. He had told her that he knew she had potential the day he met her because she had seen through his invisibility spell so easily.

Prentis. The roughly fifty-year-old Nord had long been a father to Leytiri. Before she was old enough to do it herself he would braid her long, blonde hair every morning and unbraid it every evening before her bath, which he would draw for her himself. He always made sure she was happy and healthy. As a young girl, he would cut up her meat for her in the exact peculiar way she liked it. She loved duck, and fish, and when he would be forced to leave the Order on a mission he would always bring her back crates and crates of duck and fish and she’d feast on it for weeks. If there is any love left in her heart, it all belongs to him.

The master of Conjuration is a mean old Altmer, like her, named Caltar. He never showed her any preferential treatment though, in fact he whipped her once when she was ten minutes late for class, the old toad. The master of Alteration is an Imperial man named Aerinth, around Prentis’s age and stern but fair. The master of Destruction is a Khajiit named DarJi. Leytiri thinks he is old and wise but honestly, she sometimes struggled to judge the ages of Khajiit. The master of Enchanting and Alchemy is an elderly Nord woman named Arella, a sweet and gentle but powerful mage.

Then there is the master of Restoration, a cranky, young dark elf named Miraana. She couldn’t be more than ten years older than Leytiri and had been the last initiate to join the Order before her. Miraana is the youngest of the masters of the Order, and only became one because the last master of Restoration died a couple years ago. After many scrapes Leytiri had to admit that Miraana was extremely skilled at healing spells but she had never liked the dark elf’s attitude. Miraana was nothing but arrogant towards her.

Leytiri stops trying to bring forth a fireball that she knew was never going to come, and instead willed a ward into being. It floated in front of her, shimmery and a silvery blue. Leytiri couldn’t help a smile. Perhaps one day she could give Miraana a run for her money.

“I thought I told you to work on your destruction spells?”

Leytiri jerks to her feet, nearly tripping on her robes, and spins around. Prentis stands before her with a small smile on his bearded face. Leytiri’s smile widens, she couldn’t help it around him. “I’m sorry, but you know I’m terrible at that and I’m good at restoration. Why shouldn’t I work on the things that I’m good at?”

Prentis rests his gloved hands on his hips and attempts to give her a stern look. “You never know when you’ll need destruction spells. You can’t kill someone who is attacking you with a ward, or by muffling your footsteps, or turning invisible, which you aren’t successful at every time. If you have dreams of being the Zyon one day you need to work at all schools of magic, not just the ones that come easiest to you.”

Leytiri laughs and tugs on her braid. “Me? The Zyon? No, that’s not for me. You know what I want.”

He tilts his head and cocks his eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I do. What is it that you want to be Leytiri?”

“I-”, Leytiri blushes dark red. “I want to be the master of Illusion one day. When you’re gone, I would very much like to follow your path.”

Prentis closes his eyes and Leytiri can’t tell if he is pleased with her answer or not. When he opens them he whispers, “follow my path, huh?”

Before she can answer he turns his back on her. “Follow me. There’s a new initiate for you to meet.”

A new initiate? They hadn’t had one in over a year. They were much more selective than the college of Winterhold and demanded more, so few people actually bothered to come to the Order instead of the College. But Leytiri trails behind Prentis as he leads her into the throne room.

Instead of one throne, like in a castle, there were seven. The chairs were placed evenly apart in a circle, and all of them were black except for a large, silvery looking one that belonged to the Zyon. All of the chairs were empty except for the Zyon’s, and in front of him stood a tall, strapping Nord.

Upon first glance, Leytiri thought the new kid was handsome. She had always been short, and his large muscular body towered over her small frame, which she liked. He has short black hair and a fierce black beard. Indeed, her loins stirred at her first glance, he would certainly be a better bed partner then Clavicus.

But when he turns his blue eyes on her his lips curl up. Leytiri wasn’t sure if he was disgusted that she is a woman, or an Altmer, maybe both. Most of the Nords that have come into the Order have treated her badly for being an Altmer, she expects it at this point. The masters treat her better, perhaps it is their old age or perhaps they merely aren’t bigots, but they do treat her well. Something tells her that this boy is not like them.

The Zyon lifts his hooded head towards her, “come, Leytiri.” A man of few words.

Leytiri stands next to the Nord boy and watches as Prentis leans down to whisper in the Zyon’s ear. Suddenly Prentis straightens but his forehead is furrowed in the way that Leytiri knows he is angry about something. Prentis clears his throat. “Leytiri, this young man is Tovarr and he joins us from Riften. He is a very powerful young mage and will be joining our Order. The masters and the Zyon have just agreed to allow him become an initiate. The Zyon would like it if you train him in Illusion magic.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. She had never been asked to train anyone before! She had learned much here but she had never taught. “Thank you Zyon, and you Prentis. But why don’t you teach him yourself Prentis? We both know that you’re far better than me with Illusion spells.”

Prentis steps towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder and the other on Tovarr’s. “Well, you said that you want to follow my path. One day you very well may be teaching all the new initiates your magic. Perhaps this is a good start.” He squeezes her shoulder.

Giddy, but trying hard to suppress her glee, Leytiri smiles slightly and nods first as Prentis and then at the Zyon. “I will do as you command. I will train Tovarr.”

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Tovarr wince but she doesn’t let that bother her. She, Leytiri, has been given a chance to show how well her magic is. She won’t let down Prentis, or the Zyon. She won’t.

Chapter Text

Tovarr sits on his knees on the floor of the temple, eyes shut, teeth gritted. Leytiri stood opposite him, her Familiar wolf laid on the ground next to her. She had always only been half decent at Conjuration magic, and it was a struggle to keep her Familiar going, especially when she knew that it might take a miracle for Tovarr to master the spell Fury, one of the simplest Illusion spells there is.

At this point, Leytiri doesn’t expect much of the man. She had taken him from the temple hunting and she told him to use Clairvoyance to find the deer they were searching for. Tovarr had only been able to keep up the spell for a few seconds at a time and it took all of his concentration to hold onto it. Eventually, she used her own spell to find the deer before it was lost.

Now, Leytiri was trying to get him to turn her own Familiar against her. She had remembered the joy that filled her when she had turned Prentis’s Familiar on him and had it growl at, but not attack, him. She had hoped that she could make Tovarr feel that joy, but so far the most that had happened was a twitch of her Familiar's ear.

Tovarr grunts loudly and Leytiri looks down at her Familiar, a small wolf, who twitches its ear again but nothing else. Leytiri sighs and her Familiar disappears.

“You broke my fucking concentration!” Tovarr leaps to his feet and points a finger at her angrily. “Conjure your fucking Familiar again, now.”

Surprised at his outburst, Leytiri mops her brow free of sweat while she tries to think of a way to deescalate the situation. They had been at it for hours! Finally she says, “I’m sorry I broke your concentration. But I can’t re-conjure my Familiar. I’m all tapped out magic wise right now.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Aren’t you people supposed to be the most powerful mages in the world? How are you so fucking weak you can’t even conjure a Familiar?”

Leytiri longs to snap back at him but she knows Prentis and the Zyon would frown upon that. She was the teacher and he was the student. If she was the teacher, she must learn to act like one. She clears her throat and takes a deep breath before responding to him. “The Zyon and the masters are some of the most powerful mages in Skyrim, but unfortunately I am just an initiate like you are. I’m also very skilled with Illusion and Restoration spells, but I have difficulty with Conjuration magic. Why don’t we try to continue with your other Illusion spells?”

Tovarr grunts and kneels down again without a reply. Leytiri sighs softly and kneels in front of him. “Okay, let’s try Clairvoyance again. I know it’s a bit of a boring spell, but it is pretty easy to use and it gives you good practice for more powerful spells.”

Again, Tovarr narrows his eyes at her. “To hell with that. Teach me how to turn myself invisible. I’ve always wanted to do that!”

Suppressing another sigh, Leytiri shakes her head. “I’m sorry but that isn’t possible. Only very powerful mages in Illusion magic can do the invisibility spell. I’ve been practicing nearly my entire life and I still have trouble with that spell. If you don’t want to do Clairvoyance, we can work on something else for now but there’s no way you will be able to turn yourself invisible without much more practice.”

‘If you’ll ever be able to do it at all,’ Leytiri thinks bitterly.

Tovarr’s eyes flash angrily. “Just teach me how to do it now, Elf. You and I both know I have more magic then you could ever have. You’re just jealous of my power!”

Leytiri grits her teeth. “Don’t call me Elf. You can call me Leytiri, or Ley-Ley if you want, or even Initiate. I am no different than you just because I am an Altmer and you are a Nord. I don’t run around calling you ‘Nord,' do I? And you and I both know your magic is subpar at best.”

She watches as his hands curl into fists. Oh, how she hopes he throws a punch! Violence is forbidden in the Order and she is dying to get his ass kicked out now.

“Enough, children.”

Leytiri immediately stands and bows her head towards the Zyon. Tovarr follows at a much slower pace and Leytiri notices out of the corner of her eye that the fool doesn’t bow his head. She wished that the Zyon would strike him with lightning for his insolence.

The Zyon tents his fingers together in front of him and a Familiar appears beside him. “Young Tovarr, there are no Elves here. There are no Nords, nor Imperials, no Khajiit, nor Argonians, nor Bretons. There are only mages of the Order of the Seven. Whatever hate you have in your heart for people that look like Leytiri, you must remove from yourself. You are no better or worse than her.”

The Zyon turns towards Leytiri and she bows her head lower. “Leytiri, I personally accepted Tovarr into our Order. If his magic was subpar, he would not be here. Do you disagree with the decisions that I make for our Order?”

Leytiri shakes her head, her face turning bright pink. She had never heard him speak so much in all her time here, and it was incredibly embarrassing that he was speaking so much to chastise her.

He takes a step towards her and uses a finger to lift her chin until she has to look into his eyes. She resists a childish urge to close hers. “I’m sorry, Zyon. I will try to be better.”

The Zyon nods. “That is all I ask. You are tired and are excused. Go to your quarters and rest, and I will train with young Tovarr.”

Without a word Leytiri heads for her room and when she gets there angry tears slide down her cheeks. Fucking Tovarr! She gets her first initiate to teach and she gets that asshole. She rips off her robes and pulls off her pants leaving herself only in a shirt and underwear.

Leytiri slides between her sheets, but before she puts her head down she pushes her hand under her pillow and slides her finger along the sheath of her mother's dagger. She really should have gotten rid of it, years ago. Upon finding out that the Order was forbidden to use weapons she should have chucked it. But she couldn’t because it was the last thing she had of her mother.

Laying her head down, Leytiri lets go of the dagger. Her eyes close, and one last tear falls onto her pillow. Yes, some sleep would do her good. In the morning she would try again and make the Zyon happy.

Hours later, or perhaps only minutes, Leytiri jerks awake and immediately realizes something is wrong. There is a heavy weight on top of her and her face is pressed down into her pillow.

Leytiri jerks harder, trying to throw the thing on top of her off. The thing laughs, a deep and cruel chuckle. Suddenly she wildly bucks and kicks and punches as well as she can with her body face down, but the man laughs louder and pins her arms down.

“You’ve got some fight in you, Ley-Ley.”

She freezes. Gods no, Tovarr! “Get off me, you bastard. Violence isn’t allowed so, if you do this, they’ll kick you out.”

Tovarr’s beard brushes against her cheek and she shivers as he slides his lips and tongue down her neck. “They won’t kick me out Ley-Ley. Even if I couldn’t do any magic at all they wouldn’t kick me out. You’re stuck with me.”

One of his hands slides down her back to her underwear and he hooks one finger into the material. Leytiri tries to buck him off of her again but she realizes it’s futile. The man has got a foot on her, and is at least 80 pounds heavier. She sobs as he pulls her underwear halfway down her legs.

“Oh Ley-Ley, you High Elves really are whores. What kind of good, respectful girl sleeps half naked?”

Leytiri sobs. “Don’t call me Ley-Ley.” She can hear her mothers voice in her head. Ley-Ley was the last thing she said to her…

Tovarr’s hard, callused hands slide up and down her thighs before one of them comes down and smacks her buttocks. He waits a few seconds before he strokes the reddening skin. Leytiri sobs again as her loins stir and wetness pools onto her sheets.

He laughs again. “I knew you were a whore. You liked that, didn’t you? You like a little bit of pain huh, so I’ll give it to you.”

Leytiri tries to speak but she chokes on her saliva and he slaps her buttocks again and again, each time stroking the hurt skin sensually. Finally, Tovarr slides his hands to her privates and pushes a finger inside of her. Leytiri tries to hit him but he smacks her arms away.

Tovarr pumps first one finger, then two, and finally three in and out of her while he loosens his belt with his other hand. He crooks one of his fingers inside of her and suddenly her thighs tremble, she tilts her head back, lets out a long moan, and she orgasms uncontrollably on his fingers.

He laughs again. “See? You know you want it. You say you don't want it but you're body is begging me to give you my cock.” He pulls his fingers out of her and positions himself at her entrance.

Leytiri tries to concentrate on her hand and on her magic as he thrusts inside of her. As he grunts and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, she thinks only of fire and tries to will a fireball into her hand.

She can feel the magic inside of her burning but no fire fills her hand, not even the slightest flicker. Tears slide down her cheeks and she tries harder to bring forth her fire but it stubbornly refuses to come.

Tovarr pulls her hips up and thrusts into her harder, making her cry out. Gods please let one of the masters hear us! But just as she thinks about screaming for Prentis, Tovarr clamps his hand down upon her mouth, silencing her.

Resigned to it, Leytiri tries to clear her mind and just hope that he won’t hurt her more after it is over. Suddenly, Leytiri can feel something hard underneath her pillow. The dagger…

Leytiri slowly slides her left hand under her pillow and unsheathes the dagger as quietly as she can. Tovarr’s hips begin moving erratically and she knows he is close. Feigning pleasure, Leytiri pushes herself back against him, trying to position herself so that she won’t miss when she strikes. She only has one chance.

Tovarr pulls her to her knees and pumps in and out of her harder and quicker while Leytiri tightens her grip on the dagger. Tovarr arches his back and Leytiri nearly gags as he spills himself inside of her. She chances a look behind her and realizes his eyes are closed in pleasure. One chance!

Leytiri swings the dagger and slits Tovarr clean across the throat. His eyes open in horror and blood pours out of his neck onto her. Suddenly, he grabs her by the back of the neck and slams her head down into her pillow. She tries to fight against the pressure on her neck, but even with blood pouring out of him and death imminent, he is still just too strong.

Panicking, and unable to breath, Leytiri forces her knees into the mattress and shoves with all of her might. Finally, his hand slides from her head and she pushes him off of her. His body slides down to the floor and Leytiri gasps for air, trying to ignore the ocean of blood covering her and her bed.

Hurried footsteps in the hall race towards her room and Leytiri closes her eyes. They would have to forgive her for this. She had to save herself! They have to forgive her.

Chapter Text

Prentis sits staring into the fire flickering merrily in the Zyon’s bed quarters, a cup of ale in his hand. His eyes ached from lack of sleep and his bones felt hundreds of years old, rather than the fifty years he had lived. Truth be told, he was quite positive he may never sleep again. Earlier that evening he had heard muffled cries coming from Leytiri’s room and, fearing for her safety, he had rushed to her aid. What he found had shocked him to his core.

Leytiri laid in the middle of her bed, sobbing, her shirt rolled up and barely covering her breasts while the rest of her was bare. Her flawless, golden colored skin was soaked in crimson red blood. The new initiate, Tovarr, lay face-down and lifeless beside her bed. The young man’s pants were around his knees. Leytiri had a vice like grip on a dagger with sapphire colored jewels on the hilt.

Upon realizing that Prentis was in the room, Leytiri had launched herself into his arms and he had held her until all of her tears dried. When he last looked upon her mother he gave her an unspoken promise, that he would protect Leytiri. He failed. He didn’t protect her from this arrogant piece of filth. And now, now she would suffer for it.

When Prentis saw the body his initial thought was how in the hell was he going to be able to hide it? He couldn’t carry it through the temple, knowing that the other masters, the Zyon, and initiates were all up at varying hours and there was no guarantee that one of them wouldn’t catch him. He couldn’t burn it, that was dangerous in Leytiri’s tiny bed quarters and he wasn’t sure his fire could get hot enough to remove all of Tovarr.

Unfortunately he didn’t have long to think about getting rid of the body before Leytiri’s sobs attracted more people to her room. Masters forced gasping and screaming initiates back to their rooms and the Zyon had stood, stony faced and silent, staring at Tovarr’s body. Soon enough, everyone in the Order knew that Tovarr had died and Leytiri, still gripping her dagger, had killed him.

The day every person entered the temple to try to join the Order were told that they, for the rest of their lives, would be forbidden to use a weapon against another person again. If they used a sword, a dagger, a mace, anything other than their magic, they would be removed from the Order. And violence against other members of the Order was strictly forbidden.

Had Leytiri, after the rape, ran to get him and told him what happened then Tovarr would have been removed from the Order. Instead she had killed him, and now she would be punished for it. She would be removed from the Order and none of them would ever be permitted to speak to her again. Leytiri had nothing but them. No money. No food. How could she survive with nothing and no one to support her?

Prentis had briefly considered running. Just grabbing her and taking off. He had seen the world and traveled all over Skyrim. He could take care of her like he always had. But cowardice had kept him here, or maybe hope. Maybe the Zyon would forgive her for this. It had been perfectly clear to him the moment he ran into that room what had happened. If Leytiri had attacked Tovarr with a spell and killed him then they would still be furious but forgiving. They’d be annoyed with her, possibly, for killing such an important initiate. But they would forgive.

Gods, if only Leytiri had killed Tovarr with magic.

Perhaps it was pride, his, that had told him to teach her Illusion magic above all the others. He had secretly hoped that the day he died she would succeed him as the master of Illusion and, maybe, one day become the Zyon herself. She had always been abysmal at Destruction spells and could barely bring forth the smallest ball of flame, and holding onto it had taken all of her concentration. Now he wished that he had told her to stop practicing her Illusion and Restoration spells and work on Destruction instead.

It would have saved her the heartbreak he knew she was about to face. He swallows hard. He didn’t know if he could bear it.

Footsteps behind him have his head turning to find a young Dark Elf boy standing in the doorway. Clavicus. The boy tries to hide the stricken look on his face but he isn’t successful. Prentis knows that he and Leytiri had been intimate, and it must torture the boy to know what happened to Leytiri right before she killed Tovarr.

Clavicus clears his throat. “Master, the other-the other masters are ready to decide on-on Leytiri’s fate.”

Prentis nods and listens as the boy steps from the room. He sighs and takes a large gulp of his ale before standing and making his way to the throne room. Upon entering he can see each of the thrones are filled, save for his seat. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the thrones is Leytiri, her robes on but hood down. Her fear filled golden eyes light up when she sees him and he gives her a small smile, perhaps her last kindness from the Order.

The Zyon holds his hand out towards Prentis’s throne and he takes it. All of the masters are deathly silent and a couple of them are glaring at Leytiri from underneath their hoods. Leytiri shudders and it looks to Prentis like she is trying to hold back more tears.

The Zyon tents his fingers together and looks around at all of the masters. “It is time to determine the fate of young Leytiri. In ordinary circumstances she would have been immediately cast out of the Order upon discovering the violent act she committed. But Prentis believes that Leytiri was assaulted by Tovarr and only acted in self defense.”

Miraana snorts. “How do we know that it was an assault? What evidence is there that she was raped? We could just as easily come to the conclusion that they had a sexual encounter and, angered by what happened last night, she killed him. Everyone here knows the boy was prejudiced against Elves. Perhaps Leytiri decided to do something about it.”

Leytiri gasps. “That’s not true! I woke up and he was on top of me!”

Caltar raises one of his hands. “Silence, Leytiri. We have heard your testimony and you know you are not to speak during judgement.” He looks at Miraana. “You heard the girl's sobs and screams. Leytiri is young, and arrogant on occasion, but I have known her since she was four years old and what I do know is that she is no liar. Why would she risk her home and her life as it is on a lie?”

Miraana snorts again but she does not respond. DarJi on the other hand does speak. “If the girl had only used a spell she would be allowed to stay. Our vows are clear: the day we join the Order we swear never to lift a weapon against another even to save our own lives. Leytiri broke her vow. Had she used magic to kill him we would not be speaking here now, it would be done. What harm was there in waiting to tell one of us masters about the rape? I would have gladly set the shit stain of a man on fire myself if Leytiri could not do it herself.”

Arella tilts her head in DarJi’s direction. “DarJi! We do not kill whomever we want on a whim. We protect those who can not protect themselves, we only kill with magic to save lives, and we do not set people on fire for laughs. The problem right now is the weapon used. The blade is man made and arrogant. Magic is a gift from the gods. Perhaps Tovarr deserved to die, but not with a blade and by one of our hands, not Leytiri’s.”

Leytiri sobs and her body starts to shake. Prentis wants nothing more than to take her into his arms but he knows the other masters would frown upon that. Caltar raises his hand again to silence her but Arella gives him a look that silences him. She looks back at Leytiri. “You must think us cruel, child. I do believe the boy raped you, I do believe you when you say you tried to draw forth your magic and failed, and I do believe you when you say you were frightened and didn’t know what else to do. I do not know the outcome of your judgement, you very well may be allowed to stay, but I must wonder if you would choose violence again if you were forced to choose.”

Prentis clears his throat and Arella nods at him to speak. “Forgive me, Arella. Leytiri has proven to be nothing less than a devout follower of our Order. She has never chosen violence. How many people have you killed? Or DarJi? Or Caltar? Or Miraana or Aerinth? Or for gods sake, the Zyon? I have killed dozens, maybe even hundreds all in the name of the Order of the Seven. So have you, all of you. I used magic every time and I hope you all did too but I have never been raped, I have never been in that situation, and I don’t know if I could have drawn out my magic if I had been assaulted. I am asking only for compassion for a young girl who was frightened.”

Aerinth leans forward in his seat and looks down at Leytiri. “Tell us the truth, girl. How long have you had the dagger?”

Prentis closes his eyes and he can suddenly hear his heart pounding in his ears. He knew that she had taken it from her home down in the village the day after the bandit raid. He knew that he should have stopped her, but he wanted her to have something that belonged to her mother. He should have taken it and gotten rid of it…

Leytiri curls her hands into fists in her lap and Prentis watches as two more tears slide down her cheeks. “Since I was four, master. It belonged to my mother, I had no intention of using it I just wanted something that…” She trails off.

All of the masters except Prentis were staring at each other in horror. She had kept a weapon, held it, hid it, for sixteen years. Prentis was certain that no words would get them to forgive her now.

The Zyon lifts one hand and everyone falls silent. “We shall vote now. If Leytiri is exiled, she will immediately leave the Order. She will be disrobed, she will receive fifty Septims, a bag of food and a skin of water and then she will be on her own. She shall never be allowed to enter this temple again. If she is forgiven, she can stay if she chooses. She is not to be treated any differently then she was yesterday. Aerinth, if you would please start the vote.”

Aerinth rises and glares down at Leytiri who curls in on herself, trying to avoid his gaze. “Exile.”

Miraana rises next and smirks down at Leytiri. “Exile.”

Caltar stands and Prentis can see that his hands are curled into shaking fists. “Innocent. She is young and missed her mother.”

DarJi rises to his feet next and looks down at Leytiri with a sad expression. “Had you not kept the blade for these past sixteen years I may have called you innocent, but the fact that you kept it despite knowing what that would mean for us, I must say Exile.”

Arella elegantly rises and clasps her hands together almost as if in prayer. “Innocent, she is still just a girl.”

Prentis counts three votes for exile and two for her innocence. Surely the Zyon would vote with him and she’d be allowed to stay! Prentis rises and he tries to keep the relief out of his voice when he says, “Innocent.”

With all of the masters standing over her, Leytiri shrinks in upon herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. Prentis tries not to smile, knowing that the Zyon would do the right thing and forgive her. She really is still just a child compared to all of them. She will learn!

The Zyon slowly rises to his feet and bows his head. Each of the masters wait with baited breath and Prentis wishes that he would just get it over with and put Leytiri out of her misery. He wanted to get her back to her room and into a fresh pair of clothes. And maybe, just maybe, get her the hell out of there. They could go anywhere else, if that’s what she wanted.

Finally the Zyon lifts his head and in a soft voice barely above a whisper he says, “Exile.”

Leytiri and Prentis both jerk their heads in union at the Zyon and Leytiri shouts out, “no!”

Chapter Text

Leytiri sits in an inn called Dead Man’s Drink in Falkreath. Sitting in front of her is a bowl of cabbage potato soup, the cheapest soup she could afford, and a loaf of bread. The meal, her largest in four days, cost seven septims. The Zyon had only given her fifty, and she wasted ten of it by getting a room at the Dead Man’s Drink last night. But after sleeping in barns or out in the open for the past few nights Leytiri needed a bed to sleep in, at least for one night.

The cabbage was hard for her to choke down, she always hated the stuff, but the soup was hot and she was starving. The Zyon had also given her water and food but that hadn’t lasted long. Eventually she was forced to collect water from streams and though she had managed to hunt down a rabbit, she had no idea how to skin it, and wasn’t able to eat it.

Leytiri knew that there was no place for her in Skyrim anymore. Her family was dead, her villagers were dead, and now she was no longer part of the Order. After reaching Falkreath she had come to a decision. She would travel to Cyrodiil where she would try to find a job at an alchemy shop or something. She had always been good with making potions. It sounded like a boring life to her but after what happened and the shame she felt about what she did perhaps what she needed was a boring life.

Briefly, she had thought about going to the Summerset Isles instead of Cyrodiil. But she was afraid about how many septims it would take to book passage and she felt like she wouldn’t be accepted there. She doesn’t worship any of their gods, she doesn’t care about their traditions, and she couldn’t even speak their language. In fact, Leytiri knew next to nothing about being an Altmer at all. Her first few years she had only ever encountered one other Altmer, her mother, and only a small handful in the Order afterwards.

Last night when she got to Falkreath she had asked around about jobs. Someone had suggested that she sell flowers. If she picked good ones they could sell for a septim a piece. Another person had suggested chopping wood. She could get five septims for every piece of wood she cuts but Leytiri had never been very strong physically and doubted she could chop very many pieces of wood before she’d be forced to give up.

The lady at the alchemy shop couldn’t afford to hire her but had offered to let her use the alchemy lab and to sell any potions she made. Leytiri could spend a little bit of her money on ingredients or find some while scavenging around Falkreath. It may take awhile, but eventually she should be able to make enough to get to Cyrodiil and find a place to live there.

She was pretty good at alchemy. Arella had always seemed very proud of her potions. She could make potions and sell them, and get the hell out of Skyrim. If she made enough money maybe she could set up her very own alchemy shop, grow old, and never, ever, lift another weapon again. Tovarr deserved what he got but so did she. She swore vows and she broke them.

Leytiri sighs and gulps the last of the soup and stands up to take the bowl to the bar. She might as well get started. The sooner she looked for ingredients or bought them the sooner she could get out of Skyrim.

As she steps out of the inn she turns in the direction of the cemetery. Arella had always told her when in need for ingredients and an alchemy shop is no where near, then a cemetery is a good place to look. Leytiri heads down the hill to the cemetery and her eyes immediately land on a cluster of Nightshade. She smiles, there are a ton of ingredients she could mix with Nightshade! She quickly picks all of the flowers, ten of them in all.

Some bleeding crown sit just a few feet from her so she starts picking those as well. She could mix the two of them together, or sell the bleeding crown because they’re quite valuable by themselves. Pleased with herself, Leytiri starts back up the hill towards the alchemy shop. She knew that Nightshade is worth roughly seven or eight septims and bleeding crown could be sold for around ten. If she sold all ten Nightshade she was looking at in-between seventy and eighty septims from them alone, and the bleeding crown would put her over a hundred!

It had taken her less than five minutes to get enough ingredients for over a hundred septims. Maybe she could get even more money, if she could create a few really good potions from the ingredients. Maybe she should scour Falkreath for all the ingredients she could find. And perhaps she could go outside the town and try to find more out there. Leytiri smiled wider, she would get a room at the inn tonight as well.

Oh, she couldn’t help the spring in her step. Tonight she’ll splurge a little bit more of her money and tomorrow she’ll hunt from dawn until dusk for ingredients. She won’t stop until her bag is brimming with flowers, fungi, and whatever else she could find. But tonight, tonight she will eat venison stew, butter with her bread, and maybe even a sweet roll for dessert. Perhaps even a bottle of spiced wine.

Leytiri rounds the corner and stops dead in her tracks. Standing in the doorway of Grave Concoctions is the woman who runs the place, and Arella. Two initiates stand next to them and Leytiri is surprised to see that one of them is Clavicus. The flowers and fungi fall from Leytiri’s hands and she presses herself against the closest building, trying to blend in with the shadows. The owner of the shop nods her head and Leytiri can see that Arella looks displeased with whatever they’re talking about.

The owner of the shop motions for Arella to enter the building, but Clavicus and the other initiate stay outside. Leytiri kneels down and shoves the flowers and fungi back into her bag as quickly as she can. She was getting the hell out of here, out of Falkreath, out of fucking Skyrim itself if she had to!

Edging around the building in the direction of the entrance to the town, Leytiri pulls her hood up over her head. Prentis had given her a cloak with a hood when she left the day of her exile for which she was eternally grateful for. If she kept her head down, and stayed out of their sight she should be able to leave town. Maybe she’d head for Riften, or head north for Whiterun. She could make money in either place, and eventually make enough to hire a carriage ride out of Skyrim.

She walks slowly towards the entrance of town, trying not to look suspicious. Thirty feet… twenty… almost…

“Leytiri?”

Clavicus’s voice, always so soft and gentle towards her, was filled with confusion, and fear. Instead of answering him Leytiri dashes for the exit, and Clavicus shouts, “Leytiri! Stop!”

She can hear the guards yell for her to stop and she can hear Clavicus shout for Arella. The last voice she hears as she disappears into the trees is Arella’s. She yells two words, “Leytiri, please!”

But she ignores all of the voices. She doesn’t listen to the guards or Clavicus, and certainly not Arella. Leytiri, who had always been swift on her feet, outpaced all of them and it didn’t take long before the shouts died away and the only thing she could hear was her labored breath, her swift footfalls, and her beating heart. She would run until she couldn’t anymore. And then she would walk. And finally she would crawl if she had to. She would leave Skyrim today if it was the last thing she would do.

Her feet slow until she stops. She can’t hear anyone behind her, she has no idea how far she is from Falkreath, nor how far she is to the border. But she would walk south until she couldn’t walk anymore.

A branch snaps behind her but before she can start running again a blow to the back of her head sends her sprawling to the ground. Her eyes blur and as she looks up she can see two men wearing armor walking towards her. Leytiri closes her eyes and begins to lose consciousness as her head hits the ground.

Chapter Text

The cart beneath her shakes and Leytiri tries to grip her head but realizes her hands are bound. She tries to suppress a groan but it comes out anyways. A blonde man in front of her looks over at her and says, “hey, they hit you pretty hard. I suppose you were trying to cross the border out of Skyrim?”

Leytiri nods but doesn’t say anything. The man continues. “You ran smack into an Imperial ambush.” He nods at the man beside Leytiri. The man has a gag in his mouth. “You and this thief.”

Sitting next to the blonde man is a brown haired one who speaks up. “They were looking for you assholes and if they hadn't been I would have made it out of here!” He looks at Leytiri. “You there, girl, we shouldn’t be here. The Imperials want them, not us.”

The blonde mans lips twitch and Leytiri suspects he’s trying to hide a smile. “We all have chains on us. And I expect we are all bound for the same fate.”

“Would you all shut up?” The driver throws a look over his shoulder at them.

The brown haired man looks at the person beside Leytiri. “Why's his mouth covered? And who is he?”

Agitated, the blonde fires back, “that's Ulfric, you idiot. He's the true High King of Skyrim.”

The brown haired man’s eyes widen. “Wait... Ulfric? But where are they taking us if they have you?” His voice starts to sound panicked. “Oh gods, by he gods, where the fuck are they taking us?”

Leytiri wants to say that they are probably going to their deaths, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t have to, the blonde does it for her. "To Sovngarde, I expect.” She briefly closes her eyes, yes, death awaits them.

She watches the path ahead, trying to ignore them as the men talk about home. Ahead of them, the gates to some sort of town opens. She can hear a man call out to a general Tullius, who responds back. The brown haired man starts calling out to the gods, asking them to help. Leytiri knows that no help is coming for them. She knows that she is about to lose her head, for the sole crime of trying to run from Skyrim.

The blonde man looks at a man wearing armor and angrily says, “There's General Tullius. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Those fucking elves.” Leytiri bristles but doesn’t say anything. Prentis had gone to Windhelm on a mission once and she had begged him to take her with him. He had replied, sadly, that she would not be accepted there because she was an elf. Other initiates had treated her unfairly before because of her race, but they had never treated her the way Prentis described the way the people of Windhelm would treat her.

Her people… stuck in slums and just trying hard as they could to survive in a world where no one wants them…

The blonde man looks around at all the buildings, not a town but more a fortress or prison maybe. “There was a girl here, in Helgen, that I liked years ago.” He smiles, a soft, smile. “It's funny that these walls made me feel safe when I was a boy but now they crush around you.”

A boy sitting on a porch asks his father who they were and his father tells him to go inside. Leytiri is glad that the boy is going in. He doesn’t need to see what is about to happen. A soldier, a woman, steps up to one of the carts and demands that the prisoners get out of the carts.

The brown haired man looks around. “I don't understand. Why are we stopping in Helgen?”

Leytiri does not have the heart to tell him, but it seems the blonde man does. “I told you, Sovngarde is where we are going.” He looks at Leytiri. “Come now, be brave girl.”

She nods and stands, the other three do as well. The brown haired man cries out, "please no, I don't want to die!”

The blonde man, behind Leytiri, tells the man to be brave. The female soldier looks at all of them with disgust on her face. “Hurry up and walk towards the block after I call your name. Gods be good, this won't take too long.”

The blonde man sighs and says something but Leytiri can not hear. She is too busy staring at the block where a man is standing. Within a few minutes, she would be dead. She would only get to see twenty years in this world.

A male soldier calls out, “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

The blonde man tells Ulfric that it had been an honor, before he too is called to the block. Ralof, the man's name. Leytiri should have asked him, it might have been more polite than to call him the blonde man. Leytiri watches the two of them walk to the block.

The male soldier looks down at his list again and looks at the brown haired man. “Lokir. Your turn now.”

Lokir, shaking, shouts, “no! I'm not one of them! I'm innocent!” Leytiri watches as the man makes a dash back towards the gates. Several people yell for him to stop and she watches, horrified, as one of them shouts out the word, “archers.”

She watches Lokir fall to the ground, and not get up again.

The female soldier glares at her and the rest of the prisoners. “Anyone else feeling like running?”

The soldier beside her takes a step towards Leytiri. “Hold on. Who are you girl?”

Frightened, but trying to hide it, Leytiri takes a step towards the soldier. “My name is Leytiri.”

The soldier looks down at his list again. “You are not with the Thalmor Embassy are you, High Elf?” Leytiri shakes her head. He looks up at her again before down at the list. “No, that can not be right…”

He finally looks up from the list and at the female soldier. “Captain, something's wrong. She's not on the list of rebels. Why did we arrest her?”

She takes one look at Leytiri and points at the block. "I don't care about the list. She was arrested so she's going to the block."

The male soldier nods and looks back at Leytiri. “I am sorry. I will make sure to have your remains sent to Summerset Isles so that you can rest amongst your ancestors.”

Leytiri follows the captain towards the block and thinks about her remains. She had never had a home other than the Order and her village. She had always assumed her body would be burned like the rest of the Order before her. But she wouldn’t say that to the soldiers. They could do with her body whatever they pleased. She could find rest in the Summerset Isles if need be.

The commander, Tullius she assumes, speaks to Ulfric but Leytiri only half listens. She had never cared about the war and thought both sides had merit.

Suddenly, a roar in the sky sounds and Leytiri looks up. She can’t see anything in the clouds but several of the soldiers look around wildly for the noise. She keeps her eyes to the sky as the first Stormcloak soldiers steps up to the block and she doesn’t react as she hears the swing of the ax and the blow that takes the mans life.

Ralof sighs. “He was fearless… he died bravely.”

“Next. The High Elf!” But as soon as the captain calls for her to step forward another roar fills the air. Leytiri looks up to the sky again, frightened, as a hand on her back pushes her forward.

They don’t even remove the body of the Stormcloak soldier so Leytiri kneels to the ground, trying to avoid looking at the headless man. With her neck perched painfully on the block she looks up at her executioner. She tries to hide her fear, but she doesn’t know how successful she is. She could see several Thalmor in the crowd and she tries to meet several of their eyes, not to try to get them to save her, but for kinship. All of them looked away from her, not able to grant her even a single look. A smile. Anything. She was just one more dead High Elf.

As the executioner starts to pull back the ax, in the sky behind him she can see a large black dragon! The dragon lands on the tower in front of her and starts… shouting at everyone. Suddenly the the buildings start exploding and fire reigns down upon them.

Leytiri pulls herself to her feet and stares up at the dragon, never this scared in her life. “Hey! High Elf!” Leytiri looks around and sees Ralof. He motions towards her. “This is your chance! Run!”

She doesn’t have to think twice and follows Ralof into a building where other Stormcloak soldiers are, including Ulfric. Ralof uses a blade to undo his bindings and then Leytiri’s before moving onto Ulfric.

One of the soldiers looks at Ulfric. “Jarl, are the legends true? Is that really a dragon?”

Ulfric yanks the gag out of his mouth. "Yes, that was a fucking dragon.” The dragon roars again and Ulfric stares up towards the ceiling. “We need to get out of here or we will all rest in sovngarde tonight!”

Ralof looks at Leytiri. “Let’s go!”

Leytiri follows Ralof up the stairs but as they are about to get to the second floor the wall of the building caves in and the dragon blasts fire into the room. Ralof grabs Leytiri by the back of her shirt and pulls her away from the fire. One of the soldiers ahead had not been so lucky. She tries to block out his screams but she can’t.

The dragon flies away and Ralof points towards an inn across from the building they are in now. He shouts, “jump to the inn! We will meet up again!”

Leytiri had never been very physically active and wasn’t sure if she could make it. She was fast on her feet but not much more than that. She takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and leaps for the inn. When she lands, her left foot goes out from beneath her and her knee bangs into the floor painfully. She cries out but quickly gets back to her feet. If she stayed she would die! She needed to go.

Down through a hole in the inn she lands on the ground where she could see the soldier who had kindly offered to send her body to the Summerset Isles. She races over to him and watches as he gives orders to his men. The dragon lands across from them and they race behind a building to avoid the fire. The soldier looks at her, surprised.

“Still alive girl?” She nods, unable to speak. “Good, stick with me if you want to stay that way.” She nods again. He turns away from her to talk to a civilian who calls him Hadvar.

Hadvar runs towards a wall and she stays close to him. He looks back at her, “stay close to the wall!”

Not needing to be told twice, Leytiri presses herself flush against the wall and just in time too. The dragons wings come down right in front of her and blasts more fire onto the town as she tries not to scream. As the dragon takes flight again Hadvar grabs her arm, “follow me!”

The two of them run towards a group of soldiers, valiantly trying to combat the dragon with bows. Hadvar looks back at her again. “It’s just you and me, Leytiri. Stay close!”

They run through an arch and Hadvar shouts, “Ralof!” Leytiri sees Ralof standing in the middle of the town, staring daggers at Hadvar. He says, "we're getting the fuck out of here Hadvar. If you want to stop us then you are going to have to fight us.”

Hadvar shouts back, “run then, like the coward that you are, and I hope that dragon tears you to pieces.”

Before the two can come to blows the dragon lands again and while rearing back to blow fire on them, the two men head for different buildings. Ralof shouts at Leytiri to follow him.

Hadvar yells, “Leytiri!”

Leytiri has only seconds to make a decision. They both had protected her! The dragon roars and she can see little flames shoot from his mouth and she makes her decision. Leytiri races towards Hadvar and just as she reaches the door she can hear a voice in her head. A dark, evil voice. The dragon?

Chapter Text

As they enter the building Hadvar sighs. “I don't know if anyone else made it. Leytiri, do you think that thing was really a dragon?”

Leytiri doesn’t say anything, she just nods. She had never thought that she would see a dragon, let alone nearly be killed by one half a dozen times in the matter of minutes!

Hadvar looks around. “There are chests in here. Look for some equipment. I need to find a potion or something for my burns.”

Leytiri opens a chest in the corner that has a sword and Imperial armor in it. She quickly puts on the armor over her clothes and hesitates before picking up the sword. She could touch it. She just couldn’t use it. If it came time for battle she would use her magic.

Hadvar motions to her. “Let’s get going Leytiri.” He pulls a switch and a gate opens, as it does the dragon roars again and Hadvar tells her to follow him. As they run down the hall they find another barred door. Before Hadvar pulls the switch, a man and a woman can be heard talking to each other.

Hadvar looks at Leytiri. “I think those may be Stormcloaks. Perhaps we can talk to them. Maybe they will listen to me.”

Leytiri doubted that very much. The Stormcloaks seemed to hate the Imperials and based on how they feel about the Thalmor she assumed they wouldn’t feel too bad about attacking her either. But she follows him into the room anyways. Three Stormcloaks stand there and before Hadvar can get the words out they attack.

Leytiri hits the female soldier with the spell Fury and she turns on her comrades and starts hacking at them with her sword. While Hadvar is busy with one soldier, Leytiri uses her flames to attack the other. The man falls quickly, then so does Hadvar's, and just as the third soldier starts to return to her normal self Hadvar cuts her down.

He rushes to the gates and opens it, shouting for her to follow him.

But Leytiri looks down upon the three corpses on the ground. She had never harmed anyone before, but now, in a matter of a week, she had killed or helped kill four. How many more would follow?

She closes her eyes for a moment and sends up a silent prayer for them before following Hadvar. They run down a flight of stares and step into another hallway. At the end of it she can see three men but when she steps towards them Hadvar pulls her back as the ceiling caves in. Thankfully the door isn’t blocked but Leytiri sends up another prayer for the poor souls trapped in the cave in.

Hadvar opens the door and Leytiri hears a man talking about the Imperials having potions. Hadvar rushes to attack them and Leytiri draws forth the fire into her hand again. If only she could have done this so readily in her room, much would have been different…

They quickly kill the two soldiers and Hadvar tells her to look for potions. She finds some, and a little bit of food. She stuffs them into a bag and ties it around her back. It’s not much but hopefully if she survives she can sell a few things and get out of Skyrim.

Suddenly Leytiri can hear a scream from down the stairs. Hadvar says something about a torture room before telling her to follow him. They race down the stairs and help two soldiers kill three Stomcloaks. The torturer and Hadvar argue back and forth about leaving the keep or not and something about a dead man in a cage. Hadvar tells Leytiri to try to pick the lock on a cage and points her to a bag with lockpicks in it.

Leytiri knew how to pick locks because she had learned from DarJi, who thought it was an excellent skill to have. She had only ever done it on rooms at the Order though, and only a few times. Hopefully she could do it now. She kneels in front of a cage door where a dead mage lay inside. Trying not to think about him, she takes a lockpick and pushes it into the keyhole. She fiddles with the lock for a little bit before it finally clicks open.

Inside there sits a potion, some gold coins which she feels guilty taking, and a spell book. She hesitates before going through his clothes and finally taking them. She could fetch a lot of money for those clothes, and that money could get her out of Skyrim. She needed to do this.

She squeezes the mans shoulders, begging for forgiveness in her mind before turning to follow Hadvar. They go down another hallway and some steps. Leytiri can hear voices ahead of her and allows Hadvar to go first. There sounds like there are many of them, at least four or five, and Leytiri looks down at the hilt of the sword she is carrying. Can she survive without using it?

Hadvar charges into the room and she follows him with the torturer's assistant behind her. She and Hadvar team up on two soldiers while the assistant is killed trying to kill a third. The two soldiers fall swiftly and the third right after. An arrow whizzes past Leytiri’s head, and she and Hadvar look towards the two soldiers standing across the room, both archers. Leytiri sees oil on the ground and smiles. She lifts her hand and shoots flames across the room and it touches the oil. She watches as the two men go up in flames, trying and failing to put the fire out with their hands and feet. She watches as they finally succumb and fall to the ground.

Hadvar dashes across the room and she follows him. She hasn’t had to use a weapon yet, though it’s been pretty close. How does Prentis go on all those missions to dangerous places and never have to use a weapon?

She and Hadvar cross a bridge and within seconds of crossing a cave in behind them crushes the bridge. There’s no going back, so hopefully the way forward is safe. They walk down some steps and down a stream until they come to another hallway. At the end of it they step into a cavern and suddenly four or five frostbite spiders lunge for them.

Leytiri hurls flames at them and watches as they die quickly. Disgusted, she starts searching their bodies and finds frostbite venom. She knows that she can get a good price for them. Hopefully she can survive this hellhole and sell this stuff. Everything she is taking here will fund her journey to Cyrodiil.

They keep walking until they come upon another cavern. In the middle of the room lays a bear. Leytiri swallows hard, she had hunted at the Order but she had never faced a bear. Hadvar hands her a bow and arrows and she straps the bow to her back. Was she allowed to use a weapon against an animal? Animals aren’t people. But truthfully she had always liked them more than people.

Leytiri crouches to the ground and Hadvar follows her lead. She had no interest in fighting the bear. This was the bears home and they were the invaders. She would try to sneak out without engaging with the animal. They sneak around the bear and down the next pathway. The bear roars and Leytiri dashes down the pathway, Hadvar running behind her. Up ahead, Leytiri sees light coming from the end of the tunnel.

Hadvar shouts, “that’s the exit!”

She runs out of the cave but Hadvar grabs her, “wait!”

The dragon roars and Hadvar drags Leytiri to the ground. They wait, silent, as the dragon's roars get quieter. Hadvar sighs, “he’s going. But we should leave too before he comes back.”

Leytiri nods, she couldn’t wait to get to the next town and start trying to get some money to get out of Skyrim.

Chapter Text

Hadvar and Leytiri start down the hill from the cave leading to Helgen. He throws a look over his shoulder at her. “The closest town is Riverwood. My uncle lives there, you can ask him for help. It’s probably best if we split up, good luck. I wouldn’t have made it without your help, thank you.” He puts a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you should really consider joining the Legion. Please consider it.”

Leytiri just nods and watches him run down the pathway. She sighs and starts down at a much slower pace. If she follows the path she should make it to Riverwood and as she walks she can pick up ingredients to sell. She hoped that there were at least a couple traders in Riverwood that could buy her ingredients.

From there she could make her way north to Whiterun where she knew there were plenty of places to trade there. She would also be safe behind walls and surrounded by soldiers. There, she could start her plans to get out of Skyrim.

Leytiri doesn’t make it far down the path before she finds a few red mountain flowers. They weren’t worth much but they could be used in several potions. She lifts one to her nose and gives it a sniff. She had always loved flowers, ever since she was a little girl and her mother would go out foraging for them. She puts the flowers in her bag and keeps going down the hill, not making it far before finding a clearing full blue mountain flowers, purple mountain flowers, and even some thistle. She stashes all of them into her bag.

She felt guilty about picking all of these flowers, hoping that more would grow in their place. If she wasn’t so desperate for money to get out of Skyrim she wouldn’t pick a single one. Leytiri had always valued nature. She looks up and realizes that Hadvar is waiting just a little bit down the road, probably keeping an eye on her, no doubt.

Her feet carry her closer to him and he keeps going down the path, not speaking to her. She appreciates it as she wasn’t much of a talker and preferred to keep to her own thoughts. As they walk, every time she spots a flower she grabs it, and even got so lucky as to find a Mora Tapinella.

“Hey, come over here and look at this thing.” Leytiri looks up and realizes that Hadvar has stopped around some sort of ruin. “This is what we call a Guardian Stone. I can't remember if I'm right, but I think there might be thirteen of them in Skyrim. Go look at it.”

Unsure, Leytiri hesitates for just a moment before stepping up onto the platform. There are three stones. On one there is a picture of a man wearing armor and a sword. On the second there is a mage holding a staff. On the third there is a man wearing a cloak and holding a bag of money, it looks like. A warrior, a mage, and a thief. She puts her hand on the mage stone and suddenly a warm, blue light goes through the stone and into her hand. She presses her other hand against her chest over her heart, and she can feel the power within her, whatever it is.

“I wouldn't have thought you'd choose mage considering your bow and sword. But you did use magic at Helgen so I understand.” Hadvar turns to start going down the path again. “Riverwood is this way, Leytiri. Now, don't forget to talk to my uncle. He's the blacksmith and he'll give you help.”

She follows him at a slower pace, picking all the flowers as they go along. Suddenly a howl pierces the air and Leytiri looks up, seeing three wolves on the hill beside them. Hadvar shoots at one of them with his bow and Leytiri sends flames at the second, igniting the poor things fur. The third lunges at her and knocks her back into the water and she brings her hands up to send flames shooting from both of them at it. An arrow pierces it’s head and kills it instantly.

Leytiri sighs as Hadvar reaches a hand out to pull her out of the water. She was almost useless in that fight. Her flames didn’t kill the wolves fast enough and her life was in danger when she went into the water. What if he hadn’t been there? She should have used Fury on them… but she wasn’t sure if it would have even worked. She looks down at the sword belted at her waist. Would it really do much harm to use it on an animal? People, no. But an animal?

She looks up and realizes that Hadvar had made it quite far down the path and the sun is going down. They should get to the safety of town. When she catches up to him, he flashes a smile at her. “I’m really glad you followed me here. Don't you think it's beautiful?” Leytiri looks up and sees a town just ahead.

Hadvar rushes into the town and Leytiri falls back a little bit. She watches as he runs up to a man and they talk for a bit. The man points at her and says, “who is that, my boy?”

Leytiri offers him a small smile and Hadvar smiles as well. “She is a friend of mine, uncle. She saved my life over at Helgen and her name is Leytiri. We have much to talk about uncle. Come inside Leytiri.”

She follows them into the building. A woman comes up from the basement as they enter and she tells them to sit and have something to eat. Leytiri sits down at the table and listens as Hadvar and his uncle talk about the dragon attack. Hadvar’s aunt places a plate with bread and butter in front of Leytiri and, suddenly feeling how hungry she is, Leytiri starts eating the bread quickly. She hadn’t eaten since the soup and bread from Falkreath and she didn’t know how long that had been.

Alvor looks at Leytiri as she shoves the bread into her mouth, not caring how she looks. “Any friend of Hadvar’s is a friend of mine. Take whatever you need from us, food, clothes, anything.”

Leytiri glances at Hadvar and he nods encouragingly. She clears her throat. “If you wouldn’t mind giving me some potions and food, or any ingredients for potions that you have that would be great. If I can do something in return, please, say the word.”

Alvor nods. “Aye. Hadvar will be heading for Solitude, and we need someone to travel to Whiterun to tell the Jarl that a dragon attacked Helgen. Could you please help us do that?”

Hadvar’s aunt places a bowl of soup in front of her and she nods at Alvor. How could she refuse them? They are sheltering her, and feeding her. And besides, she had already planned on heading for Whiterun anyways. Leytiri dips her spoon into the soup and takes a bite. By the gods, it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

Alvor smiles at her. “My wife is a lovely cook. You can feel free to spend the night here if you wish.” He points to a bed just as Hadvar gets up and starts downstairs.

Leytiri nods. “Thank you Alvor. I’ll start out for Whiterun in the morning.”

She finishes her soup and gets up from the table to lay down in the bed. She sighs as her head hits the pillow. Her hand reaches into her bag and she feels around all of the flowers she got today, thirty-eight in total. Not to mention all of the fungi and other things she found. She would have to find an alchemy table in Whiterun and make some potions. She couldn’t wait to get there tomorrow.

Chapter Text

When Leytiri wakes up in the morning she says goodbye to Alvor and his wife and departs their home. She scours through Riverwood for all the flowers and other ingredients she can find. When she has picked everything she could she makes her way to the Riverwood trader.

Upon opening the door, Leytiri hears a man and a woman arguing. She considers backing out the door but she really needs to sell some of the things she took from Helgen, her bag sure is getting heavy. When the shop owner, she thinks his name is Lucan, finally realizes she is standing there he apologizes and explains to her that an item that is precious to him and his sister was stolen.

Leytiri listens and when he is done she sells some of the things she found in Helgen. Almost everything except for the sword and the potions and food. She didn’t know why she couldn’t part with the sword, but she just couldn’t. Maybe because when she awoke outside of Helgen she had realized her dagger was gone…

Lucan hands Leytiri her coins after he takes the items and she places them into her bag. She thanks him and walks out, waiting for the door to close behind her before she gives out a small whoop of joy. She had walked in there with just over a hundred gold and she left with just over six hundred. And she hadn’t even sold a single ingredient! She should have no trouble once she gets to Whiterun.

She walks down the pathway towards the second entrance of town and across a bridge. She turns right and starts walking down the road, picking an occasional flower or fungi as she goes along. The day is lovely, and she can hear all the birds chirping as she walks. A wolf howl sounds close to her but when she looks around she doesn’t see anything. She holds up her hands, ready to fire off a spell if need be, but doesn’t stop walking.

Suddenly, two wolves charge her and she uses Fury on one who turns on the other. The two fight as Leytiri shoots flames at both. Eventually, they succumb to their wounds. She hesitates before walking over to them, unwilling to cut off their pelts but not to check out their bodies. On one of them she finds a garnet! Leytiri palms the red stone before dropping it into her bag. That gem could easily fetch her another fifty septims if she found the right buyer for it.

Leytiri continues down the path until she rounds a corner and stops suddenly. In front of her in the distance she can see a city on a hill reaching up towards the sky. Whiterun. The little girl in Leytiri wants to charge down the path and race to the city, knowing that she’d be safe there. She could deliver her message to the Jarl, if he would even agree to meet with her, and then find a place to stay at an inn. She could work, who knows, maybe if she loves Whiterun enough she could stay. It wasn’t a bad place to live, and she would be far enough from the Order they probably wouldn’t have many reasons to come visit there.

Then again… they did come to Falkreath.

At a slower pace, Leytiri starts back down the path and along the road heading towards the city. She stops every few seconds to pick flowers, even catching a couple butterflies. She feels guilt again but tries to suppress it. Butterfly wings are valuable.

A roar sounds through the sky and Leytiri looks up, worried, the dragon? No, not fifty feet from her she sees a giant attacking three people, two women and a man. Without thinking leytiri shoves her ingredients into her bag and runs towards the people fighting the giant and sends a shot of flames from her left hand and sparks from her right. As the dual spells hit the giant the three people continue striking him with their swords and slowly the giant succumbs to his wounds. Eventually, it falls to the ground where the man cuts its throat, killing it.

One of the women, she has paint on her face, comes up to Leytiri. “Thank you for the help shield-sister.”

Leytiri lifts an eyebrow. “Shield-sister?”

The woman nods towards Whiterun. “Come to Jorrvaskr in Whiterun, and speak to Kodlak if you wish to join the Companions.”

The other woman nods and the man, who Leytiri has to admit is handsome, smiles at her and nods as well. As they turn to leave Leytiri kneels down to check out the body of the giant. She is disappointed to come away with only six arrows. Sighing, she rises and starts back up the path to the city. When she gets to the gates she is pleasantly surprised to see a Khajiit caravan. Though he was harsh sometimes, she had always liked DarJi. He had even tried to be kind to her when she left the Order. He had given her a couple health potions, and told her to be careful, even allowing her a quick hug goodbye. He had been a part of her life since she was small.

Trying to push away those thoughts, Leytiri walks up the hill to get to the city gates. Two soldiers stand there and one of them holds up his hand when she tries to enter. “Stop. No one is allowed into the city until the dragon is gone.”

Leytiri swallows hard. What if they wouldn’t let her in? “I’ve been sent by the blacksmith of Riverwood to speak to the Jarl of Whiterun. I witnessed the dragon attack at Helgen and need to speak to him immediately.”

The two soldiers glance at each other before the one who spoke to her turns back to her. “You may enter. But we will be keeping our eyes on you, understand?”

Leytiri nods and watches as they open the gates. She hesitates for a moment before stepping through them and into Whiterun. To Leytiri, who had never seen a city this size before, this place was large, and beautiful. From where she stood at the entrance, she could see at least seven clusters of flowers. She picked one, and when neither of the guards yelled at her, she picked the rest of them. Slightly giddy, she started walking down the main road, enjoying all the sounds of life in the town. When she looked to the right she could see a large mountain. When she looked to the left she could see a castle, certainly where the Jarl lived.

She walks past the blacksmith, a woman, and past a house that seems to be vacant. Perhaps it could one day be home, should she make this place her home. She walks past a building that says Belethor’s General Goods on the door. That is where she would have to go to sell her potions.

Then her eyes spot Arcadia’s Cauldron. And the Nightshade and Dragon’s Tongue beside the door. She picks the flowers and contemplates going inside. Maybe Arcadia, or whoever owns the store, would let her work there. But first, she needed to see the Jarl. The business with the dragon was more important than her need for a job.

When she turns she spots the inn, the Bannered Mare. She supposed that would be her home for awhile. As she walks up the stairs she looks to her right and sees a large building. Maybe that is the Jorrvaskr the three outside Whiterun had told her about?

A man, across the courtyard from her wearing robes started shouting but she ignores him. She knew the religious sort when she saw them.

Leytiri snorts. She passes him, ignoring his continued rants, and starts up the stairs to the castle. When she gets to the top of the stairs, she hesitates outside of the doors. There are no guards here which Leytiri finds to be suspicious. What if they didn’t allow her to stay? What if they didn’t believe her? What if they thought she should be killed since she was a prisoner at Helgen?

There was only one way to find out those answers. Leytiri grabs one of the handles, and pushes open the door.

Chapter Text

Upon entering the castle, Leytiri stops moving when she sees a guard, thinking that he’ll kick her out. But he doesn’t say anything to her, just nods. There are two women sweeping and Leytiri walks past them, hesitating before going up the stairs. She can hear two men arguing.

As she reaches the top of the stairs a female Dark Elf approaches her with her sword drawn. “Who are you and why are you interrupting the Jarl?”

Leytiri swallows hard. “I saw the dragon at Helgen. I was sent here to speak to the Jarl.”

The Dark Elf sheaths her blade and turns on her heel. “You’re the one that the guards allowed into the city. Come, speak to the Jarl.”

Leytiri hesitates before stepping past the fire in the middle of the room towards the throne where a blonde man sits. Prentis had told her that his name is Balgruuf.

Balgruuf looks at her. “So you were at Helgen when the dragon attacked?”

She nods. “Yes. Ulfric Stormcloak was about to be executed when the dragon attacked.” Leytiri feels guilty, it had been she who was about to be executed when the beast attacked but perhaps now was not the best time to admit that.

Balgruuf snorts. “I should have known Ulfric would have been involved somehow…” He looks at the man on his right. “Proventis, you are my counselor so I need you to counsel. What do you think we should do about a fucking dragon flying over our gates?"

The Dark Elf clears her throat loudly. “What we should do, my Jarl, is send soldiers to defend Riverwood.”

Proventus steps towards the elf. “The Jarl of Falkreath will be furious with us if we do that. He hates Ulfric and will think we have sided with those idiots if we send soldiers to Riverwood."

Balgruuf holds up a hand towards Proventus. “I've had enough. We must defend Riverwood regardless of what that fool in the south thinks”

As Proventus attempts to protest the Dark Elf, Irileth, says, “yes, my Jarl.”

Proventus, realizing his voice will not be heard on this matter, sighs. “Shall I go, my Jarl?”

Balgruuf nods. “Fine, yes, go.”

When Proventus has left the room Balgruuf turns back towards Leytiri. “You have done my people a great service, and I shall reward you for it. Take this armor.”

He hands her steel armor and Leytiri runs her hand along it. It’s heavy, very heavy, and Leytiri has doubts that she’d be able to wear it. She was always used to wearing robes, and even the light armor she is wearing now is much heavier than her robes from the Order were. She didn’t want to sell the armor, as it was a gift, but she doubted she could wear it. Maybe once she got a house she would put it in a chest and save it.

Balgruuf stands and motions to her. “Come, I have something I would like you to do, if you are amenable. Let’s go speak to the court wizard.”

Leytiri suppresses a sigh. She just wanted to get out of here, make enough money to get out of Skyrim, and leave. But he had given her a fine gift and it would be rude of her not to even ask what favor he wanted to ask of her. So she follows him into the next room where a robed man is working at a desk.

Balgruuf looks at the other man. “Farengar, I’ve found someone who might be able to help you with your dragon project.”

Farengar looks at Leytiri and lifts one of his eyebrows at her. “I need you to fetch something for me from Bleak Falls Barrow.”

Leytiri waits for him to continue but when he doesn’t she looks at Balgruuf before back at Farengar. “You want me to fetch something for you?”

He crosses his arms and scowls. “Well, maybe not so much fetch. I really want you to delve into a possibly very dangerous ruin and get a stone tablet for me. Find it and bring it back to me. Off you go.”

Balgruuf chuckles and walks out of the room and Leytiri follows him. He nods to her before heading back up to his throne. In a bit of a daze Leytiri starts back down the stairs and walks out of the castle. She didn’t sign up for delving into dangerous ruins to look for stone tablets. She had agreed to give a message and that was it. But when she reaches into her bag and feels the cold steel of the armor Balgruuf gave her she realizes that perhaps she owed them this one little thing.

So with that Leytiri marches down the steps to the lower part of the city and makes her way outside of the gates. She hums to herself as the sun sets lower and lower as she walks back in the direction she had came. She knew that Bleak Falls Barrow was near Riverwood because Hadvar had pointed it out to her when they got there.

It takes her nearly three hours, but she finally makes it back to the bridge to Riverwood. Instead of crossing the bridge to go to town she turns right and starts heading up a hill. Almost instantly she hears a wolf howl and uses her sparks to kill it. Still hesitant to skin the beast, she searches its body instead. She finds a silver garnet ring!

Leytiri slides the ring onto her finger and giggles a little bit. Her mother had a silver ring that was beautiful and sometimes she would let Leytiri wear it. It didn’t have a garnet on it though. Leytiri sighs, gods how she missed her mother...

She shakes her head. There’s no use thinking about the past right now. She needs to get to the Barrow and find that stone tablet thing and bring it back to Whiterun. She keeps the ring on her finger as she makes her way up the hill but when she gets to a tower an archer and two sword wielding bandits leap out at her. Retreating back down the hill a little bit, she lures the two bandits with swords after her. She climbs onto a rock and waits until they appear around the corner. Leytiri remembered how the giant had fallen to her dual spells before and she gathers both fire and sparks into her hands and unleashes it upon them.

The man starts shaking as the sparks pass through him. He drops his sword and shakes uncontrollably, screaming for help. But the flames set the woman’s clothes on fire, and she drops to the ground trying to put them out. They both die slowly, horribly, and Leytiri can’t help the tears from sliding down her cheeks. It was her or them… It was her or them…

The archer, who had stepped around the corner with his bow knocked, cries out in horror upon seeing his dead comrades and steps back too far. He slips from the side of the mountain and Leytiri sobs as he falls, screaming to the ground.

Leytiri falls to her knees and sobs into her hands. No wonder Prentis preferred to hide in the shadows and use his invisibility spells. He hated to kill, and only did it when necessary. How many had she killed by now? And how many of them would have died quicker had she used a knife or a bow?

Not for the first time she wonders if magic truly is as natural as the Order had made it out to be. Perhaps man made weapons because they were a quicker death than magic. Leytiri wipes her eyes. After the Barrow she will deliver the tablet back to Farengar and then she will never, ever kill another person. That man and woman would be the last.

Leytiri makes her way through the tower that the bandits had died trying to protect. She comes across a bag of seventeen septims. At the top of the tower she finds a chest with three potions, a scroll, fifty septims, and an axe inside. She puts all of it into her bag. She felt guilty again. She had killed them and now she was stealing their stuff. What kind of monster is she?

She makes her way back down the stairs and starts up the mountain again. She rounds one last corner and stops dead. Bleak Falls Barrow is large, and kind of frightening. If Leytiri had to guess, she imagined there would be draugr inside. She takes a deep breath and starts up the stairs, expecting to see draugr but as she reaches the top of the stairs she finds herself standing in front of four bandits instead.

Leytiri slips trying to go back down the stairs and she uses one of her hands to catch herself, with the other she throws Fury at two of the bandits who quickly turn on the other two. The four fight each other as Leytiri rights herself and puts her hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist. No one would know if she did it… just this once. How could she face four men without it?

She swallows hard. No, she can’t! She gathers fire and sparks into her hands again and sends the spells shooting at all four of the bandits. They all fall screaming to the ground where they succumb to their injuries, on fire and shaking.

Wanting to fall to her knees again in tears but refusing to Leytiri searches their bodies. She finds a lot of gold and some good loot too. Thoroughly disgusted with herself, Leytiri marches up the stairs to the door of Bleak Falls Barrow and puts her hand on it. She promises to herself that after she does this job for Farengar she will never lift her hands to hurt them with magic ever again. Nor will she lift a blade.

Though… Leytiri wasn’t positive that she wouldn’t lift a sword for this mission. It seemed a quicker, gentler death than writhing in pain while sparks coursed through you or flames burned you alive…

Leytiri pushes hard on the door and it swings open. She steps into Bleak Falls Barrow.

Chapter Text

Upon entering Bleak Falls Barrow Leytiri used a quick healing spell to take care of the wounds the bandits outside had inflicted on her. She crouches down and takes a look around. She could hear the wind coming through a hole in the ceiling. In the distance she can hear footsteps. She slowly steps forward, spotting two dead skeevers on the ground. She hesitates between picking up three septims from the bodies.

Across from them lays a dead bandit and Leytiri picks his body clean of his septims. Ahead of her she can hear two people talking and she inches forward still crouched low to the ground. She doubted that she was sneaky enough to go past them unseen and she doubted her invisibility spell to keep her hidden. Her eyes rest on the hilt of the sword she took from Helgen, still strapped to her waist.

Leytiri never wanted to kill someone as painfully as she did to the two bandits who convulsed and burned to death…

She closes her eyes. No! She swore that she would never use another weapon. She would obey the Order, she would. She slowly sneaks around a column towards the voices where she finds another skeever body. As she walks up a couple steps she realizes that there is a dead body sitting on a table at the top of the stairs. It is a man, and his legs are hanging off of the side.

“What was that?”

Suddenly, a man and a woman come around the column towards her and the woman pulls out an arrow. Leytiri fires Fury at the man and he turns on the woman. The woman aims at Leytiri who throws herself behind the column just in time. She listens from behind the stone as steel from their blades strike sharply against each other. Her hands glow with both fire and sparks as she waits for one of them to come after her again.

The two fall silent and Leytiri waits a few minutes, her heart pounding in her chest. Wondering not for the first time how Prentis had gone on all of those missions without lifting a blade a single time. Sure, his invisibility spells are extremely powerful and he could probably easily walk through a dungeon without needing a break. But in all of his years he never came close to having to use a weapon?

She sighs and raises from her crouched position. Now or never. She steps around the column and finds both of the bandits dead, they must have finished each other off while the man was under her spell. She loots their bodies, as well as the man up the steps on the table. She steps around a fire where she spots a locked chest.

Leytiri looks around to make sure she’s alone before kneeling down to the chest and gets out her lock picks. She twiddles the lock pick first to the right where it doesn’t budge before she twists it all the way to the left where it gives a little. Slowly, she works her way closer to the middle before the lock clicks. When she opens the chest she’s delighted to find at least fifty septims.

As she starts down the stairs she crouches again, maybe if she gets good at sneaking that will help her get past enemies and she won’t have to fight them. Leytiri passes through three spider webs as she makes her way down the stairs, trying not to think about little spiders crawling this way and that across her body. She shivers, imagining the tiny little legs scurrying through her hair and down her legs. When she gets to the next floor she finds a burial urn.

She swallows hard. Can she do it? She lifts the top of the urn off and spots eight gold septims inside. Slowly she puts the top back on the urn. No, she just can’t do it. Leave that to the dead.

Shivering, Leytiri passes two more urns as she makes her way further down the stairs. To her left, there are more stairs but ahead of them it looks like there was a cave in, so she goes forward and turns right instead. Ahead of her she spots another dead skeever. There simply can’t be only two bandits inside especially when there were so many outside waiting. She turns left again. She comes across a book shelf where a single health potion lay, which she grabs and stuffs into her bag.

Leytiri steps into another room and walks around a column. Suddenly, a flurry of arrows sound through the air from further ahead and she hears a man groan before a body hits the floor. She doesn’t move from her crouched position, listening for more noises but hearing none but the dust falling from the ceiling. She had assumed there would be drougr in this temple but so far nothing. Perhaps it was a bandit that was killed by those arrows and he must have triggered a trap. She steps down the stairs into the room ahead.

In the room there lies a dead man on the floor, the one who must have been killed by the arrows. In front of him sits a lever, and in front of the lever on the ground is a snake symbol. Leytiri looks up and sees two other symbols, a snake and a fish. She looks to the left and sees three symbols bearing pictures of two hawks and a fish. Tentatively, she approaches them and runs her hand along the first hawk. The stone moves slightly and she looks over at the snake symbol on the ground. Perhaps if she moved these stones here to show the same symbols as the ones by the door, the door will open…

The first symbol she turns until it shows the snake. The second one, the same. The third symbol she turns to the fish. When she steps back towards the lever she pulls out the shield she had gotten at Helgen. Unlike the fool of a bandit she would at least try to protect herself from the trap should she be wrong. So Leytiri crouches behind her shield, grips the lever, and slams it forward.

The gate immediately slides upwards! Leytiri grin, unable to contain her glee. She figured out the trap on her first try! She pushes her shield back into her bag but remains in a crouched position as she slowly walks into the next room. There she finds a book titled Thief, a potion, and a chest with a battleaxe and a few septims inside. All of the items are stuffed into her bag. When she turns around she spots a spiral staircase going down.

Leytiri takes a deep breath before slowly making her way down the stairs. The stairs are rickety and old, so they make noises as she makes her way down them. She just has to hope that no one can hear her. Suddenly, as her feet touch the last step, four skeevers launch themselves at her. She throws herself back of the steps a few paces before she hurls her flames at them and watches as they quickly burn to death. She takes a deep breath before going back down the stairs, stepping over the blackened bodies of the skeevers.

The next room she comes across is full of cobwebs but on the table sits a fireball scroll and a paralysis poison. Leytiri smiles, she could get a good price for both of those and this could be her last venture into a dark, dirty dungeon. As she steps into the doorway to the stairs going below, she can hear a man shouting out, asking if she’s one of three names that she doesn’t quite catch. She readies her spells, and starts down the stairs.

Sitting in front of a massive pile of spider web is a skeleton, picked clean. Across a doorway is a thick mess of spider web. Realizing that that is the only way through, Leytiri sighs. It’s too thick for her to just walk through so she sends a burst of flames against it before she walks on through. Her fire couldn’t get everything, and she tries to ignore the threads in her hair and tries not to imagine little bodies scurrying all over hers.

As she steps into the room a man shouts for help and Leytiri looks up just as a massive frostbite spider descends from the ceiling. Leytiri backs up through the door and quickly realizes that the spider is too big to follow her through! She shoots flames and sparks at it as she dodges the gunk it spits at her and slowly the spider starts to writhe in pain and it’s legs, nearly as tall as Leytiri herself, starts shooting out in convulsions. Before the beast is even dead the man behind it screams for her to let him down.

She pushes the beast aside and before she approaches the man she checks the two urns in the room, both holding silver rings! The man shouts again and Leytiri hurries over to him.

“it’s about fucking time! Let me down, I have the golden claw. I know what it does so we can share the treasure!”

Leytiri remembers the shop owner in Riverwood talking about a golden claw… it had been stolen from him. But first she should let the man down. Not wanting to burn him, she pulls the sword from it’s sheath and hacks at the spider web until the man comes loose and falls to the ground. He laughs, “you idiot! I’m not sharing the treasure with anyone.” He turns and bolts down the passageway.

She sighs. As much as she wants to give the golden claw back to its rightful owner she had a job to do. If she caught the man on her way to the weird stone tablet thing she would get the golden claw back. She makes her way down the passageway into a circular room that held one soul gem and a couple empty urns. She walks down the stairs where four draugr fight the man she had rescued from the spider. Feeling guilty, she stands in the doorway and let the draugr kill the man before she rains her fire down upon them. The four quickly go up in flames before crumbling to ash.

When she searches the mans body she finds the golden claw and a book that says Arvel’s Journal on the first page. She quickly reads it before putting it and the claw in her bag. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to use the claw to get the treasure and then give it back to the trader in Riverwood. She had no intention of selling it, though she knew it would go for a hefty price, that was just wrong. But there was nothing wrong, she thought, in using it to find the treasure.

As she made her way further down the stairs she came across a tunnel with three swinging axes going back and forth. Another trap. She waits as they all swing towards the wall before she dashes through. She starts back down the stairs before she comes across three draugr who run towards her. Leytiri dashes back through the swinging axes trap and watches as the brainless draugr try to follow her. The axes hack them to pieces and, as the axes swing back into the walls again, she dashes through again.

Leytiri sighs and starts back down the stairs and around the columns until she comes to some stairs leading up. She wants to take a break and eat but the only thing she has on her is a sweet roll. Unfortunately, she would have to wait until she got to Riverwood. She walks up the stairs slowly until she comes across a room with a waterfall. Across the room she could see a chest and a doorway with a gate blocking it.

As Leytiri steps into the room a draugr bursts from a coffin and attacks her. She quickly shoots flames at it and watches it fall to the ground. She goes through the chest before making her way to the gate where a chain rests next to it. She hesitates before pulling the chain, afraid there was some kind of trap. But there isn’t, and the gate raises and stays that way. She makes her way down a passageway before coming out into a cave like place.

Slowly, Leytiri makes her way down the path and stops to pick some glowing mushrooms, which she always loved as a child. She continues down the path until she finds another draugr standing along on an icy ledge. She uses her flames on him until he steps off of the path and falls down below. She keeps going until she finds a single draugr alone in a room with a chest, the door behind him. The beast shouts at her and she throws herself on top of a giant piece of stone so it can’t get to her. She rains flames and sparks down from above, having to stop occasionally to build up her magic again. The draugr walks around the stone, unable to attack her, so she just keeps attacking it every time her magic builds back up. Eventually, it falls to her magic. She sighs once again, before looking down at the sword. It would be so easy to kill it with the blade…

Trying to push thoughts of the Order out of her mind, she uses her lock picks to unlock the chest in the room. It was slightly harder to unlock than the one earlier in the dungeon. She takes a deep breath before stepping through the door to the next room. She crouches down again and slowly goes through the pathway until she comes across a tunnel with more swinging axes. She waits before dashing through them. On the other side a draugr quickly attacks her as she shoots him with flames, finding that the flames work much better than the sparks.

The room is large, and she can see two draugr standing on the pathway above her. There is oil on the floor and she smiles. If only she could get them to come down here and then the oil and her flames could finish the job for her. She slowly starts to sneak up the stairs but doesn’t make it far when both draugr see her and start to run down the stairs. She inches back past the oil until she’s a safe distance away and holds out her palm with the flames shooting from it. Come on you fuckers…

Both draugr step onto the oil at the same time and she shoots a blast of fire at it. Instantly, the oil is engulfed and the draugr burn quickly to ashes. Proud of herself, Leytiri edges around them and starts up the stairs. She makes her way across the pathway going to the next ledge and walks until she comes across an iron door. She opens it slowly, listening for any of the strange noises the draugr made, but she hears nothing.

She makes her way down a hall way where at the end is a door. There are three pictures, a moth, an owl, and a bear. Underneath them is three holes over a picture of a… claw. Leytiri yanks the golden claw out of her bag and runs her fingers over the three pictures on it. A bear, a moth, and an owl. She turns the stone tablets until they show the same pictures on the claw before putting the claw into the holes and giving it a good turn.

The door opens onto steps going upwards and Leytiri slides the claw back into her bag. Whatever treasure is in here will help her get out of Skyrim, and she would give the claw back to the trader when she was done with it. Once she had gone up the stairs she came out into a large cavern. She could hear a weird noise in the back of her head, like music, but different. She lifted herself out of her crouch. Something weird was going on here.

A flurry of bats comes down around her head and, normally, she might have shrieked or at the very least curled her lip up at them but she didn’t. That noise…

She makes her way across a bridge and up the stairs. On the platform laid a tomb, a chest, and the stone wall behind them. She steps towards the wall and as she does the noise in her head grows louder and louder, screaming a strange song at her. Suddenly the lettering on the wall turns blue and the song in her head starts to get garbled before something that looks like what she imagined wind looked like rushed into her body.

The tomb behind her bursts open and a powerful looking draugr stands up. Leytiri leaps to the platform next to the one she was on and runs up the stairs, knowing she would need the high ground for an enemy this powerful. She mixes her destruction spells and launches them down upon the draugr. It screams in rage but Leytiri keeps firing down upon it, periodically stopping to drink a magic potion to be able to keep it up.

As the draugr starts to make its way up the stairs she forms her familiar and launches it at her enemy. Her familiar, a beautiful wolf, starts tearing the draugr to pieces as Leytiri’s fire and sparks surround it.

Eventually, the draugr begins to crumble to pieces and falls silent. The familiar looks at Leytiri before licking its paw as it disappears. She smiles even though the familiar was already gone and makes her way over to the draugr body. On it she finds a bunch of arrows, a few gold, a very nice looking sword, and the very heavy dragonstone that she was sent to find.

Suddenly exhausted, Leytiri opens the chest and takes everything in it before making her way up the steps beside the platform. She follows the path until she finds a switch and it opens up a hole in the wall. She comes upon another chest, where she finds some gold, lock picks, and steel armor. To her left Leytiri can see sunlight and she walks towards it until she steps out of the cave onto a cliff on the side of the mountain.

Leytiri looks down and sighs deeply. It’s a long way down. She’d better get started because the sooner she gets to Whiterun, the better.

Chapter Text

Leytiri smiled as soon she walked through the gates of Whiterun. She could call this quiet little place home, if she so chose to. She looks down at her clean clothes. Alvor’s wife had kindly offered to wash her clothing when she stopped in at Riverwood to give the golden claw back to the trader. Leytiri had thoroughly enjoyed her bath at Alvor’s house. She probably looked a mess when she got there.

Her hair had been full of spiderwebs and her armor was stained red with the blood from the bandits. And she didn’t even want to think about what the draugr left on her.

Before today she had only ever fought them once before, when she had begged and begged Prentis to take her on a quick mission to some abandoned mine near Markarth. He had killed most of the draugr but one of them got around him and Leytiri was forced to kill it. She tried to hide her horror from Prentis, not wanting him to think her weak, but he put his arm around her and comforted her. Telling her that it wasn’t alive, and that she had fought to protect him as he fought to protect her.

Leytiri swallows hard, trying to push away thoughts of Prentis. He had wanted to come with her when she was kicked out of the Order. But the Zyon had put his foot down, saying that Prentis was needed there and Prentis had bowed to the Zyon’s will. Leytiri couldn’t fault him, she would have done the same. Though she did miss the man who had raised her, she had never called him father out loud but in her mind he was the only father she had ever known.

She followed the steps up to the castle, passing only a few people in the streets. It is quite late, she realizes, and wonders if the court mage would even be awake. If he isn’t she’ll just leave the dragonstone in his study, her part in this tale would soon be over and she could find a place to stay.

Determined to start her new future, she grabs the handle to the door to the castle and opens it. As Leytiri climbs the stairs she can hear Farengar talking to someone in her study. When she walks in she sees a woman standing at the desk next to the mage. She leans against the doorway, trying not to listen to what the two are talking about.

Farengar finally seems to notice Leytiri. “Ah! The Jarl’s protege.” Leytiri raises her brow, protege? She wouldn’t go that far. “I suppose you didn’t die in Bleak Falls Barrow huh?”

Suppressing a snort, Leytiri nods. “I found your stone, it was on a draugr in the temple. So what happens next?”

Farengar runs his fingertips along the dragonstone, reverence evident in his voice. “My job begins. Meet my friend here, she is the one who told me of the dragonstones location. Though she has withheld how she found out that information.”

The woman, hooded, looks towards Leytiri. “You went into Bleak Falls Barrow? I must admit that is impressive.”

Before she can say anything more the Dark Elf, Leytiri thinks her name is Irileth, runs into the room shouting Farengar’s name. “A dragon has been seen nearby, come with me.” She looks at Leytiri. “You. You come as well.”

Leytiri gulps. She had seen enough of dragons at Helgen thank you! But she couldn’t ignore the command of someone who worked for the Jarl, no matter how frightened she was. Farengar on the other hand seemed absolutely delighted about the dragon sighting as he raced out of the room after Irileth. Leytiri follows at a much slower pace.

Instead of heading towards the door the two of them make their way up the stairs to the second floor and Leytiri follows. At the top of the stairs the Jarl is asking a soldier about the dragon.

The soldier, young but trying to sound brave, says that it came from the south. “It was… it was fast, Jarl.”

Balgruuf narrows his eyes at the soldier. “Is it attacking the watchtower?”

The soldier shakes his head. “No, it was just circling overhead. I ran for my life.”

Balgruuf nods. “Good job, go down and get some food and rest, we will take care of it now. Irileth you need to get men and go down there!”

Irileth bows her head to her Jarl. “I’ve ordered my men down there already. We are prepared to fight.” She starts back down the stairs.

Balgruuf turns towards Leytiri. “I must ask you one more favor, friend. You were at Helgen, you have more experience with those beasts than any of us do. I need you to help fight that thing. As a token of my appreciation I will allow you to buy a house in the city and I will give you a person item from my own armory. Now go, follow Irileth.”

Leytiri doesn’t wait to hear what Farengar says to Balgruuf before she rushes down the stairs after Irileth. Her blood pounds in her ears and she is certain if she opens her mouth she will spew the contents over her stomach all over the floor. Rummaging around a disgusting dungeon to find some ancient artifact for the Jarl was one thing, but actually fighting a dragon?! Are these people insane? The soldiers at Helgen couldn’t do anything against the bloody dragon there!

In a daze, Leytiri rushes with Irileth down to the gates. Far too soon, they get to them where four soldiers stand waiting. When Irileth says that there’s a dragon outside all of the men look at each other, bewildered and frightened. Irileth stands straighter. “You heard me right, there’s a dragon out there, and we’re going to fight it. That thing made a mistake coming to Whiterun today.”

One of the soldiers clears his throat. “But… how can we fight a dragon?”

Irileth closes her eyes for a moment before setting them upon the soldier who spoke. “I don’t know, we have never fought one before, let alone seen one. But that beast is threatening our families! Our homes! Will you Nords make me face this beast alone?!”

All of the soldiers shout firm no’s. But the last one on the end whispers, “we are so dead…”

Irileth steps back and forth in front of the men. “Shall we go kill us a dragon?!”

All of the soldiers shout yes and they charge with Irileth towards the gates. Leytiri watches them and, though frightened, she pulls her helmet down upon her head and charges through the gates with them.

Chapter Text

Leytiri’s heart pounded in her chest as she followed Irileth and the soldiers out of the gates of Whiterun. The little girl in her wanted to flee back to the castle and hide until the dragon went away. Hell, the grown woman in her wanted to run and hide. When the dragon attacked Helgen she did run, she would never forget the utter fear she had felt as the dragon rained fire down upon them all. But she supposed there was one thing to be grateful to the dragon for, it had attacked just a few seconds before her execution.

Irileth, Leytiri, and the four soldiers race down the road towards a building Leytiri can see in the distance. Her eyes scan the skies, waiting to see a hint of black, but finding nothing. The little girl in her hopes that the dragon got tired of its destruction and flew away but she wasn’t so sure about that. The dragon had done real damage to Helgen, why would it not do the same thing to Whiterun?

As they get closer to the watchtower Leytiri can see smoke rising from the damaged building. She hoped that there hadn’t been many people in there when the dragon attacked, she couldn’t imagine that many survived the dragon fire. Her fingers once again closed around the hilt of her sword. The sword wouldn’t be much use against a dragon, but would her magic do anything against it either? She only knew how to conjure a couple things, a familiar and a draugr and neither of them would be able to reach the dragon if it stayed in the air.

She had her flames and sparks but would fire really work against a dragon? Could her spells even reach the dragon in the air? Her fingers stroke the bow slung across her shoulder. Could she… could she use the bow? The dragon isn’t human…

Irileth suddenly stops, not to far from the tower. “No signs of the dragon, but clearly he was here.” She points to the watchtower, smoke rising. “It looks bad, but we need to find out what is going on. And the dragon may be lurking out there as we speak. Look for survivors.”

The men pull their swords from their scabbards and slowly start down the path towards the watchtower. Leytiri follows behind Irileth and two of the soldiers, keeping her eyes on the skies, waiting to see a wing or fire or anything. As she climbs the damaged pathway into the watchtower a soldier runs out. “No! That beast is still here. Two of my men made a run for Whiterun and the dragon took them.”

Irileth steps up and grabs the man by his shoulder. “Where is the dragon?”

The man looks up towards the sky. “I don’t know. I-oh no! Here it comes again!”

Irileth faces Leytiri and the rest of the men. “He’s coming! Make every fucking arrow count!”

Leytiri throws herself back to the ground and turns in the direction of the watchtower just as the dragon flies over the mountain towards them, roaring. The dragon… it’s not black! There is more than just the one from Helgen! Leytiri crouches down behind what is left of the stone bridge and tries to force down the vomit that is threatening to come up. What if the second dragon attacks? They are so unbelievably fucked.

Forcing herself out from her hiding place she watches as the dragon lands. Now! Leytiri yanks the sword from her scabbard and dashes at the dragon, hacking and slashing at the dragons backside. Leytiri had never wielded a sword before, and had no idea how to use one, she just knew that she was supposed to stab with it and so she did. The metal felt foreign in her hand, unnatural.

The dragon, barely phased by her blade, launched itself into the air and Leytiri was knocked to the ground by the force of the beasts wings. It circles in the air, blasting fire down upon the others and that’s when Leytiri hears it. A voice, in the back of her mind, similar to the musical voices she had heard in Bleak Falls Barrow. A small part of her thinks it’s the dragon, speaking to her, but she pushes that thought away, that is insanity.

Leytiri throws herself behind the stone bridge again as the dragon lands. She yanks her bow off of her shoulder and starts firing arrow after arrow at the beast as Irileth and the others hack at it with their swords, one of the soldiers even sending blue sparks at it in-between blows. Leytiri is unsure if her arrows are even hitting the dragon, having never fired a bow before, but she doesn’t care. The second after each arrow flies she reaches for another one, until her meager supply is gone.

She grips her sword again and, after sending up an apology to the heavens for using a weapon, launches herself towards the dragon. Irileth and the soldiers surround the beast and Leytiri, dodging the tail, starts slashing at it from behind. The dragon thumps down its tail, it roars, and it rains down fire but it as if the six of them are immune. Whiterun will die if they die!

Leytiri grips the sword with two hands, swings it up over her head, and brings it down with all of her might and slams it into the dragons back. The dragon roars and in her mind she hears a scream, “Dovahkiin! No!” Leytiri clamps her hands down up her head and cries out as the dragon falls, lifeless, to the ground. Was that him? Did she hear his last words in his language? But that’s impossible. Madness, Leytiri is going mad, surely. How else could she explain hearing those words?

Suddenly, the body of the dragon begins to glow a beautiful, fiery shade of gold. Something that looks like the wind shoots towards Leytiri and engulfs into her very being. She cries out as a warm, presence enters her body and suddenly she feels more than sees a name before her, Mirmulnir. Mirmulnir is the name of the dragon she just killed! And… his soul…

A soldier grabs her by the shoulder. “You’re… you’re a Dragonborn aren’t you?”

Leytiri grips her head, trying to come to terms with the fact that she and the dragon… melded? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the fuck is a Dragonborn?”

She immediately regretted her curse, it wasn’t his fault what happened to her. But the man doesn’t seem phased by it. “The Dragonborn of old used to fight dragons, and steal their souls. That’s what happened here today, you took that dragons soul after it died. Have you ever learned how to Shout?”

Leytiri assumed he meant something… more than throwing her head back and shouting like a child. She shook her head. “No. I don’t know what you mean.”

He pointed in the direction of the mountain. “Dragonborn can Shout without being trained. Try to shout, you will have learned how from stealing that dragons soul.”

The other soldiers and Irileth surround Leytiri and, feeling silly, she faces the mountain. In her mind she could hear a voice, Mirmulnir, telling her to form the dragon word for Force in her mind and just… Shout. Leytiri opens her mouth to speak and suddenly, a raw, powerful, blue force comes screaming from her mouth and she watches as a tree not far in front of her tilts and sways in the air as the force hits it.

All of the soldiers cry out in shock and one of them grabs at her shoulder. “Now that’s a Shout! The old tales tell of a Dragonborn who could steal power from the dragons after they killed them. You must be one!”

One of them turns towards Irileth, asking her what she thinks about this. Leytiri tries to block them all out. Somehow, she knew that there was no way she was leaving Skyrim now. Not now that she was… a Dragonborn?

Irileth looks at Leytiri and she tries to clear her mind. “I don’t care about some mythical person from eons past that may or may not be here now. You killed a dragon and that’s more than enough for me, you should go speak to the Jarl.”

Leytiri finds her voice. “I didn’t kill the beast on my own, you all helped.”

Irileth raises her brow. “But you dealt the final blow against it. And you sucked its soul into your body as easily as you could suck a bowl of noodles in through your mouth. Go to the Jarl and inform him what happened, now.”

Knowing that she is being dismissed Leytiri slowly starts the walk back to Whiterun, picking flowers as she goes along. What is a Dragonborn? How in the hell is she one? What is going to happen to her now?

Chapter Text

Leytiri sat in the inn, staring into her bowl of soup. She hadn’t made it far from the watchtower before she heard a powerful voice on the wind, shouting “Dovahkiin”. Dragonborn. It had scared the life out of her and her first instinct was to rush to the castle and hide. She didn’t of course, but as she looked towards one of the mountains she felt a chill run up her spine. She wanted so bad to ignore that call. She wanted to go back to the Order.

She wanted to be a child and play with Prentis again. She wanted her mama to braid her hair and sing her songs. Prentis had tried, oh he tried so hard to sing for her but he truly did not have the talents of a bard. She wanted to become a master of illusion magic and she wanted to take care of Prentis until he died. She wanted to stroke his blonde hair that was slowly turning gray. She wanted to look into his blue eyes and tell him she missed him.

She did not want to be the Dragonborn. She did not want to go on some insane quest to go meet the Greybeards.

But of course that had not mattered when she went before Jarl Balgruuf. After she told him what had happened at the watchtower he said that she used her Thu’um or Shout against the dragon. Apparently it took normal people years to learn the most basic Shouts but a Dragonborn could do them easily. He had then told her that when the voice shouting down from the largest mountain in Skyrim called out “Dovahkiin” that it was a summons for her to come to the mountain and speak with the Greybeards.

It is fate, he said.

The Jarl’s advisors had argued back and forth over whether or not she truly was a Dragonborn, but Leytiri felt numb throughout the whole conversation. That was it, she wasn’t leaving Skyrim. She couldn’t ignore the summons of the Greybeards. They could literally shout from the mountains for her to come see them for fucks sake. She couldn’t hide from them in Skyrim.

The Jarl had looked at her and said, “if they think you are Dragonborn, who are we to argue?”

Leytiri wished that she could argue, but she couldn’t. If she had not killed the dragon, if she had not seen the dragon shoot into her body, if she had not felt the whispers of the dragons soul in her heart… then maybe she could have argued. But she had felt all of those things. She could not escape what was happening to her now.

The Jarl had named her a Thane of the city, before he told her to go to High Hrothgar immediately and that she could not refuse the summons. He had said that it was a seven thousand step journey to the castle and that he envied her. She wanted to tell him that if envied her so much maybe he should take the journey but she kept her mouth shut. It was not his fault that this happened to her.

But Leytiri decided that she would not leave immediately, it was dark, and dangerous trekking through Skyrim at night. She would have one last night of good sleep in a bed, at the inn, and then she would set out in the morning. Leytiri tilts the bowl against her lips and lets the dregs of the soup pour down her throat. She gets up and lays down in the bed.

Her eyes drift over to her bow and sword, both leaning against the wall. All those years training in the Order and it all was thrown out the window when her life was in danger. She didn’t even consider the repercussions of using the blade, using the bow, she didn’t even think about the Order much. She had reacted. She had wanted to live. So she used the weapons. Now though, now she felt guilty.

Prentis… Prentis would be so upset with her right now. He would ask her why she didn’t conjure a familiar. He would ask her why she didn’t throw a destruction spell at the beast. He would ask her why, if she knew that she might lose the fight, she didn’t turn herself invisible and run away. Did she have to use the weapons?

Leytiri swallows hard. Maybe, maybe not. She was frightened and she used a weapon, just like she did at the Order with Tovarr. She didn’t want to die and she was frightened so she reacted. She just hopes that next time, she’ll hold true to her vows. She closes her eyes.

Many miles away, Prentis sits in the Zyon’s office, starring into the fire with a glass of strong ale in his hand. He hadn’t felt right ever since Leytiri left the Order. That morning he packed his bags, dragged them to the gates, and waited for Leytiri. He had every intention of going with her. But the Zyon told him it was necessary for him to stay in the Order and, like always, he bowed to the Zyon’s will.

Now, he wished that he told the Zyon to go fuck himself. Leytiri was every bit his little girl. He should be out there, protecting her, but instead he is sitting here staring into a fire, drinking ale.

It’s been less than a week since Arella came back to the order, ashen faced, with Clavicus, who could barely hold back tears. They came across Leytiri unexpectedly in Falkreath and when they tried to call out to her she ran south. Soldiers followed her and… now he doesn’t know if she’s even alive or dead. Prentis closes his eyes. Grief floods his mind and heart.

He failed Leytiri’s mother. He failed.

The door opens and the Zyon walks in. “Prentis, did you hear the summons?”

Prentis rises from his seat, trying to make his face look neutral. “The summons from the Greybeards for the Dragonborn? Yes, I heard. I’m not sure I believe that there really is a Dragonborn but I did hear.”

The Zyon runs his hands along his desk before he reaches up to push his hood off of his head. A rare sight, Prentis had only ever seen the Zyon without his hood a handful of times in all of his years in the Order. The man is old, at least thirty years older than Prentis, but he wouldn’t doubt that the Zyon is more powerful than him, more powerful than anyone he’d ever met in fact.

The Zyon stares at Prentis for a few minutes in silence before he picks up his own glass from the desk. “It is true that the Dragonborn has been summoned and it is true that the Dragonborn is real. She killed a dragon near Whiterun with relative ease from what I’ve heard. She will be on her way to do business with the Greybeards soon enough.”

Prentis slides a fingertip around and around the lip of his glass. “I wish her luck, the girl. I do not envy the battles that she will have to face. When I was a boy I heard that the Dragonborn have the soul and blood of the dragon and that they only come to this world in times of the greatest need.”

The Zyon nods absentmindedly, continuing the stroke his desk with the hand not holding the glass. For the first time Prentis realizes that the Zyon’s hand holding the glass is shaking. “Are you alright, my Zyon?”

The man jerks his head though Prentis can’t decide what answer he gave, yes or no. “Perhaps if you tell me what concerns you, I can help.”

Their eyes meet and the Zyon nods again. “Perhaps you can. Prentis, I called you here tonight because I have discovered the name of the Dragonborn.”

Prentis raises his eyebrow. “Do you wish to help her on whatever quest she must face? You know that is not our way, but I will not argue if it is what you want.”

The Zyon jerks his head so hard Prentis fears that it might tumble off his neck. “No! We can not help her. Prentis, the Dragonborn is Leytiri.”

Prentis clamps his hand down across his mouth to keep the ale from surging up his throat. No. No! Why must the gods be this cruel to her? Had they not done enough!?

But the Zyon is clearly not done. “Prentis, prepare yourself for this.”

As a child, Prentis would cover his ears when his mother told him something he didn’t want to hear and suddenly he felt the urge to do it now. “What else is there to say, Zyon?”

The man closes his eyes, covering the pain in them or, who knows what else. He opens them again. “I’ve been informed that Leytiri did not use magic to kill the dragon. She used a sword, and a bow. She has completely forsaken our way of life in the matter of a week.”

Prentis squeezes the bridge of his nose. “She-she has never been good at destruction magic, you know that. She must have been frightened for fucks sake. What would any of us have done in that situation!?”

The Zyon raises his eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you would have resorted to the barbaric practice of wielding a weapon created by man? Remember your place here, Prentis. She was a failure, and that is all she will ever be. Leave me, now.”

Prentis turns on his heel and walks to the door but when he gets there he stops and bows his head. “I’m sorry, my Zyon, for raising my voice at you. You’re right, of course. She was never meant for the Order.”

Chapter Text

Leytiri trudged along the road to Ivarstead, picking flowers as she made her away along the stone path. She couldn’t believe how much money she had made by making ingredients and selling them! At least 1,500 septims jiggled in her purse. It shouldn’t take too much longer before she can buy a house. Whiterun wasn’t bad, the people seemed friendly enough and the house for sale there looks nice. She saw no reason that she couldn’t grow old there.

Dragonborn.

She stops walking for just a few seconds before starting up again. Her mother told her stories about the Dragonborn when she was a child, most parents do. But they were legends, stories to tell excited like children. They weren’t real. But how else had she killed a dragon? She had help, of course, but it was she who dealt the final blow, killing the beast. Before the fight she fully expected that all of them would die but somehow, all of them had lived. But what did being Dragonborn mean for her?

What would she have to do? What would the Greybeards make her do?

Leytiri took a deep breath of the morning air. So far this morning she had been attacked by two wolves, one giving her a amethyst and the other nothing. Even more interestingly she came upon two bandits who were attacking a bard. She bought a book from Farengar in Whiterun about how to conjure a flame atronach and it quickly killed the two of them. She quite liked the spell, it was more powerful than her familiar. But she didn’t like how it drained almost all of her magic. She would have to be careful and not use up all of it in battle.

Then she came across a troop of Stormcloak soldiers. One of them told her that either she was a true daughter of Skyrim or she wasn’t, and that they would rid Skyrim of elves and the Jarls that supported Torygg. It had taken everything in her not to laugh at the man. She, an elf, stood before him and he said that he wanted to get rid of people like her. Why in the world would she join a group of people that wanted to remove people like her from Skyrim?

Leytiri is a daughter of Skyrim. She was born in this country. She has just as much right to the place as that bigoted piece of shit and Ulfric have. The Legion may not be the best choice for Skyrim but they damn sure were a better choice than the Stormcloaks. At least the Legion doesn’t care what you look like.

As she crosses a bridge, an Orc suddenly dashes out from some bushes brandishing an axe. Without thinking, Leytiri throws out her hand and conjures up a flame atronach which begins firing fireballs at the Orc while Leytiri, using the last bit of magic she has left, hits her with some sparks. The Orc falls to the ground screaming and Leytiri, not wanting the woman to suffer, uses a dagger to slit her throat. Leytiri looks at the blood on the blade.

She did it again. She thought it would be cruel to let the woman die slowly and painfully from the magic so she used a blade to end the pain. The Zyon would hate her, they all would hate her. Prentis would hate her…

Leytiri shakes her head roughly. No! No he wouldn’t, he would understand. He was never cruel, he would never allow someone to die painfully. He was good.

Trying to banish Prentis from her thoughts, Leytiri comes upon a sign that points in the direction of Ivarstead. Before she can make it more than a few feet however, two robed men race towards her, hands raised. One of them shoots ice at her and she re-conjures her atronach. The flames hit one of the men as Leytiri quickly stabs at him with the sword she got from Helgen. Then, as one, they turn to the second and quickly kill him together.

Leytiri should hate herself, she should. She could have let the men die slowly and painfully from the magic but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. If it were her she would hope the person killing her would do so quickly so she wouldn’t suffer. She wished like hell that these people wouldn’t attack her because they’d be alive now if it weren’t for that.

In front of her stands a long bridge, and Leytiri can see a wolf pacing on the other side. She sighs and reaches into her bag to grab a magic potion and downs it before racing across the bridge. Rather than wasting the magic, she uses her sword to quickly kill the beast. “Hey!”

Twisting around, Leytiri sees an Argonian racing across the bridge behind her. Thanking her lucky stars for not wasting the magic from the potion she throws out another atronach. The two of them attack the man and kill him quickly. When she kneels down to search him she finds quite a few ingredients and a couple potions along with a nice amount of septims. She pockets all of it before standing to walk back in the direction of the town.

It doesn’t take too much longer before Leytiri comes across a bridge leading towards a bunch of buildings. She sighs, thank the gods. She’s finally here. She had expected to fight a bandit or two but wasn’t expecting all of the wolves, the mages, the bandits, and the Orc and the Argonian. Right now she could do with a stiff drink and a place to sleep for the night before she goes to meet with the Greybeards.

Something told her she’d have to climb up the entire fucking mountain to meet them.

Chapter Text

Seven thousand steps. Seven. Thousand. Steps.

Leytiri tore a hunk off of her bread and chewed it vigorously. A woman sat next to her, praying at the emblem. It is the fourth one, when Leytiri had asked how many more emblems there are before she would get to meet the Greybeards she was only met with a stony silence. The woman then asked her what she wanted, and even called her a little elf. Rather than shoot back the words that she so desperately wanted to say, she had offered the woman half of her loaf of bread. Now they ate in silence. Little elf, she didn’t mind it. She didn’t think it was an insult.

The wind and snow swirled around Leytiri and she pressed her back against the emblem in an attempt to get away from the cold and wet. It is late, the sun had fallen from the skies ages ago. She enjoyed her bed at the inn so much that she overslept and didn’t even leave Ivarstead until early afternoon. She now wished dearly that she just got her ass out of bed.

Seven fucking thousand steps.

She hadn’t even made it out of Ivarstead and all the way past the bridge before she was attacked by a huge spider and, even more horrifying, a huge, black bear. Her flame atronach had killed the spider quickly but oh boy did it barely do anything against the bear. She had tried to use her new Dovahkiin ability on the bear but it barely stopped it.

Embarrassed and frightened, she had ran back across the bridge calling for help. Three guards and even two civilians came to her aid and killed the bear while she cowered. The bread gets stuck in Leytiri’s throat and she swallows hard, trying not to cry. She bet after the Greybeards witnessed that they would find a new Dragonborn to help them. If she ran away from a bear what kind of use would she be against dragons?

Leytiri pulls her water skin out of her bag and tags a long pull on it before offering it to the woman, who shakes her head. After she got over her shakiness, and against the advice of the guards, she started up the mountain. At first it was fun, she counted out the steps as she climbed higher and higher. She faced two ice wolves on the way but they easily fell to her atronach. But when she got about five hundred steps up they lost their thrill. Now all she wanted was to get to the top and she prayed that the Greybeards had a roaring fireplace, hot food, and a comfy bed.

Right now she would give anything to be back home, safe, in her bed at the Order.

Gritting her teeth, Leytiri wipes the crumbs off of her face. “Thank you for sharing my meal with me, it gets lonely out here.”

The woman nods. “I make this trip every few years or so. I like the solitude.”

“Me as well.” It wasn’t necessarily true, she liked being with Prentis and she liked having someone to share a bed with. But other than that she did prefer to be alone. Leytiri turns towards the stairs. “Goodbye then.”

She climbs the steps slowly, trying to avoid getting knocked over by the fierce wind. She climbs straight up it feels like, her calves and thighs screaming at her. She didn’t like to run, and had never been very physically active other than the exercises that Prentis made her do a few times a week. Suddenly a roar fills the air and she looks out to the right off the mountain. A dragon here?!

The roar sounds again and she turns back to see an ice troll standing on top of a cliff high above her. It throws itself to the ground behind her and she sends a flame atronach at it as she runs forward. She doesn’t look back to see if the atronach is winning the fight or not, she knows a battle that she could not win and she was no match against that troll.

Leytiri runs until she feels like her heart is going to come out of her throat. She slows but not much, wanting to put as much distance between herself and that troll. Not too far ahead of her she sees another emblem and she walks up to it. On the emblem it says that it’s number six. She must have missed the fifth one at some point.

Rubbing her arms, she keeps walking along the stairs. Light armor maybe was a mistake coming up here. She doubted that she would be able to move around well in heavy armor but at least it would provide her some warmth. And besides, she didn’t need to be able to move around well for using magic. Well, unless she was running from the thing she’s supposed to be fighting.

Her teeth start to chatter and she tries to clamp her jaws closed. She sure was proving to be a right good sight for the Greybeards wasn’t she? Not only had she ran from a bear, she also ran from a troll. She had even begged civilians for aid against the bear. They had fussed over her afterwards, asking if she needed to lay down or needed food. They were completely shocked when she said that she needed to climb the stairs. It was clear that they didn’t think she’d make it and even tried to stop her on her way back out of town.

As Leytiri rounds a corner she sees a castle ahead of her and she almost whoops for joy but restrains herself. She already looks pretty bad in their eyes, she ran from a bear and cried about it before she ran, again, from a troll. Slowly she makes her way up the stairs until she comes to a platform where a chest and bundles of food and potions lie.

At the bottom, a man had asked her if she could deliver a package of supplies to the Greybeards and since she was on her way here she agreed. Leytiri lifts the lid of the chest and drops a bag of food and other supplies into it before closing it and making sure it clicks. She looks towards the door.

Her feet move up a stair and stops. Up another and stops. She didn’t know what they wanted with her. She had only been able to kill the dragon at Whiterun with help, and later went on to run from a bear and a troll. She couldn’t be this hero, this Dragonborn, she couldn’t. What had she done to deserve this other than be a coward who breaks her oaths out of fear of death? Tovarr… she shouldn’t have killed him. She’d be safe, home, and wouldn’t be the Dragonborn today if she hadn’t done it.

Seven thousand fucking steps.

Leytiri puts her hand on the door and pushes it open.

Chapter Text

As soon as Leytiri closes the door behind her she notices fires burning in braziers in the room before her. She longs to go and stand in front of them, to warm her cold bones but she refrains. A man wearing hooded robes walks down some stairs and walks in her direction. She knows that she should move forward to meet him but she doesn’t know anything about the Greybeards, and knows she should stay near the door so that she can run if need be.

The man stops suddenly and Leytiri notices two more robed and hooded men step into the room next to him. All three stare in her direction and she realizes that she needs to move into the room to meet them. She takes one last, longing look at the door behind her and steps into the room. Hopefully she doesn’t have to fight, her last atronach wore her out.

When she steps closer to the braziers the first man moves in front of her. “So, the Dragonborn appears. After so long.”

Leytiri swallows and nods. “The Jarl of Whiterun told me to come here to meet with you. Am I really the Dragonborn?”

The man raises his eyebrow. “We shall see. Show us your Voice, Dragonborn. Give us a taste of it.”

Leytiri turns away from the Greybeards and prepares to use her Voice again, like she did outside of Whiterun for the soldiers, but the man snaps his fingers. “No! Strike us with it. You won’t hurt us, just do it.”

Hesitating for just a moment but finally she turns back towards the man and Shouts at him, using the ability she had learned from the dragon she killed at Whiterun. Two of the men are thrown back and nearly lose their balance, the third, out of her range, merely stares at her with his mouth slightly agape.

All three men tilt their heads down in a bow to her before the one who spoke approaches her again. “You are the Dragonborn. Welcome.” His voice before had seemed almost doubtful, now it is full of reverence. “Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir, I speak for the Greybeards. But why have you come?”

Leytiri hesitates again as two more Greybeards step into the room, having heard her Shout. “You summoned me, Master. I was in Whiterun and the Jarl told me that I must come see you, that destiny demands it. But I do have a question.”

Arngeir smiles and approaches the large brazier, standing between two of the other monks. “The Greybeards are always honored to host the Dragonborn, and shall answer all the questions that you have. Speak them.”

She nods before holding her hands out towards the fire closest to her, unable to resist the pull of the heat any longer. “Am I the only Dragonborn alive? Are the others just stories to tell children, just legends? Am I the first real one?”

One of the monks next to Arngeir smiles but it is not him who speaks. “You are not the first Dragonborn, there were more who came before you. Dragonborn come to this world in the most direst of need. Who is to say how many came before you, who is to say how many will come after you, and who is to say if you are the only one alive right now or not. What matters is that you are the Dragonborn and you have been called to serve your purpose.”

Leytiri feels a lump in her throat and tries to ignore it. No matter how hard she tried she would never be an ordinary girl. “What is my purpose? What is my destiny?”

Arngeir lifts his hand towards his brazier, imitating Leytiri. “I do not know, it is not my duty to know what your destiny is. My duty is to teach you the way of the Voice. As it is for them.” The other men bow their heads towards Leytiri once again.

“When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. As the Dragonborn, you have dragon blood running through your veins and that makes it easy for you to learn the Words of Power, and thus new Shouts.” Arngeir turns to stare at her. “All shouts have three Words of Power, if you know all three the more powerful they will become. Master Einarth will teach you the second word for the Shout you already know, Unrelenting Force.”

Einarth steps forward, looks down at the ground, and sort of whisper shouts the word, “Ro”. Cracks form in the floor and Leytiri can see red, shiny letters. She steps forward and suddenly the word ‘Balance’ forms in her mind. She stumbles slightly and Arngeir grabs her shoulder to straighten her.

He smiles a small smile, like Prentis, and she suddenly wants to hug him and bury her head into his chest, and never let him go. “You truly are a master, Leytiri. The rest of us learn Shouts through practice, vigorous, almost non ending practice. But because you are a Dragonborn, you can take the souls of a dragon and learn words that way. Now, use your improved Shout to defeat these three targets.”

Suddenly, a glowing blue figure wearing robes stands in front of her and, without thinking, she unleashes her full power against it. The force is strong enough to send all of the Greybeards stumbling back but instead of getting angry at her, Arngeir laughs. “Again!”

Another glowing figure arrives and Leytiri Shouts at him again. This time, the Greybeards don’t stumble back but appear to be awed by her ability. “You learn quickly, girl. Last time.”

One last figure appears and Leytiri uses her Shout again, and she realizes that it has gotten stronger and stronger each time, knocking the Greybeards back more and more. Arngeir steps towards her again. “Your Thu’um is… marvelous. You truly are the Dragonborn, it would take a normal person years to be as good as you are. Your next trial will be held outside, follow Master Borri.”

Leytiri looks longingly at the braziers again but rather than complain she follows the Greybeard that starts up the stairs. Gods does she not want to go outside. Even behind the thick castle walls she could still hear the wind roar.

As they all step outside Leytiri rubs her arms, almost immediately feeling the chill of the wind and snow and ice. Arngeir seems not to notice her discomfort and he Shouts. It is a strange noise, and she wonders if that is how she sounds when she does it. “Now, Leytiri. Master Borri will teach you a new Shout.”

Borri whisper shouts at the ground and letters appear like they did inside. Without needing to be told Leytiri approaches them again and feels the same intense feeling inside of her that she felt after learning the last Shout. ‘Whirlwind’ whispers in her mind.

Arngeir steps towards a gate and two pillars before it and she follows him. “Now you will show your knowledge of that shout. Watch.”

One of the Greybeards step in-between the pillars as Borri Shouts at the gates to open. The Greybeard next to Leytiri Shouts and suddenly he has disappeared from her side! She looks up and realizes that he has moved past the gates and they have now closed behind him. Arngeir points to her, “it is now your turn! Shout the word for Whirlwind in the dragon language and you will go past those gates too.”

Borri turns towards the gates and Leytiri prepares herself, thinking of the word whirlwind. Before the gates are even completely open she Shouts and bursts forward in tremendous speed, only stopping when the Greybeard standing there grabs the back of her armor before she goes tumbling off the edge of the mountain.

Arngeir laughs. “I can see that you are excited to prove yourself. Now there is one last thing you must do for your trial. You must go to Ustengrav and retrieve the Horn of Jorgen Windcaller. It is an ancient Greybeard artifact and you must go get it before your training can resume.”

Leytiri stares at him for a long time as the other Greybeards step back into the warmth of the castle. Another mission? Fuck!

Chapter Text

“Fuck!”

Leytiri rips her boot out of the mud and water for what feels like the hundredth time. She’d never been to the marshy wilderness of Morthal and, by the gods, she would never come back again. She couldn’t believe that people wanted to live in this type of filth. Bugs, giant spiders, muddy water, disgusting!

Hadn’t she already dealt with enough?

First she had stood gobsmacked as Arngeir told her that she must go to Ustengrav to to get a Horn. Then she had to walk all the way down that fucking mountain again. Then she had to fight another bear before she got back to town. Then she had to walk all the way back to Whiterun and on the road she had to fight bandits and even a necromancer.

After a well deserved sleep at the inn in Whiterun, Leytiri forked over the fifty gold for a ride in the carriage to Morthal. She didn’t like spending that much gold but she liked less the idea of walking all the way there. It was a pleasant ride indeed, she’d laid down some furs that Arngeir gave her and had a nice, relaxing, kind of bumpy ride to Morthal. But her welcome to the town wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

Upon entering a dragon attacked. Though frightened again, Leytiri didn’t hide. Instead she used her Shouts to lure it to the ground, and she and the guards killed it with bows and swords. She didn’t feel guilty about using her sword either. Maybe her vows could change, maybe. Maybe she could use a weapon on beasts and only on people so that they don’t suffer through the pain of a magical death. Yes, that’s what she could do.

Leytiri stops and gulps hard. Prentis would hate her. It’s been, what, two weeks? Maybe three, since she left the Order. And she was already slaughtering people with a weapon. The Zyon was right about her. They were all right, she didn’t belong.

Trying to push that thought out of her mind she continues walking in the direction that Arngeir told her Ustengrav would be. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to fight anymore people, so that she wouldn’t have to put her vows to the test again. Her foot gets caught in another pile of mud and she pulls it out hard, barely losing her boot in the process.

She glances up and sees a ruin, that must be it!

“Hey! Who’s there!”

Three bandits and a necromancer run towards her and she shoots out a flame atronach. Her hand wraps around the hilt of her sword and she draws it as the atronach shoots balls of flame at their four enemies. The archer goes down before Leytiri can even reach them. One of the bandits turns towards the atronach instead of Leytiri, probably judging her not to be too much trouble due to her size, and she takes that moment to plunge her sword through his back into his heart.

The man starts to choke on his blood and she quickly slides her dagger across his throat, sending up a silent apology for what she had to do. She grabs her sword and tries to pull it out of the mans back but she’s unable to. Instead, she clutches the dagger tighter and slides it home into the back of the necromancers neck. As she does, the atronach sends one final fireball at the last bandit, killing him.

The atronach disappears as Leytiri wipes her dagger clean. They both killed two of them! She was getting better. She wasn’t good, but she was getting better. It takes her some time to yank her sword out of the bandit but she finally manages to. She tries to ignore the blood running along half the length of the sword.

She kneels down next to the second man that she killed and puts her hand on his back. She felt strange. All her life she wanted to do this. She wanted to be allowed freedom from the Order. She wanted to fight bandits because they were bad people and she wanted to protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves. But now? Now she wished that she’d never killed Tovarr, the prick. He deserved it, he did, but she didn’t deserve this.

Would she still be the Dragonborn if she never left the Order? Maybe, maybe not.

But the Order was safe and that’s what Leytiri wants right now. When she was a little girl she had nightmares about what happened to her people. Every night she would dash to Prentis’s room and ask to sleep in his bed. She liked to stroke his blonde beard, streaked with silver, as she fell asleep. She hadn’t done that in about ten years or so but right now all she wanted was to lay in his bed and let him comfort her. Though admittedly, his hair looked more silver streaked with blonde at this point.

She hoped that he was okay, he always was quiet, and kept to himself.

Trying to shrug off the guilt, Leytiri rises and takes the valuables from the bodies. They wouldn’t need them where they’re going, but she might. She steps through the rest of the camp and finds a tomato, which she eats, and a chest full of gold, a dagger, and a helmet. Even more exciting she finds some Deathbell. Even since she was a child she always thought they were pretty. And damn useful in a potion as well.

Unfortunately she didn’t have many health potions right now. The shops in Whiterun didn’t have much since she took it all before she left to the mountain and she didn’t even stop to see if there even was an alchemist shop in Morthal. No, she’d have to be very careful in Ustengrav.

Speaking of Ustengrav…

Leytiri turns in the direction of the ruin and walks up the side of it to look down. Down the steps she can see two dead bandits that she certainly didn’t kill. She hoped that they were killed by the bandits that she and her atronach killed but there was no way to know. What she really hoped was that there was nothing in that ruin that was going to give her trouble.

She snorts. Yeah, like that would ever happen. She’s far too unlucky for that.

Taking a deep breath Leytiri carefully walks down the steps into the ruin and pushes open the door.

Chapter Text

Stepping into Ustengrav, Leytiri immediately crouches down. She can hear people ahead of her already. Slowly, she inches forward down some stairs past a dead bandit. In front of her she can see at least three people but she can’t make out what they’re wearing. Are they bandits? Necromancers? Something worse?

Leytiri holds up her hands and lets the magic swirl. She was really starting to enjoy her atronach, it was the most powerful spell she knew. She wished that she could turn invisible and go past these guys but there was no way she could keep up something that powerful. Nor did she have much faith in her sneakiness abilities. No one she’d ever met could trip on air quite as well as she could.

As she makes her way further down the stairs, she can hear a man say something about thralls. Shivering, the only thing Leytiri can think of is that these people are vampires. She’d never met one, and didn’t really want to now. A hoard of bandits is one thing, a hoard of blood sucking demons is something else.

Forcing away a sigh, Leytiri gets to the bottom of the steps and approaches the wall to the right. There’s a set of steps to the left but it doesn’t look like there’s anything up there. The only way forward is to, well, go forward past the vampires. She’d have to fight them, like it or not.

Laying in the corner is a dead bandit with gashes in his neck. Leytiri forces back a gag. Poor soul.

The man or vampire or thrall or thing says something again, to which a woman replies for him to go check it out. Leytiri hopes they don’t mean her. Gods, what is wrong with her? She’d killed quite a few beasts since all this shit started, what was a couple vampires compared to fucking dragons?

Leytiri inches around the corner but she doesn’t see anyone. There’s a table with food and potions on it but no one is there. There’s a hole in the wall and she figures that they must have walked through there. Perhaps she was foolish to let them go, there were likely others, especially thralls wherever they went. As quickly as she dares she makes her way over to the table and throws the food and potions into her bag.

Next to the table sits a chest and she cracks it open. A small handful of gold, robes, and some very, very, nice Dwarven boots sit in there. She immediately removes her mud soaked boots and replace them with the fancy looking ones. They’re quite heavy but they’re comfortable and offers her feet more protection.

As she makes her way into the hole and down the steps she can hear several voices ahead of her. They start fighting something and one of them steps into the room she’s in and sees her. He shouts and she shoots a flame atronach out at him and he, three other vampires, and a familiar all try to kill the atronach. The familiar falls first, and then two of the male vampires die before the atronach finally disappears. Leytiri shoots flames from both hands at the remaining two vampires, knowing that she doesn’t have enough strength yet to recall her atronach.

The vampire that initially entered the room dies first, screaming, burning to the ground. The other, a woman, is much tougher. She shoots ice at Leytiri and she falls to the ground in pain. She quickly swallows a health potion as the vampire advances on her. Gripping her sword, she Shouts at the vampire and at the same time swings up with the sword and slices through her neck.

Leytiri watches as the vampire falls to the floor, blood gushing, nearly decapitated from the swing. Leytiri’s stomach rolls and suddenly she throws up all over the vampires body. She’d eaten a tomato right before entering the ruin and Leytiri was thoroughly disturbed to see the chewed up red mess along with everything else in her stomach on the corpse.

Knowing that there could be more danger ahead, she crouches back down and makes her way further into the ruin, trying hard not to think about the poor dead vampire, with blood and vomit covering her body. Leytiri had seen a lot in her life, but that was new.

As she enters the next room she sees a a ledge to her right with potions and a book on it. She quickly pockets all of them and continues further into the room. Directly ahead of her there’s a doorway and she can hear a mans voice coming from it. Rather than go that way she enters a room to her left and sees two rooms full of burial urns.

Her stomach rolls again as she thinks about what she’s going to have to do. She’s low on health potions and she also knows that some people bury potions with their dead. Slowly and quietly, she makes her way through the rooms, stealing potions and jewelry and money out of the urns. It makes her sick, she wished she could leave the dead in peace. But she also knew that if she didn’t take the potions she’d be joining the dead. And if she didn’t have the money she wouldn’t survive very long out in the real world. She needed food and sleep and clothes, the dead didn’t.

Still… she felt guilty. And sick.

Leytiri turns left out of the urn room and into another room where three skeletons lie. On the table behind them sits a brazier and two potions. She stuffs them into her bag, trying not to think about the terrible fate that befell the people behind her. Remaining in a crouched position, she continues down the hallway into another room. As she enters, two coffins burst open and two draugr climb out.

The magic swirls in Leytiri’s hand and she shoots an atronach at the two draugr. One of them shoots ice balls at the atronach while the other swings at it with a sword. While the two are distracted Leytiri sends fireball spells at them and they quickly fall under the combined spells.

Leytiri smiles, she was really starting to like that atronach. It was powerful, and she had to do a little bit less work. She smiles even wider when she finds an amethyst on one of the bodies. Amazing!

As she makes her way through the room she passes a draugr that neither she nor the atronach killed. She loots his body and finds another amethyst. Wonderful! Maybe when she finished up her Dragonborn duties she really could buy a house and start her own alchemy shop. Who knew how long she’d be doing her Dragonborn thing for though, or if she would even survive.

Gods, she hoped that didn’t happen. She just wanted peace. Boring, happy peace.

She passes a table with a helmet on it and she grabs it. It wasn’t nearly as nice as the one she currently wore, but it would sell for a decent price. She spies a doorway and she walks through it and up the steps. When she gets to the second floor she notices a chest that has a scroll and some gold in it.

Leytiri continues across a pathway and down some steps to a door, which she pushes open. As the door slams behind her she notices that it’s awfully windy down here, and it suddenly got much, much colder. She shivers and rubs her arms for a few seconds before gritting her teeth. Time to get down to business and get the fuck out of this creepy ruin.

Slowly, she tiptoes down the stairs and peers around a corner just as a draugr holding an axe leaps out at her. She holds up her left arm to fend off the blow as her right arm lifts to shoot flames at it. The draugr screams but she doesn’t let up until it falls. Heaving a sigh she looks down at it. It took so long to kill it with her flames, but the atronach takes up so much of her magic.

Her arm hurts where it hit her, and a little bit of blood is sliding down her skin, so she uses a healing spell to cure it. It still hurts after, but it’s no longer bleeding. Sighing again, she turns back to the steps. She passes through a room uneventfully until she comes to four squares.

Two of the squares have white diamonds on them, the other two red. Leytiri knows that this must be a trap but the only question is which color is the trap and which one is safe. Rather than guessing, and likely ending up dead as a result, she steps back and throws an apple onto the red diamonds. They shoot up flames and she smiles at them. Just to be safe, she throws another apple onto the white diamonds that have no reaction. Perfect!

She bi-passes the apple that she tossed onto the white diamonds as she crosses. No way is she putting something that’s touched this floor in her mouth.

Continuing further down the hallway she turns left and spots a dead draugr laying on a pathway going across to the other side of the room. She hesitates, knowing that they could really be “alive” when they look dead dead. But as she approaches the draugr, it doesn’t move. Footsteps down below draws her eyes and she spots a draugr moving around in a dining room type area. She quickly pulls off her bow and notches an arrow.

Leytiri aims for the draugr’s head but when she shoots it hits it in the chest. The draugr falls to the ground and she shoots another arrow at it to make sure it’s dead. She needed to get better at shooting a bow, she killed it regardless but it was pathetic that she missed her target by that much. A second draugr lurches through the doorway and shoots up a ice spell at her. She backs up and sends out an atronach to fight against it.

As her atronach sends fireballs at the draugr she also shoots arrows at it. The beast is tough, it takes much longer to kill than the last two draugr did but eventually it does fall to the arrows and flame. Hoping that there are no more, Leytiri continues further into the room.

Once she gets downstairs she finds a room full of shelves with a chest and some potions. She pockets the gold, potions, and even a garnet. She backs up and heads back to the big dining room. On the tables lay piles of cheese wheels and a couple leeks and a tomato. Her stomach churns at the sight of the tomato and she turns towards the cheese.

Obviously there were more people here, other than the ones she killed earlier. Draugr had no use for food, especially yummy food like cheese. She looks at the cheese wheels longingly. It was tempting to take them but she couldn’t help a nagging thought that she had no idea where that food came from or what could have been done to it. These may be vampires after all.

Oh gods, what if they… what if they somehow put blood in the cheese? Leytiri’s stomach churns again. No, no thank you.

No longer finding the cheese appetizing, Leytiri starts down the hallway and up some stairs to another pathway which she crosses. As she makes her way down the stairs her nose crinkles. Oil. Yuck. Or perhaps good, if there are draugr down there she could ignite the oil and burn them all.

As she steps into the next room she finds oil on the floor and two draugr burst from coffins. She waits, patient, as they start to walk towards her. As soon as they step onto the oil she shoots a single fireball at it and it immediately engulfs the pair in flames. They both scream and try to dash towards her but they crumble down to ash.

To her left, Leytiri can see a barred room with a chest and enchanting table. As she approaches the room she can see that there’s a switch beside the door. Happily, she strides forward and flips the switch. Only one of the gates opens. She looks around the room and spots another switch. Fucking Dwemer, or whoever thought it would be funny to put two switches in the same room. She flips the second switch and quickly shoves a soul gem, gold, and a dagger into her bag.

Turning around she rushes out of the room and down another hallway. She can’t wait to get out of this god forsaken place. She steps out of the hallway into a giant cavern. The wind is even more heavy down here and at the bottom of the cavern she could see a waterfall. Sighing, she starts down the path. Quite frankly this looks like a place Falmer would hang out.

She doesn’t make it far before two skeletons attack her but she makes short work of them with her flames. As she goes further down the stairs five more skeletons attack and she shoots out another flame atronach to take care of them. They all fall quickly to its spells. She swiftly clears the room of all valuables, including a nice potion for archery.

She looks down a pathway and up another. She doesn’t know which way to go but decides down would probably be the better choice. When in doubt in a scary, dark dungeon, the enemy is probably in the lowest part of the place.

As Leytiri walks down the stairs she can hear a voice in the back of her head. Before it had scared her, now it delighted her. It was the dragon language, maybe she would learn a new word. Picking up her pace she climbs down the stairs faster and faster, not even worried about enemies. She gets to the bottom of the stairs and despite the noise of the waterfall the dragon singing is louder.

She steps towards a stone pedestal and sees glowing blue writing on the wall of it. Confidently she walks towards her and the letters on the wall shoot out of the wall at her in a gust of wind and enters her body. As it does a word forms in her brain, Fade. She’s not quite sure what it means, but Arngeir will know.

Quickly, Leytiri explores the entire bottom of the cavern but finds nothing, not even another skeleton. It appears she was wrong about the enemy being down at the bottom but she definitely was glad to be wrong this time. She makes her way back up the stairs and up the pathway she bi-passed to go down. As she nears the top, however, she crouches down and starts to move slowly again. Who knows what enemies she could face now.

As she steps onto the landing she sees a few stones and as she passes one it glows red. The gate in front of her opens and as she steps towards it the second stone glows and the second gate opens. Hesitating, she steps towards the third stone which starts to glow and the third gate opens. Giggling, she starts towards the opened gates but she doesn’t make it far before they close again.

Frowning, Leytiri circles around the stones and goes through again but she doesn’t make it far past the third stone before the gates close a second time. She sighs, what the hell is she doing wrong? She tries a third time, and a fourth, to no avail. She drums her fingers on her arms, frustrated.

Suddenly, she thinks about the Shout that Arngeir told her about. The one that gave her a big burst of speed. Perhaps that would work, if she got a running start. She quickly goes back to the first stone and crouches down, ready to sprint through. She takes a deep breath, readying her Shout.

Launching forward, she dashes through the stones and immediately once the gates are all open she Shouts and bursts through to the other side. Adrenaline pumping, she forces herself from shouting for joy. She sure never wanted to do that again. What if she got stuck?

Up the stairs Leytiri can see fire burning in a brazier and she crouches down again. Who knows what’s up there? Or worse, who.

Slowly, she climbs the stairs until she comes upon a room with the same diamond shaped traps as before. Quickly, she makes her way through them, not wanting to set the fire trap off. She doesn’t make it far before a giant spider rushes towards her, she shoots off an atronach that lands on top of a red diamond. Leytiri throws herself onto a further white diamond to escape the flames.

The spider dies fast, and Leytiri dashes forward onto a platform as the atronach follows behind. As soon as she lands on the platform three more spiders appear and she and the atronach quickly kill them using the flame spells. Seconds afterwards the atronach disappears. Leytiri wipes sweat off her forehead, this was getting to be a bit too much.

She moves forward and shoots flames at a pile of webbing covering a door. She walks through the door, not even pretending to be sneaky anymore. The whole place knows she’s here by now anyway. When she gets to the end of the path she finds a gate with a chain next to it and she pulls it.

As she steps onto the landing a grumbling sound fills the room and Leytiri watches, horrified, as four giant shapes emerge from the water. It takes her a few seconds to realize that they are statues and not giant enemies for her to fight. At that point, if they were, she would turn around and run away. She’d climb that fucking mountain again and tell Arngeir he could find himself another Dragonborn.

Cautiously Leytiri walks down the steps and past the shapes, half expecting them to shoot lightning at her or something else. As she passes them they don’t do anything so she hurries to the chest, ready to get her hands on that Horn so she can get out of there. But when she gets to it she finds a note. Knowing that she’s not going to like this she picks it up.

On it, a “friend” says that they need to speak to the Dragonborn at the inn in Riverwood.

Trying not to cry out in frustration, Leytiri pockets the note and opens the chest, finding nothing inside. Someone came here, killed the draugr in this fucking room but not in the rest of the place, and stole the Horn before she could get to it. What in the absolute fuck. Leytiri kicks the chest and storms towards the door behind it.

Whoever this person was, they were no friend.

Chapter Text

Leytiri crouched, cold and hungry, staring at the inn in Riverwood. After leaving Ustengrav she walked back through the swampy area to Morthal. There she slept like the dead and ate her fill of fish and bread and soup. The only thing that would have made the evening perfect was some duck, gods she loved it when Prentis brought her duck. But now, now she’s sitting in the damp, dark night staring at a door.

Feeling lazy, she’d spent the coin to get a carriage ride back to Whiterun and sold some of the goodies she found in the dungeon. She obviously didn’t count her coins but she knew she had to have at least a few thousand of them by now. Fifty or so wasn’t too bad to part with, especially when she got a comfortable ride.

Since the carriage doesn’t go to Riverwood Leytiri needed to walk. It wasn’t such a terrible thing, the path from Whiterun to Riverwood. She picked flowers, she fought a wolf much easier then she had the first time along that road, and she hummed her favorite song under her breath. It was almost like she wasn’t afraid there was some deadly foe sitting in the inn at this very moment.

But now, that feeling was back with full force.

What kind of friend would steal the artifact that she spent hours trying to find down there? If they were a friend wouldn’t they have alerted her to their presence? Worst of all, what did it say about Leytiri, that she completely missed this person as she oh so carefully made her way throughout the dungeon just so she wouldn’t miss anything important?

Sighing, she stands and shakes out both of her feet. For good measure she wiggles her butt a little too, it wouldn’t be any good if they’re still asleep if she has to make a break for it. But the time had come for her to approach the inn, she wasn’t going to find out who had been with her in Ustengrav if she didn’t go in there. Was this person really a friend or not? She lets her magic crackle in her left hand for a few seconds before she makes it quit. If this person was not a friend they would regret stealing that artifact.

Leytiri tries to forget that she herself had been trying to steal the artifact in the first place. Was it even stealing for her? Arngeir told her to get it. She doubted that would matter much to guards and Jarls.

Slowly, Leytiri walks to the door and grabs the handle. She throws up a quick prayer before she pushes it open. As she enters she can hear soft, pretty music playing. But she quickly stops thinking about that when she sees a woman sitting near the door, staring at her. The only other person in the room is a local, Sven, and the bartender.

As she approaches the woman, she clears her throat. “Excuse me?”

The woman cocks her eyebrow. “I’m the innkeeper, Delphine. Would you like to rent a room for the night?”

Leytiri thinks back to the note she found at Ustengrav. It told her to rent the attic room at the inn. “Um.. I would like to rent a room, please. The attic room.”

Delphine’s eyebrow disappears into her hairline. “The attic room? We don’t have one of those. Take the room on the left. Ten gold.”

Embarrassed, Leytiri quickly hands her the gold and marches to the room, shutting the door behind her. She sits on the bed and reaches into her bag, looking for some of the food she bought at Whiterun. Who knew how long she’d have to wait.

Before she can even take a single bite out of the sweet roll, footsteps approach the door and it swings open. Delphine stands before her.

“You’re the Dragonborn, huh? This is what you’re here for.” Delphine hands Leytiri the horn that she’d been looking for in Ustengrav. “Follow me, we have much to discuss, Leytiri.”

Shocked, but silently, Leytiri shoves the horn into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder to follow Delphine. The room across from hers is open and Leytiri follows reluctantly. She didn’t like the idea of going further into the inn but she needed answers. Maybe Arngeir will be curious why someone would steal the horn.

As Leytiri enters the room Delphine look at her. “Close the door.”

Even more reluctantly, Leytiri does as she’s asked. She feels like a fool, this could be incredibly dangerous but her curiosity is killing her. Hopefully her curiosity wouldn’t actually kill her.

When the door is closed tight Delphine opens up a wardrobe that is hiding a secret passageway going downstairs. “Good, we can talk now.”

Leytiri considers running outside and going back to the mountain. Climbing that gods forsaken mountain sounded better than possibly climbing down those creepy stairs to a dungeon in the dark. But the less rational part of her brain wins out, she starts to walk down the stairs. At the bottom she spots multiple chests, shelves with potions on them, training dummies, and in the middle of the room a table with a book and a map on it. Not quite the hellhole that she thought it would be.

Delphine approaches the table. “So, you are the Dragonborn, or so the Greybeards claim.”

Not feeling overly confident with what Delphine said, Leytiri raises her eyebrow. “So, you took the horn?”

Delphine sighs. “Yes, I took the horn. I’ve been playing the harmless innkeeper act for a long time. It felt good to get out of here and go to Ustengrav. My apologies for the cloak and dagger, there are spies everywhere in this world. Thalmor spies.”

Leytiri winces and waits for a glare or snarl, but it doesn’t come. Whenever people talked about the Thalmor in the Order she and Caltar would sometimes get glared at, as if they were Thalmor themselves. Caltar was used to it and, though gruff, he understood why it made her angry. He always counseled her to forgive them, they knew not what they spoke of. As of yet, she couldn’t. They were all fucking assholes for thinking that she was like the Thalmor.

But Leytiri clears her throat. “What do you want with me exactly?”

Delphine puts her hands on the table. “I am not your enemy, Leytiri. I gave you the horn, I just want your help. I am a member of a group that has been looking for you or others like you for a long time. I just need to know if I can trust you.”

Suddenly frustrated, Leytiri fires back. “How do I know I can trust you!? You stole the horn. Why did you take it!?”

Delphine cocks her eyebrow again. “If you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t be here. Would you?” Leytiri nods tightly. “Good. I took the horn because I knew that they would send you to Ustengrav, those old fools are always predictable. And I wanted to speak to the Dragonborn.”

Leytiri shakes her head. “Why do you want the Dragonborn exactly?”

Delphine lays her hand on the map. “Can you take a dragons soul? When you kill it, can you draw its soul into your body?”

Remembering killing the dragons at Whiterun and Morthal, she nods. “Yes, I killed a dragon over at Whiterun and it was like, I sucked its soul into mine.”

Delphine doesn’t look quite convinced. “You will prove it to me soon enough I supposed. I want you to go to Kynesgrove with me. There is a ancient burial ground there, if there is a dragon there that has yet to rise we will kill it. And you will show me your power to, ah, suck its soul into your soul or whatever.”

As she talks, Delphine starts putting on armor and Leytiri holds up her hands. “Wait a minute! I have to take this horn to the Greybeards, I can’t just go wandering off with you, a stranger, to some grove to fight a dragon that may not even be there. And if it is there it may not even be alive.”

Eyebrow raised, again, Delphine merely nods. “By all means, take the horn to those old fools.” Leytiri bristles, she liked the Greybeards. “But when you are done meet me in Kynesgrove and I promise I will tell you everything you want to know afterwards.”

Flabbergasted, Leytiri watches as Delphine, fully armed, walks back up the stairs and starts talking to the barkeeper. Slowly, she walks around the room and puts the potions and ingredients in her bag. This was getting out of hand.

This was getting so out of hand.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands outside of High Hrothgar, hesitating. She doesn’t know how they will feel about the Horn being stolen, if they even know about it. They seem to know an awful lot about what’s going on in the world, they kept a pretty close eye on her when they suspected she was a Dragonborn. Perhaps they already know about Delphine stealing the Horn. Maybe they’ll tell her she was reckless and that she hadn’t been careful enough at Ustengrav. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be a Dragonborn after she failed to notice Delphine sneaking around in the dungeon with her.

That hurt her, though she tried to push that pain aside. All her life she wanted to be special, to be the greatest Illusion mages that ever lived. She wanted to be just like Prentis. She didn’t actually want to be the Zyon no, she just wanted to be special. But after what happened with Tovarr she knew that she didn’t deserve to be special. He deserved what he got but she no longer deserved to be special. She just wanted to leave Skyrim and open up her own apothecary. Lead a simple life.

But now Leytiri is the Dragonborn. It was thrust upon her. Before, back in the Order, she would have loved to be the Dragonborn. She would have gloated about it to no end. Now she wonders if she’s really special enough to be the Dragonborn, now she wonders if she deserves it at all.

Sighing, she puts her hand on the door. She needs to just get it over with. The Greybeards asked her to do one thing and she couldn’t even manage to do that. She lost the horn to Delphine, it doesn’t matter that she has it now. What if they can’t trust her anymore? Does she even deserve their faith anymore? Did she deserve it before now?

Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, Leytiri pushes the door open. It’s warm inside, and she lets the door close behind her with a clang. Several of the Greybeards are sitting in the front room, meditating, but none of them look up when she comes in. She notices that none of them are Arngeir. One of them lifts his hand and points to the stairs to her right. Following his direction, she walks up the stairs, turns left, and sees a Greybeard kneeling at the top of a small, narrow staircase. Taking another breath, she starts up the stairs towards him.

Arngeir stands and turns towards her, a broad smile on her face. “You have passed the trial. Give me the Horn.” Leytiri passes it, before wiping her sweaty hands off on her thighs. “Come, let us recognize you formally as the Dragonborn.”

Leytiri steps aside to let Arngeir past her and she follows him down the stairs. He walks slowly but she doesn’t mind, in fact she’s quite nervous about what is going to happen now. She is the Dragonborn and they already know she is, what do they mean by recognizing her formally? Were they going to Shout down the mountain? That seemed silly, there probably weren’t many people down there that knew the dragon language. What does he mean?

As they step back into the main room Leytiri sees three Greybeards standing in a triangle. Arngeir joins them, forming a square. Nervous, Leytiri knows that she’s supposed to stand in the middle. She approaches them slowly.

Arngeir nods to her. “You are ready to learn the final word of unrelenting force. It is called ‘Dah’, which means push in the dragon tongue. With all three words together this Shout will be very powerful, be wise when you use it.”

One of the Greybeards moves forward and Shouts the word into the ground and she watches as the word etches into the stone floor, glowing a pretty red. She steps towards it and, like last time, feels something being rushed into her body, into her very soul.

Arngeir bows his head towards her. “Now, we shall Speak to you. Stand in-between us. Very few can withstand the Voice of the Greybeards but you are ready.”

Not giving her time to prepare herself, all four Greybeards start speaking in the dragon language. The voices are deep and scratchy, and a blue-ish light comes off of them as they speak. Leytiri isn’t sure of everything that they say, but she does hear the word Dovahkiin a couple times. She knows that means Dragonborn.

As quick as they started, they stop, and Arngeir smiles his soft, Prentis-like smile at her. “Dovahkiin, you have tasted our Voice and are unscathed. You are welcome here, whenever you wish. If you are weary, you may rest here. If you need a wise ear to listen, we shall hear your Voice. High Hrothgar will always be open to you.”

Suddenly emotional, Leytiri swallows down a lump in her throat. She had been welcome in the Order but it didn’t compare. Not like this. “Thank you Arngeir. Can… can I sleep here for the night? If that’s not too much trouble?”

He smiles at her again and Leytiri feels the need to rush into his arms. She refrains, of course, but he just keeps reminding her again and again of Prentis. “Thank you, again. But before I sleep, can you tell me why I’m the Dragonborn?”

Arngeir closes his eyes for a second before opening them, slightly bright eyed. “No one knows why a Dragonborn appears in history when they do. Some say the Dragonborn only comes to the world when it is in its most desperate need. Now that the dragons are waking up, I would say that the world needs a Dragonborn most desperately. As to why it is you, who are the Dragonborn, I don’t know. That question is within your blood, and I fear I don’t have the answer.”

Leytiri drops her head but Arngeir almost immediately lifts it up with his finger. “What I do know is that you deserve to be the Dragonborn, it is who you are, who you always have been. You can not escape your destiny.”

Feeling tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, Leytiri throws herself into Arngeir’s arms. “Ooomph!”

To her surprise he doesn’t push her away, he merely puts his hands on her back and pats her awkwardly. Leytiri almost expects him to say, ‘there, there’. That makes her giggle a little and now she’s afraid that he’ll think she’s insane. But he merely pats her back again as she pulls away.

Clearing her throat, Leytiri looks around her. “I’m sorry, you just remind me of someone.”

Arngeir points down a hallway. “That is the way to the bed-quarters, follow me. May I ask, is the person I resemble your father?”

Leytiri follows Arngeir at a slower pace and hesitates before answering. “I don’t know who my father is, my mother never told me. When I asked her she would get very secretive and tell me that my father loved me, but he couldn’t build a family with us for some reason. I always assumed he was a noble. No, the man you make me think of is the man who basically raised me after my mother died. His name is Prentis.”

Arngeir stops in a room filled with beds and he points at one. “That can be yours. You said Prentis? Do you mean Prentis Lovrik?”

Leytiri sits down on the bed and stares up at the Greybeard, amazed. “Do you know Prentis? He’s a father figure to me.”

Arngeir nods and laces his fingers together and Leytiri tries to stifle another giggle. They even have the same mannerisms. “I met him a long time ago, when he was barely more than a boy. His father wanted him to learn how to Shout. He was unsuccessful but, then again, he was just a lad back then. I thought he showed promise, and invited him to come back again. He never did.”

Smiling, Leytiri runs her hands over the soft blankets. “No, he’s a mage now. He’s a Master in the Order of the Seven. The Illusions Master.”

Arngeir freezes and stares at her, bewildered. “Did you just say the Order of the Seven?”

Leytiri nods, confused, what could be wrong with that? “Yes. He’s a Master of the Order. Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Arngeir stares at her for a few moments more before answering. “Nothing, nothing.” He clears his throat. “It is late, go on to sleep. Goodnight.”

Not waiting for her to respond, Arngeir practically runs out of the room. Leytiri wants to jump up and chase him down, to demand he tell her what the big deal is about the Order. She feels frustrated. The Order are good people! They embrace magic and protect people with it! All those years ago they tried desperately to save her people, though they failed.

She felt a strong desire to leave right then but she knew that it would be childish to do so. A lot of people thought the Order was rigid because of their rules. The College sounded like a much better option to most mages, and it was easier to get into. Maybe Arngeir just thought that the Order had too many rules. Maybe he thought the leaders were prudes, who knows.

Leytiri would speak to Arngeir in the morning, to ask him what he knows about the Order. Maybe she could change his mind about them, yes, that is what she would do. She lies back onto her bed, cradling her bag, and rests her head on the hard pillow. Yes, that is what she will do tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands just outside the Windhelm stables, breathing in the cold mountain air. It reminded her of the mountains near Markarth, her home. Tiny snowflakes drift past, cold enough to snow but not quite for it to stick. The child in her wished that it would so that she could play in it. Even at her age she liked to play and dance in the cold flurries. Prentis was often a victim of her stuffing the snow down his robes. He pretended to be angry at her, but he always ended up laughing.

The memories bring a smile to Leytiri’s face. Once, she had shoved a big pile of snow down the Zyon’s robes. His face turned so red that she was positive that he was either going to explode or murder her. He did neither, but he did make her suffer by forcing her to work on her destruction magic until she could conjure a fireball. Destruction is her worst skill in magic, she didn’t get to go to sleep until after dawn.

No more snow down his pants.

Leytiri turns to look back at Windhelm, glad to finally be out of there. Once she got off the mountain again she wasn’t quite ready to head for Kynesgrove. Instead, she walked to Whiterun and hitched a ride to Windhelm. She knew that it was the home to Ulfric Stormcloak, and she knew his people weren’t entirely welcoming of anyone that wasn’t a Nord, but she wasn’t prepared for what she walked in on when she got there.

Two men had cornered a woman and were talking about “her kind”. Leytiri hadn’t caught the entire conversation but she got the gist of it. The woman, a Dark Elf, turned towards her and said that the city generally only liked Nords. They tolerated the other races but the dark elves had to live in the slums. She was quite welcoming to Leytiri. She suggested that Leytiri, as a High Elf, would be welcome.

The inn in the center of town seemed warm and comfortable, but Leytiri was drawn towards the New Gnisis Cornerclub instead. She was there to stay for a single night and didn’t want to cause any trouble. The last thing she needed was some drunk, huffy Nord yelling at her. As angry as she is about the treatment of the Dark Elves, she might “accidentally” set him on fire.

So she went to the New Gnisis Cornerclub and she couldn’t believe her eyes. There were holes in the floor and in the walls! There was a draft and Leytiri had to put a shirt on over her armor. But there were multiple elves there drinking, laughing, enjoying themselves. Including one handsome Dark Elf…

Revyn asked her to join him at a table and convinced her to pay for half of a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine. When she found out the regular price was three hundred gold she thought her eyes would fall right out of her head. But she thought she deserved a break so she forked over the gold and proceeded to drink Revyn under the table. It was good wine, but strong, and she had never been good about holding her liquor.

The innkeeper helped Leytiri and Revyn up two flights of stairs to a bed and told her she could pay in the morning. She had briefly wondered in her drunken haze where he was going to sleep, having not seen a second bed in the trip up the stairs. But that thought left her mind quickly as she looked at Revyn.

He was handsome and she was always fond of Dark Elves, especially Clavicus back in the Order. He is taller than Clavicus but less fit, lean where Clavicus is more muscled. Their eye colors were the exact shade…

Leytiri closes her eyes, savoring the memory of the night before.

He had laid on his side, staring at her, but not touching her. Looking at his tented pants told her that he desired her but he wasn’t going to touch her first. She knew that if she rolled over that he would do the same. Instead she grazed her fingertips against his jaw, down to his chest. It was all it took.

Hurried hands tore at Leytiri’s shirt, at her armor beneath. Her pants got caught in their writhing legs before they were ripped from her body. She could taste the wine on his tongue as he danced it around and around her mouth. He pushed her legs apart and told her that now that he’d had a taste of her lips, he wanted a taste of her other ones. She didn’t know if it was the wine or his words that turned her face as red as it did.

Leytiri nearly levitated off of the bed when he pushed his tongue inside of her. His hands caressed her hips, her stomach, her breasts as his long tongue speared its way in and out of her. She couldn’t control her moans that reverberated throughout the room. At first she tried to stay quiet, for the innkeepers sake, but Revyn was so talented with his tongue that she completely gave up trying to hold back. Her back nearly left the bed again as her first orgasm of the night hit her.

Revyn didn’t waste any time crawling back in-between Leytiri’s legs. He slid her knees apart and back against her chest, positioned himself, but before he pushed inside he looked her in the eye, silently asking for permission. Leytiri briefly thought of Tovarr but pushed that aside, not wanting to dampen the night. The truth of the matter was that she wanted it. She wanted him in that moment more than she’d ever wanted anything. She nodded at him.

He was slow, at first, as he pushed inside her. Savoring the moment. Leytiri had grown impatient as he slid inch by inch into her body. And once he got all the way in his thrusts were short and slow. It felt good, but not what she desperately needed. She was just about to say something when he pulled out of her almost all of the way and slammed back inside.

It had felt like a lightning bolt had struck her, sizzling her insides and making her feel all hot and sensitive. Her moans, which had died down, came back full force. Revyn ran his tongue along her ear before biting it and whispering, “you like it a little rough, don’t you, my sweet?”

Leytiri hadn’t been able to answer him as his hips pistoned back and forth. His fingers, which were slow and gentle before, started to pinch and pull at her skin and breasts and nipples. His teeth nipped at her lips before his tongue once more danced against her own. Her second orgasm came quickly, her thighs trembling and jerking roughly against his hips. But he wasn’t done.

Revyn pulled out of Leytiri and turned her around so that she was on her front, on her hands and knees. The image of Tovarr had filled her mind again and she forced it down once more. Revyn was not Tovarr, this was what she wanted. Any doubt that had entered her mind immediately left it when he pushed back inside of her.

The room filled with the sound of wet slaps and their moans. Leytiri no longer cared about the innkeeper and if he could hear them. Fuck, she no longer cared if all of Windhelm could hear them. All she cared about was her and Revyn.

Her breasts swung as her body jerked back and forth as Revyn’s thrusts became more and more erratic. His hands left her hips and cupped her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. She had been disappointed when he let go of them but was filled with pleasure as one of his hands came down upon her rear end and the other grabbed her by the back of the hair.

Normally she didn’t like sex that rough but this time… oh, it was glorious.

One hand held Leytiri’s head back, her back in an arch, the other repeatedly came down on one of her buttocks before smacking the other. She rocked her hips back and forth in time with Revyn’s thrusts, feeling herself getting closer and closer to the edge. Her lips are wide open in a long, drawn out moan that she’s almost certain Ulfric can probably hear in his tower.

Revyn yanked harder on her hair, pulling her back up against his chest, and whispered into her ear, “let go."

She had never had an orgasm so intense in her life. Her head thrown back over his shoulder, her thighs trembling so badly that he had to hold her up, her insides clamping down and spasming around him, her eyes blown wide and her mouth open in a silent scream. His body shook as he spilled an almost endless amount of his seed inside of her.

They crashed to the bed and almost immediately fell asleep until several hours later when they awoke and did it again. Just before dawn they did it once more. Leytiri was almost certain the innkeeper was going to murder them when they came down in the morning.

As she walked out the door Revyn called after her, “take the world by storm." Oh, she would.

Now Leytiri stands outside of the stables, staring in the direction of Kynesgrove. A big part of her wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and go back inside to Revyn’s warm bed. But she knew she couldn’t do that. She knew that she couldn’t have a regular life.

She is the Dragonborn. Heaving a great sigh, Leytiri walks down the steps and marches towards Kynesgrove.

Chapter Text

Leytiri kicks at the snow as she wanders down a path. She had never been fond of the cold but she did love the soft whiteness that blanketed the earth. If she didn’t dislike the cold so much she might wish that it would snow everyday, everywhere. Coming up a ridge and back down she can see a house in the distance next to what looks like a farm. Mm, she hoped it was an inn. A steaming bowl of soup would do wonders right now.

She knew, based on the map, that she was getting close to Kynesgrove. She had left Windhelm less than an hour before but she could already feel the coldness seeping into her bones. Perhaps it was time to buy some heavier armor. Or at the least, she could wear heavier clothes under it. She hoped she could find heavy armor while out and about or in a dungeon. The armor at the blacksmiths store in Whiterun was expensive!

Something flies overhead, casting a shadow, and Leytiri looks up but doesn’t see anything. A bird, perhaps. Likely not a dragon, they are not quiet creatures. Getting closer to the house Leytiri can see a woman bustling around. She can smell food on the air, bread and cheese and meat. She takes a deep breath and grins. She wouldn’t mind parting with a few coins for some of that.

As Leytiri steps past the farm and raises her hand to call out the woman spots her first and freezes. The woman comes back to her senses quickly though and shouts out to Leytiri. “I wouldn’t go. There’s a dragon, there is!”

Leytiri swallows hard and moves towards the woman, glancing behind the house as she does. There is in fact a dragon circling the air in the trees not too far from the house. She looks at the woman, who appears to be debating between running for the house or down the hill. Before she can make that decision Leytiri grabs her arm.

“Has a woman named Delphine showed up here?”

The woman shrugs. “This morning a woman passed on her way up to the dragon mound. She didn’t say her name, I suppose she could be the Delphine you speak of. Now I need to go, and I suggest you do the same.”

Leytiri watches as the woman dashes for the inn. Hopefully it wasn’t the wrong choice. Sighing, she starts up the path at a quick pace. She prayed the beast didn’t see her, and she prayed even harder that Delphine would be there. So far she had killed two dragons but both times she had help from guards. If she was on her own… she didn’t know if she could make it. Inside of her she could feel the magic of the Shouts, wondering if they could do any real damage to an actual dragon.

Crouching, Leytiri rushes up the hill as fast as her legs can carry her. The black dragon continues to circle the rocks at the top. If the beast sees her, it doesn’t show it, focusing solely on the rocks. As silently as she can she walks to the top, keeping close to the stones, and almost walks right on top of Delphine. Leytiri almost gasps out loud and Delphine clamps her hand down upon Leytiri’s mouth.

“Shh! Take cover, now!”

The two of them crouch next to a giant stone, staring up at the dragon. If he turns his head just a little bit to the left, he’d see them! Leytiri wishes that the ground could swallow her up right then and there. But the dragon doesn’t turn to them, he doesn’t react at all, he just stares at the ground in front of him. They wait for a few seconds before the dragon opens its mouth and shouts at the ground.

It’s loud, and frightening, but nothing comes out of the mouth. And once the noises stop the dragon merely floats in the air, staring at the ground. A deep voice in the air starts speaking, Leytiri catches the words “Alduin”. A darker, deeper voice replies and she can hear the word “Sahloknir”. Those must be the names of the two dragons.

Suddenly the black dragon turns towards Leytiri and says the word “dovahkiin” along with some others but she doesn’t understand them. She shakes her head, bewildered, eyes wide. A chuckle sounds on the wind.

“You do not know our tongue. And you call yourself a Dovah.” He turns away from her, back towards the grave. “Sahloknir, krii daar joorre.”

Leytiri doesn’t know what those words mean, but she knows it’s nothing good. She stands, pulling her arm away from Delphine’s grip, there is no use in hiding now. He knows they’re here. He knows that she is here. She steps around the rock just as Alduin flies away and Sahloknir rises into the sky.

Delphine yanks her bow from her back and Leytiri copies her after she shoots a flame atronach into the air. It might not do much but perhaps the dragon would be foolish enough to strike it instead of them. At least she hoped that would be what happens.

Leytiri and Delphine move as one in opposite directions, Leytiri into the trees and Delphine down the path a way, hoping to get the dragon caught between them. The flame atronach stands in the middle, shooting flames up into the air. The dragon goes back and forth between two spots, alternating between shooting flames at the two women and lunging for them with his razor sharp teeth. All the while mocking them in their tongue, saying that they are no match.

Arrows whizz through the air, magic sizzles as Leytiri fires off more atronachs, and a burst of flame catches Delphine’s boot on fire. But they keep on. Sahloknir grows angrier and angrier as the arrows pierce his scales and he shoots a blast of fire at Leytiri as she throws herself behind a rock for cover. She skids and lands on her knees before her face slams into the ground. She groans and lifts herself, knowing that her face and legs would be covered in bruises, but she’d be alive!

Delphine lets out a fierce war cry and rushes towards the dragon and Leytiri, ignoring her pain that spreads through her legs as she stands, knocks another arrow. The dragon roars again and again as arrow after arrow pierces his body. Delphine hacks and slashes at the dragon, screaming in anger and fear. Leytiri reaches into her quiver and realizes that she only has three arrows left. She must make them count.

She knocks the next arrow, aims towards the dragons neck, and lets it fly. At the same time Delphine grips her sword, swings it back, and lets loose an animalistic cry as she swings down the sword towards Sahloknir’s face. The two weapons hit at the same time and the dragon rears back and roars deafeningly before he crashes back to the ground, unmoving, dead.

Delphine laughs, “we did it! What the?”

Leytiri knows it is going to happen before it actually does. The dragon, just as the two before him, started to glow and she could feel a wind blowing straight towards her. Sahloknir has become a part of her. She hoped that he wouldn’t be too angry about this turn of events. She turns back to Delphine.

Delphine’s eyes are wide, mouth open. “So you are… you are the Dragonborn.”

Leytiri nods, suddenly exhausted. It takes an awful lot out of her to fight the dragons. “Will you answer my questions now?”

Delphine nods back. “Anything you want.”

“What do you want from me?” Leytiri stares at Delphine hard. “Who are you anyways? You’re clearly not a normal innkeeper.”

Delphine’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh. “No, I’m not a normal innkeeper. I’m a Blade, one of the last of them actually.”

Leytiri racks her brain, trying to remember if any of the masters at the Order taught her about what a Blade is but she can’t. “What is that?”

Moving closer to the dead dragon, Delphine sighs. “A long time ago we served the Dragonborn. He, or she, was the most powerful dragon slayer. And we helped him fight the dragons. Now there are almost none of us left. Now we are barely more than a memory. Until you came along, that is.”

Silence falls between them while Delphine stares at the dead dragon. Leytiri feels sorry for her, and even for the dragon. She stopped feeling sorry for herself awhile ago. No matter how hard she fought this life, no matter how hard she fought her destiny, there was no way she possibly could. She knew that. Maybe that’s what Delphine felt, as a Blade, knowing she might be the last of her kind. She lets the silence last for a few beats more.

“So… I saw that dragon. The black one, at Helgen.” Leytiri prayed Delphine wouldn’t ask her why she was at Helgen. She doubted that Delphine would be impressed by the fact that Leytiri was once a prisoner.

Delphine looks up at her. “Did you now? We need answers.”

Leytiri nods, yes, she needs answers. “What are we going to do?”

Delphine paces back and forth in front of the dragon, tapping her fingers against the hilt of her sword. “We’re going to Riverwood. I think our best bet is the Thalmor. They may be behind the dragons coming back. Or they may know who brought them back. We just need to get into their Embassy.”

Leytiri grimaces, she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to face the Thalmor. She never cared for them much. “How do we get into the Embassy? It’s near Solitude right?”

Delphine nods again, heading towards the path to go back down the hill. “Yes. I have some ideas but we’ll speak about it in Riverwood. Watch the skies Leytiri, be careful.”

Chapter Text

Standing once again outside of the inn of Riverwood, Leytiri hesitates to open the door. Earlier in the day yesterday she had stopped back at Windhelm to get some much needed supplies after the fight with the dragon. It was only early afternoon so instead of staying the night she had traveled by cart to Whiterun, where she got more supplies. It was late in the evening by the time they arrived so she’d rested there before making her way here.

Leytiri delighted in the walk back. It was calm, peaceful, only a couple wolves attacked her. They were child’s play now. She picked berries and flowers, thistles and mushrooms were abundant. At Whiterun she had made potions and filled her bag with more gold once she sold them. There was no use in counting, but she was quite certain that she had at least four thousand little gold coins in her bag. Once the fight with the dragons was over she could start a new life. A little apothecary, maybe a husband, a few children. It was a good dream, but perhaps just a dream.

Shaking that thought out of her mind, Leytiri pushes open the door to the inn. Just inside the door stands Delphine, still in her gear. “We weren’t followed, I don’t think. Let’s go to my room.”

Following Delphine, Leytiri makes her way through the inn, into Delphine’s room, and down the stairs to the secret basement. Delphine leans against the alchemist table and looks over at Leytiri. “I can get you into the Thalmor Embassy.”

Leytiri nods. “It will probably be easier for me to infiltrate instead of you. I am an Altmer after all.”

Delphine shakes her head in agreement. “Correct. I can’t go because they know me, but they have no idea who you are. At least they don’t, for the time being. Now, you aren’t going in to fight. If you attract attention and must fight then so be it. But what we are after is information about the dragons. Understand?”

Feeling like a chastised child, Leytiri nods again. “I understand. So how am I going to get in there?”

Delphine runs her hands along the table, head bowed. “I can get you into the party. The Thalmor hold parties for the well connected. Elenwen, the ambassador, is the host of the parties and I will get you an invitation. Once you are in there you need to sneak away without getting caught and find the information we need. I have a contact on the inside, Malborn, who will help you. He’s a wood elf who lost his family to the Thalmor. He will meet you at the Winking Skeever in Solitude and then you will meet me at the stables there. Any questions?”

“Well,” Leytiri clears her throat, not wanting to offend Delphine. “I don’t know if I can trust this Malborn.”

Delphine raises her head, eyes flashing. “Do you trust me?”

There’s a pregnant pause. Leytiri thinks about it for several moments. Does she trust Delphine? Yes, she decides. She’s not fond of the woman, but there is trust there. She nods.

Delphine nods back, grateful. “If you trust me, then you can trust Malborn. Are you ready to go to Solitude?” Leytiri nods once again. “Good, go now. I will meet you there.”

Feeling dismissed, Leytiri makes her way back up the stairs and out of the inn. Children play in the street, a dog romps around them. She walks in the direction of Whiterun, not bothering to look for flowers, intent on taking a cart to Solitude instead of walking the distance. Prentis once told her that Solitude was the largest city in Skyrim though she had her doubts, Markarth was massive. The largest city that she had ever seen. She thought that Whiterun and Windhelm, large as they were, paled in comparison to Markarth. Soon, she would find out.

The walk to Whiterun takes just over two hours, the sun setting lights up the world, making it appear aflame. She stands just outside the stables, staring out into the countryside, watching the wind blow through the trees and small animals scurry back and forth. She takes a deep breath of the fresh air before turning towards the cart, asking for a ride. Leytiri did not mind handing over twenty coins, especially when she could get off of her aching feet.

It is almost half past two in the morning when they get to solitude. Leytiri is tired, she was unable to get any sleep in the rocking cart. Up, up, up the tall hill she goes to reach the gates. She longs for a night of rest at the inn, the party couldn’t possibly be this time of night. She would go to the inn and get a good nights rest, perhaps with a bedfellow to warm her after such a long and cold journey. Thoughts of the fun she had with Revyn fill her body with warmth all on its own, yes, she’d have to find someone to lay with tonight.

As soon as she opens the gates, however, a commotion causes Leytiri to look to her right. A crowd of people are next to a platform, where three men stand. Two of the men are soldiers, the third a prisoner. The people shout for his death. An execution at nearly three in the morning? One of the soldiers steps forward and shouts that the prisoner helped Ulfric escape after he killed Torygg, the High King.

Leytiri thinks back to Helgen, Ulfric may have been trying to escape Skyrim after killing the king. She grinds her teeth, jaw clenched. Torygg was by no means a perfect king, but he did care for his people, all of his people, Nords and others. Ulfric, that pig headed braggart, just wanted power, he just wanted to be king. And he did whatever he could to achieve it. Torygg would have accepted Leytiri and gladly, Ulfric only grudgingly if at all.

The man, Roggvir, steps forward, shouting that Ulfric beat Torygg in fair combat. Leytiri raises her brow. If Ulfric beat Torygg in fair combat then why did he run? If it was a fair, honorable duel then why flee from Solitude afterwards? Why not stand there, proud of your fair victory? Because it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

Leytiri feels nothing as Roggvir falls to his knees in front of the block. The shouting grows louder, so loud that Leytiri can not hear Roggvir’s last words. She watches, entranced, as the sword lifts and comes down upon the mans neck, cutting the head off in one strike. The crowd instantly quiets after Roggvir dies. Some of them move away, others shake their heads, one man stands and stares hard at Roggvir’s body, Leytiri can see tears in the mans eyes.

Turning away, Leytiri walks in the direction of the inn. She was sore, and hungry, and needed a nice, warm bed to partake in. Once inside she pays for a room and some food before sitting at a table. Around her the place is full of people, music plays in the background, and the food is hot and fresh, the water cold. Normally she preferred peace and quiet but right now, she enjoyed it.

A cup is set down in front of her bowl and she looks up into the eyes of a black haired beauty in front of her. Black hair, full black beard, broad shoulders, muscled form. If Leytiri were younger and less experienced her mouth may have begun to water at the sight of the man. She thought his name was Sorex, the son of the innkeeper. The man had told her about his son when she ordered her food.

He winks at her. “I’m Sorex, have a drink. It’s on the house.”

Leytiri glances at her tankard of water before picking up the one that Sorex sat down. It smelled sweet so she takes a sip. The rich wine slides down her throat and she has to stop herself from chugging it, that would certainly be unladylike. She looked up at the man through her lashes. Upon entering the city she had been interested in finding a bedfellow for the evening. It seems that she might have found one. She indicates the chair opposite her and smiles sweetly as he sits. Oh yes, she enjoyed the way his muscles bunched and moved under his clothes.

Malborn could wait until the morning. He probably isn’t even here this time of night! Leytiri takes another swallow of the wine. Yes, she’d speak to him tomorrow. Tonight she would wrap herself up in the arms of the handsome Sorex.

Chapter Text

Leytiri walks down the stairs of the Winking Skeever the next morning feeling slightly guilty. She was supposed to be on a mission that Delphine was counting on her to complete. The last thing she should have been doing was Sorex upstairs, all night. Her body felt sore but she felt wonderful all the same. Revyn had been nice, much more skilled than Clavicus. But Sorex was something else entirely. He was strong and hard, and his hands were rough against her skin. No matter how angry Delphine or Malborn may get, it was worth it.

Sitting in a corner is a dark elf, that may be him. She approaches him silently and he looks up at her.

“So, finally decided to show up? I watched you go upstairs with that ogre of a man last night. You could have at least said something to me before you left.”

Leytiri’s cheeks burn bright. “I’m sorry, I assumed that you wouldn’t be here that late. Why don’t we just get the job done?” And please, please, please not tell Delphine about this?

Malborn nods. “Yes, that would be best. Why don’t you give me the equipment that you will need once you get into the Embassy? Only things that you really need. I can find a place to hide them for you. My suggestion is that you get in, kill quickly, and get out.”

Leytiri feels embarrassed as she removes her armor, thankful that she has a set of clothes on underneath to keep her warm. She hopes that Delphine has an outfit for her because she knows that she’s not dressed right for a party like this one. Once her armor is off she hands it, her weapons, potions, and food over to Malborn.

He rises from his seat. “Meet Delphine at the stables.”

Leytiri rises slowly. From behind the bar Sorex gives her a slow wink and smile. She returns the smile and heads for the door. Once outside, Leytiri walks through the gates and down the hill, humming a song underneath her breath. Prentis always said she sung when she was nervous, to calm herself down. Right now all she wanted to do was sing at the top of her lungs to remove this fear. She had no idea how many people were going to be at the party. She would have to watch out for innocents if a fight broke out. Gods, if some poor innocent person died because of her…

Shaking that thought out of her mind, Leytiri walks up to the stable where Delphine is waiting next to a carriage. She nods when she sees Leytiri.

“Have you given your things to Malborn?”

Leytiri nods.

Delphine hands her a bundle. “Here are some clothes for you to look the part.” She nods to her right, at a building with an open door. “Go in there and change. I will take all of your things, you can’t go in armed at all. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your equipment safe, but you will need to rely on the things you gave Malborn or items you find at the Embassy.”

Dazed, Leytiri walks into the building next to her and quickly changes, quite aware of the door being open for everyone at the farm to see. As she tightens her belt she sees a child walk past the door, whew, thank the gods she got done in time before he could see anything.

She walks outside and towards Delphine. “I’m ready to go. My stuff is in there.”

Delphine motions towards the carriage. “Climb on. I’ll take care of your things while you’re gone. You should pass at the Embassy. I do fear how they will react if you open your mouth though.”

Leytiri grits her teeth. “I know how to behave myself around people like them. I’ll be fine.”

Delphine raises her eyebrow. “Just get the information we need. Don’t let your mouth ruin the plan.”

Growling under her breath, Leytiri climbs onto the carriage and they set out for the Embassy. Once there, Leytiri spots a Redguard man sitting on a large rock. She passes him and he nods and smiles at her. The Thalmor soldier at the bottom of the steps of the large house steps forward. “Your invitation, my lady?”

Leytiri hands over the invitation that Delphine gave her. The man looks it over before handing it back. “You may go in, enjoy the party Leytiri.”

She smiles and nods before climbing the stairs, listening to the Redguard man behind her. As she enters the house a tall, beautiful Altmer approaches her. “Hello, welcome to the Embassy. I am Elenwen. You are?”

Leytiri puts on a smile that she prays isn’t fake. “My name is Leytiri.”

Elenwen nods. “Yes, I remember now. Tell me, Leytiri, why have you come to Skyrim?”

Leytiri pauses, sensing irritation at the mention of Skyrim. “I was born here. My mother traveled from Summerset Isles when she was a girl, with her parents. I was born just south of Markarth.” She felt the name Markarth stick in her throat. She missed home. She missed her mother and Prentis… she’d even give the Zyon a hug if she saw him now.

Elenwen smiles grimly. “It is a shame that your mother never brought you home to live among your people. You must have felt lonely surrounded by all these Nords.”

Leytiri forces herself to nod. “Yes.” No. “They don’t treat us very well do they?” Some of them don’t, that’s true, but many of the ones she had met were kind to her.

“They do not.” Malborn calls out Elenwen’s name and she turns, agitated. “What is it now, Malborn?”

Silently, Leytiri listens as Malborn asks Elenwen a question about the wine. Leytiri looks around the room and notices that some of the guests are Jarls. Delphine was right, she really would need to reign in her tongue, lest she get in trouble for saying something bad around a Jarl.

Elenwen turns back to Leytiri. “Leytiri, enjoy the party. Go, mingle with the other guests. Have a brandy.”

Leytiri wants to lick her lips. Colovian Brandy? Yum! Prentis brought some back from a mission one year and let her have a single sip. That night after he’d gone to bed she’d stolen the rest of the bottle and drank the entire thing. She’d been violently ill afterwards but at least Leytiri was happy that the thought of the brandy didn’t turn her off from it.

Oh well, she’d better go talk to Malborn, his eyes are burning holes in the back of her head. As she approaches the bar he leans forward slightly. “You need to distract everyone. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

Leytiri looks around the room and spots the Redguard man. When she walked him she heard him say something about needing a drink. “Malborn, give me a Colovian Brandy.”

Malborn raises his eyebrows. “Okay, here you go.” He hands her a bottle. “You better know what you’re doing. Don’t get drunk!”

Resisting the urge to dump the bottle over his head, Leytiri turns towards the Redguard. “Would you like a drink?”

His smile is so big and bright that Leytiri can’t help but to smile back at him. “If there’s anything you need, just met me know. Anything!”

Clearing her throat, Leytiri looks around the room. “Actually, there is something that I think you can do for me.”

He takes a swig of the brandy. “Name it, my friend!”

She looks around the room again. “Can you perhaps cause a distraction? Just for a couple minutes.”

He stands up and stumbles a little bit before he rights himself. “I can do that! Enjoy the show, my friend!”

Instead of following him to the center of the room, Leytiri walks back behind the bar to where Malborn is standing next to a door. His hand, holding the key, is shaking, and they can hear the Redguard addressing the crowd behind them. Malborn sticks the key in the door and hisses, “get in!”

He shuts the door behind them and sighs. “This is not going to be good if we get caught. I have your supplies in a chest in the next room. Follow me, and for the love of the gods, keep your mouth shut.”

Leytiri resists the urge to punch him, hard. Instead, she follows him into the kitchen where she watches him banter with a Khajiit. She feels vulnerable, not having her sword against her hip. It hadn’t taken long since leaving the temple that she had come to rely on the weapon. She still used magic in battle but she was beginning to grow fond of the sword and especially her bow. Deep in her heart she knew that the Zyon would hate her for this, that all of the masters would. Maybe even Prentis.

“Come on.” Malborn pulls her out of her thoughts as he walks down a small hallway. “You’re going to need to be quick and I’ll have to lock the door behind you. Here’s the chest, get your stuff.”

Nodding, Leytiri opens it and quickly dons the armor, the weapons, and swings the bag full of food and potions across her shoulders. At the door, she lowers herself into a crouch and opens it as slowly and quietly as she can. As soon as she’s on the other side of the door it closes a too loud click sounds as it locks. She is on her own.

Standing in a short hallway, Leytiri sees open doors, one on her left and the other on the right. Through the door on the left she can hear what sounds like two men talking but nothing comes from the door on the right. She slowly eases herself past the first door, ready to launch out her familiar or atronach at the first sign of trouble but none comes. Stepping into the second room she realizes that it’s empty.

Backtracking, she steps up to the first door and peers through. Not seeing anyone, Leytiri edges herself around a bar. To her right is a set of stairs but ahead of her is a hallway. She’d already killed two men and she didn’t relish the idea of fighting a hoard of Thalmor soldiers. A choice was before her and she didn’t know which one was correct. Weighing her options, she decides to go down the hallway and ignore the stairs.

At the end of the hallway she comes across a door and, taking a deep breath, she opens it. Stepping out onto a snowy walkway that curves around, Leytiri shivers. Perhaps she should go inside and back up the stairs. But she just has a gut feeling that this is the right way to go. She just had a bad feeling that there would be more guards out here then in there. Allowing the magic to flow around her fingers, she steps out from her hiding place by the door.

Immediately after stepping away from the door, three Thalmor soldiers attack her. Shooting out an atronach, Leytiri moves back towards the door and pulls out her bow. As the atronach attacks one of the soldiers she shoots her arrows at him and swiftly he falls to the ground. The other two prove to be more difficult. One of them hacks at her atronach while the other shoots lightning at it. Fearful of the lightning, Leytiri moves back. She knows that if it touches her it will drain her magic.

The atronach explodes just as the second Thalmor falls to its fire and Leytiri shoots her familiar at the last one. Together, the familiar bites and Leytiri shoots arrow after arrow until one of the arrow finds its mark in the Thalmor’s eye. The man screams and falls to the ground, convulsing and gripping his face. Leytiri pulls another arrow and shoots him in the head again, killing him.

Going back to the door, Leytiri leans against it to rest. She had secretly hoped that she could sneak in and out without killing anyone but she was wrong about that. Delphine would be pissed off now. Quietly, she allows her magic and wounds to recover. Her atronach was quickly becoming her favorite spell, she’d always liked conjuration magic. She’d always been better at it than illusion. She just wished that she could be better at illusion spells so that she could take after Prentis. If only he could see her now, holding a bow. He’d be so ashamed of her.

Once again, she tries to push that thought out of her mind. This was no time to be thinking about the Order. She was on a mission, and she wouldn’t let Delphine down. Easing herself past the wall, she glances around the courtyard. On the other side is a building and she hopes that is where she’ll find the thing she needs for Delphine. Slowly she makes her way down the path but no one rushes out at her. Scanning the courtyard and the stairs leading up, she sees no more Thalmor soldiers.

As Leytiri gets to the door to the other building she hears a dragon in the distance. Dear gods, she was in no mood to fight a dragon right now, the Thalmor were enough. Hopefully the ones outside could handle the dragon while she battled anything in here. In her right hand, Leytiri prepares another familiar to fire at any guards and in her left she grips the door handle.

Upon entering the second building, Leytiri spots a Thalmor soldier talking to a man without armor on. They both charge at her and she sends a familiar at them both. Across the room a door opens and magic bursts forth from it. Leytiri dashes behind a bar and she quickly nocks an arrow, letting it fly. It strikes the man not wearing armor in his knee and he falls to the ground screaming just as her familiar charges forward and rips out the man’s throat. He makes one, god awful, noise as his body slumps to the floor and his blood pours out of him. Leytiri shudders as her familiar turns to the other men. This is war, he would have done the same, if not worse, to her. She must fight on.

Leytiri nocks a second arrow and aims it in the direction of the other soldier just as her familiar disappears. She sends out another atronach and it hurls fireballs at both men as she rains arrows at them from the bar, quickly killing the soldier. Missing the wizard with her last arrow, she dashes forward with her sword drawn just as the atronach hits him with a fireball as it explodes. With one clean slice, she cuts the man’s throat as he falls to the ground, dead.

Looking around the room at all the destruction she has caused, Leytiri sighs. She hopes to get out of here as soon as she can. Swiftly, she searches the floor she’s on until she comes across a chest. Opening it, she finds a letter to Elenwen, a key, and dossiers on Delphine and Ulfric. She places all of them in her bag, hopefully the information is in one of these items, she doesn’t have the time to read them all. Now she needs to get out of here, and soon. The last thing she needed was Elenwen bursting in on her now.

Dreading the idea of making it all the way back to the party without coming across anyone, and equally dreading the idea of going back to the party in the first place, Leytiri makes her way down the stairs, hoping for another exit. She comes across a locked door and she puts the key that she found in the chest into it.

Stepping into a room, Leytiri looks down at the floor below her. She doesn’t see or hear any soldiers but undoubtedly there must be some here. Easing herself down into a crouch, she moves into the next room and down the stairs. At the bottom a Thalmor soldier is rising from his seat and she dashes forward, slamming her sword through the back of his throat. He falls to the ground, silent, and she hopes that she didn’t alert anyone else to her presence. She feels guilty though, not having allowed him the chance to defend himself.

Next to the table is a chest and she opens it. Inside is another dossier about someone named Esbern. Suddenly Leytiri is glad that she didn’t go back the way she came, Delphine might have killed her if she left something important behind. As she steps by a cell she realizes that there’s a man hanging from the wall. Should she free him?

“Hey, scum!” Leytiri freezes as she hears a man calling down at her from the floor above. “We have your friend, come up here now or you will both die.”

“Don’t do it!” Leytiri feels a sense of dread as she hears Malborn. “Get out of here, run! Tell our mutual friend goodbye.”

As she hears shouting and swords striking above, Leytiri moves into the cell and frees the prisoner, knowing that she can’t fight them all on her own. “You’re free! Let’s get out of here.”

The man looks around him before glancing upstairs. “Yeah, alright, let’s go. I know a way out.”

Leytiri nods. “Good, let’s go!”

He leads her to a trapdoor but they both realize that it’s locked and Leytiri doubts her ability to pick it. She’ll have to fight. She shouts for the man to stay behind and launches herself up the stairs where two Thalmor soldiers hack and slash at a shouting Malborn. Quickly she shoots out an atronach and the two of them kill both soldiers. Malborn’s body also slumps to the floor and she kneels down to close his eyes, her fingers lingering over his face for a few seconds. He’d given his life to try to give her more time, she would never forget that.

Leytiri runs her hands over the two soldiers bodies and finds a key that she prays is for the trapdoor. Running back down the stairs she finds the man from the cell and she holds up the key. “Got it, I think. Let’s go.”

She’s thrilled when it clicks in the lock and they both jump down the hole into a cave. Leytiri can hear an ominous noise ahead of her and prays it’s just the wind. “Okay, let’s get out of this forsaken place.”

Chapter Text

As soon as they enter a cave, the prisoner jerks forward just as Leytiri lowers herself into a crouch. “Wait,” she hisses at him, but he doesn’t stop. In front of her she hears a roar and she lifts her left hand, magic swirling in her palm. Her right hand grips the hilt of her sword and she eases herself forward. She doesn’t know why that man was in that jail and wasn’t sure if she should risk her life for him or not. The Thalmor were bad news but this guy could be too.

She doesn’t have to wait long before the roaring gets louder and she listens, cringing and trying not to cry, as the sounds of ripping and tearing and the most gods awful screaming fill the air. Her stomach rolls and it takes everything in her to not projectile vomit all over the cave. She needed to get out of there, fast. Suddenly, the screams die and she can hear what sounds like the troll eating the man.

Easing forward, Leytiri shoots a flame atronach out of her hand. The two of them ease their way around a corner just in time to see the troll rip off the leg of the dead man. This time, Leytiri gags and her cheeks puff up in an attempt to keep the food she’d nibbled on at the party down. She breathes as calmly as she can and closes her eyes, trying to force down the nausea. More tearing, chewing, and swallowing fills her ears and she wants to, like a child, cover her ears and pretend she wasn’t hearing those noises.

But Leytiri was not a child. Nor did she think she could handle this beast. She would test him with her atronach and if it couldn’t fight him then she would run, fast, for Solitude. Not giving herself time to think that plan through, Leytiri launches herself down into the cavern and orders the atronach to attack the white troll. It jerks its head up when she falls to the ground, slowly starting to rise with blood and guts hanging from its oversized lips.

Trying hard not to heave, Leytiri watches as the atronach throws several fireballs at the beast. Quickly, she realizes that the fireballs are having no effect on it and knows that she likely couldn’t beat it herself. Instead, she turns and hauls ass towards what she hopes is the cave entrance. As she hurls herself up the small slope and out into the night air she can hear the troll racing towards her.

Fleeing down the hill, Leytiri tries to ignore the pounding of her heart, telling herself not to waste time by turning to see how close behind her he is. She knows that if she goes south east then she will make it to Solitude. The troll can’t get into the city and there are hundreds of soldiers there! ‘Coward’ runs through her head over and over again but the rational part of herself knows that if she had stayed behind, she would be dead. Her atronach had not been able to make a dent in that troll.

At the sight of the Blue Palace Leytiri starts to slow, not hearing the beast behind her anymore. But she keeps up a jog until she makes it to Katla’s farm. The sun is just starting to rise and a woman steps out of one of the buildings. She starts when she sees Leytiri standing there, likely red faced, heart racing, breathing sharply.

“Little elf! Are you okay?”

Leytiri is not bothered by the nickname. She gasps for breath and holds out her hand. “Water! Please.”

The woman nods and turns to open the door behind her. She disappears inside and it takes a few moments before she is back, carrying a large tankard. Leytiri grabs it and presses it to her lips, gulping and gulping the water like her life depended on it. The water that does not make it into her mouth slid out of the tankard and ran down her neck to her chest beneath her armor. The cold water feels good against her near naked flesh.

When there is only a little bit of water left, Leytiri dumps it over her head and shakes herself roughly. She still has a racing heart, she still feels ill from what she’d seen in that cave, but she was alive and would be well. The woman reaches her hand out for the tankard and Leytiri gives it to her.

“Would you like some more, little elf?”

Leytiri shakes her head. “No, thank you. I have gold. If you could give me some bread for my trip to Riverwood I can pay you for the food and water.”

When Leytiri pulls out her purse the woman shakes her hand at it. “I think you need the bread more than I. I’ll be right back.”

As Leytiri listens to the woman bustle around inside she takes a look around. She spots the carriage and she thinks that she might try to barter with him. She hadn’t asked to keep any of her gold before going to the embassy so all that she had was what she’d taken off of the bodies of her victims in the fight. It wasn’t much, but she hoped that maybe she could bribe him to take her all the way to Riverwood. She could make the trip from Whiterun but she really… really didn’t want to.

The woman steps outside holding a basket that is much too large for a single loaf of bread. She hands it to Leytiri. “Careful now, little elf. The soup in there is hot so tell that driver to be slow.”

Leytiri opens the basket and is surprised to find a large bowl with a delicious smell of potato soup rising from it. Her favorite. Her stomach growls fiercely and she tries not to blush. Next to it is the largest loaf of bread she’d ever seen. There are also half a dozen sweet rolls, some taffy, even apples and some other fruit. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She had asked for a little bit of bread… she had gotten a feast.

Trying to force the tears away, Leytiri looks at the woman. “I can’t accept this. It is too much.”

The woman hesitates before putting her hand on Leytiri’s cheek. “I know you’re hungry. You’re a growing lass. Enjoy that food, I have plenty. Now go get up on that cart before someone takes it from you.”

Leytiri nods again, not trusting her voice, and walks towards the cart. She asks to be taken to Whiterun and climbs on the back, careful not to jostle and spill even a drop of the soup. As the cart jerks forward, Leytiri takes one last look at the woman who took such good care of her. They wave to each other and Leytiri looks down at her gifts. She didn’t know what to eat first. The soup was much too hot and those sweet rolls looked delicious.

So Leytiri ate bite by tantalizing bite, first the sweet rolls, all six, and then an apple. And then that yummy potato soup poured down her throat, filling her with warmth and comfort. It was almost as good as if Prentis were with her. But he wasn’t. As soon as the soup was gone Leytiri felt her eyes begin to flutter. Sleep would come soon. She packed up her basket and slid it under the bench, making sure it was secure, then she lays down.

Prentis. Leytiri missed him. Gods she missed that man. Was he okay? Did he hate her now? She couldn’t imagine that he could ever hate her but she’d wielded a weapon. Tovarr had deserved to die but maybe not like that. Maybe she needed to work on her destruction magic more. She holds up her hand and tries to conjure a fireball but the fire only flickers briefly before disappearing. If only she hadn’t been so obsessed with working on her illusion spells maybe she could have become better at destruction. If she had set Tovarr on fire then she’d still be there, at home, safe and sound.

Would she still be the Dragonborn though? Did she even want to be? Her eyes flutter again and she closes them.

Yes. She did.

Chapter Text

Once again, Leytiri finds herself standing outside the Sleeping Giant Inn. She feels like she found a whole bucket load of nothing for Delphine. The Thalmor are not connected to the dragons. There was mention of a man named Esbern, but she wondered if that would mean much to Delphine. Unfortunately, Leytiri had caused a great deal of ruckus at the embassy in her escape. How many Thalmor did she kill? Would they come after her now? And poor Malborn. Was the whole mission useless?

Begrudgingly, Leytiri opens the door and steps into the inn. Delphine is no where in sight so Leytiri walks through the inn, into Delphine’s bedroom, and down the stairs to the secret basement. Delphine turns from the enchanting table once Leytiri walks into the room.

“You’re back. As I promised, your equipment is safe in the chest over there. What news have you discovered?”

Leytiri smiles, relieved that her things are safe. “The Thalmor are not involved with the dragons. They don’t know what’s going on with them.”

Delphine gives Leytiri a doubtful look. “Are you sure—”

Annoyed, Leytiri throws up her hands. “Why the fuck did you send me there if you weren’t going to believe what I have to say?!”

Delphine closes her eyes and Leytiri is positive that fireballs are going to shoot out of them when they open again. “My apologies. I was positive that the Thalmor were behind all of this. What else did you find out at the Embassy?”

Deflated by Delphine’s apology, Leytiri sighs. “Yes, one more thing. There’s a man that they’re hunting. His name is Esbern.”

Delphine’s eyes light up and a grin forms upon her face, making Leytiri think she’d never seen anyone so beautiful. “Esbern is alive? Oh, I thought he’d been killed years and years ago. We must find him first. Where do they think he is?”

Leytiri turns away and opens the chest that Delphine pointed her to. “Riften. I don’t know if that information is good or not though. I suppose you want me to go talk to him?”

Delphine begins pacing around the room, her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Yes. And let me tell you, this is no easy task. You will need to speak to a man named Brynjolf. He should be able to point you in Esbern’s way if the old man is there. Another thing is that Esbern is very paranoid.”

Leytiri’s pawing hands freeze as she turns to stare at Delphine. She doesn’t say anything, just watches the, quite frankly, enormously paranoid woman pace. Delphine looks back at her with a knowing look. “Yes, I know that I’m paranoid. But I am nothing, nothing compared to Esbern. He will doubt you. When you meet him all you need to do is ask him, ‘where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?’ and he will know that you are to be trusted. Are you prepared to travel to Riften?”

Knowing that she can’t get out of this, Leytiri nods and starts packing her equipment into her bag. Behind her, Delphine walks out the door and up the stairs. If the two of them are such good friends, and if Delphine knows how to handle his paranoid ass, why does she have to go instead? Clearly, Delphine could do a much better job than her. Oh well, at least she’ll get to see Riften. Prentis told her when she was young that the leaves on the trees were beautiful this time of year.

Shouldering her bag, Leytiri makes her way back up the stairs, through the inn, and out the door. It doesn’t take her long to walk back to Whiterun, only about two hours, and there she sells her excess items she took from the Embassy. Rain begins to drizzle as soon as she walks out of Belethor’s. She had already decided she wanted to take a carriage to Riften, and the rain made that desire fiercer. The last thing she needed was to get lost in the wilderness in the rain.

Marching back through the city, Leytiri pauses briefly outside the vacant house. Maybe she would stay in Skyrim once she was finished with her Dragonborn nonsense. She could stay here, assist at the apothecary, maybe even take over when the store owner retired. It was be a boring life but a peaceful one. A life that she could see for herself. Yes, that is what she would do. To hell with the Zyon and the Order, Skyrim was large enough for the lot of them.

Leytiri walks down the path leading out of the city and down to the carriage. She hands the driver twenty gold and climbs into the back. It is a long ride, and long past dark by the time they get to Riften. Judging by the look of the moon, she would hazard a guess and say it’s around two in the morning. Exhausted, and not having gotten any sleep on the bumpy ride, she is dying for some rest at an inn before she attempts to find this Brynjolf man.

Climbing out of the carriage, Leytiri thanks the driver and steps up to the door guarded by two soldiers. One of them eyes her and smiles. “You know, there’s a tax to get into the city? Pay us.”

Leytiri’s fingers twitch and she’s tempted to shoot a fireball at the idiot. The supposed protectors of the city were thieves, lovely. She places her right hand on the hilt of her sword. “I’m not paying the tax. I’m tired and I want to lay down in a soft, comfy bed and go to sleep. Now get the fuck out of my way.”

The two men glance at each other before they look back at her, wary in both of their eyes. “Alright, go in. We won’t make you pay, this time. Welcome to Riften.”

Forcing back an eyeroll, Leytiri walks through the doors and into the city. It takes a great deal of effort not to hold her nose. It smells like a sewer here! Praying that the inn doesn’t smell this foul, she walks towards the building in the center of town that says “The Bee and Barb” on a sign. She pushes the door open and steps into a warm inn. An Argonian smiles at her, a smile she returns, before a man steps up to her.

Leytiri swallows thickly. He’s older, tall, well-muscled, with red hair and a short but still sexy beard. His clothes are blue, white, and a hint of orange. Simple and well worn, but still quite lovely on him. She wonders how he feels about Altmer girls? She could normally tell in a first conversation with a Nord.

“Hey, lass.” Leytiri’s knees grew weak at the sound of his voice. Mmm, how he would sound in the bedroom. “I’m Brynjolf. I heard that you were looking for me. What do you need?”

Trying to cover up her intense attraction for the red-head, Leytiri clears her throat. “I’m looking for someone named Esbern. He might be here in Riften. Do you know anything about him?”

Brynjolf runs a hand over his beard, and he smiles at her, making her knees feel weak once again. “I’m not one to give out free information, lass. I’ll give you the information if you help me out with a job. All you need to do is steal a ring from the market tomorrow afternoon.”

Leytiri listens as he explains the job to her, growing more horrified as he goes along. Finally, she stops him. “Enough.” She hisses. “I’m not going to steal something. That’s against the law!”

Chuckling, Brynjolf shrugs. “So? If you want the information I have, then you need to do what I want you to do. Go on up to bed lass.”

Grumbling, Leytiri turns and heads for the bar to acquire a room. While she waits, a man runs into the inn and over to another. Their conversation is loud and Leytiri can’t help but to hear what they have to say.

“You’ll never believe what happened!”

“What mate?”

“You know about Maven’s son, you know, the bastard boy she carted off to the mountains in Markarth?”

“Aye, Tovarr, I think his name was.”

Leytiri freezes. She must have heard the man wrong. Either that or it must be a different man named Tovarr. Certainly, the name must be common right?

“Aye! I just heard the guards talking. Turns out the boy went and got himself killed out there. Guess some puny little elf girl slit his throat and everything. Maven is angry. She had no love for the idiot boy, but he was still her son, even if a bastard. She wants the girl to be torn from piece to piece. I guess the man who runs the place said that the elf was banished. That’s not good enough for our Maven! She won’t rest until the girl is hunted down and killed.”

The meal that Leytiri ate on the way to Riften tries to make a reappearance and Leytiri holds her hand over her mouth, trying to force back the vomit. The female Argonian barkeep looks at Leytiri, worried. “Are you alright, child? Perhaps you would like to go lay down. Your room is upstairs, I’ll lead you there.”

Unsure if her shaking legs can bear her weight, Leytiri shakes her head. Suddenly, a hand on her elbow pulls her from the bar. The man bears most of her weight as they slowly make their way up the stairs and into a bedroom. Candles burn on a table and the bed has been pulled down by the Argonian woman. The man waits until Leytiri sits on the bed before he pulls his hand away.

“Alright now, lass?”

Leytiri tries to smile at Brynjolf but knows that it is unsuccessful. “I’m fine, thank you.”

A finger under her chin forces her to look up into green eyes. “You’re not fine, lass. You were, until that man came running into the inn, shouting all over the place about Maven’s son. He talked about the boy being killed by a banished elf girl. When you heard those words, I thought for sure you were either going to fall to your knees. And not in that sexy way I thought you were going to do when we talked before.”

Leytiri tries to pull her face from Brynjolf’s hand but he holds her chin in a gentle but firm grip. “So, my guess is, lass, that you just might be that banished elf girl. The one that killed Maven Black-Briar’s bastard son. I had no love for the boy. He liked to take whatever he wanted, not caring for the consequences. Did he deserve the death you gave him?”

Trying unsuccessfully not to cry, Leytiri nods. “Yes. He did.”

Brynjolf releases her face but not before wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Good, I won’t tell anyone what you did. But you need to get your shit together, lass. You do not want Maven Black-Briar as your enemy, and she wants you dead. Don’t let her ever find out that it was you who killed that boy. Goodnight, I will see you in the morning.”

He turns away from her and opens the door to leave. Before he does, however, he looks back at her. “What did he do?”

Leytiri shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Brynjolf’s smile is soft, his green eyes full of pity. “Aye, that’s what I thought. Goodnight lass.”

The noise of his boots on the steps gets quieter and quieter until he is gone. Leytiri presses her face against the pillow and lets out a sob that she had so desperately held in when Brynjolf was with her. Yes, Tovarr had deserved his fate. So had she. And now what did she have? Nothing. She had nothing at all.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands just outside of the inn the next morning, shivering in the cold morning air. She had woken just an hour ago, eyes bleary from crying all night, feeling much like she had a head cold. She wanted nothing more than to go back inside and sleep but also knew that Delphine might just murder her if she doesn’t do her job. And unfortunately, that job meant waiting for Brynjolf to show up so that she could rob someone.

That thought makes Leytiri want to vomit. When she has fought people, she has taken money and valuables from their bodies. But only to try to make a better life for herself. There was no malicious intent, and she truthfully wished that they left her alone in the first place. Up to this point, she’d only killed people who attacked her first. Stealing from them likely wasn’t moral but was it more or less moral than what they’d done to her moments before?

People, traders, start to mill around the area. Some of them give her mistrustful looks. Leytiri couldn’t blame them. She was a stranger after all, and they had no idea that she was about to rob one of them. If only… ah!

Brynjolf appears from around a corner, and he smiles at her as he approaches her. “Lass! Ready to do your job?”

Leytiri clears her throat. “Yes. I’m sorry about last night.”

Brynjolf shrugs, his smile fading. “I’ve seen the worst of the worst here in Riften. It’s not a shock to me what happened to the lad. I only hope that he suffered.”

Thinking back on that night, Leytiri nods. Yes, Tovarr had suffered. He lived for awhile after she struck him. He’d even grabbed her and tried to suffocate her before he died. She tries not to think about the fact that he wouldn’t be punished much if he’d succeeded and killed her, while living himself. He, unlike her, had used his hand to try to kill her. It would have been a natural death, unlike the one she gave him.

A finger strokes down Leytiri’s cheek and she jumps back a little. Brynjolf smiles uncomfortably. “Sorry. You weren’t saying anything and thought it was a bad time to get lost in thought. Now, I told you who and what you need to rob. Remember?”

Leytiri nods again. “Yes, Brand-Shei, a ring, you told me which stall was his. I got it, let’s just do it.”

Brynjolf laughs, a deep, sexy laugh that Leytiri can feel down in her bones. “Aye, let’s get on with it. I will distract everyone, wait until they come to me before you steal.”

He walks off while Leytiri makes her way behind the stall used by the man that she was unfortunately being forced to rob. Across the market, she can hear Brynjolf shout for everyone to come to him. Leytiri watches as Brand-Shei eagerly moves out from behind his stall. Everyone else in the market follows suit.

Feeling uncomfortable, but resolute, Leytiri moves behind the left behind stall and crouches down. Waiting a few beats more, she turns her head to the left and right to make sure no one was guarding her. There is a lock on the stall that she quickly unlocks using her lockpicks and then another, easier lock on a lockbox opens quickly. Snatching at the only ring in the box, she makes her way behind the crowd and is relieved to see Brand-Shei sitting on a box. Quickly, she approaches the box and kneels beside him, happy that she has a stall beside her for cover. Fingering the ring for just a few seconds, she reaches forward and places it inside the man’s pocket before retreating. Seeing that Leytiri has been successful at her mission, Brnjolf quickly breaks up the group surrounding him.

Heart racing, and none to happy about what she had just done, Leytiri makes her way to the stall that Brynjolf is standing at. “I did it,” she hisses at him. “Now tell me where the fuck Esbern is.”

Brynjolf laughs at her ire and his green eyes dance with mirth. “Here’s a hundred gold for doing your job right. Your friend is down in the Ratway Warrens. And, by the way, my group could use some of your skills. Come down to the Ragged Flagon in the sewers, it’s a tavern down there. I’d really like you to join.”

Leytiri pockets the gold, she really can’t afford to turn it away, and shrugs noncommittedly. She had a sinking feeling that Brynjolf was a member of the Thieves Guild and this would be her one and only foray into thievery. Turning from him, Leytiri walks towards the steps to go downstairs. The air turns more fowl the lower she walks, and the water doesn’t look like something she would ever dare drink.

A door on the opposite side of the stairs calls to Leytiri. It is rusty and makes a loud noise when she opens it. A stench hits her nose and she almost shuts the door but instead she walks inside, closing it behind her. Gods, Delphine better leave her the fuck alone after this. How much more could she take? And if Delphine was telling the truth about Esbern being more paranoid than her then Leytiri was in deep trouble.

Crouching, Leytiri quietly walks down the stairs and along a hallway. Not knowing what’s inside, besides the suspected Thieves Guild, she does not want to be caught unawares by anything else. At the entrance to a second hall Leytiri can see a floor mat at the end. Two male voices speak up as well. Horrified, she listens as they talk about wanting to live somewhere other than a sewer.

Willing magic into her hands, Leytiri prepares to fight if she has too. She doubts that they are friendly but perhaps they will let her past. Standing upright, to not appear threatening, Leytiri strides to the end of the hall and turns right. The two men immediately draw their swords, and she shoots out a flame atronach. The one with a bow ignores the atronach to shoot at her and she quickly dashes forward with her sword drawn, driving it through his eye. The one who went for the atronach is unprepared, using his shield to block fireballs, for Leytiri’s sword to pierce through the back of his head and out the front of his eye.

The atronach disappears as Leytiri struggles to remove the sword from the man’s head. It had been easy, with the first one, she hadn’t pushed the sword in very far. Finally, Leytiri plants both feet firmly on the ground on opposite sides of the man, grasps the sword with both hands, and yanks it up hard, almost hitting herself in the face with the hilt. Breathing hard, she shoves the sword back into her scabbard and crouches back down, letting the magic flow back through her fingers.

Already she felt exhausted, and she was only at the beginning.

Leytiri pushes past the archer’s corpse into another room where another floor mat lay. Hurrying along, Leytiri sees a raised bridge up ahead. Trying not to growl in frustration she looks down to the floor. It is not a far jump, but it is tedious. She was willing to bet every piece of gold in her bag that Esbern was past that raised bridge. Either he, or the Thieves Guild, had raised it against her. She might strangle him when she finds him.

After jumping down to the floor, Leytiri turns to her left and sees a gate. When she approaches it, she sees that there is an impressive lock on it. Perhaps if she got lucky… quickly, she counts out her lockpicks and realizes that she has nearly thirty. Yes, she would try. It takes some time, and eighteen of those lockpicks, but she manages to get the gate open. At the top of the stairs Leytiri comes across a man who immediately draws his sword on her.

Feeling exhausted, Leytiri doesn’t use her magic but instead draws her sword. Having gotten much better over the last couple weeks with it, it is almost easy to deflect the man’s blows until she finds an opening, driving her blade into his side, near his ribs. The man screams and she uses her dagger to slit his throat. The man jerks and hot blood hits her in the face.

Disturbed, Leytiri stands back up. To her right, Leytiri can see the upturned bridge from this side of the room. To her left is another door, hopefully the one leading to the Warrens. As she passes the man, she gives him one last lingering look. What had led him down into this sewer? Was his right to live no less than hers? If he hadn’t drawn his sword then she would have just walked on by. Why must she be the Dragonborn?

Leytiri sighs and opens the door, finding herself just ten feet or so from a circle of water. The room is circular, and strangely warm, with light coming in from a circle in the roof. Candles burn across the water from her. A sign with the words “Ragged Flagon” scrawled into it is also over there. She sighs, truth be told she had hoped to avoid the Thieves Guild entirely but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. Either that or she should turn around, maybe she’d come the wrong way.

Voice’s drift over the water to her and she’s convinced that one of them is Brynjolf. Interested, she makes her way carefully around the water until she comes across a bar, tables, and a group of men and two women speaking. The bald man looks at her over Brynjolf’s shoulder and nods in her direction. Brynjolf turns to face her and smiles, green eyes bright, before coming to stand next to her.

“Lass! I dared not hope that you might make it through the Warrens. Nasty place. If you want some more coin, I can think of a couple of jobs for you to work on.”

Leytiri can’t help the smile that his joy brings out of her. “I’m sorry, Brynjolf, but I’m not here to help your guild. I’m still looking for Esbern. Do you know if I’m going the right way?”

Brynjolf tries to hide his disappointment but can’t completely. “Aye, lass. Just go on straight past the door, there’s a door just there. Be careful, the vaults are nothing to laugh at. Make it back safe, aye?”

Comforted by his worry for her, Leytiri smiles at him. “I’ll be okay. Bye.”

Before she can get more than a step or two away from him, Brynjolf’s hand raises and wipes against her cheek. Surprised, Leytiri backs away a little bit.

Brynjolf smiles softly and lowers his voice so that the others, all pretending that they weren’t eavesdropping on them, couldn’t hear. “There was some blood on your cheek, lass. I figured that you wouldn’t want it on there. I pity the fool that came after you in the dark down here. Be careful now.”

Leytiri’s cheeks turn pink, and she stutters out a thank you before she walks to the door. When she puts her hand on the knob, she turns back to look at Brynjolf who gives her a long, slow wink.

Chapter Text

Leytiri steps through the door to the Ratway Vaults and allows the door to swing shut behind her, feeling Brynjolf’s eyes on her back through the wood. Taking a deep breath, she lowers herself into a crouch and edges towards the end of the tunnel. She steps into an open room and, across the room and down a level, she can see a man swinging a torch and looking around the room.

Backing up slightly, Leytiri waits until the man walks away. As she steps along the path however she hears a man say, “I think someone’s up there! It might be Esbern!”

“Damn.” Leytiri whispers. She backs all the way up against the door and releases a flame atronach while pulling out her sword. They’d have to come down the tunnel one at a time at the two of them and she was ready. At the entrance of the tunnel appears a Thalmor soldier with two close behind him. The atronach starts shooting fireballs at them and Leytiri waits until the soldier gets right next to the atronach before she swings her sword as high into the air as she can and brings it down upon his head. His body falls to the ground and she rips her sword out of his skull before turning to the other two.

One of them, a woman, lets out a fierce battle scream as she looks upon the man on the ground. Her yellowish eyes seem to burn with fire to Leytiri and she launches herself at her and the atronach. But the atronach releases a fireball that catches the end of the Thalmor’s hair and Leytiri watches horrified as the woman’s head quickly goes up in pain. She screeches in agony but instead of trying to put out the fire she lurches towards Leytiri.

Leytiri quickly slits the woman’s throat to ease her passing. The last man stares down the tunnel at Leytiri and her atronach before running back the way he came. The atronach disappears and Leytiri looks down upon the corpse of the woman before her. Her blonde hair was half burned off and her face was blackened. A horrible way to go.

Swallowing hard, Leytiri looks at her hand. Her flame atronach was her most powerful offensive spell. She was getting better with fighting with her destruction magic, but her conjuration magic was becoming heaps better than when she was at the order. With a shuddering breath Leytiri realizes that she hadn’t been using illusion magic at all. It had always been her favorite because of Prentis. She tries to turn herself invisible and manages to succeed, but only for a few seconds. A small sob escapes her throat.

He would hate her for this. Surely, he would.

Trying not to think about Prentis anymore, Leytiri makes her way slowly down the tunnel and peers around it, looking for the third Thalmor, but doesn’t see him. She hoped that he wasn’t looking for allies to help kill her. Crouched down, she edges herself around the room and down another hallway. In the next room there is a bed in the corner with a dead, half naked Nord man on it. She averts her eyes from his corpse, hoping the Thalmor killed him in his sleep.

Slowly, Leytiri makes her way through the room, down some stairs, and around several more hallways. She finally comes across a small room with a table at the bottom of the steps. Looking around, she can’t see any more soldiers, so she walks down the steps. On the table is an axe, several coin purses, and a chest with a simple enough lock on it. Quickly, she breaks into the chest and finds a bunch of gold and a rather nice helmet. It’s not as good as her current one but it would fetch her a nice price.

Walking down another hallway, Leytiri finds herself back in the same room she had started, and she grits her teeth, staring up at the walkway above her. For fucks sake, she could have just jumped down here instead of sneaking through those halls like a rat. Angry at Esbern and Delphine, she marches down another hallway until she comes across a door. Readying her magic, she opens it.

Once through the door, Leytiri sees a locked gate. The lock looks about as easy as the chest had so she uses two lockpicks to open it. She looks around the room but doesn’t see anybody. Through one of the doors, she can hear a man speaking so she decides to walk up the stairs to check out one of the rooms up there. At the top of the stairs a man leers at her through holes in the door. He pulls a knife.

“I’m gonna eat well tonight hehe.”

Leytiri’s stomach rolls and she pulls her own sword. Like hell is she going to end up in the stomach of some freak. The door swings open and the man lurches at her but she quickly realizes that he’s no warrior. She plunges her sword through the man’s belly, and he falls to the ground, writhing. She looks at her sword again, and her dagger, normally she would end her victim’s pain by slitting their throat or giving them a swift death some other way. But this man was planning on eating her.

Instead, she watches as he slowly dies and turns towards the metal door behind her, hoping that Esbern is in there. She tries the knob but it’s locked, so she knocks on it. Less than a second later and opening in the door slides back and she sees an older man standing there. “Go the fuck away! I don’t want anything.”

Leytiri clears her throat and tells herself not to reach through the opening and strangle him. “Esbern, I just want to talk to you.”

The man growls at her. “I am not Esbern! Who is Esbern? I don’t know who that is. Now go away and leave me alone!”

Rolling her eyes, Leytiri tries not to let her annoyance come out in her voice. “I’m here because Delphine wanted me to come see you. She trusts me, I promise.”

Esbern swallows and he looks around Leytiri as if looking for Delphine. “I-I did not know that Delphine was still alive. I suppose you can come inside so you can tell me about her.”

He closes the opening and locks start clicking. Leytiri smirks as she listens to eight, nine, ten locks come undone before the door opens. He ushers her inside and shuts the door. When the locks have been redone, he turns towards her. “Why has Delphine sent you exactly?”

Leytiri looks around the small room. I was oddly comfortable looking though she would feel trapped in this place. Apparently, he had money and the Thieves Guild were willing to supply him with things he needed. She looks back at Esbern. “The Thalmor are looking for you. They might try to kill you or torture you or something else. I’ve got to get you to Delphine.”

Esbern chuckles. “The world is ending anyways, who cares if the Thalmor are looking for me?”

Confused, Leytiri shakes her head. “I don’t know what you mean. The world isn’t ending.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Alduin has returned to this world. He will kill everyone in this world and the only person who can stop him is a Dragonborn. Of course, there are no more Dragonborn. It is over for us all.”

“It’s not over.” Leytiri smiles at him as encouragingly as she can. “I’m a Dragonborn. That means I can stop Alduin.”

Esbern stares at Leytiri for a few moments but neither of them break the silence. She wonders if he is weighing her words and deciding whether to believe them or not. Down here, away from dragons, she didn’t know how else to prove she was the Dragonborn except to Shout. But she didn’t think that was a safe thing to do if there were still Thalmor poking around. Instead, she smiles at him again, hoping that he will trust her.

Finally, Esbern ends the silence between them. “Are you truly the Dragonborn?” She nods. “Then you must bring me to Delphine. The three of us have many things we need to talk about. Take me to her.”

Chapter Text

By the time Leytiri and Esbern reached Riverwood Leytiri desperately wanted to strangle the man. He wasn’t cruel or rude, in fact he was quite nice to her the entire way, but gods did he talk. She learned about various Dragonborn throughout the years, and all the books written about them, and what felt like the entire history of the Blades, and their members. He told her about himself, his family that he had to leave behind, and Delphine. That had been the most interesting part. Delphine was always closed off to her.

Still, Leytiri would take the annoying conversing over crawling through the sewers like an oversized rat. They had been filthy, and she felt like she would never get the smell of them out of her nostrils. Blood and shit and piss, and who knows what else. The worst part had been walking out of Esbern’s room and right into a group of Thalmor soldiers. Esbern had a dagger, and put up a surprisingly good fight, but he was getting up there in years. Leytiri killed all three of her enemies before Esbern could kill his own.

And then there was the bar at the Ragged Flagon. The red headed, green eyed, deliciously sexy man named Brynjolf had smiled at Leytiri as she and Esbern passed. Just like before, he had winked at her in a slow way that set her loins on fire. Once done here in Riverwood, she would need to find herself a bedmate. She’d enjoyed bedding the men from Solitude and Windhelm. Perhaps she would find out what a mate from Whiterun could give her.

Esbern stops in front of the inn in Riverwood and smiles up at the place. “Had I known she was here all this time… things might have been different. Come, let us go in.”

Leytiri looks towards the bar as they walk inside. She sees Delphine, fully armored with her sword at her hip, at the same time Esbern does. His eyes soften and it is very clear to Leytiri that this man loves Delphine more than anything in the world. She might very well be the only semblance of family that he has left. Leytiri feels like she is intruding on a private moment. It was the same way Prentis looked at her.

Esbern steps towards Delphine and one of his hands come up to rest on her elbow. “Delphine, I feared that you were dead. Had I known, I—”

Delphine smiles at him, the same soft look in her eye that Esbern had for her. “I know. But let us not get sentimental. I have a room downstairs, follow me.” Her eyes drift to Leytiri. “Both of you.”

Leytiri resists an eyeroll, knowing that Delphine might actually be able to kick her ass if she feels like it, but follows regardless. They make their way through Delphine’s bedroom, down the stairs to the secret room, and Delphine closes the door behind them. Leytiri watches as the two friends stare at each other, joy in their eyes. She wonders briefly if that is how she’d look if she saw Prentis again. Or if she’d be too ashamed to look him in the eye ever again.

Esbern breaks the silence first as he puts a book on the table. “Now that I know about the Dragonborn, we must relocate. As nice as this inn is, there is a better place for the Blades and their Dragonborn to go. Sky Haven Temple. Alduin’s Wall was built there.”

He stares at Leytiri and Delphine, neither of which are giving him the reaction he’d clearly hoped they would. “The two of you have heard of Alduin’s Wall, correct?”

Leytiri shrugs her shoulders. Truth be told she had no idea what Alduin was until she started this journey. Delphine sighs. “Esbern, just tell us what it is.”

Esbern lets out an exasperated sigh. “What are they teaching you young ones these days? Fine. Alduin’s Wall is in part history, as well as prophesy. It speaks of Alduin’s history. It was believed to be lost but I have found where it is hiding. Sky Haven Temple.”

Delphine glances at Leytiri. “So Alduin’s Wall will be able to teach Leytiri how to kill Alduin.”

Esbern nods. “In theory. I have no idea what it says as I have never seen it. But it is where we must go to learn more.”

Nodding, Delphine motions towards Leytiri. “Alright then. Sky Haven Temple is near Markarth, in the Karthspire. Have you ever been there? I know you are from that area.”

“Ah.” Leytiri smiles fondly. “I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting the Karthspire but I know where you’re talking about. I didn’t grow up in Markarth, my village was south west of the city. But I could find it easily enough.”

“Good.” Delphine lays a hand on the table, the other on the hilt of her sword. “I will be traveling with Esbern. Will you be coming with us or going by yourself?”

Thinking about a warm bed in Whiterun, Leytiri shakes her head. She needed rest after her ordeal in Riften and hadn’t gotten it while traveling with Esbern, who was too paranoid to sleep out in the open. Now that Delphine was there to protect Esbern, Leytiri felt confident that it was okay for her to go get a night’s sleep at the inn in Whiterun. Certainly, she couldn’t do it here, Delphine might actually flay her alive if she took a nap during such an important mission.

She watches, a little bit sadly, as the two of them walk out of the room. Delphine’s hand grazes Esbern’s arm, as Esbern smiles over at her. Leytiri hadn’t been lying to herself when she said the two of them reminded her of her relationship with Prentis. He always had the same look in his eye that Esbern gives Delphine. She had always felt comfortable touching people, but none more than him. She used to insist that he hold her hand wherever they went, and even demanded he carry her when her legs got too tired. He would grumble, but he always grabbed her hand, or swung her up into the air and onto her shoulders. The last time he’d done that was when she was nine.

Prentis had let out a groan and almost collapsed beneath her. The Zyon himself had demanded that she walk on her own two feet.

The Zyon…

Firming her lips, Leytiri walks up the stairs and out of the inn. Off to Whiterun.

Many miles away, Prentis paces before the fire in the Zyon’s office once again. A cup of wine gripped in his hand, as he occasionally swigged from it. Leytiri. The Dragonborn. Why did fate have to do be so fucking cruel to that girl? She was small, so small he could lift her above his head with one hand, when her mother was raped and murdered. She’d watched as one of her little Dark Elf friends was beheaded in front of her. And then… she was exiled from the only home she had since the one with her mother.

Gritting his teeth, Prentis takes another large swallow of his wine, emptying it. Quickly, he fills the cup again from the pitcher on the desk.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Prentis firms his lips before turning towards his Zyon. He wants desperately to shout out that it is not the wine, but the Zyon, who is making him sick. “I’m a Nord. A little bit of wine won’t hurt me.”

“It will, if it makes you forget your duty.” The Zyon tents his fingers together and gives Prentis an appraising look. “You can’t perform your next mission if you are drunk and angry.”

Fingers tighten on the cup. Prentis imagines the cup is the Zyon’s neck. The man had caused so much pain to the little girl he thought of as his child. “I’m fine. What do you want me to do and where do you want me to go?”

The Zyon, an old and wise man, stares at Prentis for a beat too long before his gaze slides to the fire. “You are going to Helgen. There is a weapon there that we need in our possession. You will get it for me because I trust no one else in this matter.”

“Why?” Prentis shakes his head, trying to clear it. “You’ve sent all of us on various item finding missions. Why do you want me specifically to find this weapon and, gods help me, why do you want a fucking weapon in the first place? Have you forgotten what happened to Leytiri? You banished her because she kept a weapon.”

The Zyon does not look at him. “I have not forgotten young Leytiri, nor her arrogance and ignorance. Do I need to remind you that she has continued to fight with a weapon? She has not repented her evil ways. I was right to force her out of the Order. Though it will please Caltar no doubt that Leytiri has grown quite skilled at Conjuration magic. Her flame atronach has grown powerful. Caltar’s pleasure is not yours though. Leytiri has only used Illusion magic once, perhaps twice, the entire time she’s been gone. It seems, unlike you, she wishes to fight instead of flee.”

Breathing hard, Prentis tries not to glare at the older man. “What mission do you have for me?”

The Zyon sits at his desk and leans back in his chair, staring at Prentis with the same passivity that used to admire Prentis, but not deeply angered him. “You will make your way to Helgen where you will find a dagger. A dagger that you know well. The sheath is black with sapphires. The hilt is silver.”

Prentis swallows hard. “Leytiri’s dagger. You want to steal her dagger?”

The Zyon shakes his head before his lips tilt up into a smile. “It is not thievery if she left it behind when she escaped. She has not returned for it. If she wants it, she can come back here and take it back from us.”

Trying to suppress a growl of frustration, Prentis squeezes the cup tighter in his hand. “That dagger is against everything we stand for! We don’t keep weapons. Aren’t we goddamned hypocrites if we kick out a girl who is barely a woman, while you, the fucking leader of the Order, wants a weapon himself?”

“The difference,” the Zyon says, his eyes suddenly turning cold with an anger burning within. “Is that I have no intention of using that weapon to slit someone’s throat. You have no idea how connected to magic that dagger is. Had she just kept it, and not used it, I would have allowed her to stay, though I would have removed it from her possession. But she slit a man’s throat with it. A man that could have given the Order something of great value. You know who Tovarr’s mother is. She owns something that I want desperately for its magical properties. She told me I could have it if we taught her son how to become an excellent mage. Now that that son is dead, I may never get that thing of great value. Leytiri has failed us. That is why she is gone.”

The Zyon was a man of few words, not even Prentis had heard him speak so much in one sitting. But still, his words angered him further. “Leytiri is barely older than a child. She was being raped.”

Prentis watches as the Zyon closes his eyes, pained. When he opens them the cold fire in them is gone, replaced with pity. “I know. And I’m sorry. But Tovarr was of value. His life…” He swallows. “His life meant more to the Order than Leytiri’s. If she had to die so that Tovarr could live, I would have accepted that.”

Heart racing, Prentis stares at the man he’d respected and loved almost his entire life. He’d come to the Order as a boy, only a year older than Leytiri. His mother had seven children to feed, but he had magic. When the Order offered her treasure for him, she’d gladly accepted, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before walking from his life forever. He never trusted a woman again until he’d met his woman, his love, the woman who was more than a wife for him. But he had loved again. Her. And the Zyon. And Leytiri.

Now, Prentis could feel that love burning inside of him. He wanted to rip out his beating heart from his chest and stomp on it. He wanted to feel nothing, least of all this mix of rage and love towards this man. But he could never say these things to this man who took him in. Who loved him as only a father could. A love that he, himself, had shown a little blonde haired, golden eyed Altmer girl.

Forcing himself to turn away, Prentis lays his cup on the table. “I will do this thing for you. This last thing. I will travel to Helgen and find the dagger. I will bring it back for you. And then I will leave the Order. You are my past. Leytiri is my future.”

Before the Zyon can stop him he walks out of the room, but not before he hears the words, “We shall see about that.”

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands, bent over, hands on knees, breathing hard in the entrance of Karthspire. Esbern and Delphine stand just in front of her, staring back at her.

Esbern raises his eyebrow. “What took you so long to get here?”

Gasping for breath and feeling a stitch in her side, Leytiri feels a massive urge to punch the man in the face. She’d ridden in a cart towards Markarth and convinced the driver to let her out just north of the island that Karthspire is on. It’d been a nice little walk until she’d been attacked by Forsworn. And a couple mountain lions. And a bandit. And a fucking dragon. And then more Forsworn when she’d gotten to the entrance of Karthspire. She was going to murder the two of them one day for dragging her here.

Delphine raises a finger to her lips. “There are people here.”

Listening hard, Leytiri can hear movement further within the cave. “Forsworn maybe? There were a lot of them outside.”

Esbern nods, suddenly serious again. “Let’s get through quick and quiet. Delphine, take the lead. I’ll follow and the Dragonborn will stay behind me. Remember that her life is of the utmost importance.”

“I…” Leytiri frowns. “I know my life is important and I know I’m supposed to defeat Alduin. But shouldn’t I be ahead of you Esbern? You’re uh—”

“Old?” He laughs. “Aye, but still a Blade. You’ll see what I can do.”

Delphine and Esbern crouch low and proceed further into the cave. Two Forsworn suddenly step into view and Leytiri watches entranced as Esbern rushes forward with his knife, slitting the man’s throat with one quick slice. Delphine is perhaps a tad quicker, with her sword nearly cutting her foes head off in one go. The two Forsworn die quietly. Esbern turns back to Leytiri as he rubs the blood from his dagger.

“Didn’t think this old man still had moves, did you?”

Leytiri blushes and nods but falls into a crouch behind the two. They ease their way up stairs and onto a wooden platform. Another man jumps out at them but Delphine quickly cuts him down. Leytiri begins to feel a little bit frustrated with the two. She could handle a couple of Forsworn. She needed to show them that she could fight. That they didn’t need to protect her. She was useful.

They cross a narrow wooden bridge and Leytiri stops at a chest. Feeling bad for just a second, she opens it and finds a large pile of gold. She pockets it and walks over another bridge before joining the others. They turn to the right, go down a hallway, turn to the left, and go down another. She hopes that Esbern and Delphine know where they’re going because she’d be damned if she was going to get lost in these dreaded mountains.

In the next room, Esbern starts up some stairs. “There’s a bridge. Look, here are some pedestals. Let’s take a look.”

Leytiri listens as the two discuss the pedestals and the symbols on them. The man, for some reason, made her think of Prentis. He loved puzzles and would have enjoyed trying to figure out how to get that bridge down. She hadn’t shared his love for them, and was afraid didn’t share his intellect either, and could almost never make heads or tails of them. It was truly a wonder that she’d survived on this quest at all. There hadn’t been many puzzles for her to figure out, but honestly, she’d wished Prentis had been there to give her a hint.

Or just to do it for her.

Esbern turns towards Leytiri. “Go! Push the pedestals around. Try to find the right one.”

Raising her eyebrow at the man, Leytiri does as she’s told. She turns the pedestal on the left once, showing the Dragonborn symbol Esbern had been talking about. Wondering if all of them should be on that, considering Sky Haven Temple was for the Dragonborn, she turns the other two to show the symbol as well. Immediately, the bridge falls before them.

Delphine laughs. “Wonderful! Let’s cross.”

The three of them cross the bridge, and step through spider webs to find a set of stairs. Leytiri tries not to think about what made the webs and whether or not they were currently creeping and crawling all over her body. They ascend the stairs, Delphine leading the way. They come across another room, this time with tiles on the floor with pictures on them.

Knowing this is a trap, Leytiri looks closely at each of the tiles. They all have the same pictures on them as the pedestals did. Tentatively, she lifts her boot and pushes her foot down on one of the pictures showing the Dragonborn symbol. Nothing happens, so she moves to another. And another. Feeling more confident, she moves across the room to the other side stepping only on the Dragonborn tiles. She pulls a chain hanging on the opposite wall and a hidden door open.

They walk through it and out into the same room as they were in down below. There’s a bridge going up, and Leytiri sucks in a breath as they climb it. The bridge is narrow, with what looks like moss or something else on it. One wrong move and they’d fall to their deaths. She doesn’t quite breathe properly again until they reach the other side. They walk up more steps, until they come upon another room. A large one, with a chest in the center, and a large, creepy looking face on the opposite wall.

Esbern laughs and he approaches a rune on the floor near the face. “I never thought I would live to see this place. And this is a blood seal. The only thing that can open the door is blood.”

Leytiri’s heart picks up a faster pace. Oh, she prayed that he wouldn’t be needing her blood to open the door. But something told her the only thing that could open that door was her blood. Why couldn’t being the Dragonborn send her anywhere nice? Why did it always have to be about blood and gore and killing dragons and fighting who knows what? Fucking blood. Her blood. Figures.

Esbern looks over at her. “Kneel on the rune and cut yourself. It shouldn’t take much, just a small slice across the palm of your hand.”

Trying to force back a sigh, Leytiri does as she is told. She kneels on the rune and listens as Esbern gives Delphine a history lesson about the temple. She hesitates just a moment before she runs her dagger across the meaty part of her palm. The blood wells up in her hand and she holds it there, entranced by it. This was her blood, her lifeblood, and it was about to fall out of her to open the Sky Haven Temple. Where she would learn how to defeat Alduin. The thought feared her, and yet exhilarated her all the same.

She turns her hand and lets the blood hit the stone. Immediately, the run alights and the three of them watch, entranced, as the face on the wall rises. They stare, open mouthed at the door. Esbern had waited his entire life for this moment. Delphine had waited her entire life for Leytiri to come into it. And, so it seemed, Leytiri had waited her entire life to find out her destiny. The woman inside her wanted to march into that room. The child, the little girl who hid under Prentis’s bed during thunderstorms, wanted to flee.

Delphine smiles over at her. “Go child.” Leytiri freezes, terrified the older woman knew what she secretly wanted to do. “You are the Dragonborn. It should be you who steps into the temple first.”

Leytiri swallows. “Alright.”

This time, she leads the way. Up the stairs and through a door. Then up more stairs, a turn to the right, and up some more, until they walk into a room. In the middle of the room is a long stone table with chairs. To the left is another room, in front of them is another set of stairs leading up, but the most mesmerizing thing is the wall to the right.

Leytiri walks towards it, swallowing again. It looks like a mural made of the stone wall. In the picture she sees dragons, fire, and fighting. Soldiers, brave warriors, fighting dragons. And in the middle is a lone soldier fighting a fearsome beast. Alduin. Leytiri slowly approaches the single soldier battling the dragon. It is a woman, short and skinny, with light colored hair. Even without color she can tell the woman is an Altmer.

Whoever fought Alduin all those years ago was an Altmer. One who looked like her.

How many thousands of years had this stone been here? Had this woman known that she would ultimately fail to kill the beast? That one of her kin would one day be forced to take up the fight. What if things had been different? What would have happened had she not killed Tovarr, not been removed from the Order? She might have lived the rest of her days ignorant to the fact that she was supposed to fight thing evil. Would the Greybeards still have called her if things hadn’t gone about the way they did?

Esbern walks up behind Leytiri. “Alduin’s Wall… I never thought I would see it.”

He stares at the stone wall for a long time, muttering under his breath, until he comes upon the image of the Dragonborn with Alduin. “Gods, they Shouted at him! That is how he fell.”

Leytiri stares at the picture of Alduin for a few seconds before glancing at Esbern skeptically. “They Shouted at him? And he fell? Just like that?”

“So, it seems.” Esbern runs a hand over the image of Alduin. “A Shout that would make him fall.”

Delphine looks over at Leytiri. “You know some Shouts. Have you ever heard of one like this?”

Leytiri shakes her head. “No, but I’m sure Arngeir might know. I’ll go see him and the rest of the Greybeards.”

Delphine nods, though clearly she doesn’t like the idea. “Fine. We are going to look at this place, go carefully.”

Esbern rubs his hand along the stone. “Delphine! Look, this is the third panel.”

Leytiri smiles when Delphine sighs, and she turns around, walks to the stairs behind her, goes up them, and out the door. She comes out onto the side of the mountain and takes a deep breath, loving the crisp air. She missed it, this, leaving the almost claustrophobic stone walls of the temple just to enjoy the cold air of the outside. There were parts of home that she didn’t miss. But the one thing she missed most was something she doubted she’d ever have again.

Prentis.

The thought of him brings a few tears to her eyes but she swipes them away. No, she couldn’t get emotional now. She needed to speak to the Greybeards.

Chapter Text

Leytiri walks through High Hrothgar until she comes across Arngeir praying on the floor. He starts to rise, grumbling. “I’m sorry, Dragonborn. My bones are not as young as they once were. How can we be of service to you?”

“I…” Leytiri pauses. She knew that the Blades had issues with the Greybeards. The feeling could be mutual. “There’s a Shout that I need you to teach me.”

Arngeir gifts her with a fatherly smile. “Ah! Of course. We’d be glad to teach you. What Shout was it that you’d like to work on?”

“I need to know the Shout that I can use against Alduin.” Leytiri sighs. “The one that will make him fall from the sky.”

She swallows as the smile fades from Arngeir’s face and he levels her with a suspicious look. “How do you know about that Shout?”

Leytiri clasps her hands together, willing them not to shake. Here goes. “I’ve been speaking to the Blades. Well, two of them. They asked me to meet them at Sky Haven Temple. Esbern translated what was on Alduin’s Wall. He says there’s a Shout that I need to learn to make Alduin fall from the sky.”

“The Blades.” Arngeir turns away from her but not quickly enough to mask the disgust on his face. “They are using you! They want you to do their dirty work for them. Long have our two people been at odds. The Greybeards seek to teach the Dragonborn everything we know. The Blades seek to use you for their own ambitions. You must not let them turn you into their puppet.”

Anger fills Leytiri but she tries to tamp it down. The last thing they needed was to fight. “Arngeir, they just want Alduin to be destroyed. They’re helping me, us, all of Skyrim! Maybe they aren’t being entirely altruistic and maybe they want to use me for their own ambitions. But they do genuinely want to help defeat Alduin. Shouldn’t we accept whatever aid in the fight we can? Regardless of how you all feel about each other, shouldn’t we fight the more dangerous, common enemy, together?”

“I—yes.” Arngeir turns back towards her. “You’re right, Dragonborn. Now is not the time for petty squabbles. I just want you to be careful. The Blades are not what they seem. They are not truly on your side.”

“Noted.” Leytiri sighs again, tired of the games. “Now that that has been settled, can you please teach me the Shout?”

Arngeir smiles his eerie Prentis-like smile at her again. “The Shout that you seek is called Dragonrend. But neither I, nor any of the rest of the Greybeards, can teach it to you. It is the one Shout that we do not know.”

“But—” Leytiri curls her hands into fists. “If you don’t know it, who can I figure out what it is? I need that Shout to destroy Alduin.”

Gesturing towards Leytiri, Arngeir walks towards the door leading to the courtyard behind the castle. The other Greybeards stand to follow. “We can not teach you the Shout. But our leader can. His name is Paarthurnax.”

Leytiri follows the Greybeards outside, feeling the icy snow stab into her cheeks like tiny daggers. “Is he a Greybeard too?”

“No.” Arngeir gestures towards steps leading further up into the mountains. At the top of the steps Leytiri can see snow flurries whipping rapidly through the air. “Paarthurnax lives alone at the top of the mountain. We do not get to speak to him often. And he has not spoken to anyone who was not a Greybeard in a very long time. It is an honor to be allowed to climb the rest of the way up the mountain.”

“To be allowed?” Leytiri glances back up the steps towards the snow flurries. “It’s cold up there, I’m sure. And the snow is likely uncomfortable. But what do you mean, allowed?”

Arngeir gestures again and they begin walking towards the stairs. “You will need to learn a Shout to make your way up the mountain. If you are strong enough you will be able to learn this Shout. If you are not then you are not worthy of speaking to Paarthurnax. If you are not worthy of speaking to him then you are not worthy of the Shout Dragonrend. So come, child, and see if you are ready.”

A small part of Leytiri told her to run, but she realized that small part was getting smaller with every daunting task she faced. At Helgen she wanted nothing more than to run screaming for her life. Now she only feels a small sense of fear. Still there, but it can not conquer her. She would learn this Shout. She would learn Dragonrend as well. And she would defeat Alduin or… or die trying.

At the bottom of the steps Arngeir Shouts three times towards the ground and Leytiri watches entranced as goldish lettering appears on the tiles. Arngeir turns back to Leytiri. “Come child. I will now teach you the Shout called Clear Skies. It will make it easier for you to make it up to the peak of the mountain to speak to Paarthurnax. It is only temporary but if you are careful you should be able to make it. Are you ready?”

Without answering, Leytiri walks towards the lettering and she feels wind rushing towards her from the ground. As with her other three Shouts, she feels the power being sucked inside of her. When she looks up, she sees gold and blue and red light surrounding Arngeir and it flows into her as quickly as the Shouts on the ground did. The light fades away, and the dark sky falls upon them again. When the light leaves, Leytiri feels a small sense of loneliness, and she once again feels like running.

No. She is the Dragonborn. And they do not run.

Leytiri turns away from Arngeir and heads up the stairs. The noise of the wind and snow whistling gets louder the higher she climbs. At the top of the stairs, she sees that the snow is blowing in all directions, and had she come up here without her new Shout she likely would have tumbled off the mountain, if not frozen to death.

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri Shouts into the snow and wind and watches, transfixed, as it disappears. Above her and to the sides she can see more of it but the way forward is clear. Remembering what Arngeir had said about it only being temporary, Leytiri rushes forward. She only makes it a minute or so into the trek up the mountain before the wind begins to pelt her again and the ice swirls around her like beautiful shining diamonds. Beautiful, but painful. She Shouts again.

At the top of a ridge, Leytiri halts in her track. The sky is clear here, and she sees swirling green and yellow lights in the air high above her. At Whiterun she could see lights like these but they had been blue and purple, not green and yellow. Were they the same thing? If not, they were beautiful. Everything here is beautiful. Not like the ground far below.

The rain and wind and snow begin to drift back down towards Leytiri and she Shouts again. She thanks all the gods that this Shout doesn’t take as much out of her as the others do. She walks around the ridge and freezes again when she sees a narrow rope and wood bridge that spans across a wide gap. Heights hadn’t bothered her much as a girl but this was just tempting fate. Like in Sky Haven Temple, Leytiri holds her breath as she hurries across the bridge, trying not to think about how long it would take before she died if she fell.

Once across, Leytiri lets out the breath she’d been holding in and Shouts again. She turns a corner and throws up her arms as a snake-like ice monster lunges at her. Ice wraith! Gritting her teeth, Leytiri pulls her sword and holds up her free hand at the same time, shooting flames at it. The wraith lets out a scream and it darts back before drifting towards her again. The flames begin to weaken but the wraith still does not fall so Leytiri brings up her sword and smashes it down upon it as soon as the flames go out. It takes three hits, but she finally kills it.

Leytiri’s lips start to crack as the snow bundles around her again, suffocating her. She Shouts once again and it disappears. Lying next to the frozen mess of a body the wraith left behind is a pair of ice wraith teeth and an essence potion. She scoops them up and thrusts them into her bag with frozen fingers. They were so valuable! She could get close to a hundred gold with the essence alone.

The climb starts to get steeper, and is littered with large rocks, as Leytiri continues to make her way up the mountain. Her breaths come out harder, and she realizes how deeply out of shape she actually is. Most of her time in the Order had been spent learning magic. Occasionally she’d go out to hunt but the area around the temple was relatively safe so she hadn’t needed to run from danger. It wasn’t until this journey that she had to become more physical. And she didn’t like it one bit. If she could disappear and reappear with magic wherever she wanted to go she would.

The farther Leytiri climbs, the steeper the hills become, and she can feel a stitch in her side. Hopefully she was close. She kills two more ice wraiths and continues on, Shouting every couple of minutes. She finally comes across a large rock, angled towards the mountain. Before her is the same mixture of snow and wind and rain blowing from all sides like she’d gotten rid of at High Hrothgar. Perhaps this was it.

Leytiri Shouts and the wind rushes towards her, knocking her to her knees, before it disappears. Had she passed another test? Cautiously, Leytiri walks past the rock and up a small hill. In front of her, she can see a ruin. Old and broken. She was surprised it had lasted up here in the cold and wet. Her eyes search for a man, a Greybeard.

Suddenly, wings flap above her and Leytiri automatically lowers her into a crouch, reaching for her weapon. A chuckle sounds in her mind. ‘Easy, little one, I am not your foe.’

The dragon, greenish gray in color, lands in front of her but doesn’t attack. “Dovahkiin. Why are you here?”

Leytiri’s heart slams back and forth in her chest so hard she fears that he might be able to hear it. “I-they-I—” fuck! “They didn’t tell me you were a dragon!”

Paarthurnax chuckles again and Leytiri thinks that it sounds unusual coming from a dragon. “Yes, I am a dragon. And you are the Dovahkiin. But why are you here, little one?”

Under normal circumstances the name “little one” would have infuriated Leytiri. But coming from him she didn’t feel insulted. She was much smaller than him. “I need you to teach me the Shout Dragonrend. Can you do that?”

“Be patient, little one. First, I must see the power of your Shout. Watch as your elder goes first.”

Leytiri watches as Paarthurnax rears back and shoots a blast of flame at the ruin behind them. The flames are hot, and the heat feels good as it caresses her skin. This is not a dragon that she’d want to fight. He was more powerful than any of the ones she had faced before. The flames die down and Paarthurnax faces her.

“Learn your new Word.”

Blazing against the gray stone is a word, Fire, and Leytiri approaches it. As she gets closer the word seems to move towards her and like with her four other Shouts, it engulfs her and flows inside of her body. Her body feels hot and tingly, and she doesn’t want that feeling to ever go away. She felt powerful.

Paarthurnax chuckles again. “Yes, little one. You are powerful. Now, face me. You are not an elf maiden, frolicking in the grass. You are a Dovah. Hit me with your fire!”

Leytiri spreads her legs and firmly grounds her boots into the snow. She takes a deep breath and Shouts her fire at Paarthurnax. He laughs, delighted, and rears back a little bit but not to attack. His wings spread behind him and Leytiri is struck by how beautiful he is.

“It has been so long since I faced a Dovah of your skill. You are one of my kind. I will speak with you little one. I know you are not here merely to speak with an elder of your kind. Ask of me what you will.”

“I need you to teach me a Shout.” Leytiri’s lips tremble and she firms them, fearing he will think he weak. “Dragonrend.”

Paarthurnax grumbles and it makes Leytiri smile. He sounds like an old man. Like Prentis and Arngeir. “To destroy Alduin is why you have come here. The two of you have returned to this world at the same time. Unfortunately, this Shout is the one that I can not teach you for I do not know its words. It was made by your people to destroy mine. I do not know it.”

But I need it!” Leytiri curls her hands into fists and her nails bite into the skin of her palms. “It’s the only way we know that can destroy Alduin. I must learn that Shout. The Greybeards told me that you could help me.”

“But why?” Paarthurnax grumbles again and one of his wings catches on the wind. “Why must you destroy Alduin? What is to gain from destroying my brother?”

Leytiri gasps. “Brother?”

Paarthurnax tilts his head. “Yes, my brother. Why must you destroy him?”

“I…” Leytiri clenches her hands harder. “This is my world. It may be a fucked-up world but it’s mine. Alduin wants to destroy it. I have to stop him.”

“Hm.” Paarthurnax grumbles again. “Yes. But what if destiny dictates that this world must die to bring a new one into existence. What if, in saving this world, another cannot come into existence?”

Leytiri closes her eyes briefly, thinking her words over carefully. “Then I’m sorry for that world. But they don’t exist right now. They aren’t real. The civilians of Skyrim are real and they are suffering because of Alduin. Destiny demands that I kill Alduin so I will. Will you help me?”

His laugh fills her head her body feels lighter, happier. “Yes, little one. I will help you. But first have you wondered why I reside here on this mountain?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

Paarthurnax turns away from her to look off into the distance. The sun has begun to rise. “This is the place where Alduin was first defeated by your kind. He was not killed. Dragonrend did not kill him but it did cripple him for a time. But your kind did not only use the Shout. They also used an Elder Scroll to send him into time.”

Leytiri’s eyebrows rise and she tries to fight off her skepticism. “They sent him into the future?”

“In a way.” Paarthurnax doesn’t take his eyes off of the rising sun. “I knew that one day he would appear here. I have waited, thousands and thousands of years, I have waited for my brother to come back. You must search for the Elder Scroll. With it, you may be able to take yourself back to that time to learn the Shout to destroy my brother. Go now and find it.”

Paarthurnax moves towards the ruin and Leytiri watches him. She had no idea where to start looking for the Elder Scroll. Perhaps she would go speak to Arngeir, or maybe Esbern. Or both. If the two of them could get along that would work out for all of Skyrim. She needed that Scroll.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands inside High Hrothgar once again. It had not been a hard decision to come speak with Arngeir over Esbern. Esbern had been kind to her, but Arngeir had worried her when he said that Esbern and Delphine wanted to use her for their own ambitions. She didn’t know if that was true or not, but she did know that the Greybeards weren’t trying to use her. And Arngeir’s smile it… it never stopped making her think of Prentis.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Leytiri walks through the halls, past praying Greybeards, until she finds Arngeir. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

Arngeir rises, smiling at her. “It is no bother, child. You return from Paarthurnax, stronger than you were before. Was he able to help you?”

“Yes.” Leytiri sighs. “Well, in some ways. He doesn’t know how to perform Dragonrend. But he says that I can find what I need in an Elder Scroll. And he said that you or Esbern might be able to help me find the Scroll.”

The smile slides from Argeir’s face. “The Greybeards know of such a thing but we have never cared about where the Elder Scrolls are, nor what is inside them. I’m afraid you will not find the answer to your question from me. If you wish, you can go to the College of Winterhold. They may be able to help you where I cannot.”

Leytiri smiles at him, hoping that he would return his Prentis-like smile in return. “Thank you, Arngeir. I’ll make my way to the College. I know you disagree with my association with the Blades, and it is clear to me that you don’t like the Scrolls. But thank you for helping me anyway.”

Arngeir hesitates, before he smiles back at her. “You’re welcome, child. I hope you know what you are doing.”

She nods and heads towards the door that would take her back down the mountain. The College of Winterhold… Leytiri had never been there. Whenever anyone from the Order would talk about the College it would be in disdain. According to most of the masters, the College was full of so-called mages that weren’t powerful enough for the Order. She knew that it was difficult to join the Order, and most likely thought it was easier just to go to the College.

It would be interesting to see how skilled these mages actually were.

Night has fallen by the time Leytiri’s carriage makes it to Winterhold. The wind whips around her and snow pelts her face. Perhaps it is just the darkness of the night squeezing around her, but the buildings all look cold and abandoned. Not even the inn looks inviting. Bypassing a guard, she makes her way along a path until she gets to a bridge. She starts up the bridge but stops almost immediately when an Altmer moves into the entranceway.

The woman steps toward Leytiri. “You will go no further. This bridge is dangerous, and the gate will not open for you even if you are stupid enough to try to cross. Go back.”

“I—” Leytiri looks behind the woman at the bridge. “I want to cross. I need to. There is something that the College might contain that I need.”

The woman raises her brow. “And what is it that you think you will find here?”

“I’m looking for an Elder Scroll. I’ve been informed that one of the mages here might have knowledge about the one I am seeking.”

“Aye.” The woman gestures behind her. “The knowledge that you seek might be found here. But only those that can perform magic are allowed beyond the gates. You must perform a certain spell to get in.”

Leytiri sighs. “I’ll do whatever you want. But the reason why I need the Scroll is more important than your tests. I’m the Dragonborn and I need that Scroll to defeat Alduin.”

The woman cocks her head, her lips parting. “The Dragonborn? Never mind about the spell, I want to see you Shout. Can you show me your Shout?”

Nodding, Leytiri turns away from the woman and stares back down the path leading towards the town. She takes a deep breath and Shouts her fire at the ground. The woman laughs and even claps her hands a couple of times. “Good! I never thought I would see such a thing. I do believe our Master Wizard, Mirabelle, would be most pleased to have you join the College. I’m Faralda, follow me.”

Leytiri follows the woman down the bridge until they take a right. In front of them stands a massive building, as cold and abandoned looking like the town below, but yet still holds a certain… magical life within. Part of her wishes to leave as these mages weren’t her people. They were weaker than the Order. But part of her wants to go inside and learn more magic. She was an apprentice at the Order, not a master, and there was so much magic she had yet to learn. Would it be so bad to gain more knowledge here?

As the two approach the gate, it opens magically and Leytiri can’t hide her smile. This place was far cooler than the Order temple ever was! They step through into a courtyard where two people stand, seemingly in argument.

Faralda looks over at Leytiri. “The woman is Mirabelle. The man she is talking to is named Ancano. I would stay away from him as much as you can.”

Ancano turns towards Leytiri and Faralda and sneers at them. He’s attractive, in an arrogant sort of way, and Leytiri always thought Altmer men were incredibly handsome. But there was something off putting about this man. Without saying anything to either her or Faralda, he turns away and walks inside the College. Mirabelle sighs and turns in their direction.

“Welcome Leytiri.”

Leytiri swallows and she balls her hands into fists to stop them from trembling. “How do you know my name?”

Mirabelle smiles and reaches into a bag at her side. “You are the Dragonborn. News of your deeds have reached us even here in the north. Is it true that you can Shout?”

Faralda grins. “Yes! She did it for me. It was the most magnificent thing I have ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit here.”

“Aye.” Mirabelle pulls robes out of her bag and hands them to Leytiri. “You are free to wear whatever clothing you wish but these are for you. Would you like me to show you around the College before I take you to your first class or would you like to look around on your own first?”

Instead of answering her, Leytiri looks down at the robes in her hand. How quickly she had given up wearing the robes she’d always worn at the Order. Robes had always been part of her life. They weren’t allowed to wear anything else, save for in bed. And these robes were so different in color than the Order’s. Blue and white and brown instead of the Order black with gold trim. She wanted to wear them, and she didn’t want to at the same time. It felt like a betrayal to her people. Her family. The family that had kicked her out for defending her own life.

“I—” Leytiri clears her throat. “I would like to learn here. But my Dragonborn duties must come first. When I have defeated Alduin, I will return. But first I need to find someone here that I can talk to about the Elder Scrolls.”

Mirabelle stares at Leytiri for a few seconds before she speaks. “That is fine. You will want to report to the Arcanaeum then. It is the door on the right as soon as you enter the College. Go and speak to Urag. But… do be careful not to damage any books or scrolls or there. He is quite particular about them.”

Leytiri thanks the woman and walks inside. She opens the door on her right and heads up the stairs until she walks into a room with the largest collection of books she’d ever seen. Wanting to stay and look, but knowing that she can’t, Leytiri walks through the room until she gets to a desk where an old Orc sits.

The Orc, Urag, looks up at her and growls. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for a scroll.” Leytiri swallows hard. Damn, he made her nervous! “An Elder Scroll.”

Urag laughs. “Oh, you’re just looking for an Elder Scroll, are you? There isn’t one at the College. If there was, it would be under the greatest protections and not for your eyes.”

“Okay, so it’s not here.” Leytiri grits her teeth. “But do you know where it is? I’m the Dragonborn and I need it.”

The man stops laughing and he stares at her. “Are you truly the Dragonborn? I… I will give you the information you seek.”

The Orc rises and walks to a cabinet. He pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the lock, reaches in, and grabs two books. Leytiri watches as he sets them down on the desk. “These are for you, girl. Read them but be careful! Do not spill anything on them.”

Leytiri sighs and picks up both books before walking to a table to sit. She’d be in for a long night now.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands outside of Septimus Signus’ outpost, tucking her frozen fingers into her armpits to try to make them warm again. The outpost wasn’t terribly far from the College but it was in a frozen wasteland. Leytiri couldn’t count the number of times she’d fallen into the ice-cold water trying to make it out here. When that damn Orc told her she’d have to come out here to meet Septimus she’d prayed he’d been joking.

He hadn’t.

So Leytiri left the College, walked down a hill, and trudged through the snow and ice and cold to try to find the outpost. Her heart had leapt into her throat when she saw the outpost standing out in the middle of the sea on a large chunk of ice with smaller chunks surrounding it. She knew she would have to jump from each of the pieces of ice to the next and that thought made her want to turn back and hide while Alduin destroyed the world.

Never had Leytiri wished that she were more athletic. There was simply no need for it growing up in the Order. The Masters sometimes left but as an Apprentice there was almost no need for her to. Until she’d left the Order the most she’d ever done was run to catch up to Prentis or flee from DarJi after stealing his pieces of fish. She’d been foolish to think she could outrun a Khajiit despite his old age. Oh, she’d gotten the worst spanking of her life after that. He’d dragged her across his knee and spanked her right in front of the Zyon. Not even Prentis could save her from her punishment.

DarJi… she missed him. He’d been one of the Masters to exile her but she couldn’t blame him for that. He’d longed to find her innocent but he couldn’t. A part of her wished that she’d been smarter and hadn’t kept the dagger. It was foolish of her to hold onto it all those years. If she hadn’t, she could be at the temple, messing with DarJi and making him chase her down.

And Caltar. Leytiri missed him too. Kin of her blood. He was an old grump but he loved her. Once, when she’d had a nightmare, he’d come to her room when Prentis was gone and had rocked her back and forth in his arms. He had wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her forehead when he laid her back in bed. And then there was the time she’d gotten a fever and the Order feared she’d die. While Arella and Prentis looked for herbs to heal her, it was Caltar who sat with her long into the night full of heat and fear.

He and DarJi and Arella and Prentis had all been Leytiri’s parents. Aerinth wasn’t interested in being anything more to her than a teacher. Miraana had only been a jealous bitch to her. And the Zyon had more important things to do than chase after a disobedient child. But Caltar, DarJi, Arella, and Prentis had all tried to raise her. DarJi was her disciplinarian. Caltar was as well, sometimes, and he never gave her special treatment over other Apprentices because of her blood as an Altmer, but he also forced her to read. He wanted to make sure she was wise and not just rely on the strength of her magic like DarJi wanted. Arella was the person who coddled her and told her she was special. And Prentis… oh, her beloved Prentis. She never knew her father but she often wished, and sometimes even pretended, that he was the man who brought her into the world.

She missed them. How she missed them. Did they miss her too? At Falkreath, Leytiri had heard the anguish in Arella’s voice as she called out to her. Arella still loved her and hadn’t found her guilty. Perhaps she’d been foolish to flee. A piece of Leytiri wished that she’d ran back to Arella and let the older woman wrap her in her arms. Would she be living this nightmare now if she’d just run back to Arella instead of away from her?

Would Leytiri be the Dragonborn if she’d not gone to Helgen and Whiterun and everywhere else?

Leytiri wiggles her toes, realizing that she’d been standing in the freezing cold for so long her limbs were becoming stiff and numb. She sighs and opens the door to the outpost. She walks down a path until she comes across a room below her. Sunlight streams in from the ice above her. She shivers. What would happen to this place if the ice melted?

A man paces down below Leytiri and she clears her throat before walking the rest of the way down the path, into the room below her. The man doesn’t seem to notice her standing there so she clears her throat. “Excuse me, Septimus?”

Septimus looks at her, irritation on his face. “What is it?”

Leytiri smiles at him, trying to ease his anger. “I’m looking for an Elder Scroll. I’ve heard that you used to study them.”

The man waves a hand dismissively at her and turns back to a book open on the table. “I know of the location of one. Or at least, I know where one is supposed to be. If it’s not there then I don’t know where one is. It is in this world. In this plane. In Tamriel. In Skyrim. I know where it is.”

“I—” Leytiri’s lips start to tremble from the cold and she tries to firm them. “I know it’s here in Skyrim. I just need to know where it is.”

Septimus looks up from his book. “I will tell you where the Scroll is if you do something for me.”

“Fine.” Leytiri resists the urge to roll her eyes. These people wouldn’t stop sending her on useless quests! “What do you want from me?”

“Take these things.” Septimus passes over a brown lexicon and some type of sphere. “Take them! They will get you into Alftand and Tower Mzark until you get down, down, down into the dark of Blackreach. What you will find down there with the lexicon and attunement sphere will help you read the Elder Scroll. The Scroll will damage your eyes so you must do this task. You must! Now out, out, out! I have much to do and you are in my way.”

Bewildered, Leytiri watches Septimus move around the, well, she couldn’t even call it a room, for a few more seconds before she walks back up the path to leave the outpost. She’d heard of Alftand before but was unfamiliar with Mzark or Blackreach. Thankfully the place was only a little bit southwest of the College. She’d be there by nightfall if the weather didn’t start acting up again.

Soon, soon she would have the Elder Scroll. Soon she would discover the Shout that would make Alduin fall from the sky.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands just inside the Alftand ruins, breathing on her fingers to try to warm them up. It hadn’t been the easiest trek, from the outpost to here, but she’d made it. Her bag jiggled with ice wraith teeth and several sabre cat eyes. They’d all been easy to kill with the exception of one feisty sabre cat. The teeth excited her the most. They were worth thirty septims to the right buyer!

Sighing, Leytiri puts her hand on her bag to stop it from making noise and lowers into a crouch. She didn’t know what kind of nasty, creepy crawly monsters would be in the ruins and should be careful. She moves forward up wooden stairs and past several barrels. When she turns one corner she stops. Ahead of her, she can see a lit lantern. The flame dances merrily but Leytiri resists an urge to groan. Someone had lit that lantern.

And they were likely still in there with her.

Moving forward, Leytiri peeks down the hallway but doesn’t see anyone. Ahead of her sits a chest and she opens it as quietly as she can. Inside is an amethyst and gold. She pockets all of it and moves away from the chest. In the next room she finds four bedrolls and an empty bottle of wine. She represses another sigh. The only thing she could do is hope these four people were friendly. But something told her they were either dead or very, very unfriendly.

Leytiri continues on down a hill and across a wooden bridge. She stops dead when she hears a man speaking. He’s not very loud, and she can’t hear everything he says, but she does catch the word “Skooma.” It takes a great deal of effort not to groan. Of course, it was just her luck that she’d find some kind of Skooma addict down in a dark, dank dungeon. Hopefully he wouldn’t fight her.

Slowly, Leytiri rounds each corner she passes, expecting the man to jump out at her but he doesn’t. She makes her way down a hallway until she comes across a room with water gushing from a pipe overhead. At the bottom of another hill, Leytiri can see another lantern flickering. The man couldn’t be to far ahead of her. Going down the hill at a slower pace than before, she passes the lantern and rounds a corner.

On the ground ahead of Leytiri sits a dead Dwarven spider. She checks out its body and finds a gold ore. The only thing that kept her from jumping up and down in excitement was knowing there was someone down there with her. That ore could get here at least forty septims! If she found more that could really help her buy a house in Skyrim.

In Skyrim… Leytiri couldn’t remember the exact moment she decided to live in Skyrim if she survived the fight against Alduin. For so long after leaving the Order all she had wanted to do was escape. But now she could see herself living in a house, perhaps Breezehome in Whiterun, and get married. Maybe have a child or two. Have a life.

But first she needed to get that Scroll. And that was what she was here in this horrible dungeon for.

Leytiri moves forward until she comes across a table with several Dwarven spiders on it. Next to the table is a door with metal bars covering it. She looks around both the table and the walls but can’t find a lever or anything that might open the bars. Disappointed, she moves around the table after looting it and towards another area. A loud noise sounds through the room and suddenly scurrying feet rush towards her. In surprise, Leytiri Shouts her fire at the spider and it stumbles to the right, disoriented. She pulls her sword and drives it down into the center of the spider’s body.

After checking the body and finding nothing of value, Leytiri moves past it, down a small hall, and up a flight of steps. At the top of the stairs another Dwarven spider leaps at her and she quickly cuts it in half with her sword. As she moves down the hall, a gush of cold air hits her and she shivers. On the ground further ahead is a torch that is still alight. Her grip on her sword tightens and she hopes the Skooma addict isn’t head.

Remaining in a crouched position, Leytiri moves forward and stops at the body of another spider and a chest. She checks them and finds malachite ore and a gorgeous silver sapphire necklace that she knew would be worth at least a few hundred septims. The Skooma addict had to be insane to just leave all these things behind. Leytiri might be able to buy her house just from taking things in this ruin alone.

Another spider drops down from the ceiling as Leytiri walks down the hallway and she shoots flames at it from her free hand, not wanting to tire herself out by using her sword too much. She rounds a corner and finds yet another torch on the ground. The flames feel warm on her cheeks and part of her longs to sit by the fire for a few minutes to warm up. The other part of her is dying to get out of this spider infested ruin. Even if those spiders weren’t real spiders and made wonderful presents inside of them.

Before Leytiri makes it all the way down another hill she can hear a voice up ahead. It’s the same voice as last time and he sounds angry. A Khajiit rounds the corner and he looks up at her furiously. “You took my Skooma!”

“I—” Leytiri watches as the man pulls a knife. “No, I didn’t, I—”

Not listening to her, the Khajiit moves towards her quickly and she brings up her sword just barely in enough time to stop his blow. The Khajiit stumbles back and before he can raise his knife again Leytiri Shouts her fire at him alongside her sparks. The man’s fur ignites on fire as waves of electricity strike him. He screams in agony and Leytiri brings up her sword and swiftly slices his neck. She hoped the Skooma or the withdrawal from lack of Skooma had eased the pain somewhat. If not… he felt no pain now.

Leytiri moves past his corpse and down another hall. There had been four bedrolls further up but she wondered if there were any more people down ahead of her. The Khajiit had seemed insane from the Skooma and perhaps he’d killed his companions or, worse, had stumbled on strangers in the dark. And killed them. Because he was insane and thought they stole his Skooma. She needed to get the hell out of there.

As she moves around yet another corner, Leytiri stops. Ahead of her is a man, another Khajiit, but he is dead. His body was covered in blood and the ground surrounding him was too. It looks like the first Khajiit had hacked the poor man to pieces. Leytiri’s stomach rolls at the sight of intestines peeking out from the man’s open stomach. Had they both been Skooma addicts? Had this one stole the first Khajiit’s Skooma? Did she really want to know the truth?

Loud noises from ahead draws Leytiri’s attention and she moves past the body. She walks down a small hill and finds a table with two spiders on it. Quickly, she loots anything good from their bodies and moves around a corner. She doesn’t make it far into the next room before a large Dwarven sphere lunges towards her. Noticing oil on the ground, she Shouts her fire at the oil and it spreads to ignite the sphere. Despite being on fire, it continues to move towards her though at a much slower pace. Leytiri brings up her sword and smashes it down on the things head twice before it falls to the ground.

Breathing hard, Leytiri lowers herself back into a crouch and walks down several hallways until she comes across a large room. Two spiders jump out at her but, noticing more oil on the floor, she shoots flames at the floor and it ignites both spiders, killing them both at the same time. She moves past them to a door and opens it. At the end of a hallway, she finds a chest. To the left of her is another hallway, to the right, the same. She closes her eyes and thinks for a few moments before turning to the left. Hopefully, this was the right way to go.

Along the hallway another spider attacks her but she quickly kills it. After walking for a while, Leytiri finds herself in a room full of large pipes. Shockingly, the pipes along the wall shoot out periodically and she can tell it would knock her to the floor. She sighs and moves slowly along the wall until she gets to the first pipe. She waits until the pipe shoots out and comes back in before she moves past it. She does this with all of the pipes until she gets to the other side of the room. There, two spiders attack her and she quickly kills them. She moves along the other side of the room until she comes across another door. Taking a deep breath, she opens it, hoping that she was getting close to the end.

Leytiri moves along a hallway until she comes across a door. She opens it and walks into another large room. She kills a spider and walks up the stairs until she comes across a stairwell with a long hole gouged in the middle all the way up. Suspecting a trap, Leytiri pulls out one of her dwarven gyros and throws it halfway up the stairs. A trap springs forward at the top of the stairs and moves down, blades swinging, until it gets to the bottom. She notices that the blades don’t reach the wall, so she runs up the stairs and presses herself against the wall until the blades pass her, then continue up the stairs.

At the top, Leytiri finds Chaurus egg snacks and she grimaces as she takes the eggs. It was disgusting, but they fetched a great price at the store. And were useful in potions as well. Moving forward, Leytiri walks into a cavernous room with a spiraling staircase. Slowly, she begins to walk down it. When she gets to the bottom she jumps down to a platform below her, landing on and killing a spider in the process, and continues down the stairs.

She doesn’t get very far before a Falmer shouts at her before pulling his bow to shoot at her. Leytiri sees one of the pipes that push out and she eases herself back up the stairs and away from the Falmer. It follows her and she waits until it gets close before she shoves it towards the pipe. It pushes the Falmer off of the stairs and it falls screaming to the ground. Trying not to feel bad, Leytiri runs down the stairs, killing two more Falmer, before she gets to a door that has flames shooting from the ceiling and floor. She eases past the flames, thankful for her thinness, and through the door.

Leytiri comes across another large room and at the bottom of the stairs are two Falmer. She kills both of them quickly and dashes into another room where a Falmer mage awaits. She Shouts her fire at the mage and cuts off it’s head when it starts to scream. The next room she enters has another spiraling stairs. She doesn’t make it very far down before three Falmer and two Frostbite spiders attack her. She Shouts her fire at them again while sending her Fury spell at one of the spiders. Her spider leaps up and bites the head off of one of the Falmer. Leytiri gags when blood shoots up from the Falmer’s neck and she uses her flames to kill the other spider and one of the Falmer.

Both she and her spider turn towards the last Falmer and they strike at the same time. Leytiri stabs him in the chest while the spider rips and tears at his legs. He falls to the ground dead and, before the spider can return to itself, she shoots another fireball at it and kills it. Grimly, she turns towards the doorway and marches towards it, not bothering to crouch and try to be sneaky. If there were more Falmer in there, and she was certain there were, they surely heard that fight.

Leytiri walks down a hallway and turns to the left. At the bottom of some stairs, she can see the door. She walks towards it, avoiding a trap laid out on the floor. When she gets to the door, she takes a deep breath and then opens it.

Hopefully she would have the Elder Scroll soon.

Chapter Text

In the next room, Leytiri eases a loaf of bread out of her bag and takes a big bite of it. It’s dry, and she wishes she had butter, but it fills her belly. Her eyes scan the room and she finds two tables, one bearing a potion that she pockets. To the right side, however, there are three panels on the floor that are slightly raised. She rolls her eyes and steps around them carefully. Whoever set these traps really needs to learn how to do it better.

When Leytiri rounds the corner, she sees a Falmer. It draws its bow but Leytiri shouts her fire at it. The creature screams and she dashes forward, knocks it to the ground, and slits its throat. She crouches down and listens hard but doesn’t hear any other Falmer. Slowly, she eases the door behind the Falmer and makes her way up a flight of stairs. At the top, two Falmer launch themselves at her. One a mage, the other an archer. She sends out her familiar to attack the mage while she ducks to avoid an arrow. As the archer reaches for another arrow, she darts forward and knocks the bow out of his hand. The creature screams in rage and throws itself at her, but she brings her sword back and runs it through its chest, right into the heart.

As Leytiri turns towards the mage, she watches her familiar disappear. The Falmer is half dead, but it still lifts up its staff to attack. She dodges the blasts of magic before darting forward and slamming her helmeted head into the Falmer’s. The mage falls to the ground and before it can get up again, Leytiri slices her sword through the air and cuts the thing’s throat. Silence surrounds them, the bodies and Leytiri, as she stares down at the staff.

It was just one more thing that reminded Leytiri of her past. She’d never liked a staff and preferred to use magic without one. Even though it was harder. Arella, Aerinth, and Miraana all preferred to use a staff. DarJi thought they made a mage look foolish. Caltar thought they were for show. Prentis didn’t care either way. And the Zyon, the most powerful of the Order, had no need for a staff when he was the most skilled mage there.

Gods, how she missed them. Even the nasty Miraana.

Leytiri sighs and picks up the staff before strapping it to her back, under her bow. She would not use it, no, but she would keep it. Truth be told, her sword felt much more natural in her hands than the staff. The staff did infuriate her though. A staff was created by man and yet the Order still used it. The staff channeled their magic and made it more powerful. But it was not a natural weapon like their magic. They could hit someone over the head with a staff. They could stab someone in the eye with the end. It was a weapon.

Angered, Leytiri walks around a well of water and towards the stairs but stops when she gets to iron bars. She looks to the left and right but doesn’t see a level to pull. Turning around, she spots stairs behind her and she makes her way up them. At the top she finds two chests, which she takes the gold and other treasures from, and a level. She pulls it and watches the gates down below open.

Quickly, Leytiri rushes down the stairs and through the gate. Knowing there could be more Falmer ahead, she eases herself down into a crouch and walks up the stairs. As she approaches the top, she can hear the same noise the Dwarven spiders make and she smiles grimly. They were pretty easy to kill, despite being scary looking. This would go over easily. But when she gets to the top of the stairs, she quickly throws herself out of the way as a Dwarven behemoth throws an arm at her.

Leytiri groans as her knees skid against the hard floor but forces herself to rise to avoid the Centurion again. She’d heard of these beasts from Prentis, who said they were his least favorite enemy to fight in a dungeon. She shoots her fire at the Centurion but it doesn’t seem to have much effect on it. Centering herself, she holds up one hand and the other before releasing both her familiar and her flame atronach at the Centurion. They both strike it at the same time, and it seems almost… confused at which one it wanted to fight more. Leytiri watches, sword drawn, as the familiar bites and growls and the atronach shoots balls of flames. The Centurion whips back and forth, trying to attack both at the same time. The familiar grips the Centurion by its foot and it falls flat on the ground. Seeing her chance, Leytiri rushes forward and hits it over and over and over again on its head. It stops moving and she watches as her familiar and atronach disappear.

Breathing hard, Leytiri turns and heads up one more flight of stairs, coming upon a door. Some type of dwarven device stands in front of her but before she can investigate it, voices from ahead make her look up to see two people arguing. They attack each other, and Leytiri crouches down behind the dwarven device to allow them to kill each other. The man brings down the woman with a single swing of his sword, cutting her head clean off. Leytiri sighs and moves out of her hiding place. The man swings his sword at her but she shouts her fire at him. The flames ignite his boots and he screams, trying to put it out. Knowing that he’s a stronger fighter than her, Leytiri waits until the man starts stamping his feet, not looking at her, before she stabs him through the back of his head and out the front.

It takes her some time to get her blade free before Leytiri walks back to the dwarven device. She presses a button and the floor opens up beneath her. Taking a deep breath, she walks down the stairs until she reaches a door, which she opens. But when she walks through the door, she stops dead.

The cavern is huge, with long, stringy blue things hanging from the ceiling. It gives the room an unworldly, blue glow. Down below, Leytiri can see a Dwarven sphere. But she has no urge to go fight it, no, all she wants is to turn around and run back the way she came. The room was completely eerie looking and she wanted no part of it. But there was no other choice before her. She had to go.

Slowly, Leytiri eases herself down the stairs but she doesn’t get far before the Dwarven sphere rolls towards her. She backs up the stairs a few steps to get the high ground and slashes her sword against the middle of the sphere. It falls to the ground but a Falmer rushes past it, swiping his sword in her direction. She shouts her fire at it and the flames ignite the cloth around its nether regions. Before it can begin to scream Leytiri finishes it off with her sword through the gut.

Swallowing, Leytiri looks down at both “bodies” before her. She always had felt sorry for the Falmer and how they became what they are now. It wasn’t their fault. Fighting back tears, Leytiri walks the rest of the way down the stairs and across a courtyard. In the distance she can see more Falmer so she crouches, not wanting to fight, but instead get the hell out of there as fast as humanly possible. She walks up a hill, and down, and up another. In the distance she can see a castle to the right but a smaller building to the left. She weighs her options before heading in the direction of the smaller building. She didn’t want to imagine how many Falmer were packed into the castle.

Leytiri is only forced to kill two more Falmer on her way to the small building, who she dispatches quickly. The ground and walls are littered with ingredients but she doesn’t pick a single one. This place creeped her out and all she wanted was to get away from it. Instead, she presses deeper into the cavern until she gets to the bridge leading to the small building. Praying that it is the right place, she crosses the bridge and opens the door, finding a lever. She pulls it and the lift goes up.

In the next room, Leytiri finds a bed roll, a firepit, and a table with scrolls on it. Her eyes narrow as she looks around the room. No one rushes out at her and she can’t hear any movement. Whoever is here with her must be further inside. Crouching, Leytiri moves forward through the door but once inside she stands straight. A large, gold sphere stands before her and to her left she can see a pathway leading up.

Nervously, Leytiri walks up the path, keeping a firm grip on her sword. There was someone in there with her, she could feel it. But when she gets to the top of the path, there’s no one there. Up in the air, light is streaming into the building from some type of machine. On the ground, in the middle of the room, is a gold floor with a circle in the middle. Instead of investigating the floor, Leytiri walks up the stairs to a platform. Five gold statues stand there, with blue buttons on the top. To the right of them, stands another statue that looks like it could hold something. Leytiri remembers the cube that she received for this quest and placed it inside.

Instantly, the strange device on the ceiling starts to swirl and one of the buttons on the statues glows a brighter blue. Leytiri sighs and looks at each of the buttons. She pushes the one on the far right but it doesn’t do anything. The two on the left weren’t lit up at all. So, she pushes the first two buttons multiple times before realizing the first one on the right wouldn’t do anything at all. She pushes the one second to the right four times, and that’s when the apparatus at the top moves from the ceiling to the walls. The button on the left lights up and Leytiri pushes it twice, watching the apparatus move more. Finally, the last button on the left lights up and she pushes it.

Transfixed, Leytiri watches as a giant green crystal is brought from the ceiling down to the ground and it opens slowly. Even from this distance, Leytiri can tell that it is the Elder Scroll. Forcing back a cheer, she moves down the steps and over onto the gold floor. She stares at the scroll before her for a few seconds. This would help her defeat Alduin. And once she has defeated Alduin she could live a normal life.

Leytiri reaches out and picks up the Elder Scroll, expecting it to blast her with lightning or something else crazy. But it doesn’t do anything to her at all. It doesn’t even tingle. Disappointed, she carefully tucks the scroll into her bag and turns towards the door. She takes one last look around at the room but doesn’t see anyone. She moves towards the door.

She would take the Scroll to Paarthurnax but first she would stop in Whiterun. Using both the familiar and atronach at the same time had drained her of her magic. And she was exhausted, too exhausted to climb that fucking mountain. No, she would go rest at Whiterun and then she would make her way to Paarthurnax to learn the Shout that would destroy Alduin forever.

Chapter Text

Leytiri sips her Honningbrew Mead and looks around the room. Once she arrived in Whiterun earlier that evening, Balgruuf had sent a messenger down to invite her to spend some time in Dragonsreach. Once she got inside, multiple people tried to pull her down to the seats next to them to ask her how her quest to defeat Alduin was going. They all looked at her with so much hope. She would save them from the dragons.

It was a strange feeling. Leytiri sometimes had a big head but this… respect felt odd. She felt like she didn’t deserve it. What would the Order think of her now?

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Leytiri looks down at the bottle of mead. She was quite drunk, and over the last few hours many people had shoved bottle after bottle into her hand. Prentis never allowed her more than one glass with her dinner. And often she didn’t even finish that glass. She wasn’t used to this much mead. Perhaps she should leave before she embarrassed herself.

A heavy hand falls on her shoulder and she looks up to see Jarl Balgruuf standing above her. His smiles at her, a change from his usual gruff attitude. “May I sit?”

Leytiri laughs and gestures to the empty seats beside her. “This is your home, Jarl. Of course, you may sit.”

The man grunts as he plops down in a seat next to her and she gazes at him, thinking. He was tall, much taller than her, not that that was a hard thing to do. It was true, he was older than her. He had children that were half her age. Small wrinkles are around his eyes and the hair around his temples were beginning to gray. Still, he was tall, athletically built, and still handsome. It had been a while since her last time with someone.

Stop, what the fuck was she thinking? Jarl Balgruuf was married. That was one line that she refused to cross.

Balgruuf reaches forward and takes her bottle of mead. He brings it to his lips and takes a drink. When he hands it back to her, his lips glisten. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Leytiri takes the bottle and takes a large swig before placing it back on the table, hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.” Balgruuf laughs softly and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You’re looking at me like you want me to fuck you on the table, here, now.”

“What?!” Leytiri glances around the room, but there were so few people left. Irileth stands next to the Jarl’s chair, glaring at the two of them. Balgruuf’s brother is halfway through his sixth bottle of wine, oblivious to them. The only other people were maids, and they weren’t close enough to hear Balgruuf. She turns back to him. “You can’t say anything like that. You’re a Jarl. And I wasn’t thinking that anyways.”

Balgruuf laughs again and takes another drink of the mead. “You weren’t? Then why were you staring so hard? You think I’m handsome.”

The denial that Leytiri longs to throw back at him dies on her lips. It was true that she thought him handsome. It was true that she was caught staring. She lowers her voice. “I do think you’re handsome. I did stare. But I don’t want you to fuck me on the table.”

Blue eyes stare back at her for a few seconds before Balgruuf lowers his voice as well. “If you don’t want me to take you on the table, where do you want me to?”

Leytiri can’t stop the vivid images that burst into her mind. Herself, flat on her back and in his bed, crying out his name with his head between her legs. She shoves that thought away and tries to glare at him, knowing, by his laugh, that she failed to look as fierce as she wanted.

“You’re married!” Leytiri hisses. “You have a wife.”

Balgruuf’s easy smile forms into a bitter look and he frowns before taking a longer swig of the mead, emptying the bottle. He places the bottle on the table much harder than necessary and Leytiri can hear the glass crack. He looks back at her. “I am married. I have a wife. But my wife and I are… estranged. We have been for years. She actually spends most of her time in Solitude now. Our marriage is one of convenience, not love. We are both free to seek our pleasures elsewhere.”

“I—” Leytiri frowns, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged without knowing the situation.”

“It’s fine.” Balgruuf waves his hand and rises from his seat. “So will you be joining me for the evening or shall I go to bed alone?”

Leytiri stares up at him. It had been a while since she went to bed with Sorex in Solitude. And longer still since Revyn. And Jarl Balgruuf was a handsome man. It would be an enjoyable night.

Balgruuf holds out his hand and Leytiri slides hers into his. He pulls her upright, his hands reaching down to steady her as she sways from the drink, and slowly leads her to the stairs going to his quarters. Irileth rolls her eyes when they pass but doesn’t follow them. The stairs take forever for them to climb, both of them drunk. Balgruuf chuckles and leans down to her ear, growling into it. “I should’ve just fucked you on the table.”

“Aye.” Leytiri leans heavily into him as he practically carries her the rest of the way up the flight of stairs. “Much less work than this. How much farther?”

The two of them round the corner and Leytiri’s eyes land on a table and another flight of stairs. She groans. Balgruuf squeezes her against his side and chuckles again. “As much as I’d like to on the table, I think we should go up the stairs. Irileth might come up here and murder us if we do it here.”

Groaning, Leytiri slides one of her arms around his hips and allows him to pull her to the stairs. It’s a slow walk, but they finally make it up them and through a door. The Jarl’s quarters are large, but what stands out the most is the staircase leading up. She sighs and looks at Balgruuf. He looks back at her, smiling, and answers her unasked question. “Yes. My room is up the stairs. You’ll need to be quiet in the hall. My children are asleep.”

Apprehension begins to build up in Leytiri as the two climb the, hopefully, last flight of steps. He was married and had children. What if he was lying about his situation? What if his wife didn’t live in Solitude but was just visiting? No… he seemed the honorable sort. He also seemed upset when she’d thrown his marriage back into his face. Perhaps he’d once wanted the marriage to work but it didn’t.

Balgruuf leads Leytiri up the last few steps, past closed doors, and into the last bedroom on the left. He closes the door behind them and she turns to look at him. He stares at her for a few seconds, his eyes sliding up and down her body, before his rough voice whispers. “Take off your clothes.”

If Leytiri was younger, those words would have had her shedding her clothes and launching herself into the bed as quickly as she could. But she knew, even in her drunkenness, that was not what he wanted. He wanted it to last. When she arrived in Whiterun and had received the message from Balgruuf, she had removed her armor and put on the fancy clothes she’d worn to the Thalmor Embassy. They were soft, and pretty, and she’d wanted to look nice for a change.

Leytiri runs her hands down her flat stomach to the hem of her shirt and rucks it up slowly, showing off the skin of her belly to Balgruuf. He groans and moves towards the bed, sitting down on it. He spreads out his arms and leans back on them, watching her hungrily. His desire for her makes her… embarrassed. Almost like she is a virgin again. But that was silly, she hadn’t been a virgin in years.

Still, Leytiri feels self-conscious as she pulls her shirt the rest of the way off and throws it to the ground. Her breasts are bound with cloth, and she slowly unties it before letting it snake its way down her chest and to the floor. Her hand goes down to her breeches but stops when Balgruuf leans forward and grunts out a “No.”

Balgruuf spreads his legs wider, inviting her to stand between them. She notices that while she’d been untying her cloth, he’d removed his shirt and boots, leaving only his breeches on. His chest was heavily muscled, and a light smattering of blonde hair stretched across it. There was more hair on his belly, trailing down beneath his breeches. She’d always liked chest hair and seeing it on him made her more excited.

Leytiri moves in-between Balgruuf’s legs and he presses them together, locking her in his grip. He buries his face against her chest, mouthing the skin of one of her breasts. Her head tilts back, a long groan escaping her lips, and she rocks her hips forward slightly. Fuck, she was not going to last long like this and he was barely touching her. Balgruuf’s hands slide down her back to her breeches and, gripping her buttocks, yanks her harder against him. She moans loudly, wetness beginning to pool in her undergarments.

Balgruuf chuckles and he pulls away from her breasts, where red marks were beginning to appear from his beard. “Sweet Leytiri, little flower, it appears to me that you like it rough.”

Memories form in her mind, showing her Clavicus and Sorex and Revyn, all who had been rough with her when she wanted it. She’d even, fucked up as it sounds, gotten off with Tovarr when he’d spanked her. That memory slams into her hard and she shivers. Balgruuf’s eyes fill with concern and his hands, rough and callused, come up to cup her face gently. “Where’d you go just now, little flower?”

The endearment almost brings Leytiri to tears but instead she smiles as reassuringly as she can. “Nowhere, I was just thinking. I do like it rough, though not very rough. I like it gentle as well. Honestly, I just like it. Lots of it.”

“Hm.” Balgruuf’s eyes clearly tells Leytiri that he doesn’t believe her but he doesn’t push either. “I was going to fuck you hard and quick, little flower. I’ve wanted to since you arrived in Whiterun a couple months ago. But I think what you need right now is a gentle touch. Will you let me love you for the night, little flower?”

Heat fills Leytiri’s cheeks. No one ever really used the word “love” around Leytiri. Not Clavicus, who’d slept with her many times over the years. Not even Prentis, whom she knew loved her with his whole heart, had said that word to her. Only her mother had said that word to her. So many years ago. She knew that Balgruuf didn’t love her. He had a wife, an estranged wife, was lonely, and merely lusted for her. But… she wanted his soft touch regardless. It would have been so much easier to bend over the bed and let him take her roughly but that’s not what she wanted. Not really.

Balgruuf waits for Leytiri to nod before his hands slide down her neck to her collar to her breasts. Firm hands squeeze. He pulls away from her slightly and looks up into her eyes. “Unbraid your hair, little flower. I want to see your blonde hair tumbling around your shoulders.”

As Balgruuf lowers his hands along her stomach, tickling the skin there, Leytiri reaches up and slowly unbraids her hair, letting the wavy locks fall, reaching her mid-back. Balgruuf pulls a strand of it to his lips, letting it slide through his fingers.

Leytiri can barely breathe as Balgruuf’s hands find her breeches and undo them. He slides the material down her legs, and she uses his shoulders to help her lift her legs and kick them away. His hands slide over her hips, around to her buttocks, and down her legs. Boldly, he lifts her up onto his lap, making her gasp, and swings her around to land on her back on the bed. She grunts as the air leaves her lungs but she doesn’t care. Never had she wanted someone more than in this moment.

Balgruuf abruptly stands and Leytiri whines, not even a little bit embarrassed by her desperation. He chuckles again. “Be patient, little flower. I’m going to bed you, don’t worry. I just need to get something first.”

Frustrated, Leytiri watches from her place on the bed as Balgruuf opens a cabinet and pulls out a clear bottle with what looks like oil inside it. He comes back to the bed and throws the bottle next to where she lay. “What is that?”

“It’s oil.” Balgruuf’s hands travel down to his breeches and starts tugging on the strings there. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you or anything. It’ll help you take my cock easier.”

Leytiri picks up the bottle and peers at it. “I won’t need it. It doesn’t matter how big you are.”

“Hm.” Balgruuf allows his breeches to slide to the ground and he steps out of them. “If the intention was to fuck you hard and rough then no, I might not use the oil. I’d want you to feel me for days. But my intention is to love you. So, I will use the oil.”

“Well—” Leytiri’s eyes travel down Balgruuf’s firm body and land on his cock. It’s reddish, and long. Thick as well. A little bit of his seed leaks from the tip and she wants to lick it. But he was right, it’d probably hurt her. He was barely smaller than Sorex and she’d felt the effects of his rough fucking for several days. It’d been hard to go to the Thalmor Embassy afterwards. Balgruuf was larger than Clavicus and Tovarr as well.

Fuck! Don’t think about Tovarr!

Balgruuf’s eyes fill with the same concern that appeared there earlier. “If you do not wish for me to bed you, all you have to say is no. We can just sleep.”

Leytiri shakes her head roughly. “No, I want you to bed me. Now. Please.”

The concern doesn’t leave Balgruuf’s eyes, instead growing larger. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Leytiri spreads her legs, inviting him to slide between her thighs. “I want you inside me. Please.”

Balgruuf cocks his head and stares at her for a moment, contemplating something. Leytiri smiles and spreads her legs farther. Balgruuf nods and approaches the bed, settling on his knees before her. His hot breath swirls around her breasts but his lips don’t touch. Rough hands massage their way down her chest to her belly to her hips before they land on her knees, pushing her legs to the side as far as they would go.

Leytiri groans when Balgruuf’s tongue dips into her naval and then slides a wet trail down to the dampness between her legs. His beard tickles her and unexpectedly a wave of arousal fills her. His eyes meet hers. “May I have a taste?”

Nodding, Leytiri arches her back, trying to get closer to him. His request, instead of just doing it, made it all the more intense for her. Callused fingers grip her thighs gently and Balgruuf’s face disappears in-between her legs. A moment later, wet lips brush against her sex and her hips buck up. Balgruuf’s hands tighten around her thighs and his tongue laps against her once, twice, three times, longer each time, making Leytiri’s hips thrust up again and again.

“Mm. More.” Leytiri covers her mouth with her hand, mindful of the noises she was beginning to make. “More.”

Balgruuf pulls his face from her sex, his lips wet and eyes blown wide from desire. His voice comes out deeper than usual when he says, “don’t cover your mouth. No one can hear you in here, no matter how loud you get. I want to hear your pleasure.”

Leytiri gasps as Balgruuf’s head goes back to her sex and shoves his tongue inside. Her hips rock back and forth as his tongue thrusts in and out of her. Her orgasm approaches fast, and her hands go down to his hair, running fingers through blonde locks and pulling him closer if that was even possible.

But before the orgasm can claim Leytiri, Balgruuf pulls away from her. A loud, uninhibited whine leaves Leytiri’s lips before she can stop it. He chuckles and reaches for the oil, unstoppering it and pouring a generous amount on his cock. “You’re not going to release yet, little flower.” His husky voice makes Leytiri gasp again. “No. I want your walls tightening around my cock when you lose yourself. And I’m going to do it to you again and again and again. I’m going to love you thoroughly. You’re never going to forget tonight.”

Through lidded eyes, Leytiri watches as Balgruuf strokes his cock, getting the oil all over it. Her thighs tremble. She knew it was a dangerous game they were playing. Though she knew the situation between he and his wife, she also knew that he was married and it would never change. Tonight was about mutual release. Not love. But she didn’t want to stop playing the game. She wanted someone to love her, even if it wasn’t real. And if that wasn’t healthy then so be it. It was just one night.

Balgruuf crawls up the bed until they are face to face. Blue eyes meet gold and freeze. Not looking away. Leytiri longs to close her eyes, turn her head away, and lose herself into oblivion just like every other time she’d been in bed with a man. The two of them looking at each other and breathing in each other’s air was just too intimate. But she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, turn away from him. She couldn’t.

A soft moan escapes Leytiri as Balgruuf pushes the head of his cock inside her. Her eyes start to flutter close but a hand, cupped along her cheek, has her opening them again. Rough calluses press into her jaw, her cheeks, her lips as Balgruuf’s cock pushes in further. He’d been right, the oil did do wonders. Normally, she’d feel a small amount of pain at the intrusion but instead she feels just a glorious pressure.

Balgruuf seats himself fully inside of Leytiri, the back of her thighs pressed against his. She feels achingly full. Balgruuf’s lips seek hers out and they kiss, though they don’t close their eyes, tongues dancing languidly. He pulls out slightly and rocks back in gently. Leytiri’s back arches, her neck falling back and a soft groan leaves her lips. Balgruuf’s hot breath hits her cheek as he does it again.

They move against each other in soft thrusts, him barely leaving her body and her angling her hips up to greet him. Her legs rise and wrap around his hips, heels digging into his buttocks, pulling him harder against her. He groans and he pulls out further before pushing back in at the same agonizingly slow pace. Instead of irritating her, the thrust makes Leytiri’s back arch again and a long, drawn-out moan leaves her lips. Balgruuf grunts and pulls out almost all the way before thrusting back in, harder this time.

“Yes…” Leytiri’s hips jerk as her eyes close and her orgasm approaches again. “Like that please. Just like that.”

“Look at me.” Balgruuf begins to thrust harder, quicker, rougher, while taking her hands and lacing their fingers together. “Please, look at me, little flower.”

Leytiri opens her eyes and looks up at Balgruuf. Their hands were joined as surely as their bodies were below. As surely as their eyes were now. It was a deeply intimate moment. Made more so by the thrusts and cries and groans and sweat that was coming from their lovemaking. She never, ever wanted it to end.

Balgruuf’s thrusts become more erratic, losing their rhythm but not their deep, satisfying power. One of his hands releases hers and comes up to cup her face almost too hard. His other hand squeezes hers as he rocks into her faster. Balgruuf groans. “Release for me, love.”

Suddenly, Leytiri’s thighs clamp down hard upon Balgruuf’s hips and she throws back her head, a silent scream on her lips, her eyes blown wide as her orgasm rips its way through her. Her legs spasm relentlessly as her insides form an iron grip upon Balgruuf’s cock. But the entire time she doesn’t close her eyes.

Balgruuf is not long behind her. He thrusts only twice more inside of her before he stiffens and a gush of his hot seed spills inside her. He, like her, doesn’t close his eyes either. Leytiri feels tears at the corners of her eyes and his lips seek them out. Gently kissing the wetness away. He breathes hard, his chest hitting hers over and over again. Her own heart feels like it would pound right out of her chest if it could.

Sniffling, and not even knowing why she’s crying, Leytiri wonders how long they’d lay together like this. It wasn’t real. He was in need and so was she. He was lonely and so was she. She wasn’t his little flower. He didn’t love her nor wanted to make love to her. They were both playing a role. He needed a wife to adore and make love to and she needed… someone to love her because no one ever told her they did. No one, not even Prentis. Only her mother.

“Don’t cry, little flower.” Balgruuf’s lips seek out her tears again and his hot breath feels good on her skin. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Leytiri didn’t mind playing the role. Tomorrow he would be Jarl Balgruuf once again and she would be the Dragonborn. But tonight, she was his little flower. And that was perfectly fine with her.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands once again at the Throat of the World, wind and snow whipping her in the face. It was colder than the last time she’d been here. She shivers, trying to think of the warm fire from Jarl Balgruuf’s bed quarters. She wished that she was still back there. When she woke up the morning after, he’d been kissing lazily down her throat. They’d made love, as he called it, before she had to leave to come here.

It’d been intense. Leytiri feels her cheeks pink as she thinks about the fact that she had slept with a Jarl of all people. Not only a Jarl, but a Jarl who was quite possibly twice her age or more. She’d had a fair number of bedfellows in the last few years but never one that was old enough to be her father. Still, she hadn’t thought of it that way at the time. His age and experience made it, quite frankly, the greatest sex she’d ever had.

But now, Leytiri was facing down Alduin. She prayed that she would win.

Resolute, Leytiri walks the rest of the way up the hill. Paarthurnax is clinging to the side of a boulder, looking down upon her. His voice is warm in her mind. “Your mission has been a success. You have claimed the Elder Scroll. My brother is approaching. Read the scroll and learn the Shout that will make him fall from the sky.”

Leytiri can detect a note of sadness in Paarthurnax’s voice. Of course he was sad. Alduin was his brother. They shared a father. As much as Leytiri hoped for aid against Alduin it tore at her to think Paarthurnax might have to help or even be the one to kill his own brother.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Leytiri walks to the center of the mountain and pulls her scroll out. She opens the scroll but barely glances at it before bright light fills her eyes. The sky darkens into a nasty red color and she sees a man rushing towards her. She reaches for her sword but can’t feel it at her hip, making her feel vulnerable. But the man rushes past her, shouting for another woman, as if she wasn’t even there.

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri glances around the Throat of the World. Paarthurnax had disappeared but there were three people, alive, with some others dead behind them. A dragon lands and one of the men attack it. The single woman jumps onto the dragon’s back and slams her sword into its head, killing it. Leytiri swallows again. They were brave. All of them.

The three, two men and the woman who’d slayed the dragon, meet up in a group and talk about Alduin not flying down to meet them in battle. Leytiri listens closely, hoping for one of them to mention the Shout that would cause Alduin to fall.

The woman looks to the north and shouts, “Alduin!”

Leytiri takes a step back, her spine brushing against the hard, snowy rock of the mountain but feels no cold or pain. The giant black dragon lands on the ruin that is now the broken home of Paarthurnax. He speaks to the three warriors in the dragon language. He roars at them and jumps into the sky but before he can get very far all three warriors Shout at him. Dragonrend.

Immediately, Leytiri feels the word fill her, like all of her other Shouts before. It gives her a warm, almost tingling feeling as its strength combines with her own. She could force Alduin from the sky. She could win. For the first time in several months, Leytiri knew that she could win.

Alduin growls angrily. “My brother Paarthurnax has done this to me! You will die and you will not have peace in Sovngarde!”

The woman rushes towards Alduin, swinging her sword. The two men follow her, all attacking at the same time. But Alduin kills the woman, biting her and throwing her broken body aside. The man closest to Leytiri drops his sword, pulls the Elder Scroll out of his bag, and holds it high in the air as the second man is quickly losing the battle against Alduin. The man in the middle shouts a… prayer, a spell, something while holding the scroll.

Green light surrounds Alduin and he screams loudly before his body and the light disappears entirely. White light fills Leytiri’s eyes and she feels a rushing sensation as she is pulled, pulled, pulled out of the memory and back onto the Throat of the World. She blinks, trying to will away the bright spots filling her vision.

A growl sounds from above her and Leytiri looks up into Alduin’s cold, dark eyes. “I should have killed you at Helgen, Dovahkiin. But now you will leave this world and suffer in Sovngarde.”

“No, Alduin,” Paarthurnax shouts. “The little Dovahkiin has learned how to stop you. We must stop you. Fight Dovahkiin! Use Dragonrend and I will aid from above.”

Heart pounding, Leytiri watches as Paarthurnax launches himself into the air and collide into Alduin, fire roaring in the air above them. She takes a breath and spreads her legs, planting both feet into the ground firmly. She Shouts the word for Dragonrend and blue fire escapes her lips and hits Alduin high up in the air. He screams, and falls to the ground next to her, blue and white flames seeming to hold him hostage against the ground.

Paarthurnax lands on top of the broken ruin and shoots fire down upon his own brother. Her heart racing, Leytiri holds up one hand and shoots out a flame atronach and familiar before grasping her sword and ripping it from the sheath. She races forward and Shouts at him again, not wanting him to leave the ground the entire time.

Leytiri slashes with her sword at Alduin’s face and head, her familiar bites at his right side, her atronach shoots at his left side, and Paarthurnax rains fire down upon his back. Alduin roars and screams in pain and rage as they attack from all sides. He lurches toward Leytiri but she blocks the blow of his teeth and stabs at his nostrils. He rears back but she shoots forward and slices a thin, deep line underneath his right eye.

The four of them attack, again and again, as Alduin tries to block their blows. He tries to hit Paarthurnax with his tail but misses. The familiar darts forward and bites a small chunk out of Alduin’s wing before it disappears. A fireball from the atronach hits Alduin in the eye before it too disappears. Paarthurnax lands and swipes with fierce looking claws at Alduin, leaving long, bloody marks up Alduin’s back.

“For Skyrim!” Leytiri shouts. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else!”

Leytiri Shouts her Dragonrend at Alduin again and throws herself forward, burying her sword into Alduin’s neck.

Alduin rears back, spreading his large wings. “I must admit Dovahkiin, that you are a fierce opponent. But you are unable to kill me. You will fail. I will be your death.”

“Wait!” Leytiri watches in horror as Alduin launches himself into the air and swiftly outpaces Paarthurnax and away from the mountain. “No…”

Paarthurnax lands on the ruin and looks down upon her. “Do not fear, Dovahkiin, this is not a failure.”

“But—” Leytiri feels tears at the corners of her eyes. “I feel like a failure. I lost.”

“There is a place, Dragonsreach, that can imprison a dragon.” Paarthurnax looks around the mountain. “You can capture one of Alduin’s dragons and interrogate him to learn Alduin’s location. Go now. Be swift.”

Leytiri nods, tears still lingering on her eyelids. She felt like such a failure. She thought she’d done so well in the battle too. Perhaps it was not only Alduin who was arrogant but herself as well. Now, instead of defeating Alduin like she was hoping to, she needed to capture a dragon.

Capture. A. Dragon.

Would this quest ever end?

Rain pelts Prentis’s face as he walks through the gates of Riften. He’d never much liked this place. Once, he’d gone invisible when someone from the Thieves Guild tried to shove their hand into his robes and he thought the kid was going to shit his trousers. He sighs. That had been a good day, despite the terrible locale. Now it was all business. His last job for the Order.

Prentis had been in the Order for years, never thinking he might actually want to leave one day. Very few people ever just… left after they’d been there a few years. And he’d loved the Order from the first day he stepped into the temple. But now he didn’t. Well, he loved the people there. But what they had done to Leytiri was unforgivable to him.

Especially now that he knew she was the Dragonborn.

Leytiri, the Dragonborn. That thought would have never crossed his mind. He might have even laughed when the Zyon told him about her being the Dragonborn, surely a jest, if it hadn’t been for the Zyon’s look of fury. The older man had been furious that Leytiri was called the Dragonborn. Prentis was proud of her, but worried as well. It would not be an easy life. She could die.

A black-haired Nord steps up to Prentis, a man twice his size made out of solid muscle. “Prentis Lovrik?”

Prentis clears his throat. “Yes. I have a meeting with—”

“Follow me.” The man turns away from Prentis and starts in the direction of the inn. “Name’s Maul. I’ll take you to Maven.”

“Thank you.” Awkwardly, Prentis follows behind Maul quietly for a few moments. “So, uh, how long have you known Maven?”

“I don’t like small talk.”

The two of them walk into the inn and Maul points at the stairs. “First door on the left. You won’t be disturbed.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Prentis walks up the stairs and opens the door at the top of the stairs. A woman stands next to the bed, her hands resting on a table. “Maven?”

The sour-faced woman faces him and cocks a brow. “Ah. You must be Prentis Lovrik. The Zyon sent a message that you were on your way to gather my dagger.”

“Yes.” Prentis closes the door and crosses his arms. “I’m here for the dagger you promised us when we took in your son, Tovarr, to train as a mage.”

Maven’s eyes narrow. “You mean my son, who was killed by a rogue member of your Order?”

Prentis grits his teeth, reminding himself that he needed to be polite. She was powerful. “I mean your son, who raped a member of the Order. He was killed during the rape and got what he deserved. It may please you to know that the girl was found guilty and banished from the Order. But that is of no importance now. We held up our end of the bargain and took in your bastard son, getting him away from Riften so that no one would try to use him against your legitimate boys. His death happened due to his own distasteful actions, not our negligence. Are you telling me that you will not give over the dagger?”

The two of them are silent. Prentis didn’t know what he’d do if she reneged on the deal because her bastard of a son was dead. The Zyon needed that dagger for some reason and Prentis would get it for him. And then he would be on his way to go find Leytiri and help her fight the dragons.

Maven looks at the table where a box lies. “It’s in there. I don’t go back on my deals, no matter how negligent you were towards my son. Tovarr was my son but he was only my bastard son. My other boys come first. That being said, I will kill the girl if I ever see her. She weaseled her way through my grasp when she was here a week or more ago.”

Prentis’s eyes leave the box. “Leytiri was in Riften?”

“Aye.” A muscle in Maven’s jaw twitches. “I found out the Dragonborn was here only after she’d descended into the sewers to look for the Thieves Guild. And thanks to the aid of the Thieves Guild, I know that the Dragonborn is Leytiri. The little harlot that seduced my son to her bed and then cut his throat.”

“Don’t call her that!” Prentis feels his magic swirling through his body and he tamps it down. “It was rape, Maven. She was sobbing with his blood all over her. You hunted her down into the fucking sewers?”

“I said I only found out she was here after she’d gone into the sewers. A,” she smirks, “little bird, let’s just say, told me she’d done a job for a member of the Thieves Guild to earn the right to go down there.”

Prentis gasps. “She stole?! No, she would never. Whoever told you that is lying to you.”

“Perhaps.” Maven shrugs. “Or perhaps the girl capable of murdering my boy is also capable of stealing as well. Now, take your dagger and get out.”

“Fine.”

Prentis moves over to the table and picks up the box. Inside, a small dagger nestles against velvet. He gasps again, softly this time. The dagger was almost identical to Leytiri’s. Same hilt, same sheath. The only difference is that instead of gorgeous blue sapphires, there were purple amethysts instead. It was beautiful, but the similarity to Leytiri’s dagger bothered him.

Maven’s eyes narrow again. “What? It is the real dagger. I told you that I don’t go back on my deals. I promised you that dagger and I gave you it, regardless of my son’s life. It is not a fake. What is wrong with it?”

“Nothing.” Still unnerved, Prentis turns back to Maven. “I’ve seen one exactly like this though, just with sapphires instead of amethysts.”

“Ah.” Maven nods. “You must have seen another of the Seven Daggers. I’d heard the Order was far more exclusive than the College so that was where I wanted my son to go. I thought it was free for anyone to enter but when the Zyon heard of my son’s, hm, lack of skills in magic, he demanded a price. That dagger was the price. He refused anything else and I finally agreed. Now, it is time for you to go.”

Numbly, Prentis pockets the box and dagger into his robes, nodding at Maven. He didn’t know what to think. Leytiri’s dagger looked exactly like this one. There were also seven of them which strangely coincided with the Order of the Seven. Worse yet, Leytiri had resorted to stealing to get by. He had to find her.

At the door, Prentis turns back to Maven. “Leytiri? What will happen if you find her?”

Maven smirks again, though the smile doesn’t reach her cold, snake-like eyes. “Why, I will kill her, of course. I wasn’t overly fond of my son but he was still my son. I’ll torture the girl and kill her. Your Order banished her for life. Surely you don’t care?”

Without answering, Prentis walks out the door and down the stairs. He would take the dagger to the Zyon. He would quit the Order. And then he would find his girl.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stands once more outside Dragonsreach, hesitating at the door. She needed to go in, she knew that. But she couldn’t help but be nervous. The last time she was here she had slept with the Jarl. A married Jarl. Regardless of what his relationship was with his wife, she shouldn’t have done it. But gods had she loved the feel of his lips on her skin. He was a skilled lover.

Sighing, Leytiri opens the door. The warmth of the fire from up the stairs hits her cold cheeks and she feels them fill with heat. She walks up the stairs and across the nearly empty room to Balgruuf’s seat. Irileth is the only one standing near them and is the only one that sees Balgruuf’s eyes soften as he takes in Leytiri.

Balgruuf clears his throat roughly and nods at her. “Welcome back to Dragonsreach, Dragonborn. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Jarl.” Leytiri tries to smile at him but she knows it must look forced. “I need you to help me with something. I’ve been told that I need to use your palace to capture one of the dragons.”

A stunned silence hits Leytiri and she looks over her shoulder, making sure no one else heard her. It would likely cause panic if someone knew that she was trying to capture a dragon. Balgruuf shakes his head, bewildered. “I think I must get my hearing checked, Leytiri. I can’t have heard you correctly.”

“You heard right.” Leytiri glances at Irileth, whose eyes are narrowed. “You’ve fought them. You fought them with me. The dragons are dangerous. But none of them are more dangerous than Alduin and he will destroy this world if we let him live. I have to kill Alduin and the only way to do that is to capture a dragon, here.”

Irileth turns towards Balgruuf. “Perhaps we should aid the girl. Alduin is a monster that needs to be defeated and Leytiri is the Dragonborn. If this is the only way then we must do it. He’ll destroy everything.”

“I know.” Balgruuf’s eyes meet Leytiri’s. “But bringing a beast into this city could potentially destroy us. And I know either Tullius or Ulfric would seize Whiterun in a second if they knew it was weak from a dragon attack. No, I will only allow you to capture a dragon here if you can succeed in getting Tullius and Ulfric to call a truce until Alduin is defeated. That is a more pressing matter than whose bloody arse is sitting on a fucking throne.”

“Maybe,” Leytiri narrows her eyes, thinking. “Maybe Arngeir could set up something. A meeting. We can’t meet in Solitude or Windhelm. The keeps each belong to either Ulfric or the throne at this point. You have kept out of the war so this is no place to meet either. The Greybeards don’t really give a shit about the war or politics so they’d be a nice, safe place for both parties to meet.”

Balgruuf runs a hand over his chin, nodding. “I agree. Go to Arngeir and ask him to hold this council. Perhaps, together, we can aid you in your victory against Alduin.”

Leytiri smiles, relieved, and starts to turn away. “Thank you. I’ll have word sent to you whether or not Ulfric and Tullius agree.”

“Little Flower.”

The words come out of Balgruuf’s mouth on a whisper, brushing against Leytiri’s ears and making her gasp almost soundlessly. Irileth snorts and moves away from the two of them to a table. Leytiri turns back to Balgruuf, knowing her cheeks are stained pink. “I-I don’t think you should call me that in public.”

Balgruuf runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “So, I can call you my Little Flower in private?”

“I—” Leytiri swallows, her cheeks growing brighter. “Yes, I suppose. Though I don’t think we should meet in private again either.”

“I don’t see why not.” Balgruuf shrugs, a smile forming on his lips. “My wife and I are estranged. She hasn’t been back here in months. Are you spoken for?”

Leytiri shakes her head. “No.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Balgruuf gestures towards the stairs. “Down here I am Jarl Balgruuf and you are the Dragonborn. Down here I have a wife who despises me and you have a mission to save the world from Alduin. Up there we don’t have to pretend to be people we aren’t. Or we can play a role, like last time. You can be my Little Flower and—”

“I can be your wife.” Leytiri feels cold all of a sudden, as if an ice spell had just been done upon her. “That’s what you want. You want someone to love and cherish and protect because your wife won’t let you do that for her. And you know, somehow, that I want someone, anyone, to love me. But it’s not real. Up there I can be your wife but down here you already have one. You just want my body.”

“I do want your body.” Balgruuf’s eyes drift down to Leytiri’s feet and work their way back up. “I do. I will not deny that. And I will not deny that my marriage to my wife shall never end. Perhaps you shall agree to my proposal. When you are in Whiterun you shall stay with me if you wish. We shall continue to bed one another. And if either of us starts to develop real feelings of love for the other then we shall end this. Or if you find a partner more suited for you it shall end that way. There will be no hard feelings if you say no to me right now or no to me in the future.”

“Okay.” Leytiri nods reluctantly. “I think this is a dangerous game we’re playing but okay.”

Balgruuf’s eyes darken and he gestures towards the stairs. “Go wait for me, Little Flower. When I come up, I want to find you naked in my bed.”

Leytiri nods again and walks towards the stairs. This was a bad idea, she knew, but a part of her didn’t care. She wanted someone to love her. Desperately.

Quietly, Leytiri opens the door to High Hrothgar and lets it swing shut behind her. As always, the heat from the braziers warms her body after the long trek up the mountain. Not for the first time, she wishes that there was a better way than climbing. But it wouldn’t be safe to bring horses up here, not with the road being dangerous and all kinds of monsters like bears, spiders, and trolls on the route.

“Dragonborn.”

Leytiri looks up and smiles at the approaching Arngeir, who never ceased to remind her of her dear Prentis. “I’m happy to see you again, Arngeir. But I’m not here for pleasantries. I would like you and the rest of the Greybeards to set up a council between General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric.

Arngeir sputters. “What?! A-a council between those two? We are peaceful men here and those two are far from peaceful.”

“I know.” Leytiri sighs. “I need to capture a dragon to defeat Alduin and I can only do that from Whiterun. But Balgruuf won’t let me capture the dragon unless he’s guaranteed that Tullius and Ulfric will agree to a truce and not to attack Whiterun while I’m capturing the dragon.”

“Is—” Arngeir’s jaw tightens. “Is this what Paarthurnax wants?”

Leytiri nods. “Yes. He’s the one who told me to go to Whiterun and ask Balgruuf for help. I can’t get to Alduin any other way. I don’t think anyways.”

“Very well.” Arngeir looks around the room at the other Greybeards who had joined them. “We shall hold this peace council. Leytiri, you will go to Windhelm and Solitude to ask Jarl Ulfric and General Tullius to join us here. They shall not be harmed by the Greybeards and we will not allow harm to happen to either side from the other. This is a place of peace. Perhaps it is the perfect place to have a ‘peace council.’”

“Thank you.” Leytiri smiles at the older man. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Oh, I do.” Arngeir smiles back at her, eye crinkling. “Is there anything else I can help you with, child?”

Leytiri shakes her head. “No. I’ll just take a quick rest, if you don’t mind, and then make my way to Windhelm and then Solitude.”

Arngeir nods and turns away from her. Leytiri watches as she leaves the room, suddenly lonely and sad. She missed her Prentis. She missed the Order and the Zyon. She missed Arella and Caltar. DarJi and Aerinth. She even missed Miraana. Was Clavicus lying with another beautiful, young elf girl right now?

But there was no one Leytiri missed more than her mother, whom she had known least of all of them. What would her mother think if she saw her now? A murderer. A thief in Riften. Slayer of dragons. What would her mother see if she looked upon her daughter today?

Chapter Text

For the second time, Leytiri stands inside Windhelm. Except, this time, she is outside of the Palace of the Kings. Last time she had come, she’d gone to stay with the Dark Elves in the Gray Quarter. She couldn’t help but smile when she thought of Revyn now. He had been everything she needed even when she didn’t know what she needed. Perhaps after she left Ulfric’s side, she would go see Revyn again. But she couldn’t do that now.

No. Now she needed to see Ulfric and convince him to put his war on hold.

Leytiri opens the door to the palace and walks inside. Like at Hrothgar, the fire from the braziers lining the wall warms her cheeks. There is a long table in the middle of the room but only one person is sitting, eating lunch. At the end of the room, she sees a man sitting on a throne. Ulfric. It has to be.

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri walks towards Ulfric. When she gets closer to him, his eyes narrow and his lip curls briefly before he puts on a mask of indifference, one that she knows isn’t real. He hated that she was a High Elf, an Altmer. He hated her for something that was beyond her control. By all the gods she hated to be here with him.

Ulfric lounges back in his chair, looking every bit the smug asshole that she knows he is. He nods at her. “I remember you, girl. You came awfully close to losing that pretty head of yours at the block. It was a shame that you chose to run with Hadvar instead of the Stormcloaks. Are you here to join my people now?”

The thought of becoming a Stormcloak made Leytiri physically ill. She’d rather slit her own throat than join them. They hated people who looked like her. She’d heard the snickers and sneers as she walked through the city to get to the palace. And she wasn’t fond of the Thalmor but they were her people by blood. She also understood why Torygg had sided with the Empire.

“I’m not here to join the Stormcloaks.” Leytiri offers Ulfric a fake smile. It was best if she be diplomatic instead of rant at him. “I’m here on behalf of the Greybeards. I am here to ask if you would cease your war for Skyrim. Not forever, but only until the dragons have been defeated.”

Ulfric scoffs and shakes his head. “I will not agree to a truce between the Empire and I. What do the Greybeards want exactly?”

Leytiri forces back a sigh. Stubborn oaf. “They want to hold a peace council between your side and Tullius’s. The Greybeards have offered protection for both sides. There will be no fighting, lest you wish to fight both me and the Greybeards. I know you can Shout Ulfric, but I am the Dragonborn. I will put both you and Tullius in your place if I have to.”

The words make Leytiri feel powerful but she knows she’s speaking the truth. She was stronger than all of them. Stronger than two of the most powerful men in all of Skyrim. She did not fear them. And she would fight them both if she was forced to. Nothing would stop her from saving her home.

Ulfric throws his head back and laughs. “The Dragonborn has got fire. Are you sure you won’t join the Stormcloaks? You may not be a Nord, girl, but you’ve got the fire of a true daughter of Skyrim inside of you. We could use you.”

“I’m not interested in joining a side.” Leytiri resists the urge to roll her eyes. “If you and Tullius want to fight over whose ass sits the throne then that is what the two of you can do. I’ve got more important things to think about. Say… Alduin?”

The laughter in Ulfric’s eyes instantly dies and he sits forward, rigid. “Did you just say Alduin? I consent to the peace council but only if Tullius does as well. Meet with him and get him to go. Alduin is more important than anything else.”

“I agree.” Leytiri forces back both a laugh and a sigh of relief. Diplomacy, diplomacy, diplomacy. “I hope to see you at High Hrothgar. I will take my leave now.”

Ulfric waves her away but Leytiri can feel his dark eyes on her back as she walks to the door, opens it, and allows it to swing shut behind her. Only once it closes does she let out a whoop of joy and jumps a little in the air. The two Stormcloaks next to the door sneer at her but she doesn’t care now. They could stare and snicker and sneer all they wanted. She was halfway to getting her peace council. Next stop was Solitude.

But first, Leytiri would go down to the Grey Quarters and find a certain Dark Elf. They could share another bottle of Argonian Bloodwine and perhaps another night in bed. Yes, that is what she would do tonight.

Leytiri finds Solitude to be a much more peaceful place than Windhelm. She liked it the last time she was here and even more so this time. Birds fly through the air, children run through the street, laughing and playing, and the shops are full of citizens shopping and smiling. There were people of all races here. Dark Elves, High Elves, Argonians, even a Khajiit or two. They were all welcome.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Leytiri bypasses all of the people shopping and having fun, heading towards Castle Dour. She wished that she could play with the children or shop with her kin. Maybe when Alduin was defeated she could be that type of person. She could play with children or have some of her own. She could have a husband and a little house. Perhaps not in Whiterun, especially after starting her relationship with Balgruuf.

When she gets to the door leading into Castle Dour, Leytiri opens it. She walks through the first room into a second where two people stand. A woman, wearing armor and leaning against a table with a map on it, and a man wearing armor as well, pacing the room. Leytiri knows him instantly. He had been at Helgen and had sentenced Ulfric to death. He’d been there when Leytiri herself had been brought to the block.

Gods, she prayed that he didn’t recognize her.

Tullius’s eyes raise to hers and they narrow. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Leytiri’s cheeks brighten and she tries not to stutter. “No, I’m sorry. I’m actually the Dragonborn. I’m here to deliver a message for the Greybeards.”

“So, you’re the Dragonborn. You’re also one of the prisoners from Helgen.” He waves his hand at Leytiri when she opens her mouth to speak. “I don’t care if you stole a sweetroll or tried to cross the border. I have more important things to think about right now. What do the Greybeards want?”

“Th-they want to gather you and Ulfric together at a peace council to consider a truce between the two of you.” This time, Tullius opens his mouth but Leytiri rushes on to stop him. “Not forever! This is only supposed to be a temporary truce where the two of you leave each other alone long enough for me to do what needs to be done.”

“Hm.” Tullius’s eyes narrow again. “And what needs to be done, girl?”

Leytiri feels like a little girl when he looks at her but she knows she can’t let that continue. She was a woman and not just a woman, but the Dragonborn as well. She would behave like it. She raises herself to her full height and plants her boots firmly against the unyielding stone beneath her. “I will kill Alduin. I am the only one who can and I can only do it if you and Ulfric can get your heads out of your asses long enough to stop fighting. If Alduin wins then Skyrim will be destroyed. You two will have nothing left to fight over once he is done with it.”

“The dragons are a problem and I am willing to at least talk. I cannot promise you that a truce will happen but I will at least talk with Ulfric.” Tullius strokes his short beard and looks over at the soldier across from him. “Get ready to leave, Legate Rikke. Jarl Elisif will want to join us as well. And… Elenwen, I think. Ulfric will have his supporters with him as well.”

Resisting the urge to beg Tullius not to bring Elenwen, Leytiri nods at the man. “Thank you for at least considering a truce between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. That is all I am asking for. This very well might be the only way that we can stop Alduin for good. I will see you at High Hrothgar.”

Tullius barely nods at her before he turns towards two other soldiers in the room, dismissing her. Leytiri turns away numbly and heads for the door. The sunshine feels nice as she walks outside and wanders down the street back towards the main gates. The children laugh gleefully and the shopkeepers walk back and forth from their stalls, gossiping with their neighbors. Flowers dance and drift in the wind.

This place felt like home.

Chapter Text

For the first time upon entering Hrothgar, Leytiri doesn’t feel the heat from the fire. Well, she does, but it’s nothing compared to the chill of the Greybeards before her. She could tell in the stiffness of their bodies that not only were Ulfric and Tullius there, but that they were likely behaving like children again too. Taking a deep breath, Leytiri forces back a sigh and approaches Arngeir with a smile that is, hopefully, not fake. “Arngeir.”

The man turns towards her, his body rigid and brow furrowed. “We were fools to allow this to happen. Those men do not respect peace. If they attack each other here, I—”

“They won’t.” Leytiri interrupts him. “I may have told them that I’d put my foot down if they misbehaved here.”

Of course, Leytiri had threatened to Shout at them if they didn’t behave, but Arngeir didn’t need to know all the fine details. She had to be considerate of his peaceful ways.

“Ah, yes, more violence.” It seemed that Arngeir was perfectly aware of what she’d do to them. “If this is the only way that you and Paarthurnax can achieve your goals, then so be it. I will not stand in the way of that. Go to the room on the right and I will wait here for any who has yet to arrive. You will sit at the head of the table.”

Leytiri tries not to show off her nerves as she walks in the direction that he had pointed her. Behind her, she can hear the great doors open twice more before swinging shut again. It seems that she was not the last to arrive. Picking up her pace, Leytiri walks as confidently as she can through the doors and into a large room. The first thing she notices is the large circular table in the room, surrounded by chairs. On the table, in front of each chair, is a goblet of ale.

The second thing she notices is the glares from both sides. On her left, Leytiri sees Ulfric and one of his men. On her right, there stands the Legate that Tullius had talked to the day she’d gone to him, Jarl Elisif, Balgruuf, Tullius himself, and, gulp, Elenwen. She knew why Elenwen was there, of course. The Thalmor wouldn’t allow something like this council meeting to happen without them sticking their noses in. But did they have to send Elenwen? The woman that Leytiri had fucking robbed?

Balgruuf turns his head and he spots her, a soft smile spreading across his face. He nods in the direction of the chair at the head of the table and Leytiri steps fully into the room. Those who had been quietly whispering stop and all eyes fall upon her. Resisting the urge to quicken her steps, Leytiri walks to the head of the table, pulls out her chair, and sits down. Surprisingly, they all follow suit.

Before Leytiri can say anything, shouts can be heard from down the hall before the Greybeards walk through the door. Arngeir is at the head of them, eyes filled with fury. She had never seen him look so angry before. Behind the rest of the equally furious Greybeards walk a man, Esbern, and a woman, Delphine. She understood why Arngeir was so angry. The Greybeards disliked the Blades and the Blades disliked the Greybeards. More footsteps sound through the hall though and Leytiri narrows her eyes. Who else could it be?

Shock courses through Leytiri as a woman and two men walk into the room. And they were not just three random people, no, oh no, but masters of the Order of the Seven. Arella, DarJi, and Prentis. Her Prentis. A hand closes around Leytiri’s and she looks to the left where Balgruuf is sitting. He squeezes her hand once and smiles before he lets go. When she looks back up, she sees the Order members sitting down at the other end of the table.

Prentis tries to catch Leytiri’s eye but she refuses to look at him, choosing, instead, to look at Arngeir, who has sat down next to Prentis. Arngeir’s body radiates with tension as he looks around at everyone in the room. Ulfric and his man were the only ones who had not taken their seats. Arngeir nods before turning to Leytiri. “Thank you all for coming upon the request of the Dragonborn. This is—”

“I will not negotiate while that Thalmor is here.” Ulfric rudely interrupts Arngeir, pointing at Elenwen. “I will not stand for it!”

Leytiri closes her eyes while they all argue back and forth about whether or not Elenwen stayed. In truth, she didn’t much want Elenwen there, but she didn’t want to piss off the Thalmor either. When she opens her eyes, she finds them pointed right at Prentis. He smiles and lifts one hand, gesturing it slowly towards her. She knew what that meant. What that had always meant. He wanted her to calm down. To relax.

Arngeir sighs and turns towards Leytiri. “Dragonborn, shall Elenwen remain with us or shall she leave?”

By the gods, why were they asking her to make this decision. Why couldn’t they all act like adults? Leytiri’s eyes fall on Tullius and then Elenwen. “As she was invited by Tullius, she shall be allowed to stay. Everyone here has brought at least one guest,” even those who were not invited. “I will not turn away this one.”

Leytiri falls silent as Ulfric and Tullius bicker back and forth again. She would have to be careful who she sided with next time Arngeir pulled her into the fight. And she was quite certain there would be a next time. They argue back and forth for several more minutes before Arngeir raises his hands. “That is enough. It is time to negotiate the—”

“The negotiations are simple.” This time, it is Tullius who interrupts Arngeir. “Ulfric will give up Riften to the Imperials and the Imperials will accept a truce. Maven Black-Briar will be named Jarl.”

Gripping her thighs under the table, Leytiri tries not to let her emotions show on her face. Maven was the mother of Tovarr. She couldn’t allow Maven to become the Jarl of Riften and become even more powerful than she already way. Truce or not, dragons or not, Leytiri could not allow it to happen. She’d already sided with the Imperials once. Perhaps she could side with the Stormcloaks now.

A hand closes on Leytiri’s left hand and she looks up into Balgruuf’s concerned eyes. She shakes her head slightly before turning to face the rest of the room. Only Prentis is looking back at her, eyes furrowed, looking back and forth between her and Balgruuf. Her hand squeezes Balgruuf’s and she feels the older man’s eyes on her again but she doesn’t look back. This was a mess. All of it was a mess.

“Enough.” Everyone stops talking and turns towards Leytiri. Even she was surprised by the force behind her voice. “I have called this meeting and I intend on being fair throughout it. One of the holds shall go to the Imperials and one shall go to the Stormcloaks. Markarth is too valuable for the Imperials to lose and Riften is too valuable for the Stormcloaks to lose. Perhaps Falkreath can be returned to Stormcloak rule while Winterhold can be given to the Imperials?”

Leytiri knew that neither option was what the men truly wanted. Based on their arguing, she knew that what Tullius wanted was Riften and what Ulfric wanted was Markarth. They could switch, but she doubted either would be willing to do that. Falkreath and Winterhold were not nearly as valuable as Markarth and Riften but they were valuable and would give each side power. Winterhold would strengthen the Imperials in the north while Falkreath would strengthen the Stormcloaks in the south. Both sides would enter this negotiation with the same amount of power that they would leave it.

If only they would both accept it.

Surprisingly, both of them nod at Leytiri. Tullius turns towards Arngeir. “I accept a truce in return for Winterhold. Falkreath shall go to Ulfric.”

Ulfric’s eyes land on Leytiri. “If you had been a true daughter of Skyrim, you would have sided with your kin.” Elenwen snorts. “But I will not deny that you have been fair to both sides. I accept your truce as well.”

The true daughter of Skyrim quote stung. What did the bigoted Stormcloaks know about Leytiri? She had been born in Skyrim. The place that he wanted so badly, Markarth, was only a few miles away from the village she’d been born in. Just because she wasn't a Nord did not mean that she wasn’t a daughter of Skyrim. She was willing to die, fighting Alduin, for Skyrim! For all of the people in this room.

Ulfric and his man rise and they quickly depart from the room. The Imperial side is slower and Balgruuf stays seated next to Leytiri. He leans towards her and whispers, “that was rough. Are you okay?”

Leytiri nods but before she can say anything it is Arngeir who speaks. “Jarl Balgruuf, perhaps you should make your way back to Whiterun so that you can prepare the trap for the dragon.”

“I’m still not sure how we’re even going to be able to trap the dragon.” Balgruuf looks at Leytiri, who shakes her head. “Leytiri is the Dragonborn and she can fight dragons but she cannot call them to her.”

“Ah, but it appears she can.” All eyes left in the room turn towards Esbern who rounds the table and places a piece of paper facedown in front of Leytiri. “There is an ancient Shout that can call dragons to the Dragonborn. It is no command and the dragon may not come but it is the only way I can think of. On this paper, Leytiri will learn the Shout needed to call the dragon Odahviing to her. I think he will come to her.”

Leytiri lifts the paper and turns it towards her. The lettering is in black, but it quickly turns to gold as her eyes look over the words. Three words stare back at her, and she once again feels the strange rushing noise that she always hears when she learns a Shout. Wind rushes through the closed castle and the words on the paper seem to come off of it and move towards her, sucking inside of her, and suddenly she knows the Shout to call Odahviing to her.

Realizing her eyes are closed, Leytiri opens them to see Elenwen, Elisif, Tullius, Balgruuf, Arngeir, the Blades, and the Order members are staring at her. All, save for Arngeir, are open mouthed and in shock. What were they so surprised by? She doubted she looked any different than before.

Balgruuf’s shock quickly turns into joy and he smiles at her broadly. “That was beautiful. Irileth said it was magnificent to see the first time but it was beautiful.”

Before Leytiri can respond, Prentis opens his mouth for the first time during the meeting, his tone cold and biting. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Balgruuf?”

Prentis’s coldness, and rudeness, is what gets the Imperial side moving. Elenwen can barely take her eyes off of Leytiri as she walks towards the door, Tullius, Rikke, and Elisif behind her. Only Balgruuf stays, his eyes drifting to Prentis as he rises. He lowers his voice for only Leytiri to hear. “I don’t know who he is to you, but he knows about us. He wants to rip me apart, limb from limb.”

Leytiri tries to smile but can’t seem to manage one. It hadn’t been a long meeting but she was still exhausted. “He’s pretty much been my father figure most of my life. And he’s an Order member, so he wouldn’t tear you apart. Prentis would just light you on fire.”

Balgruuf chuckles. “He’s been looking at me like that’s what he wants to do to me. I don’t blame him. I had been hoping that you would join me on the walk down the stairs to Ivarstead and get a room at the inn. Though something tells me that you will not be joining me in bed tonight.”

“No.” Leytiri glances over at Prentis, DarJi, and Arella, all standing with Arngeir. “I have business to attend to here. Perhaps we could share another night together before we call the dragon?”

“I look forward to it.” Balgruuf’s voice deepens. “Goodnight, Little Flower.”

Leytiri watches him as he walks away before she takes a deep breath, ready to get this over with, when Delphine steps closer to her. Surprisingly, Esbern has already left the room. Delphine’s eyes are filled with anger though. “Dragonborn. There is something we need to talk about. Esbern and I have discovered the truth about Paarthurnax.”

“I’m guessing the truth you mean is that he’s a dragon?” Leytiri sighs. “I know how that makes you feel and it made me feel uncomfortable too. But we’re only going to win this fight, if we win it, because of him. He has waited for a long time to fight Alduin. He’s good.”

“Maybe he is good now, but he wasn’t good before.” Delphine shakes her head stubbornly. “He destroyed our people. He murdered the citizens of Skyrim and laughed as he did so.”

“I—” Leytiri shakes her head as her eyes start to fill with tears. No damnit! She would not cry. “But he’s not like that now! He’s changed. Can’t people change?”

Delphine shakes her head again and steps too close to Leytiri for comfort, her voice coming out on a hissed whisper. “No! He is a dragon, Leytiri. He is a monster. No matter what good he has done for us it will never be enough! There is nothing that he can do to make up for the horrors he brought upon our people. Esbern and I want you to kill him.”

Leytiri breathes hard, her hackles raised as the woman stands far too close to her. Paarthurnax was her… her friend. He had helped her. Paarthurnax fought his own brother with her! How could she kill him? She couldn’t. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t…” Delphine rises to her full height, a good half a foot taller than Leytiri. “If you do not kill him then you must say goodbye to the Blades. You are either with him or you are with us but you cannot have both. The Blades or Paarthurnax. Make your choice.”

“Paarthurnax.” The choice slips easily from Leytiri’s lips with no hesitation. “And before you rush off in a huff, remember this: you made me choose.”

“So I did.” Delphine nods and turns to leave the room. “There is nothing that I can do to change your mind. But the Blades are no longer with you.”

Delphine walks out the door without looking back and Leytiri feels nothing but a deep sadness at their parting. Delphine and Esbern had helped, and hindered, her so many times since she’d found out she was the Dragonborn. She was truly sorry to see the back of the two of them, but a choice had to be made. She would not commit a murder because that was what it was. Paarthurnax had spent thousands of years trying to stop Alduin. What he’d done before was terrible but murdering him after thousands of years was equally terrible.

Leytiri looks over at Prentis, DarJi, and Arella, studying them. It’d been so long since she’d seen them last. Two of them had spoken in her defense. DarJi had voted to exile her from the Order. Despite that, she didn’t hate him. She didn’t hate any of them. There was still love in her heart for all three of them. It was time to stop being a coward.

“Prentis.” Leytiri walks over to the three of them and Arngeir. “DarJi. Arella. It’s good to see the three of you. But why have you come to the peace council? It was only intended to be for Tullius and Ulfric.”

DarJi growls. “It is lovely to see you too. You have gained power in your time apart from us. Would you show me your fire?”

Before Leytiri can answer, Prentis moves towards her and grabs her arm. “The two of you can play with fire later. You and I need to talk, Leytiri.”

Yes, yes, she needed to talk with Prentis. Now.

Chapter Text

Leytiri sits back down at the head of the round table, her eyes watching DarJi and Arella leave. Too soon, she and Prentis are alone and he sits next to her though, she notes, not in Balgruuf’s departed seat. He rubs his thumbs against his middle fingers, a sign that he’s uncomfortable. She watches him for a moment. Was there more gray in his hair than the last time she saw him? It had only been a few months since the last time they were together but he was in his fifties. Did his robes hang more loosely off him too? That thought disturbed her.

Was he ill?

Prentis gestures towards her armor. “I see you have forgone your robes.”

“Yes.” The thought makes her uncomfortable. Was he angry at her about that? “I’m not a member of the Order anymore, Prentis. I didn’t think it right that I wear them.”

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “When did you stop wearing them?”

Had it been at Helgen or Falkreath that she removed her robes? Or maybe after? Leytiri couldn’t remember. That thought disturbed her. Surely it had been a major moment for her; to remove that which had mattered so much to her. “I suppose at Helgen. I’m sure you know about that.”

“That you ran from Arella, got captured by Imperials, and were almost executed at Helgen? Yes.” Prentis sighs. “I understand why you ran from her, but it would have saved you a lot of trouble if you’d just listened to her.”

Leytiri remembers running from Arella at Falkreath. She’d dropped her flowers. “What did Arella want?”

“To help you.” Prentis reaches forward and picks up the cup of ale that Ulfric’s bodyguard left untouched. He sniffs it before taking a drink. “She, Caltar, DarJi, and I pooled gold together. We wanted to pay for a carriage to take you to Cyrodiil or wherever else you wanted, and to buy a house.”

“Buy a house?” Leytiri narrows her eyes. “That would have taken thousands of gold coins. Many of them. Homes in Cyrodiil are more expensive than Skyrim’s as well. You couldn’t afford that.”

Prentis laughs, making himself look ten years younger. “Oh, we could afford it. Arella hasn’t gone through a dungeon in a few years but she still has many of her jewels and other treasures that she earned over the years. The Zyon doesn’t make us give up our treasures that we earn in dungeons unless it’s the one he sent us after. DarJi prefers gold over jewels so he had chests full of them in his quarters. And Caltar is frugal. He only spends money to feed himself when he leaves the temple and that is all. He provided most of the money to see you have a safe future in Cyrodiil.”

“You—” Leytiri feels tears coming upon herself once again but she fights them back. “You all did that for me? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Prentis takes another drink of the ale, grimacing. “This is nasty. We love you, Leytiri. Arella, DarJi, Caltar, and I have all basically been your parents. DarJi may have voted to exile you, but he still loves you and wants to take care of you. I’m not saying that you would have lived in a castle, but you would have lived a quiet and comfortable life.”

“That’s what I wanted.” Leytiri smiles at him sadly. “That was my plan. I wanted to get a carriage and go to Cyrodiil. Maybe work at an apothecary. If I got lucky, I could start my own.”

“You could.” Prentis’s return smile is just as sad. “But that’s not what happened, is it? You were arrested, very nearly beheaded, and became the Dragonborn. If you’d actually stayed and talked with Arella, then you very well may already be in Cyrodiil, and unaware of what your destiny is.”

Leytiri shrugs. “I was ashamed. Arella voted for me to stay but I’d still killed someone. And… and…” She looks down at her sword, unable to say her next words.

“And you’ve killed more.” Prentis’s eyes follow hers. “With that, and a bow, from what I’ve heard. Are you no longer a mage?”

His question makes Leytiri feel sad, and strangely angry. “I’m still a mage! I’m just… not only a mage. I only kill people who attack me first. How is it better to torture people by lighting them on fire than to stab them in the heart?”

Prentis’s eyes narrow. “You’re not the first to ask that question and nor will you be the last. The only answer I have is the same one that you’ve heard all your life. Magic is natural while steel is not. The stronger your magic, the quicker your victim dies. You would know that if you worked on your magic.”

“I do!” Leytiri grits her teeth. She’d been annoyed with Prentis a time or two over the years but never like this, never this burning anger. How dare he judge her. “I’ve been working on my fire a little bit. And I use a flame atronach and familiar in almost every fight. Caltar would be impressed! I think DarJi would be too! I’m going to show him my fire in the form of a Shout.”

“Caltar would be impressed?” Prentis breathes deeply, his eyes narrowing. “Would I be? You’ve worked so hard on your conjuration and your destruction; how about your illusion spells?”

Leytiri deflates as suddenly as her anger had filled her. She feels lonely and sad at the same time. “I-I—”

There was no answer that Leytiri could give that would suffice. She’d used clairvoyance a time or two when she’d gotten lost on the way to or from a dungeon. Fury, too. Muffle was hard for her to keep up for long and she preferred to save her magic for her atronach. Had she used her invisibility spell even once since she left the Order? It was the hardest spell for her to control. It was Prentis who assumed that she’d become the Master of Illusion once he died. That was because she’d seen through his spell when she was small. Only a truly powerful mage could do that.

Of course, Leytiri had always had a big head about that. She’d gloat, especially to Miraana, that she was powerful. Where had that arrogant… asshole, disappeared to? Leytiri had moments where she was still smug, but she had changed over the last few months. The old Leytiri would have been excited to be the Dragonborn. She would have rubbed it in everyone’s faces. The person that she was today accepted her duty, but grudgingly. When had she changed?

Prentis nods, as if her silence answered his question. “I see.”

“I’m sorry!” Leytiri feels the tears prick at her eyes again. “I’m so, so sorry. It just upsets me to perform illusion spells. I feel like I’ve let you down.”

“You haven’t let me down.” Prentis sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ve let you down. I should have left with you. You shouldn’t have had to face everything by yourself.”

“No, you haven’t!” Leytiri’s lips quiver and she tries to smile at him. “You’ve never let me down. You voted to save me. The Order is your home and I don’t blame you for staying. And I haven’t had to face everything by myself. I’ve had Delphine and Esbern, Arngeir and the Greybeards, Paarthurnax and Irileth and Balgruuf.”

Leytiri shuts her mouth. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Prentis does not miss the mention of a certain Jarl. “Balgruuf, huh? So, what’s going on with that? And don’t think I didn’t miss the hand holding under the table.”

“Um,” Leytiri tries to smile again but she’s sure it comes off as a grimace. “He’s a friend. He’s been very nice to me. We’ve uh, been, uh—”

“Fucking.” Prentis says bluntly and Leytiri grimaces for real. The word sounded vulgar and embarrassing coming from his mouth. “The two of you have been fucking. Don’t think that I believe you’re a blushing maiden, Leytiri. Poor Clavicus has needed to use his hand now that you’re gone.”

Leytiri’s cheeks turn redder and redder as he talks. She clears her throat. “How-how is Clavicus?”

“He’s fine.” Prentis raises his eyebrow. “And a much better choice in a mate for you. Clavicus is at least your age. How old is Balgruuf? He can’t be much younger than me.”

“Ah, well…” Leytiri tries to do the math in her head but her face continues to grow hotter. How embarrassing. At least she didn’t have to go home with him. That thought feels strange. For months she’d considered the Order to be home. Why didn’t she now? “He’s younger than you. Not… much, but he is.”

Prentis makes a face. “It is almost as disgusting as you and I rolling around in bed together.”

“What?!” Leytiri’s face feels like it’s nearly on fire at this point. “That’s disgusting! You and I are practically related. You’re basically my father!”

“And I’m his age!” Prentis rolls his eyes. “Before you say it, or barely over it. If you’re going to lie with someone, why does it have to be someone as old as-as your father?”

Leytiri chews on her lip. Prentis had never referenced himself as her father. Oh, he’d made it clear over the years that was what he wanted to be, but he’d never actually said that he was her father. He still accepted her? Even after what she’d done to Tovarr and to the Order? Even though she’d forsaken her vows and used a sword? Instead of voicing those thoughts, she only says, “you just called yourself my father.”

Prentis chuckles and reaches for the “nasty” ale again, taking a large gulp of it. “I suppose I did. How do you feel about that?”

“I…” Leytiri continues to chew on her lip, thinking. “I’ve always loved you and thought of you as my father. I only didn’t call you that because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

“I would have loved for you to call me your father.” Prentis looks down at his cup, circling his fingers along the rim. “But I suppose it would be disrespectful to your real father.”

“Did you know him?” Leytiri leans forward, excitement in her voice. “My mother never told me who he was. Not even the name. Did you know who he was?”

“Aye.” Prentis’s jaw tightens. “Your mother and I are the only people who know who your father is, though I suspect the Zyon might know it too. He seems to know everything.”

Leytiri didn’t disagree with him. The Zyon was practically a genius. He’d never failed to answer her almost unending questions. “How did you know my mother?”

“Well,” Prentis’s cheeks start to turn pink. “Your mother and I had a relationship. I met her shortly after I joined the Order. We-we—”

“You fucked my mother!” Leytiri interrupts him, a horrified look on her face. “Eww! Prentis, that is disgusting! I said that you were like my father but that didn’t give you permission to fuck my mother.”

“Must you be so crass?” Prentis purses his lips at her. “And I didn’t need your permission. Your mother and I were together before and after you were conceived. We didn’t even know that you weren’t mine until you were born. You’re every bit an Altmer. As was your mother and father.”

Leytiri makes another disgusted face. “So, my mother was sleeping with you AND my father at the same time?”

“Yes.” Prentis nods, looking at his cup and running his fingers over the rim again. “Your father’s work kept him away for long periods of time and they had an agreement. Your mother and I fell in love. She loved both of us, your father and I. When we found out that she was pregnant with you though, your father grew angry. He demanded that she get rid of you. He was fine with her laying with another man but he wasn’t fine with raising a child that wasn’t his own. Your mother was certain that you were his, and not mine, but he didn’t care. He said that she would get rid of you or he would leave.”

“He left.” Leytiri feels the tears coming upon her again, though this time she doesn’t stop them from falling. “I asked her so many times who he was, what his name was, and why he left. She would only cry and tell me to go play.”

Prentis reaches forward and gently wipes the tears from her eyes. “Yes, my darling, he left. And he is a fool to have done so, for you were his and not mine.”

“That’s not true,” Leytiri sniffles softly and allows Prentis to wipe more tears from her face. “I may not have your blood, but I’m every bit your child. I just wish that you and my mother could have had more time together. But she died.”

“No, my darling.” Prentis smiles sadly. “It was not your mother’s passing that ended our chance. She always loved me, but she loved your father more. Him leaving devastated her. She and I continued a physical relationship but love was off limits to us. At least on her side.”

“Were you…” Leytiri looks down at the table, no longer able to look at him. “Were the two of you still sleeping together when… the night she died?”

Prentis lays a hand on hers under the table, just like Balgruuf had earlier in the evening. “Yes. I’ll never forget that night. I’d been so excited to get back. I was practically dancing as the rain lessened. My thoughts were full of feeding you, rocking you to sleep, and making love to your mother.”

Leytiri resists another shuddering “eww.” Instead, she says, “feeding and rocking me? But the first time I saw you was that night.”

“No.” Prentis smiles at her and squeezes her hand. “I’m the one who pulled you into the world and cut you from your mother. I spent many evenings away from the temple, taking care of you and your mother. You might just not be able to remember me.”

“Did she…” Leytiri takes a deep breath and looks him right in the eye. “Did she know that you were there that night?”

Prentis stares at her for a few seconds before he nods slowly. “Aye. She and I knew there was a choice that needed to be made. I could have saved her or I could have saved you. We both chose you in that moment. She-she was brave.”

“Was she raped?”

Leytiri had always wondered, but never asked, that question. When they found her mother, she had been naked. Facedown in the dirt, with her naked buttocks staring back at them. She remembered that Prentis covered her with his robes. There had been blood on her mother’s thighs but at the time, Leytiri hadn’t known how that could kill someone.

Prentis doesn’t need to answer but he does. “Yes. I saw the beginning of it. We looked each other right in the eye and I… I was so tempted to go save her. But neither of us could bear that the same thing could be happening to you. I suppose I saved you from it, only to fail sixteen years later with Tovarr.”

“Don’t.” Leytiri reaches out a hand and presses it against his cheek and graying beard. “You are not to blame for Tovarr. If anything, it was my fault. I was arrogant and an asshole to him.”

“If it is not my fault,” Prentis covers her hand with one of his own. “Then it is not yours. I love you, my darling.”

Again, like with calling him her father, Prentis had never told Leytiri that he loved her. She’d always felt it and didn’t need to hear it. But right now, it felt good, right, honest, perfect. “I love you too, father.”

A grin spills out across Prentis’s face, making him look younger, and his eyes twinkle. “You don’t have to call me that. Prentis will do just fine. And like I said, it disrespects your real father.”

“He doesn’t deserve respect.” Leytiri purses her lips. “You didn’t care that my mother was married or that I wasn’t yours. You loved us both regardless. He left. So, what was he? What was his job that kept him away from us so long?”

The grin leaves Prentis’s face as suddenly as it appeared. “I don’t think you need to know the answer to that question.”

Leytiri frowns. “What is it? You’ve never lied to me, even when the truth hurt. Tell me.”

“I—” Prentis’s jaw tightens again. “Your father works for the Thalmor. He’s a Justicar, actually. A great warrior.” He adds grudgingly.

Silence falls upon the two and Leytiri looks away. Her father was not only a Thalmor agent, but a Justicar as well. She hadn’t met any on the road, though there was one time, in Riften, that she’d heard about a small group of them traveling in that direction. She’d high tailed it out of there. The Thalmor were kin but were no friends of hers. Elenwen had been kind enough at the Embassy, though Leytiri knew how dangerous she was.

The Embassy… gods! What if Leytiri had killed her own father there!?

Prentis sees the fear and shock in her eyes and he reaches for her again. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My father!” Leytiri gasps, her eyes filling with tears once again. “I attacked people at the Thalmor Embassy. I had to. What if one of the Thalmor I killed was my father? I wouldn’t even know it.”

“It’s… possible.” Prentis wipes her tears away again with his thumbs. “But listen to me. Your father was a great warrior years ago and I imagine age has only made him greater. He’s an expert at magic too. He would not be easy to kill. And—”

When Prentis stops speaking abruptly, Leytiri cocks her head. “And what?”

Prentis shakes his head. “You look so much like your mother, save for her red hair. He would have known who you were. He would have stopped it.”

Leytiri shakes her head. “But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want me.”

“He didn’t want you when he didn’t know that you were his.” Prentis smiles at her though it’s not a happy one. “But you are so clearly his and your mother’s flesh and blood. He would want to mold you, shape you, into what he wants you to be. A Thalmor.”

“That will never happen.” Leytiri shakes her head again, harder this time. “I’m yours. Not his. And maybe I’m not what you want me to be, but I’m still yours.”

They are silent again for a few moments before Leytiri speaks again. “So why are you here? Surely it’s not just to tell me about my mother.”

“No.” Prentis rises from his seat and lowers a hand to help her up. “I need you to come with me and talk to DarJi and Arella. There’s something we need to ask you on behalf of the Order.”

“What is it?”

Prentis leads the way to the door but he looks over his shoulder at her. “We need to talk about your mother’s dagger.”

Chapter Text

Leytiri frowns as she and Prentis walk through High Hrothgar and out the back doors into the courtyard. The snow has stopped falling and the sun has long gone down. Arella and DarJi stand in the middle of the courtyard, talking, staring off at the Throat of the World. Leytiri turns to Prentis. “Why do we need to talk about my mother’s dagger?”

Prentis shakes his head. “Let’s talk to the others first.”

They approach Arella and DarJi, and Arella turns towards Leytiri with a wide smile on her face. She moves forward and wraps Leytiri in her warm, grandmotherly-like hug. She pulls back just a few inches and strokes a thumb against Leytiri’s jaw. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. I don’t mean your age. The last time I saw your eyes, I saw a girl. You’re a woman grown now.”

“I missed you.” Leytiri blurts out. She looks at DarJi and Prentis. “I missed all of you. I only wish Caltar was here too.”

Arella smiles, the skin around her eyes crinkling. “And what of Aerinth, Miraana, and the Zyon? Do you miss them as well?”

Leytiri hesitates before she nods reluctantly. “Sometimes. But I was always closer to the four of you. Aerinth didn’t much like spending time with me apart from my studies. Miraana hated me.”

“Miraana doesn’t hate you, Leytiri.” Arella smiles sadly when Leytiri gives her a skeptical look. “Don’t give me that look. I have known her, and loved her, far longer than you have. Nor is she jealous, as you once thought. She’s a very broken woman. She’s never quite gotten over her past, despite what she says.”

“What do you mean?” Leytiri frowns again. “Her past? I tried to be her friend, years ago. Whenever I’ve asked her where she came from, she only got snarly at me. I finally let it go.”

Arella nods and pushes an arm through Leytiri’s. “Miraana is a Dark Elf from Windhelm. She was born and lived in the Gray Quarter there. Her parents died when she was young and her older sister raised her. They were forced to do things, terrible things, to survive. Like you, Miraana was raped. She never recovered from it. It has left her bitter and angry. She learned restoration magic largely so that she could fix her broken mind. Of course… that will never happen.”

“I—” Leytiri swallows hard. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not.” Arella pats Leytiri on the arm. “Miraana barely speaks of it. She’ll talk to DarJi, who, like you, she sees as a sort of father figure. And she’s talked to me, but she doesn’t open up about it much. Least of all a powerful mage like you, whom is something of a rival to her. But enough of this. I think DarJi wanted to ask you something.”

Chuckling, DarJi steps forward, rubbing his hands together. “Can I see your fire, Leytiri?”

Prentis snorts. “DarJi, you’re being ridiculous. You could ask her how she’s been or how her quest is going.”

“Bah, Leytiri knows that I have no care for idle pleasantries.” DarJi grins. “Come, girl, show me your fire.”

Leytiri smiles and nods. “This won’t be my fire the way you think it should be. My destruction magic still isn’t as powerful as I would like. But I can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri plants both feet into the fallen snow as hard as she can. She closes her eyes and turns away from them. Inside of her, she feels her Shout well up. Opening her eyes, Leytiri Shouts as hard and as loud as she can, sending her fire through the air over the courtyard. The fire burns so hot that the snow on the ground begins to melt.

A laugh sounds behind her and Leytiri turns to see DarJi clapping his hands. If he’s disappointed that she didn’t use destruction magic, he doesn’t show it. He laughs again. “That was marvelous, girl. Simply marvelous. You truly are the Dragonborn. That was more powerful than any spell you could have come up with in the Order.”

“So, you…” Leytiri bites her lip, staring at the Khajiit before her. “You’re not angry with me still? You voted for me to leave the Order.”

“I voted for you not because you broke our gravest law,” DarJi stares back at her, the look in his face unreadable. “But because you kept the dagger your whole life. Had you not kept the blade for so long, knowing what it would mean to us, then I would have spared you. I do regret not giving you my vote. I had assumed, wrongly of course, that the Zyon, Caltar, Arella, and Prentis would spare you. I could not go against my vows.”

Leytiri turns to Prentis and Arella. “How could the two of you go against your vows? What I did was wrong in the Order. Why did the two of you and Caltar vote to save me despite believing in the Order’s message?”

Arella glances at Prentis. “I suppose that we love you more than the Order. You’re young and foolish, and you missed your mother. Also, you’d just been attacked. I could look past my vows for that sake and so could the others.”

Prentis clears his throat. “We need to get back to the topic of the dagger.”

“Yes.” Leytiri nods. “You said that you needed to talk about my mother’s dagger. What of it?”

Prentis steps towards her. “I was sent by the Zyon to Helgen to look for the dagger. We’d been informed that it was taken from you when you were captured by the Imperials. When I got there, I searched every inch of the place and couldn’t find it. Was our informant wrong, and do you have it?”

Frowning again, Leytiri shakes her head. “No. When I woke, I didn’t have any of my supplies on me. Either it fell out of my pocket when I ran from Falkreath or they took it from me. I have no idea where it is. Why do you want it?”

“I don’t know.” Prentis starts to pace back and forth. “The Zyon has been sending us on these missions for years, looking for daggers that look like your mother’s. I had been sent on a mission to the Rift shortly before your village was attacked. We’d received word that a dagger like your mother’s had been seen there. I’d returned only to find your village aflame.”

Leytiri tilts her head, confused. “I don’t understand what the Zyon wants with my mother’s dagger, or the ones that look like it. The Order of the Seven hates weapons of any kind. Why would the leader of our order want man-made weapons?”

“They are not man-made.” Arella sighs when Prentis turns to stare at her, open mouthed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, Prentis. DarJi knows but only because he overheard the Zyon and I talk about it. How many times have I traveled to dungeons and ruins, searching for these dreadful daggers? I always came back empty handed, and the Zyon was always agitated by that. When he asked me to go to Falkreath to look for clues to one, I finally got the courage up to ask how he, such a proud member of our order, could even consider owning a blade.”

“Wait.” Leytiri chews on her lip and stares at Arella. “I thought you were in Falkreath to look for me. Prentis said that you collected money between the four of you to buy me a home.”

“We did, darling.” Arella reaches forward and cups Leytiri’s cheek in her hand. “The Zyon didn’t know what we were planning. He’d already ordered me to go to Falkreath and we knew that’s where you had run. I thought I would kill two birds with one stone but you fled from me when I got there.”

Leytiri feels her cheeks start to turn pink as shame fills her. If she had just given Arella a chance to explain… much would be different today. “I’m sorry. I was scared and ashamed.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Leytiri.” Arella’s thumb gently strokes Leytiri’s cheek. “You were frightened and you didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted to help you, but I was also there looking for one of the daggers. I did not find one.”

Prentis steps forward, staring hard at Arella. “You said that the daggers are not man-made. How is that possible? Unless you are going to say that they were made by Daedra—”

“No, of course not.” Arella sighs and removes her hand from Leytiri’s face, turning towards Prentis. “I suppose it is not entirely accurate to say that the daggers aren’t man-made. They are, but not through steel and fire.”

“Leytiri.” DarJi looks at her, his yellow eyes narrowing. “Remember your lessons. Who was the creator of the Order of the Seven?”

“Um… Avulor Seven-Seeker.” Leytiri tries to remember everything she’d been taught about the man. “He was a Nord. He was believed to be the most powerful mage of his age. Caltar told me that Avulor had completely mastered each type of magic by the time he was twenty-two. He was initially a member of the College but his experiments were frowned upon. He was kicked out and created the Order of the Seven instead.”

“Aye.” DarJi’s eyes sparkle and Leytiri resists the urge to wiggle like a puppy. DarJi was not one to praise his students. “That is where your mother’s dagger comes into this. Avulor created seven daggers using his own magic, one for each master of the order. He called them the Seven Daggers.”

“Are you…” Leytiri scrubs a hand down her face and shakes her head, bewildered. “Are you telling me that my mother’s dagger is one of Avulor’s Seven Daggers? How could she have even gotten a hold of the thing?”

Before Arella and DarJi can speak, Prentis growls. “It was a gift from her husband and your father, Leytiri. He took it off of the corpse of a Nord that he’d interrogated. The fool had tried to flee when he saw the Justicars coming. It was pure, dumb luck that the Nord had that specific dagger in his pocket. No one knows where he found it. It was unlikely that your father knew the significance of the blade and only gave it to your mother for her protection. When I saw it, I didn’t know what it was either.”

Arella narrows her eyes at Prentis. “How do you know all this?”

DarJi snorts, looking between the two of them with an amused look on his face. “Is it not obvious, dear Arella? Have you not seen the love-sick fool with your own eyes? Prentis and Leytiri’s mother were lovers.”

Hearing the words come from DarJi’s thick, Khajiit accent, makes Leytiri blush. The guttural way he says “lovers” embarrasses the life out of her. She looks at Prentis. “I don’t want to talk about you and my mother… doing things anymore. What I want to know is why the Zyon wants these daggers?”

Prentis, Arella, and DarJi all stare at each other for a few long moments, and Leytiri wonders if they’re going to tell her the truth at all. Finally, Arella shrugs, soft pink spots blossoming on her cheeks. “He claims that he wants them for traditional, sentimental reasons. They were created by the first Zyon of the Order of the Seven and thus belong with us now. But—”

“I don’t understand.” Leytiri interrupts. “The Zyon has been sending you all on these secret missions for the past, at least, sixteen years for purely sentimental reasons? Do you all not see how strange this looks? I understand why these daggers mean something to the Order, but he’s risking your lives for a little bit of metal. The Order hates weapons and he’s sending you potentially to your deaths for them!”

Silence falls upon the four of them so long that Leytiri feels heat filling her cheeks. She’d always been a bit unruly, sometimes obeying her masters only grudgingly. But she’d never outright yelled at any of them. The strangest thing though, was that she didn’t feel ashamed of her words. She’d meant them, and she wanted them to know that she meant them. Taking a deep breath, she looks up at Prentis. “How many of the daggers does he have so far?”

Looking uncomfortable, Prentis holds up a hand, showing off all five of his fingers. “He has all but two of them. Yours, and the seventh are the last two that he has yet to find. I delivered the fifth to him just a week or two ago. I learned the name “Seven Daggers” when I collected it from… Maven Black-Briar.”

The name makes Leytiri’s stomach lurch and she feels like she might lose the contents of her stomach. Maven, mother of Tovarr. Arella immediately moves closer and wraps her arms around her. “Don’t you think about that man. Don’t give him any power of you. You beat him. You survived. That is all that matters, Ley-Ley.”

Ley-Ley. Her mother had called her that name. The last person to call her that had been Tovarr. Leytiri closes her eyes. “Thank you, Arella.”

When she looks up, Leytiri sees DarJi and Prentis staring at each other, both of their jaws are tight. DarJi glances at her. “I wish you had called for me, that night. I would have set that thing that called himself a man on fire.”

“DarJi!”

Leytiri giggles at the admonishment in Arella’s voice but she looks at her DarJi. “Thank you.”

They stand in silence for a few more moments and Leytiri allows Arella to comfort her. Nothing felt better than the older woman running her hands through her hair. Out of all of them, she’d always liked it when Arella brushed her hair the most. DarJi would joke about setting it on fire and making her go bald just so he wouldn’t have to bother anymore. Prentis and Caltar both always managed to yank on every last knot. Arella was always the gentlest of them. Always.

Sighing, Leytiri pulls herself away from the older woman’s comforting embrace. “I don’t know where the dagger is. If I had it, I would give it to you all. Because it means so much to the Zyon. I don’t have it though. If it’s not at Helgen, then it was either stolen from there or it fell out of my pocket when I ran from Arella.”

Arella nods, suddenly looking exhausted. How had the woman climbed the seven thousand steps up here? She looks over at DarJi. “I will send a message to the Zyon. We must travel to the border to look for it. I doubt it will be there seeing as it’s been months. But it is the only lead that we have.”

“I can go.” Leytiri didn’t like the idea of the elderly Arella poking around in the mud at the border. She could get attacked. “I’m the one who dropped it or had it stolen. I can go look for it after I finish with the next part of my quest. Alduin must come first though.”

“No, Leytiri.” Prentis shakes his head. “It’s been over sixteen years and we’ve only found five daggers. It could take another five, ten, fifteen years before the last two are found. Your seventh and last dagger could be lost forever, for all we know. You must focus on Alduin.”

“And we must go.” DarJi strides forward to wrap his arms around Leytiri, lifting her clear off her feet in a massive bear hug. His fur feels ticklish on her cheek. “I always wanted you to learn destruction magic, but I am proud of your fire. Perhaps you were never supposed to be a master of destruction. Perhaps you were always meant to be the Dovahkiin instead.”

Leytiri feels tears prick at her eyes but she doesn’t let them come. DarJi had never much cared for emotion and crying. “You wanted me to be the master of destruction? I would have taken after you when you died.”

DarJi laughs and sets her back down gently. “Of course, that is what I wanted. You were always too focused on your precious Prentis and his illusions.”

Arella moves forward and gives her a hug too. She moves towards DarJi and, together, they walk to the castle door, leaving Leytiri alone with Prentis. Before she can say anything, Prentis wraps his arms around her and holds her, much the way she always imagined her real father might one day. But now she knew that her real father was not only an Altmer, but a Thalmor and a Justicar to boot. She didn’t want that man.

Leytiri sighs and pulls away. “I’m sorry that I don’t have the dagger. I promise that I would give it to you if I did. Maybe it is gone forever.”

Prentis nods and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Maybe, but I will continue to look for it. I gave the Zyon my vow years ago that I would find them for him. I don’t leave my vows unfinished. But… once I am done with this quest, I intend on leaving the Order.”

Shock fills Leytiri and she gazes up at him open mouthed. “But you love the Order!”

“I love you more.” Prentis lifts both of his hands to cup her cheeks. “You’re my daughter in all but name and blood. I think it is time that we be a proper family. I must perform my last duty to the Zyon, but once I am done, I intend on leaving and joining you on your quest. You must wait just a little bit longer for us to be a family.”

When the tears come again, Leytiri doesn’t try to hold them back. They slide down her cheeks only to be met by Prentis’s thumbs. Her voice sounds wet when she says, “I would like that. You go finish your last quest for the Zyon. I will defeat Alduin. After, you and I can find a home. Here or elsewhere. I’ll get a job at an apothecary. We can take care of each other.”

“We can.” Prentis presses another kiss to her forehead and wipes the rest of her tears away. “We will. I better go before DarJi shows me his fire.”

The two of them laugh and Leytiri watches as Prentis walks back to DarJi and Arella. They all wave before they disappear through the doors. The smile dies from Leytiri’s face. She’d always wondered why her mother hadn’t sold that dagger and moved them to a safer place, like Markarth. Had her mother known the dagger was special? Was it truly as ceremonial and traditional as Arella made it out to be? It hadn’t glowed or done anything special when Leytiri held it. It was just a piece of metal.

Snow starts to fall again and Leytiri walks towards the castle doors. She needed more information, and she knew how she was going to get it. She would send a message to Brynjolf in Riften. He was a member of the Thieves Guild and she assumed that he could get some information for her, for a price.

Yes, she would send him a message.

Chapter Text

It’s late by the time Leytiri reaches Dragonsreach, the moon high in the sky. As she’d walked through the city, she thought it would be the perfect time to call the dragon here, when less people would be outside and awake to panic. An admittedly large part of her wants to crawl into Balgruuf’s bed, pull the blankets up over her head, and ignore what she needed to do. But she was starting to realize that the more and more she fought her destiny, the harder it clung to her. She was the Dragonborn, and that meant she’d have to call Odahviing to her.

Leytiri opens the door to Dragonsreach and walks inside. The heat of the torches feels nice against her cheeks. When she gets to the top of the stairs, she finds Balgruuf, Irileth, and several soldiers waiting for her. Sighing, she steps towards them and Balgruuf nods at her. “Dragonborn, would you prefer to call the dragon in the morning or are you ready now? It might be best to do it now while the city sleeps, but it’s up to you.”

“I agree.” Leytiri nods, chewing on her lip. “I don’t want everyone in a panic while we’re trying to do this. I’m ready to do it now.”

Balgruuf turns and starts up the stairs, Irileth and the other soldiers flanking him. He glances over his shoulder at her. “We’ve rigged up a trap for the dragon. You’re going to need to lure him far enough inside for the trap to fall on him. Irileth and I will help you fight it.”

Irileth purses her lips. “The soldiers and I will help her fight it. You will stay back.”

Balgruuf chuckles and the group walk up the second flight of stairs and out the doors. Leytiri stops as soon as she gets outside. The moon stares back at her, the wind ruffling her hair. Balgruuf stands near the door while Irileth and the rest of the soldier’s flank Leytiri. She takes a deep breath and steps forward until she’s out in the open. She looks up at the night sky and breathes in another breath. She was about to do something crazy. Something dangerous.

She was about to summon a dragon.

Leytiri plants her feet firmly in the stone beneath her, tilts her head back, and Shouts the three words that would call Odahviing to her. Heart racing, she looks around the sky but doesn’t see anything. She Shouts for him again. Nothing happens. Just as she gets ready to Shout again, a soldier shouts out, “dragon!”

“I’ll get him to drop!” Leytiri shouts and backs a few feet into the castle. “Get him to come closer to me!”

Odahviing comes into sight and immediately rains fire down onto the castle. He flies out of sight again and Leytiri stares up at the sky, waiting for him to come back. When he does, she Shouts her dragonrend at him. The blue flames wrap around the dragon, forcing a scream from its throat. Odahviing falls through the air and crashes on the castle floor, his tail and wings whipping furiously. Leytiri darts forward and shoots out her sword, slicing the dragon across his left wing.

Growling, Odahviing faces towards Leytiri just as she backs away from him. Irileth rushes forward and stabs at one of the dragon’s legs with her own sword. The other soldiers bravely dash towards the dragon as well, hacking and slashing with their swords. Leytiri Shouts her dragonrend again, blue flames whipping around the dragon and dragging him against the ground. She backs up a few feet. “Lead him to me!”

Odahviing growls louder and steps after Leytiri, snapping his jaws at her. He rears back and sends a gush of fire into the room. Leytiri throws herself to the side, rolling on the ground and dashing to the side of the room. The flames immediately heat the night sky and smoke rises into the air. Her eyes seek out the second floor of the room where a soldier stands waiting next to a chain. Odahviing was less than ten feet from where they needed!

Leytiri Shouts the blue flames at Odahviing again and dashes to the center of the room, just barely being missed by the dragon’s wild, flailing tail. Irileth’s sword leaves a thin, clean line along the dragon’s flank before dashing after Leytiri. The two of them back up, side by side, further into the room. The dragon moves closer, jaws snapping, as Leytiri reaches the middle of the room.

Just a few more feet…

Taking another deep breath, Leytiri Shouts her dragonrend at Odahviing again and he roars. Fury fills the dragon’s eyes and he lurches forward. A loud, rattling noise fills the air and, suddenly, a great gold contraption falls from the air and lands on the dragon. One of the soldiers lets out a throaty gaps, followed quickly by a laugh.

A chuckle fills Leytiri’s mind and she cautiously approaches the red dragon. He was trapped, but he still had his fire, and she was no fool. “Odahviing?”

Odahviing chuckles again. “Dovahkiin. It seems I have fallen for your trap. I suppose you have done this to gain the location of Alduin?”

“I have.” Leytiri nods. “Will you tell me where he is? I seek to defeat them.”

“I know, Dovahkiin.” Odahviing’s eyes flash but not in anger. “I will admit, I came here today to see the strength of your Thu’um. You have bested me today, and I believe are a match for Alduin, who has failed us Dovah as a leader. Alduin is in Sovngarde, and the only way to reach it is in Skuldalfn.”

Leytiri’s brow furrows. Prentis had made her study maps of Skyrim and she had never heard of Skuldafn before. “Where is that? How do I get there?”

Odahviing chuckles again. “The only way to get to Skuldafn is to fly, little Dovah. Perhaps we can come to an agreement. If you free me from these restraints, I will fly you to Skuldafn.”

Balgruuf steps forward and growls at the dragon. “You’ve got to be kidding. Leytiri, you can’t listen to him. He’ll fly you above the city and throw you from his back. Why would he turn on Alduin?”

“He wouldn’t be the first.” Leytiri’s eyes search out Odahviing’s. “He’s not the first dragon I’ve met. One thing I’ve discovered about them is that they keep their word. If Odahviing promises that he’ll fly me to Skuldafn, then he is telling the truth. Dragon’s also value strength and I have the strength to destroy Alduin. Odahviing risks nothing by helping me and loses nothing if I die. But if I live and destroy Alduin, then Odahviing gains a powerful ally.”

“You have the wisdom of a Dovah.” Odahviing laughs in Leytiri’s head again. “Now, will you release me?”

Leytiri turns towards Balgruuf. “I know you don’t agree with this but I need you to let him go. If he starts acting up all I’ll have to do is use dragonrend on him again. I’ll make sure your people are safe.”

Balgruuf grunts and turns towards his soldier on the second floor. “You heard her. Let this beast go.”

Odahviing chuckles again and Leytiri rolls her eyes. She hears the metal clink of the trap chains and the gold contraption rises into the air. Odahviing shakes himself similarly to a dog and moves towards the open air. Leytiri’s heart starts racing, wondering if the dragon would renege on their deal and just take off. But the dragon stands at the edge of the castle, taking in deep gulps of air. He turns to face her.

“You have shown honor today, Dovah. Are you ready to depart for Skuldafn?”

Leytiri looks at Balgruuf one last time before turning back to the dragon. It was tempting to spend one last night with the Jarl. What if she failed? What if Alduin defeated her? This could be her last chance to be normal, if only for a night. But she wasn’t normal. She was the Dragonborn. She was the Dovahkiin. And her people counted on her.

“I’m ready. Take me to Skuldafn.”

Chapter Text

“I’m ready. Take me to Skuldafn.”

Odahviing lowers his head, offering Leytiri his neck. She looks at it worriedly. Perhaps Balgruuf had been right. Odahviing could just as easily throw her from his back, or, more accurately, his neck as he could deliver her to Skuldafn. But she believed him when he said the only way there was to fly. She had to trust him. She trusted Paarthurnax; why couldn’t she trust Odahviing as well?

Leytiri takes a deep breath and pulls herself up onto the red dragon’s neck. She clings to Odahviing’s scales as he rears back and launches himself into the air. The wind immediately starts whipping her in the face, and she lowers herself until she’s flat against his neck. Her hands grow cold, but they never release her terrified grip upon the scales.

The higher the two fly, the more fearful Leytiri becomes. He could throw her at any second. But he never does. Instead, they fly towards the east of Skyrim. Leytiri’s body grows colder and colder, her cheeks have likely turned red, and her skin where her armor doesn’t cover is wet. She desperately wanted to land and get warm. Dragonborn she was, but a lover of heights she was not.

Finally, Odahviing starts to lower himself towards the ground. Over the mountains of the east of Skyrim. He lands between two of the mountains, jerking her and making her cling helplessly to him. He laughs in her head and lowers his neck so she can jump down. “Tell me that you are not jealous of the great Dovah, little Dovah. Tell me you do not wish to feel the air upon your skin as the people crawl around below you like the ants they are.”

Grimacing, Leytiri shrugs. She wasn’t too fond of the dragon calling her people ants, but she may have need of him when she tried to leave this place. “I liked it.”

Odahviing chuckles and looks towards a ruin in front of them. “That is the way you go, little Dovah. You will defeat Alduin or you will perish. I will leave now.”

Leytiri watches as Odahviing stretches out his long wings and launches himself into the air. He circles above for a few moments before he turns towards the west. She was alone.

Turning in the direction of the ruins, Leytiri lowers herself into a crouch. She moves forward and down a few steps. In front of her, there stands another small flight of steps, followed by a large one. Red banners blow in the wind. For a second, she thinks she can see someone at the top of the second flight of stairs, but when she narrows her eyes at it, she doesn’t see anyone.

Pulling her sword careful from its sheath, Leytiri allows her magic to pull into her hand. She starts up the first flight of stairs. Before she can get more than a couple steps, a dragon roars and falls to the ground behind her. The landing shakes the earth, making Leytiri stumble into the stone before her. More movement comes from the stairs above her and she realizes there are one, two, three draugr standing at the top of the stairs. They all start firing arrows down upon her.

Growling, Leytiri launches her atronach at them and turns to face the dragon. She grips her sword tight in her hand and throws herself at him, cutting into his face with the blade. He roars and snaps at her, his wings unfurling. Realizing he’s about to fly away, Leytiri uses her Dragonrend on him, sending blue flames in his direction and encircling him. The dragon screams out a roar of rage and tries to whip her with his tail, but she dodges away.

Leytiri stabs at one of the dragon’s wings, skewering a hole through it. He roars again and she Shouts, pulling him back towards the ground. Gripping her sword tighter, she waits until the blue flames drag the beast lower before she takes a deep breath and plunges her sword through his eye. He screams and rears back into the air, but quickly falls to the ground right after. Leytiri throws herself away from his path and his body hitting the ground makes her lose her footing, falling to the ground herself.

An arrow soars over her head and Leytiri darts forward, grips her sword tight, and rips it out of the dragon’s skull. As she starts to run up the stairs, she feels the usual sound of the wind as the dragon’s soul leaves his body and shoots into her from behind. When she gets to the top of the stairs, she realizes her atronach killed two of the draugr but not the third before it disappeared. The monster moves slowly though, deeply wounded. She raises her hand and shoots a simple flame spell out of it, making the draugr fall to the ground, dust.

Turning to the right, Leytiri notes there’s another set of stairs. Slowly, she makes her way up them and is immediately attacked by two draugr. She uses her flames to kill the first one. The second one snarls and races towards her, clutching a sword in his hands. Leytiri parries the blow, side steps as the draugr rears back to strike again, and cuts off both of his hands as he swings. The draugr snarls again and reaches towards her with his arm stumps.

Trying not to puke, Leytiri puts the poor thing out of its misery with another blast of her fire. She looks down at her palm. Her fire magic was starting to get better. DarJi would be proud of her for using it. Moving forward, Leytiri can see a door built into the mountain on her right. On her left, there are more stairs leading into the rooms. She’s not sure which way she should go.

Just as Leytiri thinks that thought, a shadow flies above her and she looks up. A golden dragon flies above and he lands in front of her. He speaks in the dragon tongue but Leytiri doesn’t catch what he says, jerking away from the beast’s flailing tail. He tries to strike her with it again but, remembering what happened with the draugr hands, she swings her sword at it, cutting off the tip of his tail. The dragon rears back, his golden-colored eyes flashing in anger. He breathes fire down upon her but she dashes to get away.

The dragon shifts his wings and Leytiri waits for her shot. Just as he rises into the air, she Shouts her dragonrend at him, making him crash to the ground. She rushes forward before he can try to fly away again and stabs under his jaw and through the bottom of his mouth before ripping her sword back. Blood flies through the air, hitting her in the face, but the dragon falls to the ground, dead. His body starts to glow and his soul fills her, just like all the others before.

Blood drips down from Leytiri’s face and she brushes it away so it doesn’t get in her eyes. She knows it smears and, were she a little bit younger, she might have freaked out about it. Right now though, she didn’t care. That dragon had been just one more obstacle between her and Alduin, and clearly, he was nothing like either Paarthurnax or even Odahviing.

Gritting her teeth, Leytiri eyes the door set into the mountain and the stairs to the left. She turns towards the stairs. At the top, four draugr scream and Leytiri darts into a building to her left, hoping that it’s empty. It is, and she runs up a flight of stairs to the second level. She crouches, waiting. The draugr are forced to come up one by one, and she quickly dispatches them as they make their way up the stairs. Turning around, she searches the chest behind her, finding a few handfuls of gold and a potion.

After leaving the building, Leytiri turns to the left and makes her way down a narrow path. There’s another flight of steps in front of her. Behind the steps, she can see a door leading further in. Hoping that’s the right path, she starts walking up the stairs. Four draugr descend upon her, snarling and growling. She releases her atronach, and watches for a second as it goes at two of them.

Leytiri turns towards the other two. One goes down from her fire easily. The other, swinging a hammer, doesn’t seem to be phased at all by her magic. She rushes forward and he swings back his hammer at the same time. Quicker than him, she slices her sword across his neck, nearly severing his head. She turns, just as her atronach sends two great big fireballs at the draugr, killing them instantly.

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri steps towards the door and opens it.

Chapter Text

Leytiri crouches immediately upon entering Skuldafn Temple. To her left there are stairs leading up to an empty altar. To her right there is a table with linen on it. Right in front of her, stands a great stone brazier with a massive fire lit. There are steps leading up on both sides of the brazier. She decides to take the left side, walking in her crouched position.

Slowly, Leytiri walks down a hallway, an arch above her holds candles. She steps away from a trap on the floor and continues towards a flight of stairs. Before she can get far, she passes another trap. Just as she does, the cry of a draugr fills the room and she readies her magic in her non-sword fighting hand. Three draugr appear around the corner of the top of the stairs and, not caring what trouble her noise could bring down upon her, she Shouts her fire at the three, watching their bones tumble down the stairs. One survives however and reaches towards her with his arms. She quickly cuts off his head with her sword.

Continuing up the stairs, Leytiri finds a room with urns on a table and a flight of stairs going up on both sides of the room. She searches throughout the room but finds no more traps or doors. Up she must go. Choosing to continue the left path, she walks up the flight of stairs. As soon as she gets to the top of the stairs, another draugr cries out and four tombs break open. Leytiri lets lose an atronach and Shouts her fire at the three draugr coming towards her. They all crumble to ash. She turns towards the other two and she and the atronach both let loose flame spells at the same time, the draugr dying instantly.

There is a pillar puzzle in the middle of the room, and Leytiri sees a snake carving in the wall next to the first statue and a fish carving in the wall next to the third statue. She quickly moves the first and third statues to show the fish and snake pointing in those directions. The third one is a mystery. She turns it to show the hawk and the gate on the right opens. Entering it, she finds there’s nothing in there but trash. She returns to the statues and turns the middle stone to the snake. The left gate opens.

Leytiri walks up a flight of steps, turns to her left, and walks up another. She gets to a room with stairs going down on her left and on her right. Three draugr scream and charge up the stairs towards her but she quickly kills all of them with her fire Shout. She steps down the stairs, finding a dead draugr on the table and a chest behind her. One of the tombs that were opened by the draugr has light coming through it so she steps in that direction.

Massive spiderwebs hang from the ceiling and Leytiri shivers as she tries to walk around them, trying not to think about the tiny little spiders possibly crawling all over her right now. She quickens her steps as she walks around the corner and up another flight of stairs. At the top, a large frostbite spider attacks her, two following it. Panicked, she Shouts her fire at them and starts swinging her sword rapidly at the same time. They all die, but she continues to swing her sword until she gets tired. Red-faced she rounds the corner, ignoring the empty egg sacs, and swings her sword against a heavy amount of spiderwebs filling a doorway.

The webs break away and Leytiri kills another frostbite spider as it attacks her. She continues up the stairs until she comes across a large door and two more spiders next to it. She uses her flames to kill them both and spots a large chest to her right, covered in more webs. Shivering, she uses her sword to try to brush off as much of it as she cans before she opens it. Inside sits a large pile of gold and a large amethyst. Smiling, she pockets all of it. The amethyst had to be worth a nice chunk of gold.

Leytiri turns towards the door but before she can rise, it opens on its own and a draugr walks through, screaming at her. She darts forward and shoves her sword through it’s stomach and drags it all the way up, nearly cutting it in half. Just a few weeks ago the act would have made her throw up. Now, it disgusted her, but she didn’t cry. She couldn’t cry, not here, not now.

She refused to cry here.

Walking into the next room, the first thing she sees is a puzzle statue showing the hawk symbol. A flight of stairs is on the right of the room but Leytiri walks around the bottom floor, only finding a chest and a snake etched into the wall. At the top, she finds a stone pillar to her right and a bridge going across the room to her left. In the middle stands an altar, with a switch on it. Above the left side of the room is another etching and, when she crosses to the altar and turns around, she finds another etching on the other side. Quickly, she changes the pillars until they show the etchings on each side of the wall. When she gets back to the altar, she flips the switch and bridge lowers.

A door stands on the opposite side of the bridge and she opens it. Leytiri walks down a short hallway and turns left, a large room with a staircase leading upwards before her. A draugr attacks from the ground, and two more from the second story floor. She sends up an atronach to fight the two draugr above and turns towards the one on the floor. He raises his hand to shoot ice magic at her and she returns fire magic back. The draugr screams but she doesn’t let up, getting closer and closer until she stabs him in the head with her sword.

Winded from using all that magic at once, Leytiri turns to watch he atronach kill the other two draugr. That spell was quickly becoming one of her favorites. And her destruction magic was growing stronger as well. She hoped DarJi would be proud of her, even if Prentis would be upset by her lack of desire to produce an illusion spell. She checks out the room, finding an empty chest and table full of linens before she walks up the stairs and across the bridge.

Leytiri makes her way down another hallway until she comes across a room with a spiral staircase leading up. On the floor in the doorway is a trap and oil on the floor. Grimacing, she steps over the trap and grabs a potion and soul gem off a bookcase. Footsteps sound from above her and she readies her fire in her hand before starting up the stairs.

Easing her way up the stairs, Leytiri’s head reaches the top and she sees two draugr standing in a room in front of her. There’s oil on the floor. Grinning, she Shouts as loud as she can and ignites the oil, burning both draugr instantly. Continuing to smile, she walks into the second room and finds a switch and chest. She opens the chest and collects a nice set of armor and gold. On the other side of the room, she flips the switch and the gate in the first room opens.

Walking past the gate, Leytiri moves down a long hallway until she gets to another room. A lantern hangs high in the air and oil sits on the floor. She looks around until she spots the trap and moves away from it, walking along the side of the room, trying not to get oil on her shoes. She’d been using fire magic an awful lot now, and it wouldn’t be good if she accidentally set herself on fire. She walks down yet another hallway and turns left.

The room before Leytiri is dark and foggy. Dread fills her and she calls more fire to her hand, unsure if she’ll send out an atronach or flames. Walking into the room, she spots a powerful look draugr at the end of the room. He turns and Shouts at her but she darts away before Shouting her own fire at him. He doesn’t appear to be phased by her Shout and she darts forward, sending out an atronach as she goes, and she hacks at him with her sword as her atronach shoots fireballs at him. He tries to fight them both at the same time, seeming to grow more and more confused, until Leytiri Shouts her fire at him again and he crumbles to the ground.

A diamond-colored claw falls to the ground and, remembering what happened with the last claw Leytiri found that looked like this, she picks it up and looks at the three symbols on it. A fox, a moth, and dragon. She changes the symbols on the doors and then sticks the claw in the holes, watching as the door slowly opens to show another flight of steps going up.

Another. Flight. Of. Steps. How fucking high was she going?

Sighing, Leytiri walks up the stairs and into a room, stone thrones lining the walls with skeletons on them. A stone wall rests against the other side of the room, calling out to her in the dragon language. Transfixed, she moves towards it, the dragon language growing louder and louder, words glowing blue against the hard stone. As she gets closer, the wind starts moving and rushes towards her, as it does every time she steals the soul of a dragon, and fills her. Storm. That is the name of her new Shout. It would give her the power to call upon lightning.

Turning, Leytiri moves around the stone altar and to the left. Another flight of stairs leads up and she finds a room to the right with a draugr on a table. She steps back into the hallway and opens the door, stepping outside. Immediately, three powerful draugr attack her, one shooting ice at her and the others swinging axes. She Shouts her fire at all three of them, shooting her atronach out at the same time. Swinging her sword, she slices through the legs of the draugr shooting ice, bringing it down to the ground where she beheads it.

The atronach brings down one of the axe wielding draugr and as one, they turn towards the last draugr and attack him with a Shout and fireballs at the same time. He crumples to the ground. Turning to the left, she goes around the building and up a flight of stairs.

A great ray of light lifts up from the ground, shooting up into the sky. Before she can get closer however, an extremely powerful looking draugr appears from within the light, making the light disappear. Wearing golden colored armor, a strange looking mask, and wielding a large staff, he moves towards her, shouting out at her in the dragon language. Leytiri releases another atronach and wields her sword tight in her hands.

The two of them attack at the same time, the strange enemy sending wave upon wave at Leytiri, ignoring the atronach completely. Leytiri Shouts her fire at it, making it stumble back a little and right into the waves of fireballs coming from the atronach. The monster rears back and aims a spell at the atronach, killing it instantly, but giving Leytiri just the right amount of time to bring her sword over her head and down into the back of the monster’s.

It lets out a scream before tumbling to the ground, dead. Breathing hard, Leytiri lifts the strange looking mask off the corpse and takes the staff as well. Moving up the stairs, she finds a divot with a hole in it. She looks at the staff, shrugs, and sticks it in the hole. A loud ringing fills the air and the same bright light shoots back up into the air.

Leytiri sighs and places the mask back into her bag. She looks up at the light. For Prentis. For the Order. For Balgruuf and Brynjolf and Revyn. For the Greybeards.

For her mother. For Skyrim.

Leytiri jumps into the wave of light and feels herself lift up into the air.

Chapter Text

Leytiri opens her eyes as soon as her feet land on stone. She looks up, seeing a statue to her left and stairs leading down. Wind blows all around her but she doesn’t feel a chill. The sky gives off pink, blue, red, purple, black, and white hues. More statues litter the ground before her. Sovngarde is real. She’d never really believed in the gods, but now she knew this place was real. Would she come to rest here one day, or would her being an Altmer send her somewhere else?

The place frightened her and awed her at the same time.

Taking in a deep breath, Leytiri starts down the stairs and towards what looks to be a large building in the north. Lit braziers light her way and she steps up to the first one, hoping to feel some warmth despite not feeling chilled from the wind. The brazier gives off no heat however, and she moves on. It disturbed her that she didn’t feel anything in this place. Was it because she was living and the people of this world were no longer so? Maybe they felt the heat of the flames and the chill of the wind.

Just as Leytiri climbs down the rest of the stairs, she hears the cry of a dragon and tenses, her hand automatically reaching for her sword, but when she looks up there are no wings on the sky. Pulling her sword and centering her magic into her other hand, she eases her way down a small path, only to be blocked by heavy fog. She swallows hard. There could be anything in there, but there were no ways around it, as she couldn’t walk through the stone of the mountain.

Sending out an atronach to go first, Leytiri follows it slowly through the mist, her sword gripped tight in her shaking hand. She doesn’t get far before a man wearing Stormcloak armor rushes towards her. She grips her sword tighter but the man doesn’t reach for his own. “You should go! Run! There is danger here. I have been searching for Shor’s Hall but have yet to find it.”

Shor’s Hall, it must be the large building Leytiri had seen in the distance. “I saw it on my way down the stairs. I know the direction it is in.” She hoped. Gods, did she hope. “Would you like to follow me there?”

“Aye!” The man looks relieved. “I’ve been wandering these paths for so long. Please, let us go!”

Leytiri steps around the man and launches out another atronach, silently ordering it to lead them through the mist. They do not get far, when a roar sounds in the air and Alduin rises up into the sky. The Stormcloak shouts and, before she can stop him, rushes forward. Alduin swoops down and eats him before Leytiri can do anything to stop him. Alduin flies away quickly, roaring as he goes.

Bile rises into Leytiri’s throat as she looks down at the only thing the man left behind, a silver mace. She’d never been fond of the Stormcloaks, but the man had not deserved that fate. No one deserved it. How many people like this man had been eaten by Alduin? How many more would be eaten if she didn’t stop him? She had to stop him or die trying.

Taking a deep breath, Leytiri pushes on through the mist, listening for any sign of Alduin. She moves forward but stops almost immediately. A boulder blocks her way and the path forks. Considering, she takes the one branching off to the right. She doesn’t get far when another man moves across the path, not seeming to be able to see her. “Come with me, I’ll lead you to safety.”

The man does not respond, and Leytiri hesitates for just a few seconds before pressing on anyway. Perhaps he had been lost in this mist for too long, being preyed upon by that beast. Leytiri walks around him but doesn’t get far before he is ripped from the ground by Alduin’s claws. The man doesn’t make a sound as he goes. Choking on a sob, Leytiri presses forward down the path.

Leytiri passes another man but she doesn’t stop to talk to him. It would be the same. It would be the fucking same. Tears continue to roll down her face as she listens behind her as the man is torn from the ground, just as gruesomely as the men before him. The fog lifts just as she reaches a bridge. There are large bones reaching up towards the sky on both sides of the bridge, and on the other side stands a large building. Choking on another sob, Leytiri hurries across the bridge towards, what she hopes is, Shor’s Hall.

She doesn’t get far when the largest man she’d ever seen steps towards her. “Who wishes to pass into the Hall of Valor?”

“Who are you?” Leytiri swallows again. “I am Leytiri.”

The man inclines his head. “I am Tsun.”

Tsun? Fuck! Tsun is a god that the Nords believe in. Was this man just named after the god or is he the real god himself? Leytiri inclines her head back, wondering if it’s an appropriate action for a potential god. “I am here to fight Alduin. May I have entry into the Hall?”

The man blinks down at her. “You are not the first to seek him out, and I daresay you will not be the last. I see that you are among the living. You have no rights to the hall.”

A wave of fury fills Leytiri but she tamps it down. It would not do her any good to anger a god of all people. “I am the only person who can stop him. I am the Dragonborn and am fated to battle him.”

“Aye, you are Dovahkiin.” Tsun pulls his sword from his belt. “But if you wish to face him, then you must face me first. Only then shall you be allowed entry.”

Tsun does not give Leytiri more than a second or two to prepare before he lurches forward, his sword shooting out towards her face. She dodges to the left and Shouts her fire as hard as she can at him, knocking him off balance. An atronach flies from her hand and the two of them attack at the same time. The man does not seem to flinch at either the balls of fire, or Leytiri’s thrusts of her sword. Too soon, he backs away.

Leytiri huffs as her atronach disappears. They hadn’t hurt him at all! Embarrassed, she sheaths her sword. Tsun nods at her. “You may be the best hope for Skyrim and Sovngarde now. Press forward to the Hall. It is open to you now.”

Breathing hard, Leytiri inclines her head at Tsun before moving to the end of the bridge, only to find another bridge that looks suspiciously like the skeleton of a very large dragon. The building stands before her, across the bridge, standing over a giant valley. She whimpers as she crosses as slowly as she can, knowing that if she falls, it would be the end of her life. Alduin would probably snicker as she fell.

The last few feet are hell, as the “road” narrows and she jumps the rest of the way to the safety of the stone. Breathing even harder, Leytiri walks up two staircases, approaches the building, and walks through the doors. Warmth immediately fills her as the doors close behind her. Fires dance merrily, the table is full of food and ale, and there are even large animals of some sort being turned on spits. It looked… like home. Wasn’t death supposed to be cold and lifeless, not a home.

A man approaches her, a Nord, possibly, with a great beard. “It is an honor to have you here, Dragonborn. You must hurry to face Alduin, but do not fear, for there shall be three who will face his wrath with you. There are not unfamiliar to your eyes. Gormlaith, Hakon, and Felldir have been waiting for this battle for much time.”

Gormlaith, Hakon, and Felldir? Leytiri’s eyebrows raise. “Wait. Are those not the heroes that stopped Alduin years again and sent him to the future?”

“Aye.” The man points towards the right, where two men and a woman stand staring at them. “Go to them. They have long waited for this battle.”

Inclining her head at this man as she had Tsun, as she knew he was important somehow, Leytiri steps away from him, down the steps, and towards the trio. The woman, Leytiri presumes is Gormlaith, whips her sword from her sheath. “Dragonborn! We have waited long enough for you to join us. It is time that we defeat that fiend.”

One of the men turn towards her. “Calm yourself, Gormlaith. I am Felldir, young Dragonborn. Alduin hides from us and we must use our Voices together to remove his mist. Until we do that, there will be no battle.”

Leytiri’s brow furrows. “Use our Voices? Do you mean that we’re all going to have to Shout at the fog?”

“Aye.” The third, Hakon, says. “The four of us will Shout at the same time and destroy the mist. Alduin will have no choice but to meet us on the field then. And we will be victorious with the Dragonborn.”

Gormlaith raises her sword into the air. “Lead the way, Dragonborn!”

The others pull their weapons and Leytiri draws her sword as well. She turns back to the door.

It was time.

For Skyrim.

Chapter Text

Gormlaith, Felldir, and Hakon grip their weapons tight and race down the stairs towards the bone bridge, racing across it. Taking a deep breath, Leytiri follows them, not slowing despite her racing heart telling her that running across such a bridge is a bad idea. As they pass Tsun, he shouts encouragement at them.

Leytiri runs after the three towards the fog. The three stop in a line just outside of it. Felldir turns back towards Leytiri. “Dragonborn! We cannot see Alduin within this weather. We must clear it.”

“We must combine our Shouts together, friends!” Gormlaith shouts. “We must all use Clear Skies at the same time.”

Nodding, Leytiri looks up at the fog and Shouts her Clear Skies at the same time the other three do. The noise is deafening and the fog lessens somewhat. Before they can celebrate, a deeper, darker voice fills the air and the fog fills the air again, thicker this time.

Angry, Leytiri Shouts again and the others join her, clearing even more of the fog but not all of it. There is a great pause of time before Alduin Shouts again, creating an even thicker mass of fog before them.

Hakon scoffs. “He is even more powerful than he was the last time we fought. Is this quest futile? Will we be able to succeed?”

Gormlaith turns to her friend. “Do not give up, Hakon. He may be powerful but we have the Dragonborn with us. We will succeed. Dragonborn, on you!”

Leytiri closes her eyes and allows all of her strength to well up inside of her. She faces the mist with iron in her spine, fire in her veins, and the blood of the dragons in her heart. She Shouts, “Lok Vah Koor!”

The mist disappears almost entirely in front of them and Alduin roars with rage before he flies across the sky, his black wings vivid against the purple and blue. Gormlaith, Hakon, Felldir, and Leytiri all Shout their Dragonrend at him and he screams as he crashes to the ground, his tail whipping and his teeth gnashing and his screams filling their heads. All four of them dash forward, their swords and axe moving in sync, crashing down on Alduin’s head, his back, his tail. Fireballs whip through the air, singing their hair as they sail into his body.

Alduin’s eyes find Leytiri’s and he ignores the three warriors as he snaps his teeth, aiming for Leytiri but she ducks and twists, avoiding each of his attacks as she alternates between Shouting her Dragonrend at him and hitting him with her trusty sword that she’d acquired in Helgen, the day they’d met for the first time. She’d found many swords since then, many good swords, but none meant so much to her as her first sword, her only sword, the one that drew her from the Order.

His voice is loud in her head but Leytiri ignores it as Gormlaith shouts out, “For Skyrim!”

Gripping the handle tight in her hand, Leytiri shouts back. “Cover me!” as she dashes towards Alduin.

Hakon’s axe swings high into the air and comes down upon a wing with a fierce blow. Felldir’s releases a ball of fire before he lifts his greatsword in his hand, swings it above his head, and plunges it deep into the belly of the beast. Gormlaith, possibly the bravest of the four, climbs upon the back of Alduin and slams her sword down into his spine. He roars in rage and thrashes, trying to get them away from him.

Leytiri’s normally golden skin is pale and her hand hurts as it grips the sword. Her eyes meet Alduin’s for only a second as she sizes the sword in both hands and plunges it into his jaw, through his mouth, and up into his snout. Alduin rears back and screams, throwing Gormlaith off of his back, who rolls to safety.

Veins of gold fill Alduin’s body as the four warriors back away from the flailing dragon. His body glows brighter and brighter until his entire body is completely gold. The usual rushing noise doesn’t fill Leytiri and she’s silently grateful for it. She doesn’t want Alduin’s soul anywhere near her own.

Alduin screams one last time before his body breaks apart in chunks before those chunks disappear into the air. Leytiri lets out a soft sigh as the three others cheer, smacking each other on the back. A hand touches her own back and she smiles before closing her eyes. Alduin was defeated. It was over.

“Dragonborn!”

Leytiri turns to see Tsun striding towards her, Hakon and Gormlaith on one side of him, Felldir on the other. He approaches her and stops. “Alduin is vanquished and we here shall speak of this battle until the end of all days. This place does not yet belong to you, Dragonborn, as you are yet of the living. I shall return you to the living world until it comes time for you to rejoin us in death. There will be many great feasts on the day of your death, I promise you, young one. Shall I return you now?”

Looking around at Sovngarde one last time, she nods. “Yes, thank you. I would be honored to return upon my death.”

“You shall return to Skyrim with the ability to Shout for a Sovngarde warrior whenever you need one. Shout these words, and you shall be joined in battle by Gormlaith, Hakon, or Felldir.”

Tsun Shouts at Leytiri and she drops to her knees, feeling the power of a new Shout fill her just as blinding lights of white and gold fill her vision. It doesn’t last long before she can feel cold snow beneath her knees. She shivers and rises to her feet just as the blinding vision leaves her, showing grey skies, snow falling to the ground and…

Dragons surrounding her. The Throat of the World.

One of the dragons’ roar but doesn’t attempt to attack her. They all start talking in the dragon language, calling her Dovahkiin, shooting blasts of fire into the air, speaking about Alduin. Leytiri turns to look at Paarthurnax, standing next to his ruin, staring at her. He doesn’t speak like the rest of the dragons do. He merely stares at her.

The dragons slowly start to rise, circle around the Throat, and head off to the rest of Skyrim. Leytiri knows she may yet have to fight some of them, possibly many of them, and take their souls into her own. But that was not to be this day. This day they accepted her as the victor over Alduin. She approaches Paarthurnax.

The greenish, greyish dragon blinks at her. “Alduin has left this world. He is dead. He was my brother and I am not pleased to see him gone, but what happened was what needed to be. You have victory.”

“I’m sorry.” Leytiri chews on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry that I had to kill your brother. He gave me no other choice.”

“I know.” Paarthurnax grumbles. “Alduin’s destruction was one of his one making. You were merely the tool used to end him. Enough of this, for you, Dovah, will have more to write in your story. Go now, Dragonborn. I will take to the skies and watch over my brothers.”

Before Leytiri can respond, a loud crash sounds from behind her and she turns to see the red dragon, Odahviing. He does not attempt to attack her though and she bows her head to him slightly. “Thank you for taking me where I needed to go. I owe you a great deal.”

Odahviing chuckles in Leytiri’s head. “You owe nothing, Dovah. You are worthy of being Thuri. I will follow you and should you ever need aid, call upon my name with your Thu’um and I will come when I am able. Until that day comes, farewell.”

Leytiri watches as Odahviing flies into the sky and Paarthurnax allows a rare chuckle. “You are his Thuri, Dovah. Overlord in your tongue. Call upon his name with your Shout and he will join you in battle. You received the same gift with the lost soldiers in Sovngarde.”

“Aye.” Leytiri turns back to face Paarthurnax. “Farewell, Paarthurnax. If I ever need aid, I may return here again. Until then… friend.”

Leytiri turns away from the soaring dragons and begins her walk down the mountain, knowing that seven thousand steps were in her future. But after that, she would make her way to Whiterun where a nice, warm bed, and perhaps a man in that bed, would greet her, the hero of Skyrim.

Chapter Text

When Leytiri steps past the gates of Whiterun, she looks up to see that the two moons of Skyrim are high in the sky. She sighs. It was late, so late that most of the buildings around her were cold, dark, and silent, and the only people seeming to be out and about were guards. Perhaps it would be best if, instead of walking all the way to Dragonsreach, she would just get a room at the Bannered Mare. It would be less comfortable, but it beat walking all the way to the castle.

Before Leytiri can walk more than a few feet down the street however, a courier races towards her, digging into a bag over his shoulder. “Dragonborn! I’ve got a message from you.” He pulls out a scroll and hands it to her. “I’m off!”

Leytiri smiles as the courier moves towards the gates she had just walked through. Did the man ever take a break? Still smiling, she opens the letter only to read a single line: “Meet me at the Bannered Mare.” Signed by… Brynjolf. It seems that her message to him about the Seven Daggers had been received. She sighs again. Her coin purse was about to get much lighter.

Despite that, Leytiri makes her way towards the Bannered Mare, excited to see him again. He’d been so kind to her back at the inn in Riften, after she’d found out Tovarr was the son of Maven Black-Briar. He had led her to her room and put her to bed. It’d been clear that he knew what Tovarr did to her. Slowing, Leytiri exhales softly, trying not to let thoughts of that man fill her head. She thought she had largely recovered from it. She’d been intimate with other men since.

She was fine.

Pulling the door open, Leytiri steps into the warm inn. A bard plays softly in the corner and there were only two other patrons in the large, main room, neither red-headed. The woman behind the bar looks at Leytiri and gestures towards the back bedroom. “Your quarters have been paid for. Would you like some ale or food before you go to bed?”

Surprised that Brynjolf paid for her room, Leytiri shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’ll wait for breakfast in the morning. Goodnight.”

Leytiri walks towards the door leading to the back bedroom, opens it, and walks into a small room with a bed, dresser, and a desk, with a red haired man sitting at the desk. Brynjolf winks at her. “Hello, lass. Close the door.”

Blushing, Leytiri pushes the door shut and glances around the room again. There was only one seat and Brynjolf was on it. She could sit on the bed but that seemed far too intimate right now.

Brynjolf chuckles. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen an Altmer girl blush. Your skin doesn’t turn red, no, but turns a darker shade of gold. Beautiful, lass.”

“Thank you.” Leytiri feels her cheeks heat up further but crosses her arms. “That’s not why you’re here though. Since you decided to meet me instead of sending me a message earlier, it seems like you might have some information about the two lost Seven Daggers.”

“Must we get to the business side of things so soon?” Brynjolf’s green eyes twinkle, glancing over at the bed. “I was thinking we could get to know one another. Perhaps have a little romp in the bed. I remember how your knees went weak for me.”

Leytiri’s eyes follow Brynjolf’s and it is very tempting to take him up on the offer. He was tall, at least a decade older, fit, and gorgeous with his red hair, beard, and green eyes. She’d have fun with his heavy bulk pushing her into the mattress. That thought makes her think of Tovarr and she furrows her brow. No, she couldn’t think of Brynjolf and Tovarr at the same time. She was fine. She was fine.

When Leytiri turns back to face Brynjolf, a no on her lips, his eyes narrow, losing their twinkle. “It seems that you are still haunted by Maven’s bastard boy. I will not be like Balgruuf and take from you more than you are willing to give, despite what you think you are willing to give.”

Lips trembling but infuriated at the same time, Leytiri shakes her head and points at the bed. “I am not haunted by Tovarr. Balgruuf has been kind to me and has treated me well as his lover. I go to his bed a willing participant. How the fuck do you even know about the two of us?”

Brynjolf sighs and looks away from her. “You are haunted by Tovarr because your eyes changed when you were looking at the bed. You wanted me to fuck you but then you got this strange look in your eye. Tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that you were not thinking about him and I will believe you.”

“I-I—” Leytiri scoffs. “Fine, but I’m not haunted. Now answer my question. How do you know about Balgruuf and I?”

“I’m in the information business, Leytiri.” Brynjolf shrugs. “I’m a thief and always need plenty of information to steal whatever I need to steal. I’m not planning on robbing Balgruuf but I do have spies everywhere. Some of them have seen you going to his chambers. The first night, you were leaning heavily against his arm. I dimly recall my informant telling me the man was joking about fucking you right there on the table.”

Leytiri’s cheeks lose their color. Balgruuf had made a joke about sleeping with her on the table, because of her staring. “How do you know that? Unless you’re going to tell me your spy is Balgruuf’s brother or Irileth—”

“Of course not.” Brynjolf throws his head back and laughs, the noise doing things to Leytiri’s insides. “It was one of the maids cleaning in the room. You’d be surprised how easy it is to infiltrate somewhere like that. If I wanted the man dead then he would be dead.”

“But you don’t want him dead.”

Brynjolf shakes his head. “No, though I am jealous he got to taste you before I did. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about your failed romance with Balgruuf. We’re here to talk about my payment.”

“Alright.” Leytiri moves to sit on the bed. “What payment would you like.”

Smirking, Brynjolf says, “Three-thousand gold.”

A stunned silence fills the air until Leytiri stutters out, “Th-three-thousand gold?! Are you mad? That is extortion.”

“That is business, Leytiri.” Brynjolf laughs again and shrugs. “You want the dagger and I know where it is. You give me the money and I give you the location. How badly do you want the location of the dagger?”

“How do you even know where it is?”

“Bandits talk.” He smirks. “They talk an awful lot, especially when they’re drunk. The dagger with blue gems in the sheath was a rare prize. I guess the leader of this particular group of bandits didn’t want to part with the blade and has refused to sell it. You’d have to go get it.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Leytiri stares at him, stone-faced. “Not only must I give you three-thousand gold, but I must also travel to this mysterious location, kill a bunch of bandits, risking my life in the effort, on the hopes that they might have my dagger? No deal. It is worth a great deal to me. It is not worth that much. I could take that three-thousand and add a couple more thousand to it so I can buy Breezehome. I can easily forget all about that dagger.”

“Breezehome?” Brynjolf scoffs. “You are the Dragonborn. What are you going to do? Sell wares at the marketplace and grow old in this place? That is not a fate worthy of one such as you.”

Leytiri shakes her head. “I’m tired, Brynjolf. I killed Alduin. I want a break even if it’s a boring, old life here. It’s still a life and I want it.”

Brynjolf stares at her for a few moments, his jaw tightening. “Five-hundred.”

“Pardon?” Leytiri’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I will not have you give up on what you deserve so easily.” Brynjolf scowls, looking… equally frustrated with himself as he does with her. “Five hundred now and another five hundred when you get back, alive, with the dagger. Surely you’ve got six-thousand gold by now. You can have your pretty home and your dagger.”

Leytiri opens her mouth to say no again but she stops. She did want the dagger. It was the last piece of her mother she had. Could she really say no to that? And Prentis needed it for something… that was worth more to her than anything. The Zyon needed it. Arella and DarJi and Caltar needed it. Even Miraana and Aerinth needed it.

She couldn’t let it go.

“Fine.” Leytiri opens her bag and grabs her coin purse, starting to count out the gold. “I’ll give you five-hundred now in exchange for the location. We will meet back here after I have the dagger and I will give you the rest. Deal?”

“Deal.”

After Leytiri finishes counting the gold she turns to face him. “The location.”

“Halldir’s Cairn.” Brynjolf holds out his hand for the gold. “It’s a cave southwest of Falkreath. I don’t know the name of the man you’re after but he’s got a nice number of bandits with him, both inside and outside the cave. You’ll have to be careful but I’m sure you can just Shout them all to pieces if you need to.”

Leytiri places the coins in his hands and watches as he dumps them all into his own coin purse. “Falkreath makes sense, I suppose. I lost it at Helgen.”

“It was stolen at Helgen.” Brynjolf grimaces. “There’s more you need to know. Maven knows who you are. She discovered your identity and wants to make you pay for what you did to her son. I’d watch your back.”

Frowning, Leytiri lowers her hand to her hip only to find her sheath empty. She’d been forced to leave her sword buried in Alduin’s body. Fuck! She should have bought a sword on the way back from Hrothgar. “I want you to leave.”

“If I wanted you dead,” Brynjolf rises from his seat and moves towards the door. “You’d be dead, Leytiri. I don’t like to kill, and I’d like to kill you less than most. She’s been talking about sending the Dark Brotherhood after you. I don’t know how much truth there is to those words but you need to be careful. Get another sword. Be vigilant. Walk through the shadows. Live. Don’t give that bitch what she wants. Don’t let him beat you.”

Leytiri rises from the bed and nods. “I… thank you. For the warning and the location. I will send a message when I get back here.”

“Don’t bother, lass.” Brynjolf smirks. “I’ll know when to come.”

Brynjolf raises his hand towards Leytiri, hesitates, then brushes one of his fingers against her bottom lip. Her mouth opens on a soft gasp and his finger pushes inside slightly, brushing against her tongue, before pulling out and pressing down against her bottom lip again. His breath gets harsher and his pupils dilate. Pulling his hand away, he clears his throat. “I don’t have any right to ask this, and I swear I had no intention on asking this when I came, but don’t let him fuck you again. You deserve better.”

“You’re a thief.” Leytiri’s own words come out high pitched, and she tries to slow her racing heart. “He’s an honorable man and you’re a thief.”

“You deserve better than him and you certainly deserve better than me, but I am a strangely honorable thief.” Brynjolf’s eyes don’t move from her lips. “He can’t give you what you need. He’s married, for one thing.”

“And you can give me what I need? You don’t even know what I need.”

“Forgiveness.” Brynjolf finally raises his eyes to look in hers. “You’ve never forgiven yourself for that swine climbing on top of you. You think you were weak. I don’t know the details but I do know that. Answer me true; do you think about him every time you go to bed with a man? You’ve yet to heal.”

Tears prick at the corners of Leytiri’s eyes and she points past him at the door. “Leave. You’ve gotten what you want, now go.”

Brynjolf nods, his green eyes sad. “I’m sorry. This was not my attention. There was an attraction before and I merely wanted to go to bed with you, but after seeing the pain in your eyes I… I’ll go. I’ll meet you back here after. Goodnight, lass.”

Watching him go while fighting back tears, Leytiri waits until the door clicks and she hears the footsteps die before she pushes the desk against the door. Maven was coming after her.

It would be hours until Leytiri felt safe enough to fall into slumber.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stares at the entrance of Halldir’s Cairn for several minutes before she glances around the mountains. There were no bandits around the entrance and she couldn’t hear anything coming from within. She hoped this wasn’t a trap Brynjolf was setting her up for. He hadn’t seemed like he wanted to hurt her, as it would have been nearly impossible for her to stop him from springing it upon her at the inn. He was a master of shadows and she wasn’t expecting an ambush.

Now would be the worst time to ambush her as she was expecting it.

Sighing, Leytiri edges forward and draws her new sword from its scabbard. She liked the blade, though liked even more the matching dagger it had come with. The blacksmith in Whiterun told her a dagger would work well for a girl of her size. Easing towards the Cairn, she grips her sword tightly and lets the magic flow through her other hand.

No one jumps out at Leytiri as she makes her way to the opening of the Cairn. She eases forward into a dirty cave with mushrooms growing on the floor and walls. No sounds come from ahead and she moves forward into another room where she sees… a glowing purple light shooting into the ceiling from stone below.

Crouching down, Leytiri moves towards the edge of the ground, looking down at the glowing light. She could see bedrolls down below, and dead bandits next to the glowing stone. Still not hearing anything, she eases down and around the path until she gets to the same level as the glowing purple light. She looks through the bodies of the two bandits but doesn’t find anything. Afraid to go near the purple light, she moves towards a door and stone statue, finding a book and key on it.

Briefly glancing through the journal, Leytiri grabs the key and unlocks the door, finding a spiral staircase. She slowly eases her way up it and comes across a room. Water flows down from in front of her, making the stairs ahead impassable. A soul gem sits on the table to her left and she pockets it before moving to her right and up the stairs to a door.

Two blue ghost-like figures appear at the top of the stairs and Leytiri immediately Shouts her fire at the both of them. The archer falls to the floor instantly but the warrior with a shield manages to hang on, but stumbles. Leytiri lurches forward and stabs it in the head with her sword, killing it. She opens the door and is attacked by two more of the ghosts. She sends out her atronach, which shoots fireballs at the two of them while she slices one’s throat open and stabs the other through the back.

Leytiri jumps over the trap to the room to the right and pockets a health potion. She jumps back over the trap, walks down a hallway, not even bothering to crouch anymore due to her foes being ghosts, and grabs a soul gem. At the top of the stairs is another trap, dangling bones from the ceiling. Sighing and crouching low to avoid them, she moves forward but the top of her head brushes against the bones.

Two more ghosts appear at the top of the stairs and Leytiri Shouts her fire again, killing both. At the top of the stairs she finds three draugr and they all rise to fight her. Shooting out both her familiar and atronach, they go after two of the draugr while Leytiri faces the largest of the three, next to a large throne. He brings his sword up to strike and she parries the blow. While he tries to recover and bring his sword back again, she swings and cuts off his arm completely. He shrieks and his head soon follows the arm. When she turns to face the other draugr, she sees the atronach has already disappeared and the familiar leap up to bite at the neck of the last draugr, killing him.

Approaching the gate, Leytiri can’t find a lever or chain to pull. She turns around and spots a lever sitting behind the throne. Rolling her eyes, she pulls it and watches as the gate opens. She walks up the stairs and enters a tomb with a lever across from her. She sees two pictures of a hawk on the wall and finds another, movable statue across from it. Before she can move the stone, two ghost and a draugr attack her. Her flame atronach is sent out again and she grabs her dagger with her right hand and slams it into the head of one of the ghosts. Her sword takes off the head of the other ghost while her atronach sends more fireballs out at the draugr.

After the enemies are all dead, Leytiri quickly matches the three stones on the floor with the symbols on the walls and flips the switch. A stone door moves ahead of her and she quickly moves through it. Two ghosts rise from the floor and she Shouts at them, killing both. She turns and moves up the stairs to her right until she gets to another room. The purple light from below shoots up into the air.

A draugr covered in a ghostly blue light turns towards her and shrieks. She sends out both her atronach and familiar again and the three of them race towards the draugr. He shoots blue and purple spells at her and she leaps away from them, sending her own flames at him. She Shouts her fire at the same time as her atronach shoots its fireballs, and the spell and Shout meet against the draugr, a burst of flame engulfing him. He screams as all three of them hack and slash and cast spells against him until he finally crumbles into a pile of ash on the floor.

Leytiri pockets the powerful looking staff he carried and some other nice items too, before moving over to a large chest next to a throne. Inside sits armor, a war axe, some kind of white object that glows when she picks it up. A voice fills her head, directing to bring the beacon to Mount Kilkreath. She shivers. It was probably not a good idea that she could hear someone speaking in her mind. Was it some type of Daedric beast?

At the bottom of the chest, Leytiri spots a flash of blue and her eyes immediately start to burn with unshed tears. Carefully, she moves aside everything else and picks up the dagger. The sheath is black and dusty, with sapphires glittering underneath. She unsheathes the dagger to find it exactly as she remembered it. Brynjolf’s information had been wrong, but it earned her the dagger. She’d forever be grateful for it.

The only question now was, did she have to go all the way back the way she came? Normally in these types of dungeons there was a secret way back. Her eyes circle the room and finally land on the metal grate in the middle of the floor. She grimaces and moves closer to it, seeing there are places to land beneath. A trap door. “I really don’t want to go down there.”

Sighing, Leytiri opens the door and jumps down to the first level, then the second, then the third. She spots the entrance to the Cairn and the bodies of the bandits before her. Huh, one of the two bandits must be the one who stole her mother’s dagger. The draugr at the top must have killed the two of them and taken the dagger. Oh well.

Leytiri quickly walks back up to the entrance of the Cairn before slowly easing her way out of it, expecting an attack but not finding one. The cool breeze feels welcoming against her cheeks. The air smells lovely compared to the musty underground she’d just spent too long in.

When would the Dark Brotherhood attack, she wonders? Had Maven already employed them to come after Leytiri?

Would she ever feel safe again?

Chapter Text

Like last time, it is pitch black when Leytiri returns to Whiterun. The moons shine down upon her as she slowly makes her way towards the Bannered Mare, wondering if Brynjolf was already there, waiting for her. It had been tempting to go see Balgruuf before leaving for the dagger but she hadn’t done it. She had wanted to obey Brynjolf’s request.

The thief enflamed her in a way the other men in her life hadn’t been able to. A simple touch of her lips had made Leytiri want to shed her clothes, and she would have, if not for thoughts of Tovarr. Thoughts that Brynjolf had almost been able to see before he put a stop to things.

Perhaps she should make a visit to Balgruuf before going to see Brynjolf at the inn, whenever he was supposed to arrive. Balgruuf was honorable, despite the nature of their relationship. She believed his marriage was one of necessity and not one of love anymore. The problem with him is that she knew there was no real future between them. She would forever be his whore. The name whore didn’t bother Leytiri, but knowing she’d never get married nor have children hurt her more than she’d care to admit. Her mother would have wanted her to find a husband, settle down, and have a child. Maybe a girl...

Before leaving the Order, Leytiri thought the idea of getting married and having children was boring. She loathed the idea of being a housewife, tending to the home and children while her husband worked. The plan was for her to become a great mage and do whatever she wanted in life. Leytiri wouldn’t need a man to take care of her. Leytiri could take care of herself.

The thought made Leytiri laugh now. She detested the idea of being alone now. Love was something she wanted, though she knew the likelihood of finding it now seemed slim. Balgruuf couldn’t give her his heart, not completely. She was strangely content to be his whore but she knew his heart wouldn’t be hers. Would never be hers.

Brynjolf looked at her with fire in his eyes and Leytiri knew that was dangerous. He was also a thief, and there was no honor in that. Her own little foray into thievery had left her sick with guilt. How he could do it everyday sickened her. No, he wasn’t a good choice.

Sighing, Leytiri opens the door to the inn and steps inside. It is so late that not even a bard stands to greet her. The barmaid leans heavily against the bar, not looking up when Leytiri crosses over to her. “The cook left. You’ll have to wait till morning for food. Same room as last time is yours. Red-haired man waitin’ for you.”

“That’s not what I want.” Leytiri glances towards the door, knowing Brynjolf was just behind it. “I wanted to know if anyone’s been here looking for me. Any messages or anything?”

“Nope.” The barmaid clicks her tongue. “I mean, besides the people wanting your autograph for saving us all from Alduin. That’s annoying.”

Resisting a sigh, Leytiri thanks the maid and turns towards her room for the night. She gets to the door but stops when she sees liquid running out from under the door. Red liquid. Breath quickening, Leytiri starts to turn away but stops when a voice calls out softly from the bedroom. “It’s alright, lass. Get in here and shut the door quickly.”

Leytiri lowers her hand down to her sword but doesn’t pull it. She grabs the knob and twists it, moves into the room, and shuts the door behind her. The first thing she notices is a man laying on the ground in a black and red outfit, with a slit throat. More red moves outwards from his body and she steps over him to avoid stepping in the blood more than she had already. He was dead.

“Thought you might panic.” Leytiri looks over towards the bed where Brynjolf sits, breathing harshly. “I suppose you might be panicking inwardly. Imagine my shock when I pay for this room and walk in only to get knifed by that fucker there. He was aiming for where your head would have been and got my arm instead.”

“What—” Leytiri’s drift down to Brynjolf’s arm to see a long, red line against pale skin. Blood runs from it and down onto the bedding beneath him. “Gods! Brynjolf, you’re hurt.”

Throwing her bag onto the desk, Leytiri digs out bandages and a potion. She tosses him the potion, grabs a cloth and the water from the jug on the desk, and starts towards him. Brynjolf drinks down the potion while Leytiri starts washing the wound. He doesn’t say anything as she carefully starts wrapping his arm with the bandages. “You’ll be okay.” She mutters. “It’s got to hurt.”

“I’ll live.” Brynjolf flexes his arm and grimaces. “It does hurt though. If I hadn’t been as quick, and if he’d known it was me coming through the door, it would have been my corpse and a deadly assassin you would have greeted upon your return. I hate to think—”

Leytiri finishes wrapping the wound and steps back to wash her bloody hands in the jug of water. She waits for Brynjolf to finish his sentence but when he doesn’t, she says, “You hate to think what? I might have lived. I’ve been on edge ever since you told me Maven wants to send the Dark Brotherhood after me. It seems like she has.”

“I led him straight to you.” Brynjolf makes a disgusted noise. “I’m the one that brought you here last time. You could have safely gone on to Balgruuf’s bed and we would have never met. I endangered you.”

“For a good cause.” Leytiri sits on the chair by the desk and pulls her bag closer to her. She digs into it until she finds her dagger and pulls it out. “I got my dagger from the cave. That was worth it to me. Though I will admit, I’m… frightened about another attack. The next one could just sneak in while I’m asleep.”

“You need to go stay with Balgruuf tonight.” Brynjolf grimaces. “I’d like to see them try to get at you in the fucking jarl’s home. This isn’t good though, Leytiri. Delvin and I might need to do a thing or two to get them off your back. It’ll have to be out of guild though. Mercer doesn’t like fucking with the Dark Brotherhood. I won’t let them just slaughter you without any resistance though.”

Leytiri shakes her head. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. I don’t want to endanger Balgruuf or his children either. Maybe I could ask the Order for help or get out of Skyrim completely.”

“Neither will work.” Brynjolf looks down at his wounded arm. “There’s no stopping them. They’ll hunt you down to the ends of the world until they find you. There’s nowhere you can run from them. Maybe Delvin and I can figure out a way to get the hit called off. I won’t let you die, Leytiri. I promise.”

“Don’t promise me that.” Leytiri feels her eyes begin to burn as her eyes grow wet. “You can’t protect me from the Dark Brotherhood. I’m pretty much a dead woman at this point. You said it yourself. There’s no stopping them. I’m on my way out of this world.”

“No… don’t.” Brynjolf reaches a hand towards Leytiri but doesn’t touch her. “Please don’t cry, lass. Come sit here with me.”

Leytiri shakes her head and swipes at her eyes. “I’m not crying.” She turns back to her bag and opens her coin purse. “I still owe you five-hundred gold for your information.”

Brynjolf scoffs. “I’m not taking your money. Lass, please come over here. I won’t bite.”

“Unless I want you to?” Leytiri scoops up her entire purse and moves towards the bed, landing heavily on it next to Brynjolf. “You might as well just take all the money. The Dark Brotherhood’s coming after me and I can’t watch my back every second of the day. I’ll need to sleep at some point. To be honest, I hope they do it when I’m asleep. I don’t want to know it’s coming.”

“Stop it.” Brynjolf’s rough hand comes up to cradle Leytiri’s chin and he turns her face to look at him. “I’m not going to let them hurt you. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep you safe. Hell, if I have to put a hit out on Maven to get her to back the fuck off, I will. I won’t let you die.”

Leytiri swallows past a lump in her throat, a tear slides down her cheek only for it to hit Brynjolf’s thumb. “You can’t protect me forever,” she whispers. “Sooner or later, one of them will get me. I don’t want you to die for me. You’re gonna have to let me go.”

“Just like you’ve let you go, lass?” Brynjolf’s thumb slides against Leytiri’s cheekbone and he leans forward slowly until his forehead rests against hers. “I’m not letting you go just because you’ve given up on yourself. You’ll have to slit your own fucking throat to get me to let you go.”

Breathing harder, Leytiri nudges her nose against Brynjolf’s and his lips cover hers, his nails digging into her skin as they do. Brynjolf’s tongue presses against her lips and she opens them immediately, enjoying the feel of his tongue pistoning in and out of her mouth, brushing against her tongue and teeth. His kiss was so self-assured, as if he had every right to her, that Leytiri’s loins quickly grow wet at his intrusion. She lets out a soft moan.

Brynjolf growls and pulls away from her, his face flushed and one quick look down tells Leytiri he’s hard in his trousers. He presses his palm against his hardness and hisses. Leytiri reaches towards him. “I can take care of that for you.”

“Not now.” Brynjolf’s heavily accented voice comes out harsh and guttural as he looks away from her. “I didn’t come here for your money or your body, though I would like both of them. Besides, I don’t want to bed you until your demons are done haunting you. Both physical and in your mind.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Brynjolf rises from his seat and turns to face her. “You know what I mean. The Dark Brotherhood and Maven’s bastard. They both haunt you and I won’t fall into bed with you until I know you’re safe from them both. I don’t want you to look at me and think about him hurting you. I won’t cause you more pain than you’ve already faced. Now let’s get you to Balgruuf for protection.”

Leytiri hesitates before rising to her feet as well. She shoves her coin purse back into her bag and follows Brynjolf out of the room.

Chapter Text

Leytiri frowns as Brynjolf’s arm brushes against hers as they walk towards the stairs inside the entrance of Dragonsreach. She knew he only wanted to protect her but his closeness was unnerving her in multiple ways. First, she desired him, and not just desired him physically like she’d desired all her former lovers but wanted his spirit too. That worried her as she’d never gotten this close to a lover. Not even Balgruuf had made her feel so wanted.

Second, his closeness proved more that Maven wanted Leytiri dead. He had a cut arm to prove it and, had she been in the room, it would have been her head instead. No matter how much she’d been preparing herself for the assassination attempt, it hadn’t been enough. She knew that. It was only the blood that had caught her eye. Had he not been there, she would be dead right now.

The two of them walk up the stairs together and approach the great tables. Balgruuf sits laughing next to his brother but he looks up as the two approach. The laughter in his eyes dies and he nods at his brother. “Clear the room, brother. These two are here for business.”

Balgruuf moves towards his throne and Leytiri watches as the few people in the room are pushed from it by his brother and Irileth. Within minutes, Leytiri, Brynjolf, Balgruuf, and Irileth are the only ones in the room. Balgruuf nods at Leytiri before looking at Brynjolf. “I don’t typically hold meetings with members of the Thieves Guild." his eyes flicker to Leytiri. "Especially when that member is standing next to the honorable Dragonborn. What do I owe the honor?”

“An attempt was made on Leytiri’s life.” Brynjolf rests a hand on her shoulder and Leytiri notices Balgruuf’s eyes narrow at it. “In your city.”

“Gods, Leytiri are you alright?” At her nod, Balgruuf sighs in relief. “Tell me what happened, Leytiri.”

Leytiri’s eyes drift from one man and back to the other. Were they having some kind of silent pissing contest over her? She wouldn’t have it, though she didn’t know how to stop it without drawing Irileth into the stupidity. She clears her throat. “I returned to Whiterun an hour or so ago and noticed blood coming from the door of my room at the inn. Brynjolf let me know it was safe to enter. He had killed the assassin of the Dark Brotherhood who’d been sent to murder me.”

“Brave of you.” Balgruuf’s eyes barely touch Brynjolf before he looks at Irileth. “So there is a dead body at the inn that needs to be taken care of it.” His gaze drifts back to Leytiri. “We must also secure Leytiri’s safety without alerting the citizens to her danger. Whenever she’s in Whiterun, she will have a single guard on her at all times. I wish I could put more on her but I don't want the civilians to worry about her or themselves. She will only stay in Dragonsreach when in Whiterun.”

Before Leytiri can open her mouth, Brynjolf says, “Aye. She should just stay in Dragonsreach until we can figure out how to call off the assassins.”

“That would be difficult.” Irileth interrupts him. “The Dark Brotherhood take their jobs very seriously. They won’t quit until their mark is dead. No doors and castle walls could keep them from her. A poisoner in the kitchen would do.”

If I wanted to kill Balgruuf, he would be dead. Leytiri looks up at Brynjolf. Had he himself not said if he wanted the other man dead, that it would be done? And the Dark Brotherhood were far more skilled at killing than he is. She was going to die. She was really going to be killed by those people because of Tovarr. Maybe slitting her own throat might be the best thing to do after all.

“You’re going to be okay.” Leytiri looks up into green eyes. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” Brynjolf looks up at Balgruuf. “You need to make sure every bite of her food hasn’t been tampered with. Only your most trusted advisors can go near her. I’ll return to Riften and speak with the leader of the Thieves Guild and a few of my friends there. We’ll get the hit called off or perhaps I can put a hit out on Maven. Get her to back down completely.”

“Maven?” Balgruuf’s eyes narrow. “It is Maven Black-Briar who is threatening Leytiri’s life? That is troubling news. She has the resources to keep this hunt going for months, and she’s deadly on her own even without the Dark Brotherhood beside her. I even have to invite her here as a guest on occasion. What happened to make her hate Leytiri this much?”

Brynjolf looks down at Leytiri again and back up. “That doesn’t matter. Just know that she hates Leytiri and we need to protect her. At any cost.”

“Stop.” Leytiri scoffs and shakes her head. “Seriously, enough, both of you. I’m not going to hide in a bedroom for days, months, even years while you try to get Maven to call off the hit on me. I killed her fucking son, Balgruuf. I killed her son Tovarr because he raped me when I was in the Order of the Seven. I was banished because I killed him using a method other than magic.”

Silence falls upon the four of them and Leytiri longs to look back down at the floor and allow the two men in her life to dictate how the rest of her life would go. But she wasn’t a weak, meek little girl. She was the Dragonborn. A flash of respect fills Irileth’s eyes. The other elf nods her approval at Leytiri. “It seems,” Irileth says, “That the Dragonborn has made up her mind.”

“She’s not in her right mind!” Brynjolf explodes. “She’s steps away from slitting her own fucking throat. She believes she’s moments away from death and is almost embracing that. That may be good enough for the two of you but it’s not for me. I will find out how to stop Maven with or without any of your help. Just keep her safe until then.”

A bubble of laughter fills Leytiri’s throat as she and the rest of them watch Brynjolf turn on his heel and, literally, stomp like a five year old in the direction of the door. Leytiri calls out to him, “Stop.” Relieved when he does. “You told me you knew the locations of the last two daggers. How much do I have to pay for the location of the last one?”

A muscle in Brynjolf’s jaw clenches when he turns back to face her. “My evidence for your mother’s dagger was concrete. All I have about the last dagger is mere rumor. It could be completely false for all I know.”

“I would still like to buy the information. How much?”

Another silence fills the room while Brynjolf assesses her quietly. He shakes his head. “Be it on your head, then, if you do not wish to accept protection and comfort from us. There is an Altmer in Markarth who knows the location of the final dagger. His name is Ondolemar. Ask him where you can find it.”

Leytiri watches the older man leave sadly. She knew he was just trying to help her and protect her, but she couldn’t hide in a castle for the rest of her life, terrified to even walk outside and smell the fresh air. If she was going to die, and it looked like she very well might, she was going to enjoy every last moment she had.

“It seems Brynjolf has a flair for the dramatics. Irileth, see to it that Leytiri has a comfortable room.” Leytiri turns back to face Balgruuf, who smiles at her fondly, yet sadly as well. Irileth huffs before turning to the stairs. Balgruuf waits until she’s disappeared before he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be coming. I would have sent you a message if I’d known. My wife is visiting from Solitude.”

“Oh.” Leytiri waits for the pain to hit her, the jealousy, the anger. None of it does, save for a touch of longing for the fake love that he’d offered her before. For that was all he could offer her. “I understand. It doesn’t bother me to sleep alone.”

A strange look crosses Balgruuf’s face and he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t like the idea of you alone right now. I just… I must respect my wife.”

“I completely understand.” And she did. Leytiri had always known what they had was temporary and he was married. She would not cause a scene and be disrespectful. Plus, there was an undeniable fact going on right that moment. Brynjolf’s parting had caused her sadness, Balgruuf’s had not. She wanted to chase after the red-headed man, not the blonde. She smiles at Balgruuf. “I knew coming into this that you were married. I will respect your wife, as will you.”

Balgruuf returns the smile, though his is pained. “About Maven’s boy. I’m glad you killed him. I knew you’d faced trauma.”

Leytiri pictures Tovarr in her mind and nods. “Yes, I’m glad I killed him too. At one point, I had wished that I could go back and do things differently. All because I longed to return to the Order. Now, I’m glad that I killed him. What if I wasn’t the first woman he’d done that to? Or what if he would have grown braver and done it to more women? Killing him was the right thing to do, no matter what Maven is doing to me now.”

“It’s hard, I imagine, to admit your child is a monster.” Balgruuf’s eyes lower and he sighs softly. “I can’t say my wife or I wouldn’t do the same thing if one of our children were killed. The pain of losing a child is likely the worst thing that could happen to a person. But what he did to you… there is no forgiving that. I’m sorry, Leytiri.”

“I’m working through it.” Leytiri feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, though she doesn’t lose her smile. “I understand why Maven wants me dead. He was her child. Tovarr may have been a monster to me but she will always remember him as her little boy. I don’t think she’ll ever be able to look past that, even if Brynjolf puts a hit out on her own head. I am not rushing towards death but the fact that it may happen tomorrow doesn’t frighten me. Not living the rest of my life the way I want just because I’m afraid of dying isn’t fair.”

“You’re stronger than you know.” Both of them jerk in the direction of the stairs, where Irileth stands. She nods at Leytiri. “You’ve grown since the first day you arrived. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you.” Leytiri nods back. “I’m ready to go to sleep now, I think.”

Following the woman out of the room, Leytiri gives Balgruuf one last look, knowing that the two of them would never share another intimate moment. Their eyes meet, and they share one last smile before she rounds the corner.

“He’s a good man.”

The statement is said on a whisper, one that Leytiri isn’t positive she’d heard right. She knew, had she heard right, that he was talking about Brynjolf. Another smile graces her lips. Yes, Brynjolf was a good man, despite his “profession.” They could find happiness together.

They could find love together.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stares up at the mountains as the carriage rocks beneath her, taking her and the rest of her group towards Markarth. She glances around at the men and women beside her. When she awoke the morning after the attack in Whiterun, she’d told Balgruuf of her intention to travel to Markarth to speak to Ondolemar. She’d expected the man to try to stop her, and he had, but it didn’t take long for him to realize she was serious.

What Leytiri hadn’t expected from Balgruuf was him insisting on her taking a guard with her to Markarth. He’d even gone so far as to say he’d have her confined to his rooms if she refused to accept his guards. And now Leytiri had an extra layer of guilt. Her eyes lower. What if these people were killed while trying to defend her from the Dark Brotherhood? How could she live with that?

“It might get a little bit bumpy.” The carriage driver calls back to them. “We’re going over the bridge and up some hills.”

The soldiers and Leytiri rock into each other as the carriage rides over the rocky stone of the bridge before starting up a hill. She grits her teeth and digs her nails into the bottom of the seat beneath her, trying to hold on and not lean too heavily on the man beside her when the carriage tilts. Her eyes drift around the mountains, taking in mine entrances and people walking around mills and farms. It honestly surprised her to see farms doing so well this far into the mountains.

That thought makes her think of her village from when she was a child. Their people hadn’t been able to grow much food in the hard stone and had heavily relied on hunting, foraging farther away, and trade with Markarth. It made her proud to see the people of the Reach doing so well, though it also made her sad to know her own people hadn’t been able to make it.

The carriage levels again and the driver turns back to face them again. “There’s only one more hill and it’s a steep one. It’d be kinder on the horses if a few of you got out and walked the rest of the way.”

Not desiring another tilted trip, Leytiri quickly eases herself down off of the carriage and is delighted when all the soldiers follow her. She smacks the side of the carriage and calls back to the driver. “We’re all off. Give the horses a few apples on us. They did a good job.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Leytiri smiles as she and the guards slowly start up the hill behind the carriage. It moves towards the right, in the direction of a barn. She looks to her left and notices a mine and mill. A woman and little girl stand next to the entrance to the mine. They both appear to be wiping dirt off their faces. A pang hits Leytiri. A child working in the mine? That was dangerous. How could the jarl allow that to happen? Elisif?

Forcing herself to look away, Leytiri starts up the steps towards the great doors leading to the city. One of the Imperial guards next to the doors raises his hand to stop them and takes in Leytiri’s group. “These are Whiterun guards. What are they doing here so far from there?”

“They’re my guards.” Leytiri gestures towards the city. “I’m the Dragonborn and I’m here on business to treat with Jarl Igmund.” Not a lie, completely, but Leytiri didn’t know how these guards felt about the Thalmor and she’d learned a little bit of Ondolemar in her travels here. “Jarl Balgruuf insisted upon me traveling with guards because of the civil war.”

A complete lie, that one, but one that would be easily believed.

“Oh, Dragonborn,” the guard chuckles nervously. “I didn’t realize it was you. Of course, you should have a guard during these troubling times. We could use you in the war against Ulfric.”

“I’ve been so intent on Alduin’s return that I haven’t put much thought into the war yet.” Leytiri didn’t really want any part of it but she’d be damned if she sided with Ulfric. “I wish you victory over Ulfric. King Torygg deserved better.”

“Aye, he did.” The guard moves towards the doors and starts to open one of them. “Thank you for your support, Dragonborn. Safe travels up to the keep.”

“Thank you.”

Leytiri moves through the doors, feeling her guard moving in step beside and behind her. There’s a small market just inside the city and she smiles as two children chase each other through the stalls. She keeps her eyes upwards as she and her group move through the city towards the Understone Keep.

The keep is huge, and that is what Leytiri can see from the outside. She knows from her history lessons from Prentis that the building is built into the mountains. She wonders how far into the mountains they go. As they get closer, the noise of waterfalls grows louder and she takes a deep breath of the mountain air. It reminded her so much of life back in the Order.

As they step up the stairs to the keep, Leytiri turns towards one of the soldiers. “My name is Leytiri. I’m the Dragonborn and I’m here to see the jarl and the Thalmor Justicar.”

The two men look at each before one of them nods. “Jarl Igmund would wish to see you, Dragonborn. It is thanks to you that he was able to keep the city during the peace council. Follow me.”

Moving into the building, Leytiri can’t help but think about how spooky the inside of the mountains seemed to be. Lights from torches flicker against the walls, dancing with the shadows. She was sure the castle was well patrolled but she couldn’t help but imagine frostbite spiders and other creatures coming from where the light didn’t touch.

The soldier leads Leytiri’s party up a flight of stairs past two stone columns. Light flickers from above as they move up another flight of stairs. The walls seem to come closer together up here and Leytiri feels a claustrophobic desire to flee back down the stairs towards light and air and safety. Perhaps she was a dragon after all.

Clearing her throat, Leytiri climbs the last set of steps and steps into a “room” with a throne raised above the ground. Two people stand on opposite sides of the steps. A man and a woman. The woman wears typical Nord armor while the man is an Altmer, like her, with Thalmor Justicar robes on. Ondolemar.

Jarl Igmund leans forward in his seat. “Word travels fast through this city and I’ve been informed that the Dragonborn has come to pay me a visit. What can I help you with?”

Leytiri glances at Ondolemar again before looking up at Igmund. “Thank you for allowing me to speak with you, Jarl. I’m actually here to speak with Ondolemar.”

Igmund looks at Ondolemar too before back at Leytiri. “You’ll find that there are few in Skyrim that support the Thalmor being here amongst my kind. I am one of them. If you wish to speak to him then you will do so without threat or violence. Though,” he hesitates. “It seems like he’s one of your kind. You do not wear the robes of the Thalmor but you are Altmer.”

“She’s not one of us.” Ondolemar says in his heavily accented voice. “She could be but she is not. What do you want from me, girl, and be quick about it?”

Leytiri resists an eyeroll. What a fucking ass. “I’ve been informed that you know the location of a weapon that is very important to me.”

“And what is that weapon?”

“It’s very valuable.” Leytiri licks her lips, wondering if he even knows the story behind the dagger. “There are apparently only seven of them in the world. It’s one of the Seven Daggers. It should have rare stones in the sheath and hilt. It’s small but beautiful.”

Ondolemar raises his brow and his golden eyes shine. “You’re after one of the Daggers of the Seven, are you?”

“I—” Leytiri’s eyes narrow. That hadn’t been what Prentis, DarJi, and Arella had called the daggers. Perhaps the Altmer had a different name for them? How widespread was the knowledge of them? “I suppose. My master told me that the daggers are called the Seven Daggers and they were created for—”

“Your Order.” Ondolemar interrupts, humor in his voice. “Avulor Seven-Seeker, the arrogant fuck,” Leytiri’s cheeks darken at the sound of the curse, sounding so wrong in his elegant voice. “He created each of those daggers using powerful magic. A gift for the masters of the Order. You have no idea what you’re looking for, girl, and the devastation that these weapons have caused and will cause again if they come together.”

“That’s just—” Leytiri scoffs. “They’re bits of steel! Yes, they were made by magic, but they’re nothing more than an ornament. They’re a symbol. You have no idea what they mean to me and my people.”

“Your people?!” Ondolemar’s nostrils flare. “You dare to call the Order of the Seven your people? Do you not know the Order’s history, girl? They’re not innocent mountain dwellers seeking to help young talented mages grow into their own. Those daggers are dangerous and ignorance will be your own downfall. You are an Altmer.”

“Yes, I am an Altmer.” Leytiri growls back at him, her hands clenching into fists. “But I’m not a fucking Thalmor. I don’t believe in the things you believe in and I was born and raised here in Skyrim. I’m a citizen of this country and I was raised in the Order of the Seven. They’re my family, not the fucking Altmer.”

Before Ondolemar can respond, Igmund raises his hands. “Enough, both of you. The last thing I need is the Dragonborn Shouting you to pieces, Ondolemar. It seems the two of you will not be able to reach an agreement on these daggers. Do you know where it is, Ondolemar?”

“I do.” Ondolemar growls out, though his eyes never leave Leytiri’s. “And she will not receive it until she has proven to me that she is worthy of it. It’s too dangerous. You’re right, Jarl Igmund. We should not have argued in your presence. I will meet with Leytiri at the Silver-Blood inn.”

“Aye.” Igmund’s brow raises. “Perhaps that is a good idea. I wish you will come back and speak to me on the morrow, Leytiri.”

“Yes, Jarl.” Leytiri turns on her heel and marches down the stairs with her guard hurrying along behind her. “Fuck.”

This was definitely a trap.

Chapter Text

Leytiri paces back and forth in her room at the Silver-Blood in, throwing a look at the door every time she passes it. It had been three hours since she’d left the Jarl’s chamber, and yet Ondolemar had not come. She had the thought when she was leaving that he was luring her into a trap, and that thought continued to grow as every minute passed. After the first hour, she’d been tempted to go back to the Order’s temple and tell them who knew the whereabouts of the dagger. They could take it from there.

It had thrown her off, how angry Ondolemar was when she’d called the Order her people. They were her people. Prentis was her father in every way but by blood. Arella was her grandmother in every way. Caltar and DarJi were also her family. They were her people more than her mother had had the chance. And her own father had left.

Ondolemar though… he’d been furious when she’d called them that. Leytiri couldn’t pinpoint why he was so angry. The Order has never hurt anyone before, as far as she knew. They were strict mages, much stricter than the College. They largely ignored the majority of Skyrim and beyond. But they were immensely kind, especially when they’d come to the aid of Leytiri’s village. They hadn’t been able to save anyone except for her, but they’d tried.

It was both Ondolemar’s reaction to her and Prentis that made Leytiri stubbornly stay in the inn. Prentis, Arella, DarJi, and Caltar were searching for this dagger. That was reason enough for her to do it too. A part of her was also being selfish. She knew Prentis wanted to be with her, and she wanted that as well. Giving the Zyon the dagger would free Prentis and allow the two of them to be the family they’d never had the heart to say they were until recently.

The guards Balgruuf had given her are standing outside, waiting for Ondolemar to come. There was no way for him to break into her room any other way, and they were prepared to fight him for her. She was prepared to Shout him to pieces if he got through them to get to her. She hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, and she assumed the Thalmor weren’t working with the Dark Brotherhood, but she wouldn’t take any chances.

While she’d accepted there was a good chance she’d die young due to the hit out on her, Leytiri wasn’t going to go out without a fight. The Dark Brotherhood were going to lose as many members as she could kill before they overtook her. She refused to die until she got that dagger for Prentis. Whatever test Ondolemar had for her, she was ready for it.

One of the guards knocks on the door. “Dragonborn,” he calls. “Ondolemar is here.”

Steeling her spine, Leytiri locks her hands together in front of her and faces the door. “Let him in.”

The door opens and the guard enters with Ondolemar behind him. The guard looks at Leytiri with a clear question in his eyes. She nods at him. “You can go.”

The guard hesitates before nodding back and closing the door. Once the door is shut, Ondolemar pulls his hood off, showing a mane of blonde hair. He immediately starts checking out the room, looking under the table, and even peeking under her bed. Leytiri stares at him, flabbergasted, as he hasn’t even said a word to her.

“What are you doing?”

Ondolemar straightens his back and he gives her a narrow-eyed look. “Where are your traps?”

Leytiri looks around the room and raises her brow. “I don’t have any of those.”

“Where is your protection?” He growls. “And don’t say those pitiful guards outside. I could have cut straight through them if I’d been your enemy. You are the Dragonborn, girl. Many people would cut your throat if they could get away with it. You make it too easy.”

“I know my life is in danger,” Leytiri bristles. “I don’t need you to tell me that. The Dark Brotherhood has already been hired to kill me.”

“See?” Ondolemar rolls his eyes. “And yet you do not put defenses in place. You allowed me to just stroll in here. It seems all someone needs to do is pretend to be your friend or suggest a meeting. I could kill you right now if I chose. Your pitiful sword fighting skills could not best me.”

“But my Shout could.”

“Mm.” Ondolemar grunts. “Perhaps. Do you know why the Dark Brotherhood has marked you for death or is this a random rich man that thinks you’re a problem?”

Leytiri purses her lips. This arrogant asshole was infuriating her. The urge to snipe at him is strong, but she knows she can’t. He knows where the last dagger is. “Maven from Riften. I killed her son, and she wants to kill me in retaliation.”

Ondolemar taps his fingers against his chin and shakes his head slowly. “Maven has four children, I believe. Hemming, Ingun, Sibbi, and her bastard boy, Tovarr. I’ve heard the bastard’s father was killed by Maven’s husband. I expect it is Tovarr that you killed.”

“Yes,” Leytiri says tightly. “I slit his throat.”

Ondolemar stares at her. “You are not the type to take a life without just cause. You are… noble.” His lip curls on the word. “Why did you kill him?”

Leytiri curls her hands into fists. “That is none of your business.”

“Of course.” Ondolemar turns to the door. “Then the location of the final dagger is none of your business. Good riddance.”

“He raped me.” Ondolemar halts with his hand on the knob. “I slit his throat while he was raping me. Are you fucking happy now?”

Ondolemar turns back around slowly, a furious look on his face. Red sparks fly from his clenched fists. “What did you say,” He asks through gritted teeth. “What. Did. You. Say?”

“I—” Leytiri stares at the sparks flying through the air. “I-I was raped by him. You need to control your magic! You could set the place on fire!”

“No!” Ondolemar roars and seizes the table, throwing it at the wall. The legs go flying through the air and Leytiri raises her arms to protect herself from the wood shards where the table cracks. “No!”

The door slams into the wall and Leytiri’s soldiers run into the room, brandishing their weapons. One of them charges towards Ondolemar and Leytiri shouts, “No! He didn’t hurt me!”

The soldier stops and all of them look wildly between Leytiri and Ondolemar, clearly wondering if they should listen to her or not. Ondolemar’s chest heaves and Leytiri looks at the soldier who had charged him. “I am perfectly fine. You all can leave.”

Reluctantly, the soldiers back out of the room, though the last one out of the room doesn’t shut the door, merely cracking it. Leytiri waits until the footsteps recede before she turns back to Ondolemar. “Why are you acting like this? You clearly don’t like me. Hell, you don’t even know me!”

“Where the fuck was Prentis?” Ondolemar approaches her, his eyes wild with rage. Leytiri questions whether she should have sent the guards away. She backs away until she’s only a few inches from the wall and he places his hand against the wall next to her head, boxing her in. “Where was Prentis when you were getting raped by that fiend? Where were the other members of the Order, your people? Where the fuck were they?”

Leytiri shakes her head slowly, baffled. “They were asleep. They woke up to me screaming. There was no stopping it. This wasn’t their fault!”

Ondolemar shoves himself from the wall and spins around, growling. “Your mother should have brought you to me the moment you were born. Where that fool, Prentis, failed to protect you, I would have succeeded. If only she had succeeded in making it out of your little village the night she died. I would have protected you.”

“Wait, what do you…” Leytiri shakes her head again. “What are you talking about? You knew my mother? You knew about the attack? How do you know my mother? And don’t insult Prentis. He is a father to me.”

“Don’t call him that in front of me.” Ondolemar turns back around slowly. He meets her eye. “Never call that bastard your father in front of me again.”

“Why? What does it matter to you?”

“Have you not figured it out yet?” Ondolemar raises himself to his full height. “It was me your mother was trying to reach the night of the attack of your village. It was not Prentis she sought for aid that night, but me. I would have slaughtered every last one of those men. All in the defense of my wife and child.”

Leytiri’s lips part. “What? N-No, that can’t be—”

“It is true, Ley-Ley.” Ondolemar lifts his hand in Leytiri’s direction but he doesn’t touch her. “Your mother was my wife. You are my child.”

Chapter Text

You are my child.

Leytiri stares at Ondolemar for a few seconds before she snorts and starts to laugh. His brow furrows and his hand lowers back to his side. “I do not see the humor. Do you not believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you.” Leytiri lets out another giggle. “I’ve known you for all of ten minutes and I already know you’re not the type to make jokes. What I’m laughing at is your audacity.”

“My audacity?” Ondolemar’s eyes narrow. “I do not understand what you mean.”

Leytiri scoffs. “Are you serious? You have the audacity to call my mother your wife and me your child. You left my mother and me. You didn’t believe that I was yours and left us. You don’t get to not put in any work at all and then come swooping in, pretending to be a doting father, and acting like you didn’t ignore my very existence for twenty years.”

“I haven’t ignored your existence.” Ondolemar shakes his head. “I bought your mother a house here, in Markarth, once she sent me a letter saying that you are mine. I sent your mother gold every week to take care of your needs when she decided to stay there instead. When your mother died, I went to the Order to collect you. The Zyon turned me away and said they were your family now. I am skilled, but I can’t fight a dozen mages keeping you from me.”

“Wait,” Leytiri frowns. “The Zyon turned you away? You’re my parent though.”

“Not according to the Zyon.”

Leytiri’s frown deepens and she crosses her arms. “Fine, you had no say after I joined the Order. Why haven’t you approached me after I left? You’ve had months while I’ve been fighting Alduin. Everyone in Skyrim knows I’m the Dragonborn by now. Where have you been during all of this?”

Ondolemar raises his brow. “I’ve been doing what I could to protect you. I’ve had my best Justiciars tailing you from city to city in secret, killing your would-be attackers, bandits, and assassins. Did you really think your peaceful carriage rides were uneventful by… pure chance? And don’t even get me started on your debacle at the Thalmor Embassy. Your lack of grace would have been embarrassing even if you weren’t my child.”

“Wait,” Leytiri says again. “Were you there? Were you at the Embassy when I… did what I did?”

“Your thievery?” Ondolemar rolls his eyes. “No, I wasn’t at the Embassy when you broke who knows how many laws finding the bullshit information you were looking for. How do you think you got in though? Your disguise was horrendous. I ordered Elenwen to allow you inside and to do whatever you needed. I expected you to be more clever, sneaky, and kill a few less of our people, but you defeating Alduin was in our best interest, so we let it slide.”

Leytiri shakes her head slowly. “I didn’t know you were looking out for me.”

“I still am.” Ondolemar grimaces. “My men have killed three Dark Brotherhood members already. There was another sneaking into the city tonight. It’s why I was so late arriving to meet with you. I killed him myself. I knew that someone had put a hit out on you. I just did not know who or why. Now I know.”

The two of them fall silent and Leytiri stares at him. She’d received his blonde hair. He was tall, handsome, and clearly strong. She knew he was her father. And no matter how angry at him she was for abandoning her mother, she could never pay him back for protecting her time and time again without her even knowing it. That thought brings a question to her mind.

“Why did you never come forward sooner? Why didn’t you tell me when I was just starting off on this journey?”

Ondolemar sighs and sits down on the edge of Leytiri’s bed. “I don’t know how to be a father. That was more Prentis’s role. He knew how to dote on you and spoil you. I fathered you the only way I know how; by protecting you. I couldn’t protect your mother but I can protect you.”

Leytiri moves forward slowly and lowers herself next to Ondolemar. She looks at him. His hands fist his robes at the knees and his chest heaves faster than she assumes to be normal. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. He hadn’t been in her life for her entire life, but that wasn’t for a lack of trying. He’d fucked up before she was born, but he’d tried to take her from the Order after her mother died. He was her father.

Slowly, Leytiri moves her hand until it hovers above one of his own. She waits, giving him time to back off if he wants. Finally, she lowers her hand until it touches his. His twitches, and then seizes hers in his own. His grip is tight, but she doesn’t mind it. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses it, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears form at the corners of Leytiri’s eyes and she looks down at the floor.

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes before she looks at him again. “Did you love her?”

Ondolemar laughs, softening his features for the first time all night. “Oh, yes. I couldn’t believe my eyes the first time I saw her. I couldn’t believe my luck that she accepted me. I was in awe of her. There will never be another woman that I will look at the way I looked at her. You have so much of her in you.”

“Do you…” Leytiri hesitates. “Do you know how she died?”

The laughter dies from Ondolemar’s face. “Aye. She was raped before she was killed. I was able to get that much out of your Order. Were you there when she died?”

“No.” Leytiri squeezes his hand. “She told me to run to the temple and get help. She said the mages would save us. She was going to run to Markarth… to you.”

“Did they stop her?”

“No,” Leytiri says again. “No. A couple of them saw me running away. They chased me. Mother shouted at them to take her instead. That didn’t stop them all though. I climbed a tree to try to get away from them and Prentis killed them. He carried me back to the Order and led the other mages down to kill all of them. Mother was dead by the time they got there. All of them were dead or dying when they got there. Prentis saw what was happening to my mother and the two of them decided my life was more important.”

“Poor Prentis.” Leytiri studies him, expecting sarcasm but sensing none. “I would loathe to have to make that choice, my daughter or my love. I would have made the same choice but would have lived in agony the rest of my days.”

Scooting a little bit closer, Leytiri glances at him warily before resting her head down on his shoulder. Ondolemar’s hand spasms in hers and releases it. His arm slides along her back and pulls her completely against his side, his other hand coming up to cup the side of her head. Leytiri feels more tears prick at her eyes, but these she doesn’t try to stop. She allows her tears to slide down her cheeks and onto his shoulder.

The two sit like that for some time, before his lips touch her temple. “You came to me for a purpose.”

“I don’t need it,” Leytiri whispers. “I know you don’t trust me with it. I can give Prentis my mother’s dagger and the Zyon can be pleased to have six of the seven daggers.”

“It is not you that I don’t trust.” Ondolemar strokes his hand through Leytiri’s hair and pulls away, meeting her eye. “It is not even Prentis that I don’t trust. What does the Zyon want with the daggers?”

Leytiri frowns. “Arella says he wants them for sentimental reasons. They were created for the Order and belong with the Order. She seems reluctant to believe his reasons but neither she, DarJi, or Prentis are giving up on this quest to find them all. I think it’s hypocritical that he is so against weapons when he’s spent years looking for them.”

“They are not ordinary weapons.” Ondolemar clasps his hands together and rises from his seat. “Alone, they act as normal daggers. Together, they are powerful. They have the ability to enhance the power of the mage who uses it, in that class. The Destruction knife, for example, would give the mage user the power of an inferno, not just balls of flames in his hands.”

“DarJi would love that.” Leytiri smiles at the mental image of DarJi’s fire. “So, once together, the blades would empower each of the masters? I understand why he would want them then. It will make the Order more powerful.”

“Hm,” Ondolemar hums. “Yes, it will make the Order more powerful. It could also only make the Zyon more powerful. He could turn the daggers against the Order, considering each Zyon must master all of the classes of magic before they take that role.”

“He wouldn’t do that!” Leytiri scoffs. “You’ve got him all wrong. I know he kept me from you in the past but he is a good man.”

“He kicked you out of the Order.”

Leytiri grits her teeth. “That should tell you all you need to know! He is devout to the Order. They are all he cares about. He loathes weapons and punished me for mine. I trust him. I love him. He would never use these daggers against me or you or the Order or anyone! I promise you that he’s a good man.”

Ondolemar stares at her for a few moments before he nods tightly. “Follow me.”

Chapter Text

Leytiri follows Ondolemar through the keep as they make their way to his bed quarters. He’d been quite tyrannical on their way here. Multiple times he’d made them stop on the walk because the guards weren’t perfectly arranged around Leytiri to offer her the most optimal protection. There were threats around every corner and he had to look around each and every one of them. The man was driving her insane, father or not.

Ondolemar steps through a doorway and waits as Leytiri walks in before he shuts the door in the first guard’s face. “Hey!” She exclaims. “Are you out of your mind? You were rude to them this entire time and now you shut the door in his face?”

“I will not let them learn my secrets.” He raises his voice. “Stay outside and don’t try to come in! Leytiri will not be harmed. Now, Leytiri, go sit on the bed like a good girl and I will give you the dagger.”

The urge to Shout the man to pieces fills her but Leytiri just grits her teeth and moves to the bed. She doesn’t sit down on it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

Ondolemar opens a closet and pulls a chest from within. He sets it down on the bed next to Leytiri and taps it with his fingers. “Inside this chest is the last of the Seven. I despise the idea of giving it to you, as I think it’s a bad idea, but the risks are yours to take. Open it.”

Leytiri gives him a side-eyed look. The chest wasn’t going to open just like that. She knew it. He was playing with her. She reaches towards the chest and just as her finger grazes it, a sharp jolt of electricity surges through her arm. “Hey! What the fuck?”

“That is what would have happened if your guards stepped through my room and into my quarters.” Ondolemar leans against the wall opposite the bed and folds his arms. “I’m particular about my safety, as you should be about your own, and don’t allow just anyone into this room. Nor do I allow just anyone to open that chest.”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Leytiri grits her teeth. “But I’m done playing it. Either give me the dagger or leave me the fuck alone. I can just go tell the Zyon that you have the last dagger and he can try to get it from you.”

Ondolemar raises his brow. “He can try.” He snaps his fingers. “There, open the chest now.”

“Absolutely not. You’re trying to trick me.”

“I’m trying to teach you.” Ondolemar shrugs. “Don’t trust anyone. You blindly followed me here and even allowed me to kick your guards out of the room without putting up much of a fuss. Your curses and outrage aren’t going to hurt me. Because I am me, your father, I knew you were perfectly safe this entire time. You’re not safe with most other people. They’d stick a dagger through your heart if you let them close enough.”

“Fine.” Leytiri growls and inches back towards the chest. She doesn’t touch it this time though. “Is it going to hurt me again?”

“No.”

“Should I trust you?”

“I’ll tear the world apart before I’d allow you to come to harm.” Ondolemar has a disgusted look on his face. “Open the bloody box before I say anything else repulsive.”

“Love isn’t repulsive.” Leytiri looks back down at the chest. “I’m opening it.”

The chest, cool to the touch, gives Leytiri no pain when she touches it this time. She opens it and stares down. A dagger sits on velvet and she lifts it carefully. The sheath looks like the one on her mother’s dagger, only there are onyx stones instead of sapphires.

“I am a fool to give it to you,” Ondolemar sighs and moves to sit on the bed next to the chest. “You’re wrong. Love is repulsive.”

Leytiri looks at him and smiles. “Thank you.”

Ondolemar’s lips open and close several times. His cheeks turn a darker shade of gold. “Don’t-Don’t thank me, you fool. If this dagger is used for ill, you will not be thanking me then.”

“Yes, I will.” Leytiri’s smile widens and she reaches out to put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done me a kindness today and I’ll never forget it. The Zyon is a good man. I know you’ll never agree with me on that but I promise you, everything will work out.”

“What is your favorite color?”

This time, it is Leytiri’s turn to be speechless. It takes her a few moments of staring at him, wondering if he’s quite gone mad, before she says, “Are you serious?”

Ondolemar’s skin darkens further. “Just answer the question.”

“Blue.” Leytiri sits next to the chest, on the opposite side of Ondolemar. “What about yours?”

“What’s your favorite food?” Ondolemar doesn’t answer her question. “Do you ever wear your hair down? That’s how your mother preferred hers. Do you like music?”

“Duck.” Leytiri lays the dagger down in her lap. “I like duck. Fish is very close though. I prefer to braid my hair but wear it down when I sleep. I love music but didn’t get to hear much in the Order. No bard wants to travel to the temple up in the mountains for so little coin.”

“Your mother loved fish.” Ondolemar smiles. “She couldn’t sing to save her life but she was beautiful when she tried. I sang for her.”

“You can sing?”

Ondolemar shrugs. “I never thought I had much talent at it, but she said it was beautiful.”

The two of them continue to talk long into the night about Leytiri’s mother, her life in the Order, and the dreams the two of them had for each other.

The Zyon stares at the fire in his quarters, spinning his ring around his finger. Of all the people who would have the last two daggers, he’d never have thought it would be Leytiri and her father. It had been tempting to take the sapphire dagger off of Leytiri when it’d been discovered in her possession, but he would have never been able to steal it from her without it arising suspicion, especially with Arella, who was growing more and more suspicious of the daggers every day.

Her suspicion didn’t bother him, so long as she remained loyal to the Order’s ways. The Zyon snorts and tilts his head. He’d once been loyal to the ways of the Order and used them to his benefit when he removed Leytiri from the temple. Losing the dagger had infuriated him, but he knew it would come back to him. A few sweet words of love from Prentis, DarJi, and Arella, and Leytiri was putty in their fingers, not that the three masters knew their love benefited the Zyon the most.

If it had not been for Arella, DarJi, Caltar, and Prentis loving Leytiri, he would never be this close to getting the daggers within his grasp. The girl had always been love-starved, after watching her people die. She’d do anything to ensure the Zyon’s happiness, and the rest of the Order. Perhaps she believed that he would ask her to rejoin. Perhaps she just wanted to please Prentis.

Ondolemar did shock him the most out of all this. He believed the Altmer when he’d come charging up the lane towards the temple, telling him that Leytiri was his daughter and demanding her return. The Zyon already knew the girl had the dagger and it would be safely kept within the temple until he could use it, and knew the girl, who was already attached to Prentis, needed to be kept to ensure Prentis’s loyalty. It didn’t take long for the other members of the Order to love the girl as well. Ondolemar couldn’t have her.

And now, Leytiri was in Ondolemar’s clutches and the fool was just… giving her what she wanted. The Zyon chuckles and shakes his head. Soon, both daggers would be within his hands and his mission would be complete. The Seven Daggers would be his and he would do what Avulor Seven-Seeker had not been able to. Avulor had been weak. He hadn’t seen his own potential.

None of them had seen the Zyon’s potential either. They would though. All of Skyrim, all of the world, would see his potential.

They would all scream as they died.

Chapter Text

The cart rattles up to the mountain path leading up to the temple. The driver glances behind him at Leytiri. “This is as far as I’ll be able to go. I’m on to Falkreath.”

Leytiri smiles at him and hands him a little bit more gold. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. I know you typically only go to the holds.”

“Thanks, lady.” The man looks warily up into the mountains. “Are you sure you want to get dropped off here? Seems awfully dangerous for a young woman to be walking alone.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Leytiri stares fondly up the mountain path. “I was born up in those mountains. I still have family that live there. I’ll be perfectly fine walking up by myself.”

“Alright.”

Leytiri starts up the hill into the mountains, brushing her hands along the rock as she goes along. It had been so long since she’d walked down this path, crying her eyes out as she feared what was going to happen to her now. She’d had little money, a small amount of food, and enough water to make it to the border, or so the Zyon had said. She had taken to filling her skins at every source of water she found just in case it wasn’t enough.

How long had it been in truth? Four or five months, since she left the Order? Not even half a year had passed and she felt like she’d grown so much in that time. A scared child had left the Order and now a grown woman was returning to them. No longer was she the cowering girl that sat in-between the masters as they decided her fate.

Would the Zyon even allow her through the doors? She was exiled, but she was bringing to him that which he wanted most. She was even willing to give up her most prized possession just to make him happy. Leytiri didn’t expect to be welcomed back into the Order, honestly, not that she’d want to anyway, but a meal and a stay for the night seemed like a nice thing to do.

Leytiri is breathing hard by the time she gets to the ruins of her village. She looks around and finds the house she and her mother used to live in. Well, what is left of it. The fire had wreaked havoc on it and all the other buildings around it. They couldn’t even have a proper burial, as the ground was hard as stone. The Order had piled all of the bodies on a pyre and DarJi had ignited it. Not that Leytiri had been there to watch.

Taking one last look at her mother’s house, Leytiri starts up the final path to the temple. It is not long before she gets to the tree she’d desperately climbed to get away from the bandit. That was when she’d seen Prentis behind the man. The magic that had filled Prentis’s hand had been captivating to Leytiri. She’d wanted to be able to do that.

Leytiri looks down at her hand and wills ice into it. A sliver of ice fills her hand but it turns into water almost instantly. She sighs. Destruction magic had never been her strong suit. And even after saving the world from Alduin, she still couldn’t do much more than a ice cube. At least she had, as DarJi said, her fire in the form of her Shouts.

Sighing again, Leytiri hikes up the rest of the mountain until she gets to the temple’s clearing. Arella stands outside of it and she darts forward. “Ley-Ley!”

Leytiri laughs and races forward. The two women hold each other tightly. Arella pulls back with tears in her eyes. “The Zyon must have a gift of foresight because he told us just this morning that you would be here tonight. I’m so glad to see you here, my darling.”

“I can’t wait to see everyone.” Leytiri smiles. “Prentis and DarJi and Caltar. I even want to see Miraana. Is Clavicus here?”

Arella links her arm through Leytiri’s. “Yes, my darling. Everyone is here, which lately has been rare. The Zyon has prepared a large feast for your return.”

“I was hoping I could have some food and drink.” The two of them walk towards the large doors waiting for them. “I’ve missed all of you so much.”

“Oh, we’ve missed you too.” Arella links and grabs one of the door handles. “Take a look.”

Leytiri gasps when the door opens and the majority of the Order charge towards her. Initiates clap her on the back and some of them even hug her. Clavicus grins and kisses her on the cheek. Leytiri looks over his shoulder to see all the masters barring the Zyon and Arella smiling at her. Even Miraana doesn’t look displeased to see her, though her smile is smaller than the rest.

The biggest smile out of all of theirs is Prentis. Leytiri gently breaks free from the group and launches herself towards him. He makes an oomph noise when he catches her and he buries his face into the side of her head. “Welcome back, my girl.”

“You know,” Leytiri giggles and whispers in his ear. “You could have told me Ondolemar was my father. He was a lot to deal with.”

Prentis pulls away and has a concerned look on his face. “Did he treat you well?”

“He’s under the impression that he could have protected me better than you.” Leytiri shrugs. “He’s a little bit cocky.”

“A little?” Prentis rolls his eyes. “He and DarJi are equals when it comes to arrogance.”

“I heard my name.” DarJi approaches them and grins. “Show me your fire, girl.”

“Not now, DarJi,” Caltar admonishes him. He looks at Leytiri with a soft smile on his face. “I gave you enough coin to buy a house, Leytiri. Instead, you’ve been having wild adventures full of action, drama, and tragedy. You never could live a quiet life, could you, girl?”

“Caltar,” Leytiri hugs DarJi and then Caltar. “I wanted to live that quiet life, and I think I might want to live it now. I’ve brought the Zyon what he wished for.” She doesn’t think it’s wise to shout about the daggers in front of the Order. They might get the wrong idea. “I’ve got plenty of coin now on my own. There’s a house for sale in Whiterun that I’ve been looking at whenever I go there.”

“I would think Solitude would be more to your taste,” Aerinth approaches them. He holds out a hand for Leytiri to shake. She does. “How is your alteration magic?”

“Eh,” Leytiri shrugs. “About as good as it was when I left. I’ve been using detect life in dungeons. Water breathing some. I’ve actually used paralysis once but I thought I was gonna die after.”

“Good!” Aerinth cringes after his exclamation. “Well, it’s not good that you felt like death after. It’s good that you were able to use the spell without passing out or even dying. That is a difficult spell to achieve. How have you been fighting?”

Well,” Leytiri glances at Caltar. “Mostly conjuration. I’ve been fighting with my familiar and flame atronach for the most part. Mixed with fighting with my sword.” She glances down at her hip where her sword is belted. “Is it okay for me to carry it in here?”

“You’re no longer a member of the Order.” Miraana approaches them. “If you’re not in the Order, who cares what weapons you use? How is your restoration magic?”

Leytiri stares at Miraana and remembers what Arella had told her about the other elf. Something had happened to her once. “I’ve mostly only had minor scrapes and wounds. I’ve been able to heal myself and some of the people around me. My wards are pretty strong though.”

“Good.” Miraana hesitates before she holds out her hand. “I have missed you, young one.”

“I—” Leytiri takes Miraana’s hand. “Thank you, Miraana. I have missed you too.”

Miraana offers her a rare smile and she opens her mouth to speak but another voice calls out over the din of the Order members. “Leytiri!”

Leytiri looks up to see the Zyon stride into the great hall with a grin on his face and his hood pulled off his head. “Welcome back. Perhaps it is time to move into the dining hall to feast and drink? I’ve bought duck for this special occasion.”

Prentis wraps an arm around Leytiri’s shoulders and Arella grabs one of her hands.

She was finally home.

Chapter Text

Leytiri sits in-between Prentis and Arella as they eat their meal. The Zyon hadn’t been kidding when he said they were going to feast and drink. The great table where the Order typically took their meals was absolutely loaded with food. It was so heavily filled that Leytiri was positive it would break from the strain. There were eighteen novices right now, each of the masters, the Zyon, and Leytiri. It was far too much food.

Venison, mutton, and even mammoth. There were all kinds of stew and dumplings. Leytiri licked her lips when her eyes landed on at least six different types of pie. Dozens of rolls, loaves of bread, and butter or cheese to choose from sits perfectly at parts of the table so that everyone can have some. Tomatoes, beef, slaughterfish, and berries fill the room with a gorgeous scent. DarJi plays with his food, holding horker meat to his face and imitating horkers as if he were holding their tusks instead of meat.

Many of these foods had drawn Leytiri’s eyes but none more so than the duck that only sat in her place. Everyone who had been here when she left knew that she adored duck more than she liked any other food. Prentis always made sure she had some when he returned from a mission. She hadn’t had duck once since she left the Order… Maybe the memories were just too painful and fresh.

Those memories didn’t seem to bother Leytiri a bit now though. She has no shame as she eats first rolls, then berries and slaughterfish and Arella’s venison stew, and finally her sweet, honey glazed duck. The honey dribbles from her lips and fingers as she pops the steaming meat between her lips and bites down. The grease sizzles in her mouth and slides down her throat. Never had she tasted anything so sweet and delicious in her life. Arella and Miraana give her disapproving looks but no one else seem to care.

And the drinks! The Zyon had wasted no expense with the drinks. All different kinds of ales liter the table, alongside wines and meads. There were a few bottles of Colovian brandy that Prentis and Arella were sipping on. Yuck. Leytiri can’t look at a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine without flushing at the thought of the last thing she did after drinking some of that stuff. She drinks a few different types of the alcohol before she settles on a spiced wine with cinnamon, berries, and honey.

The questions are endless as well. Young novices ask her about her adventures and slaying dragons. The older ones, the ones she knew best, ask her if she could really Shout and to please show them her fire. DarJi grins wildly when they ask for her fire. She knew she could never conjure a flame so nice as DarJi’s with her magic, but she also knew he could never create flame as brilliant as her fire Shout. The only thing that stops her from drunkenly doing it inside the building was knowing the Zyon might not be pleased if she set the table on fire.

Many of the novices begin to look tired, sick, or both and they rise from the table, stumbling towards their rooms. Arella puts a hand on Leytiri’s wrist, who is beginning to feel the price of her wine as well. “I have set up your room just as before. We normally do not eat so much here, as you know. The Zyon has been absolutely giddy with your impending arrival. He is not a giddy man.”

Leytiri looks down the table at where the Zyon was sitting last she saw him. “Hey!” She says drunkenly. “Where’d he go?”

DarJi snorts. “The Zyon has more pressing matters than watching us drunk louts.” He burps and grins. “At least I am a drunken lout.”

Arella gives him a disapproving look but brushes her hand against her forehead. “I typically enjoy a glass of wine after a long day, but I have admittedly had a few more glasses of this brandy than I should have. I am feeling the effects of my wine and brandy tonight.”

“As I am, am I.” Prentis frowns. “As am I. Perhaps it is time for bed now. Leytiri, I will tuck you in.”

Leytiri gives Prentis a funny look before she bursts out laughing. “I am not four, Prentis. I’m sure I can find it,” She hiccups. “By myself. Ugh, that tastes like duck and wine. It tasted better on my plate.”

“Goodnight, you louts.” Miraana groans and rises from the table, Aerinth right behind her. Caltar had already fled to his bed. She stumbles and looks quite annoyed when she does. Leytiri barely covers another round of giggles. “I don’t know how you talked me into more Bloodwine, DarJi. It tastes like ass.”

“Did you just say—” Leytiri can’t contain them anymore; she lets loose with her giggles and hiccups again before she finally says, “Did you just say ‘ass’? You’ve never cursed before!”

Miraana glares at Leytiri but it looks funny on her drunken face. “I have cursed, you childish buffoon.” More giggles. “Ugh, goodnight with all of you! All of you!”

Prentis wraps his hand around Leytiri and pulls her from the table. “It is time for your bedtime. Nap. Bednap. Let us go.”

Leytiri looks down the table and her head wobbles on her shoulders. “Where’s Clavicus? I’d like to get fucked tonight.”

DarJi bursts into laughter and Arella gives Leytiri a drunken, affronted look. “Leytiri! Go to your bed now! We do not speak of our love affairs out in the open like, like—”

“Yes, let us leave.” Prentis pulls a laughing Leytiri towards the hall. “No fucking will be done tonight. Not at all.” He belches. “Apologies.”

Leytiri finds that her legs aren’t working right and Prentis has to wrap his arm around her waist. He’s not doing so well either, using his hand against the wall to lead them towards her old bedroom. His breath comes out in sharp pants and Leytiri closes her eyes for a few seconds. “I’m going to sleep now.”

Prentis shakes her waist and pulls her further down the hallway. “Don’t you fall asleep on me. I’m too old to carry you.”

Opening her eyes, Leytiri looks up at him. Usually composed, Prentis’s face is red from the wine, brandy, and the effort of half-carrying her with him. “You’re not o-ld,” She slurs. “You have to live fo-forever.”

“Oh, Ley-Ley.” Prentis sighs and kisses her forehead. “I wish I could always be there for you.”

Leytiri doesn’t say anything as Prentis drags her the rest of the way towards her old room. He opens the door and she wobbles inside after him. The bed looks the same. There’s still robes in the open closet, though she doesn’t know if they’re hers or another novices. Little knickknacks from her childhood are on the shelves. A forgotten magic book sits on the bedside table. She doesn’t have to pick it up to know what it is. Destruction magic. It had always been her least favorite and used branch of magic.

Prentis pushes her gently towards the bed. “Well,” He clears his throat. “I’m going bed. To bed. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, my Ley-Ley. We can leave on morrow. On the morrow. Tomorrow!”

“Leave.” Leytiri sits on the bed and toes her boots off. She doesn’t even bother to remove her armor. “Leave? Us together? Family?”

“Yes,” Prentis stumbles to the door. He tries three times to open it before he finally gets it unlatched. “We’ll find,” He belches again. “A home.”

Leytiri smiles as she leans her head back against her pillow. A home. They were going to have a home. Finally. Together.

The Zyon stares down at the table where the forgotten food and drink sits. DarJi had been the last to leave, stuffing a few pieces of horker meat into his mouth as he stumbled from the room. Not a single one of them suspected that there’d been a potion in the wines, brandies, and ales to make them even drunker than normal. Even Arella had surprised him by drinking a third glass of brandy. They would all sleep the night away.

Well, at least until he was ready for them.

It’s time. The Zyon moves silently through the halls until he gets outside Leytiri’s room. Prentis, the old fool, has already departed for bed, leaving his little bird helpless to the Zyon. He walks into the room and his eyes immediately zero in on Leytiri snoring softly. Still wearing her armor. Smart girl.

Not smart enough.

The Zyon quickly looks through her bags before he finds what he’s looking for. Two daggers. He stares at them greedily for just a few seconds before he shoves them in his robes. Tonight, magical blood would flow freely. Tonight, he would gain the power of not one, but all Seven of the Daggers and their Masters.

Tonight, Skyrim would bleed.

Chapter Text

The Zyon enters the throne room of the Seven. He stares at each of the thrones in turn. Avulor Seven-Seeker had built the thrones himself, for each of his partners. Some had come with him from the College, thinking the fools there had been wrong to remove the most powerful Mage of that age from the College. Some had joined from the other corners of Skyrim.

Avulor created the Seven Daggers and gave one to each of his friends. He knew the potential of the blades, he made them for fuck’s sake, and yet never made use of their power. Eventually, the truth of the power behind the blades faded into history. The Order became something else. They shunned weapons, and eventually the Seven Daggers themselves became a weapon that not even the Order would grasp.

The Zyon pushes the hood back from his balding head. Old age was taking him and after years of searching for the daggers, he finally had them all in his grasp. He’d been searching for them for so long… he’d thought he’d die before he found them all. Death would never take him now.

It was a shame that Avulor never understood that in life, you are either a winner or you are a loser. The Zyon sits in the throne that he’d held for twenty years now. He intended on being a winner. The greatest winner. Avulor could have become immortal and reigned but he was a fool. The most powerful mage and he wasted it for friendship and trinkets. Perhaps he had once intended on killing the masters of his Order but friendship won the day.

Hm. It was almost a pity that the Zyon never saw his Order as friendship and comradery. DarJi was amusing. Arella was kind. Prentis was intelligent. Miraana was hurt. Aerinth was cautious. Caltar was lonely. They’d all, over the years, allowed their strengths and weaknesses to be seen but their loving, ever faithful Zyon. Only Arella and Prentis even called him by his real name anymore.

Sveic Stone-Arm. Sveic died the moment he became the Zyon. His plans had been set in motion even before then but only a true master of magic could take full control over the daggers. Unfortunately, his control over magic wasn’t as powerful as Avulor’s. It took time, commitment, and control, but he’d eventually mastered every type of magic. Just as he’d made friends with everyone who walked through the door. No one, not even the most suspicious of the mages, thought him to be anything but the grandfatherly master of the Order.

Slowly, the Zyon rises from his seat and places each of the daggers on a table in front of each of the thrones. The dagger with the golden beryl jewel sits in front of Miraana’s throne. The dagger with the amethyst rests in front of Caltar’s throne. The red garnet goes to DarJi. Arella’s throne will bear a mix of sapphire and amethyst as the dagger is laid there. The dagger with amber will sit in front of Aerinth’s throne. Leytiri’s… for Prentis. Blue.

Last. The last one. Black. As black as Sveic Stone-Arm’s own heart. He places that one last. It was time.

There is no need to read from the spell book that he’d found after meticulously combing his way through an abandoned castle to the northeast of Skyrim. Avulor had hid it under dangerous magical defenses, but Sveic persevered. After he found it, he scoured it. Spent days upon days holed up in his quarters reading every last word on the pages. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.

Holding his hands up, Sveic chants the words that would begin his spell, over and over again, until he can hear the faint stirrings of the people around him. DarJi is the first to walk into the throne room, his eyes glazed over as he takes his seat in his throne. The Khajiit stares forward, silent for the first time since Sveic met him. Soon, all of the masters join him in the room. They all sit in their thrones, all eyes forward, all eyes glazed.

It is not only the masters that join in the ritual but the initiates as well. The room fills with men and women, most half-dressed or wearing only night robes. Sveic eyes all of them as he finishes speaking his spell. The initiates kneel in a circle surrounding the masters. They all walked like draugr even though their hearts still beat and blood ran through their veins. They were all conscious, or should be, but they would be helpless to stop their bodies. That would end soon enough but…

“Where,” Sveic mutters and looks everyone in the face. “Where is Leytiri? Damned that girl. She ruins everything.”

No matter. Sveic would just kill the girl in her room after he is finished. Not even the strength of the Dragonborn could stop him from his goals. It would be just like her though that she’d be immune to the most powerful magic anyone here had ever seen.

He looks around the room. “I’m sure many of you don’t understand what is happening to you.” There is no twitch of an eye or blink, nor a frightened look on a face. He had no way of knowing just how conscious any of them were. “It is no matter. I have discovered a hidden secret from Avulor’s time. Avulor had the ability to suck the magic out of a mage’s body, thus killing them, and putting that mage’s magic into his own body. He was already a powerful mage but he could have become invincible. He was a fool but I am not. I will become immortal with the magic that you all give me. It is time.”

Sveic picks up the black dagger and hands it to one of the initiates. “Those in the circle. You will each slice your wrists and let your blood flow from your bodies. I will collect your blood and magic. You will die, knowing that you have fulfilled your purpose. Begin.”

The woman that he had handed the dagger to stares straight forward and, without looking down, slashes the dagger through her wrist before handing it to the next person. As the blood drains, Sveic feels a pull on his spell and he groans as a small magical force fills him. Yes. Yes! It was working better than he’d ever hoped. “Again!” He shouts. “Do it again!”

As the third initiate slices his wrist, Sveic directs his magic at all of the masters. Blue light wraps around them and they each pick up their own blades. Blood flows from their bodies as they each slice their wrists open. Though they do not die. Sveic grins.

No, they wouldn’t die. At least not for some time. Each of the masters was a tremendously powerful mage, and it would take so much more time to meticulously drain the magic from every inch of their bodies. All of them would suffer in pain and silence as not just their blood but their magic left them. Perhaps he would even allow the masters at least to awaken from their spell just long enough before they died.

Prentis would likely have a few words to say. Sveic scowls at the younger man. Prentis, or as he liked to call him, Pretentious Prentis, had always stuck his nose in to where it didn’t belong for far too long. He’d wondered all those years ago how the bandits found Leytiri’s village, despite the place being under Order protection.

Sveic moves until he’s facing Prentis. He crouches down so the two of them can look each other in the eye. Was there a flicker of movement in those bright blue eyes? Hm. “You know the truth, don’t you? You deserve it, I suppose. I paid the bandits to attack the village. I knew the dagger was in her hands and I wanted it. You killed all of them though, you fucker, and took the brat down to the village and she took the dagger. I couldn’t steal it from her without arousing suspicion, so I allowed her to keep it until I brought a known rapist into the Order. I chose her to tutor him specifically. You could say that I raped Leytiri just as much as Tovarr did.”

“Zyon!”

“Well,” Sveic grins at Prentis before he rises to look at a shocked Leytiri. “It seems I’ll get to have my fun with you after all.”

Chapter Text

You could say that I raped Leytiri just as much as Tovarr did.

Leytiri stares at the Zyon in horror. She’d woke up and risen from bed when she’d heard footsteps shuffle past her door. Many of them. It wasn’t unusual for someone to get up to go to a chamber pot, but it was unusual for half the Order to go at the same time. After such a luxurious dinner, she’d assumed they’d all be sleeping well into the morning. Her head had ached as she’d opened the door and started after those who had passed her room.

She’d asked one of them where they were going but the man had stared forward and walked, not answering her or making any indication that he’d heard her at all. His eyes had been glazed over as well. Not even Clavicus reacted to her words. She’d stayed behind all of them and watched as they walked like draugr towards the throne room. Outside, she stood and waited. And heard.

Heard everything.

Leytiri had stood, shocked, as she listened to the Zyon curse her for ruining everything. Heard his plans on how he was going to kill and steal the magic out of all the Order members. Listened as a blade sliced against skin and drops hit the floor. Lastly… those last words. He was the reason she was raped. Not just that, but she finally had an answer for the questions that had been weighing on her heart since she was a child.

Why had the bandits traveled so far into the mountains just to attack their village? They didn’t have much. The villagers had some food, but mostly through hunting and not livestock, and most barely had a few gold coins to rub together. They all helped each other and that’s how they survived. Plus the Order helped on occasion, but for the most part, they had very little. No one knew that Leytiri’s mother had such a valuable blade.

No one, except for the Zyon. The blood of the villagers, the blood of Leytiri’s mother, and now, the blood of the Order, is on the Zyon’s hands. All for a bit of steel. And immortality.

“Why?” Leytiri’s voice comes out wet. She tries to will the tears welling up in her eyes away but they refuse to disappear. “Why would you do this? Everyone loves you here. You’re already a powerful mage, even without all this. You don’t need to be immortal. You don’t need to be legendary, like Avulor was.”

“You’re a fool!” The Zyon shouts and points at Prentis. Leytiri cringes when she sees Prentis’s dull, blue eyes. “Both of you are fools. Every last damn person here are fools. Above everyone else, Avulor was the greatest fool there ever was. What I am doing today? Avulor could have done this. He could have killed his Order and stolen their magic. Avulor is the one who created this magic. It was always his plan.”

Leytiri frowns. “If it was always his plan, then why did he not kill his Seven when he had the chance? He could have done what you’re doing today. Why didn’t he kill them?”

The Zyon steps forward to take the black dagger from the last of the initiates. Leytiri bites her lip. How was she supposed to stop him? How was she supposed to save them? Not even the masters of the Order been able to resist his power. She supposed she could Shout him, but the Zyon was an incredibly powerful mage. He’d likely be able to withstand her fire. Her atronach was her most powerful spell but he was a master in that skill… He’d be able to summon a Daedric beast to destroy her atronach. And her destruction magic was laughable at best.

Nothing. There was nothing that she could do.

“Why didn’t he kill them?” The Zyon sneers at her. Blue light from the masters starts to flow towards him. Leytiri feels totally helpless. Her magic could never defeat his, and every moment made him even more immortal and powerful. “Because he was a fool. Avulor created the magic that would kill the Order and he initially intended on stealing their magic to become not only the most powerful mage in the world, but to gain immortality. When the time came to act, however, he stayed his hand.”

Leytiri looks at Prentis again, and Arella and Caltar and DarJi, and even Miraana and Aerinth. “He loved them,” She whispers. “He couldn’t kill the Order masters that he chose because he loved them.”

“Yes,” The Zyon says simply and he looks around at the masters. “Yes, he loved them, and he couldn’t bear the idea of killing them.”

Maybe… Maybe Leytiri could talk him out of this? Yes! They could use restoration magic to heal all of those that were heavily injured. She was a decent healer. Miraana could be healed by the two of them and then she could heal everyone else. They could all heal from this. The Zyon loved them as much as Avulor must have loved his Order.

“You love them too,” Leytiri gestures to Arella. “You drink a tea with Arella every evening at dusk. You have since I joined the Order.” She points at DarJi. “You always laugh at his jokes, even when they’re not that funny. You always make sure we have horker meat here because it’s his favorite.” Her finger lands on Caltar. “The two of you always play a game of cards together at least once a week.” She moves on to Miraana. “You and Arella are the only people she’ll talk about what happened to her with.” Aerinth. “He drinks you under the table more often than anyone else in the Order. You always laugh about it afterwards.”

Finally, Leytiri looks at Prentis. “Out of everyone here, I think you love him most of all. Do you really love the idea of immortality and unending magical power more than them? You love them. You love them just as much as Avulor loved his Order. He didn’t perform this spell because he loved them more than anything else in the world. Don’t you feel the same for them?”

The Zyon looks slowly around the circle at the initiates and then the masters. He points at Arella. “She’s an old fool that I countlessly wished I could stuff a sock in her mouth just to shut her up.” DarJi. “He’s an old gluttonous fool that was so easy to sway to my side. All I had to do was laugh at stupid jokes and keep a supply of horker meat. For that, he was loyal. Fool.” Caltar. “Another old fool that was swayed with games and late night talks.” Miraana. “I’ll never have to hear one more time about how she was raped in Windhelm purely for the crime of being born a dark elf.” Caltar. “Easily swayed by drinking wine. He never realized that I poured out far more than I drank. Fool.”

His eyes land on Prentis and he sneers. “Don’t you see, Leytiri? I don’t love any of them. I never allowed myself to love them. Don’t get me wrong; I never hated them either. But that one? That one is the one I hate. Good old Prentis. Perfect Prentis. Always on my ass Prentis. He always came so close to discovering my scheme but never close enough. It was he who delivered you to me. It was he who delivered half the daggers to me.”

“No,” Leytiri shakes her head hard. “You can’t fake the relationships you had with them! They were real. I know they were real! Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t love them. Don’t tell me you hate Prentis! I know you love them deep down.”

The Zyon bursts into laughter and Leytiri swipes tears from her face. “You are just like Prentis with your pretentious outrage. I don’t care about you. You’re not important to me. They aren’t important to me. I am important to me. Immortality is important to me. Power is important to me. And you will die here with them.”

“No!” Leytiri snarls and Shouts her fire at him. “No! No! No!”

With each “No,” Leytiri hurls round after round of her fire at him. Each time, the Zyon creates a shield that easily deflects each Shout. After her fourth Shout, Leytiri puts her hands on her knees, breathing harshly. She’d never Shouted so much in such quick succession, and her body felt aged fifty years. Her bones ache and her throat is raw. Her Shouts were her most powerful magic. There was nothing she could do against him. Her sword is in her room…

“Is that all you can do, Ley-Ley?” The nickname makes Leytiri feel sick and tears drip from her cheeks onto the floor. She chokes on a sob. “I was right about you. You’re a failure. I knew it the moment Prentis brought you here. You can’t conjure weapons for more than a few seconds. Your familiar fades in and out of existence and disappears the moment you lose concentration, so easily. Your potions and enchanting are subpar. You can’t even perform a basic fire spell without losing it within seconds. Don’t make me laugh about how badly you wanted to be the illusion master after Prentis. You couldn’t turn invisible to save your life!”

“Leytiri,” She looks up with blurry eyes to see Prentis trying to rise from his seat. Blood runs slowly down and onto the floor from his slit wrist. He points a finger at her and she suddenly feels lighter. She looks down and realizes her body has disappeared. “Run.”

Chapter Text

Leytiri races from the throne room with tears streaming down her cheeks, shouts coming from behind her. She clutches the spell book she’d seen on the Zyon’s throne and the dagger she’d grabbed from in front of Prentis. The spell book she’d seized because she assumed there’d be a way to revert the spell in there, and the dagger… She didn’t know why she’d grabbed it. There’d been a pull towards it. A pull that she hadn’t had time to understand as she fled after Prentis pointed at her.

The spell was the most powerful thing that had ever touched her skin. Turning invisible had been nearly impossible for her to pull off, even after all this time training outside of the Order. She’d never have been able to pull it off, but Prentis had. With the last of his strength, he’d been able to put a spell on her so powerful that not even the Zyon could see her… but he could hear her.

Rushing away down the hall, Leytiri stops at the first fork, not knowing which way to go. She couldn’t go back to her rooms. That would be too obvious. She couldn’t leave the temple either. As frightened as she was and deeply wanted to run for her life, she couldn’t do that. They were her people. They removed her. They banished her. They told her to fuck off and get out.

But they were still her fucking family. And fuck the Zyon for trying to hurt her fucking family.

Leytiri calms her breathing as the footsteps get closer to her. She needed to find a spot where she could sit quietly and read this bloody book before it was too late. The Zyon had made it sound like the spell would take an agonizingly long time to complete. She hoped he wasn’t just blustering and trying to torture his victims more than he already was. Fucking disgusting.

There was only one place Leytiri could think of. She just hoped Arella had never told the Zyon about it. Leytiri dashes down the hall to the right, trying to keep her footsteps as light and quiet as she possibly can. She casts a muffle spell as she runs, feeling drained almost the moment the spell leaves her hand. If magic was what was required to stop this spell, then she and the rest of the Order was fucked in a bad way. Their hope rested on her? When she could barely perform any magic?

Her summoning spells had become impressive, especially her atronach. It was quickly becoming her favorite spell. That wasn’t useful now though. She’d seen the Zyon summon Daedra. That was far more impressive than her pathetic atronach. Everything she did was pathetic compared to his spells.

Dashing into the kitchens, Leytiri holds the dagger between her teeth and falls to her knees in front of a cupboard next to a fireplace. She pulls it open and eases back the paneling inside, revealing a small tunnel. Leytiri forces herself into the tiny space and somehow pulls the cupboard door closed behind her, the panel after it.

The tunnel is dark as Leytiri crawls through it, sliding the book against the ground as she digs her teeth into the dagger. No sounds come from behind her but she stays as silent as she can regardless. The tunnel seems to go on forever in the dark but she knows that it ends eventually. She starts to slow down when she guesses she’s at the end of the tunnel.

Leytiri’s fingers reach out delicately in the dark until she touches the long forgotten torch, flint next to it. It takes a few tries but she finally gets the torch blazing and puts it up in the brazier on the wall. She looks around at her little cubby fondly. Books litter the floor. Many of them were books she’d far outgrown when she’d first started coming here but she’d read them as a young teenager fondly as she ate sweet rolls the cooks would give her with sneaky winks. Look! There are even remnants of crumbs on the floor.

Not even the cooks knew this was back here. Arella had been the one who told her to come here at night when the Order was asleep. Arella was small, just like Leytiri, and had come here herself when she wanted a private moment away from everyone. It had been Leytiri’s perfect, special place, until she thought she’d been too grown for it.

She is. Leytiri smiles down at herself, barely fitting inside it. Arella must have been smooshed in here, barely able to fit through the tunnels. Had she curled up in the dark, just thinking, or had she read her own secret books and eaten her secret foods?

Arella cannot die.

Leytiri’s smile dies as she lays down the dagger and lifts the spell book. The first thing she notices is the name of the author upon it. Avulor…

Flipping through the pages, Leytiri frowns and narrows her eyes in the firelight. How had she read when she was a child in here and not destroyed her vision? The words seem to float before her, too hard for her to see more than a few words at a time. She flips past illusion spells. Invisibility. Destructions spells that she’d never even heard of. Many of these spells are ones that they never taught them in the Order.

Avulor was a dangerous man.

Leytiri flips past a page before she hurriedly rushes back to that page. Oh gods, a love spell! Prentis once told her that love spells were forbidden. A mage could be executed if they got caught having done a love spell. Her mind automatically goes to Brynjolf. He wouldn’t need her to perform a love spell on him… If that passionate kiss had anything to say about it.

Her cheeks turn pink as she continues to furiously flip through the pages of the book that is ancient. It must have been the original from Avulor’s days. How he must have relished creating his own spells that he’d one day pass down to his initiates. And then he didn’t. Many of these spells were ones that Leytiri had never heard of. Were some of them like the Zyon’s spell now? Too dangerous for this world?

Flipping another page, Leytiri’s eyes land on the word invincibility. She frowns and starts reading further, her eyes narrowing as she gets to the part where the masters slit their wrists. Yes, this is it. It would cause the Zyon not only to become invincible, but immortal as well.

Thin handwriting on the side reads, “I must destroy this page, or better yet, this book. Gods forgive me if it ever lands in the wrong hands. What I must have been thinking, considering killing my dearest friends just for the sake of power. But still… I cannot stomach the thought of destroying my beloved spells, despite the danger of this one. I will take this book deep into the mountains and put it under the most powerful spell I can create. No one will find it. No one will know of Avulor Seven-Seeker’s greatest shame. I have found my Seven. My friends.”

His Seven… The Masters of the Order. Avulor loved them like the Zyon had not loved his. The book continues, “If one of my own blood does make the ghastly mistake of performing this spell, there is only one way to counter it.” Leytiri tenses as she reads. “One of the daggers must be plunged into the heart of the master it is associated with magically. Red for destruction, etcetera. The murder must be complete before that master dies of the wounds inflicted by the slit wrists. It will release the other masters from their own spells and, though weakened physically, their magic will soar back into their own bodies. One death… instead of Seven.”

Leytiri lowers the book and she looks down in horror at her blue dagger. Her mother’s dagger. Her real father’s dagger. Her father. Prentis is her father. He kissed the scrapes on her knees when she fell as a child. He bought her as much duck as she could eat. He’d told her what to do the first moon she bled. He held her hair back for her when she threw up after too much wine with Clavicus. He carried her when she was too tired to walk. He carried her always.

Prentis is her strength. Without Prentis, she would have died a thousand deaths. She’s only strong with him.

A wild, sudden thought fills her. Leytiri could sneak back into the throne room, still invisible, and grab one of the other daggers! That thought immediately leaves her and makes her feel like the worst sort of person. She couldn’t do that to them. They’d never know but she would. She’d know just how terrible she was. Prentis would never forgive her if he found out. He was willing to die for her. She knew that. So was DarJi and Arella and Caltar… And… And Miraana and Aerinth. They all would die for her.

But none so more than her beloved Prentis.

Leytiri had to kill her own father. It was the only way. She would kill Prentis, and then she would Shout that motherfucker to pieces.

Chapter Text

Leytiri tries to take shallow breaths as she eases her way down the hall from the kitchens. Every few feet, she has to flatten herself against the wall to keep from being ran into by one of the Order walking like draugr. She was happy that the spell was working as well as it was, but it didn’t muffle her feet. It was easy enough to cast Muffle every once in a while, but the halls were filled with Order members and she was constantly afraid one of them would hear her, despite their shuffling and her whispering the spell.

Turning the corner, Leytiri’s eyes bulge and she practically throws herself at the wall, holding her breath as Clavicus comes towards her. His eyes, normally a beautiful black and full of life, drift around the hall. They pass over her three times before he continues down the hall. It’s tempting to breathe a sigh of relief but she imagined they’d stop walking like draugr and attack her instead.

Taking the next turn, Leytiri sees light coming from the throne room ahead. There are four Order members standing in the entrance and she’s not sure how she’s going to be able to sneak past them, even as small as she is. She looks down at the book in her hands, contemplates for just a second, before she throws it as far as she can down the hall.

All four of the Order members start at the loud boom and three of them begin moving down the hall. One of them stays and Leytiri narrows her eyes at him. Kaenath, an Altmer man that had joined about a year before Leytiri had been removed from the Order. They hadn’t gotten on very well. His eyes pass over her three times, slowing each time on her before passing. The three others pass by Leytiri as she presses herself against the wall again.

Hm, Altmer were skilled at magic, and Kaenath was no slouch when it came to illusion spells. Still, it seemed unlikely that he’d be able to see through Prentis’s spell. There was a reason Prentis was a master of illusion.

Raising her hand to her mouth, Leytiri whispers the spell for muffle as quietly as she can. She edges forward, keeping her eyes on Kaenath as she walks towards him. He continues to look around by never once takes a step from where he stands. She passes by him slowly and enters the throne room, ducking behind a pillar as soon as she does.

Leytiri peers around the side and watches as the Zyon paces back and forth in the middle of the thrones, ranting.

“Of course it would be that little bitch that gets in my way.” Leytiri feels the sting of his words but she tries to push the hurt aside. She needed to get to Prentis, and she was positive that the Zyon would be able to see through even Prentis’s spell. “I should have killed her the day she arrived, when she was a girl. It was how it was supposed to be anyway. I am growing stronger. Four of the Order have died already.”

On the floor around the thrones lay four dead Order members. Those that had not been sent after Leytiri. Another Order member walks into the room and sits down on the floor, taking the knife from the one who used it last. Leytiri frowns. He was calling back some of the members to keep the chain going. Someone must be dying at all times for the spell to continue?

Another member steps back into the room. Kaenath! Leytiri waits until he steps beside her before she gets behind him, walking with him until she gets to the next pillar. There, she waits for the Zyon to call out but he doesn’t. She follows the next initiate to the next pillar, the Zyon’s rant getting louder and louder.

“You’ll all die!” He shouts and Leytiri peers around the pillar before darting to the next one as soon as he turns his back. She was so fucking close. Prentis lifts his head slowly, too slowly, and opens his eyes. He spots her immediately and nods. Huh? She turns her head and looks down at the dagger in her hand. Does he… know? “You’ll all die and then I’ll kill that bitch. Then I will rule this world. No one can stop me!”

Leytiri looks back at Prentis and he nods again, his eyelids starting to flutter. He was almost dead! Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she shakes her head. Gods, how could she even think about doing this. Breathing deeply, Leytiri nods back at him.

Darting out from behind the safety of her pillar, Leytiri feels the spell wear off just as she reaches Prentis. The Zyon turns on his heel and begins to cast Fire Storm as Leytiri raises the dagger, looks Prentis deep in his eyes, and plunges the dagger into his chest. His body spasms and Leytiri’s lips start to quiver as the heat from the Zyon’s spell fills the room. Even without being immortal, there was no way Leytiri could defend herself against the Zyon. Prentis’s eyes close and she closes her own.

Ready to die.

The Zyon shouts and Leytiri opens her eyes, trying not to look down at Prentis’s body. She turns around and realizes there’s a great, golden shield blocking her from the Zyon’s flames. Miraana is raised from her throne, pointing one hand at Leytiri and the other at Arella, who has collapses back into her throne, eyes fluttering.

Miraana looks at Leytiri and nods slowly before looking back at the Zyon, who has turned to towards her with anger flashing in his eyes. He raises his hands to blast her with his fire and Leytiri lunges forward through the shield. “Yol,” She shouts. “Toor, Shul!”

A great fire bursts from Leytiri’s mouth as she Shouts at the Zyon. He quickly deflects the blow with a shield but another Fire Storm hits him, making him shout in pain. DarJi yells, “Your fire, Leytiri, again!”

Leytiri centers herself as she watches Caltar summon a flame atronach, one far more powerful than hers, which starts throwing fireballs at the Zyon. Aerinth casts paralysis on the Zyon, who slows but still manages to put up shields to defend himself. Even Arella weakly raises her hand and directs lightning at him. Miraana looks at Leytiri and nods again.

The Order. All of the Masters were beside her except for Prentis, who she knew would be beside her always even if she couldn’t see him. Her family. Her friends…

Turning to the Zyon, Leytiri opens her mouth and Shouts, “Yol, Toor, Shul!”

The strength of the fire is almost enough to throw Leytiri off balance, and it breaks through the Zyon’s shield. He screams as his body ignites on fire and he flails, trying to put it out, but DarJi, Aerinth, Caltar, Arella, and Miraana continue their spells, and he cannot fight all of them.

The Zyon’s body crumples to the floor and his cries die out. Leytiri makes a noise torn between a gasp and a laugh before she turns and throws herself at Prentis’s throne. “Prentis. Prentis!”

“There will be time to mourn him later, Leytiri!” Miraana says in her no-nonsense voice. A voice that used to infuriate Leytiri but now she took no offense to it. “You must begin healing the initiates while I heal the Masters! They will look to you for leadership!”

Numbly, Leytiri rises from Prentis’s corpse and rushes over to where one of the initiates are still laying, blood pouring from her wrists. She’d always done well enough with restoration spells and she holds her hand over the girl’s wrists, a soft golden light appearing before them.

As she and Miraana heal the members of the Order, Leytiri has never felt so sad, tired, or angry in her life.

The Zyon is dead, and so is Prentis.

Chapter Text

Leytiri sighs and swipes an arm across her sweaty brow as she takes a seat next to Arella’s throne. She looks around the throne room as initiates walk past her carrying the Order’s dead. It was a miracle that only five members died, including Prentis. Prentis… She hadn’t been able to watch as Prentis’s body had been carried from the room to prepare for his funeral.

Drips of blood are all over the floor, and worse, on the thrones. She felt numb, as if there was something inside her that was broken. Losing Prentis had done something to her. Something to her heart. A part of her wanted to run. Run far away and leave this place behind her forever. It’d been a mistake to come. If she’d known what the Zyon was, she could have taken the daggers and disappeared forever with them. He’d never have been able to find her if she’d left Skyrim for good.

But no. Leytiri had been selfish. She wanted Prentis and Arella and the rest of the Order. She couldn’t run away.

Arella would never forgive her. Leytiri bites her lip and looks down at her bloody hands. Prentis’s blood. Prentis’s fate has been decided, but Arella’s hasn’t been yet. Everyone else is safe but Arella. The elderly Nord was taken by Miraana to be healed. Gods, if Miraana fails… Leytiri wasn’t sure what she’d do. If Prentis was her father then Arella was her grandmother. Miraana is her annoying older sister… DarJi is a fun uncle. Caltar is her grandfather. Aerinth… well, a distant cousin.

Regardless, they were all family. The Order had bound them all together even with Leytiri being kicked out what felt like a lifetime ago now. No one seemed to care that Leytiri wasn’t actually one of them anymore. Many had already approached her and thanked her for saving them. Just a year ago, she would have gloated about it. Now… she’s tired. So tired. And all she wants is for her family to be okay. For Arella to make it and smile at her again.

“Are you okay, Leytiri?”

Leytiri looks up and smiles at Clavicus. She had been so relieved when she’d seen him in the halls. “I’ll be okay. How are you? Have you heard anything about Arella?”

“I keep expecting to hear his voice in my mind telling me to walk around like his little pet,” Clavicus sighs and sits next to her. “Miraana is confident that she can save Arella. I don’t think it’s her bluster this time but the truth. She’s changing, don’t you think?”

Yes, Leytiri nods. Arella had told her that something happened to Miraana, something like what had happened to Leytiri if Miraana’s vitriol had been any indication after it happened. Miraana had saved Leytiri’s life even though she didn’t have to. It gave them all the chance to fight. They might not have been able to do it without her. Even without immortality, the Zyon was a powerful foe. They were only able to do it together.

“I missed you.”

Leytiri smiles again and pats Clavicus’s knee. “I missed you too. I’m afraid I’m not going to sleep with you though.”

Clavicus throws his head back and laughs, causing a few stares and they both flush. He lowers his voice. “That’s quite okay. I feel like my lover would have a few problems with that.”

“Oh,” Leytiri leans towards him and eyes the others, grateful to get the chance to act like a girl again. “Who?! You must tell me!”

“Kaenath.”

Leytiri’s jaw drops as she turns to look at Kaenath across the room. He scowls at the two of them. What a buzzkill! “Oh, Clavicus. You’ve lost your way. Kaenath is… is…”

“Sexy?” Clavicus supplies for her. “Gorgeous? Handsome? Smart? Fucks like an animal? Yes, all of the above.”

“Oh gods, stop,” Leytiri giggles and she instantly feels wrong doing so. “Don’t make me laugh. It’s not appropriate.”

“Why not?”

The two of them look up to see DarJi approach them. “Why is it not appropriate, Leytiri? Life goes on. Death comes upon us all. Wouldn’t you want there to still be laughter after you’re gone?” He turns to face the room and raises his voice. “Prentis would want you to laugh and sing and dance and rejoice in your continued life. If that is not enough to get you to dance, then perhaps telling you that Arella will survive will bring out your laughter.” He pauses as the room sits in stunned silence. “Show me your fire, students!”

Someone giggles, and then another person does. Then they’re all laughing awkwardly and happily. Leytiri snickers as she leans towards Clavicus. “I’ve missed all of you. And I think you’re all crazy people.”

Clavicus winks at her. “We have to be crazy to come live in the mountains by ourselves. And I’m extra crazy because I’m sleeping with Kaenath.”

Leytiri looks at the tall Altmer, who has raised his lip at the laughter around him. She snickers. “He’s far too serious for you. I shouldn’t judge though because the man I’ve been… well, sort of with, is a thief.”

“Wait, what?” Clavicus’s jaw drops. “You’re sleeping with a thief?! That’s not like you.”

“I haven’t slept with him,” Leytiri smiles as she thinks of the last time she was with Brynjolf. She couldn’t wait to see him again, someday. “Not yet at least. He’s been helping me, sort of, through what happened with Tovarr.”

“I wish we’d been allowed to vote,” Clavicus growls. “All of us. I wanted to try to bring him back to life just so that I could kill him for you. I wanted to leave the Order the moment I found out you’d lost your trial. The only saving grace was being sent by the Zyon with Arella and seeing you. I wish you hadn’t run.”

“I might not have found out I was the Dragonborn if I hadn’t run from the two of you. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for becoming the Dragonborn and helping people. I’m not the Leytiri I was when I left.”

“No,” Clavicus nods. “You’re not. You’re quieter. You’re not as boastful as you were. Truth be told, you weren’t exactly nice to me when you were here before.”

“I’m sorry,” Leytiri says softly. “I thought I was better than all of you because I grew up in the Order. I was three when I came. Wouldn’t you know that I’m one of the worst. My magic has reverted since leaving. I can barely do any Destruction magic and my Illusion spells are almost as pathetic. At least I’m a decent Dragonborn.”

“More than decent, Ley-ley,” Clavicus nudges her with his shoulder. “I saw what you did to the Zyon. I couldn’t move but I could see. You killed him.”

“With help,” She reminds him. “I needed help to do it, but... Yes, I killed him. I can’t believe he was our villain after all. He always seemed so grandfatherly to all of us. I wonder who the next Zyon after this will be.”

Clavicus frowns. “I thought it would be Prentis. Now I suppose it’ll be either DarJi or Arella. They both have seniority and,” He whispers. “They’re both old.”

“I heard that!”

They both jump as DarJi storms towards them with a scary smile on his face. “I think it’s time that you and I work on your Destruction spells, Clavicus.” He looks at Leytiri and winks. “Miraana and Arella wish to speak to you.”

“Is Arella well enough to talk?”

“Yes, go now.” He turns to Clavicus, who cringes. “Spending too much time with that boy and not enough time meditating.”

Leytiri giggles under her breath as she hurries out of the throne room and towards Arella’s room.

Chapter Text

Leytiri exhales softly as she walks towards the Zyon’s study. The path is familiar but not an easy one to take. How many times has she walked this way to go to the Zyon, complaining about what one of the other initiates had done to her? Or, more likely, what she had done to them. The old man had spoken sternly to her more times than she could count and had even spanked her on her most notoriously bad days.

And now… he’s dead.

The Zyon is dead, and she was the person to kill him. Leytiri should be feeling proud of herself, if not happy, but she wasn’t. The man had been a grandfatherly figure for her since she was three years old. And he put her in a position to get raped, all so he could gain access to her dagger. And put her in the position so that she’d have to kill Prentis, the man who always thought of as her father.

As for the daggers, Leytiri wasn’t sure what she was going to do with them. Two of them by rights belonged to her, but she didn’t ever want to touch them again. The only thing she would ever be able to think about while holding one is that she’d used one of them to end Prentis’s life. It was what he wanted, he accepted it, but she killed him.

They needed to be destroyed. Leytiri would never let what happened today happen ever again. No one needed that ultimate power the Zyon coveted. While Leytiri was no longer part of the Order, she would protect them from the daggers. Avulor had been a fool to keep the daggers, even though hidden. She would not make the same mistake that he did. How he could have created them despite his love for his Seven was beyond her.

The Zyon never loved his Seven. Leytiri did though. It hurt to see them in pain because of him. If there was any way she could fix this, then she was going to try her damnedest or die trying.

When Leytiri gets to the Zyon’s study, she knocks on the door. A soft voice calls out, “Come in.”

Leytiri opens the door and immediately spots Arella sitting in the Zyon’s chair, pale and weak, but alive. Miraana stands next to her with her palms facing Arella, a glowing, warm light escaping them as she continues to heal Arella. “Arella, are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine. Shut the door,” Arella tries to lift herself further in the seat but falters halfway up. She sinks into the chair and closes her eyes as Miraana’s spell grows brighter. “I’m so happy the both of you are okay.” Miraana’s lips quirk up for just a second before she firms them again, continuing her spell. “It aches my soul to know that Prentis didn’t make it, and some of our initiates. They will have a grand funeral. Unfortunately, action will need to be taken about the Zyon.”

Leytiri frowns. “What action?”

Arella opens her eyes. “His body. He has done a great, lasting harm to the Order that we can never allow anyone to forget about. In the Order’s history, we take our enemies out into the trees and leave their bodies for the animals to feast on. It is a dishonorable funeral, ensuring that he will never see peace. Prentis and the rest will be burned and their ashes interred here in the temple.”

“I didn’t know the Order did that to their enemies,” Leytiri thinks about it for a beat before she nods. “I’m alright with it. As long as Prentis and the others are honored, I don’t care what happens to the Zyon’s body.”

“More action needs to be taken,” Arella hesitates before she says, “Leytiri, we are now leaderless. He was with us for so many years that I barely remember a time when he wasn’t part of my life. Prentis was the natural successor but now Prentis is dead. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

Leytiri shrugs. “You and DarJi have both been in the Order longer than the rest of the masters. You’d both do well as the new Zyon. I think you’d be better because you’re more mature than DarJi is but don’t tell him I said that.”

Miraana snickers and Arella shoots her a look. “DarJi would be perfectly capable of being the Zyon. You put my name forward and DarJi’s, Leytiri, but why have you not put your name forward as candidate for the new Zyon?”

“Wait,” Leytiri stares at Arella, shocked. She expects Miraana to start laughing at her but she doesn’t. The older woman just continues to heal Arella and doesn’t offer any input at all. That confuses Leytiri. “The two of you actually… want me to put my name forward? What can I offer the Order? I’m not even in the Order anymore!”

Miraana finally stops looking at Arella and turns to face Leytiri even though her hands are still performing her magic. “What can you offer the Order? Everything. You saved us, Leytiri. All of us would be dead if you hadn’t discovered the truth about Avulor’s weapons and how to destroy the spell. Not only are you a skilled mage, but you’re also the Dragonborn. There’s so much that you can teach us, Leytiri.”

It was the longest Miraana had ever spoken to Leytiri, and the most heartfelt. Her eyes burn and she feels them start to get wet. “Thank you, Miraana. I still don’t think I’m the right choice though. My magic is alright but I haven’t used it as often as I did before I left. I…” She hesitates before she looks at Arella. “I fight with a sword now. My sword has saved my life against many enemies and my dagger saved my life against Tovarr. I’m not willing to give up weapons for the Order.”

Arella exhales loudly and nods. “I understand. Perhaps we have been too rigid in our rules. Would you consider rejoining the Order and becoming the Zyon if members will be allowed to wield weapons as well?”

Leytiri thinks about it for only a few seconds before she shakes her head. “I’m willing to rejoin the Order, someday, but I have no interest in being the Zyon. I want to be free to go on adventures and settle down in a nice cottage and maybe get married and have children. This was my home, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stay here often. I’ll visit but not live here.”

“Okay,” Arella smiles at her and reaches out a hand, which Leytiri takes. Pale, white skin is striking against her gold. There are liver spots on Arella’s hand, mixed with blue veins and a small mole at the wrist. They were so different from each other, but the same. “The Order will decide who will be the next to lead them. Are you sure you don’t want to be the Master of Illusion?”

Gods, Leytiri wanted that more than anything else in the world. She’d be doing Prentis right and following in his footsteps, but his footsteps were too big to fill. Slowly, she pulls her hand away from Arella’s after she squeezes it. “My illusion magic is pitiful now, I’m afraid. I’ve actually become quite good at conjuration and restoration.”

“Really?” Miraana surprises Leytiri by smiling. “It seems my teachings have rubbed off on you, for a change.”

“I just wanted to be like him,” Leytiri smiles back. “I respected all of you, even if I was… not the friendliest person back then. I wanted…” She chokes. “I wanted him to be proud of me.”

“He was,” Miraana shocks Leytiri by being the one to speak. Miraana lowers her hands and the glowing light disappears. She turns to face Leytiri. “I know we haven’t gotten on, but he was always talking about you. He was proud of you. He loved you. Just as,” A pained look crosses her face. “Just as I do.”

Leytiri throws herself forward into Miraana’s arms and begins to sob, barely registering a soft, small hand patting her elbow. Miraana’s arms incircle her body and holds her.

No matter what would happen, they would always be family.

Chapter Text

Leytiri stares down at the body sitting on a wooden pyre in front of her. The body had been shrouded tightly but she could still see the outline of Prentis through the shroud. Behind him on more pyres are the others lost during the fight with the Zyon. Their pyres had been lit by the masters that were still able to walk after the attack. Only Arella didn’t have the strength to carry her torch to light a pyre. DarJi had done it for her.

The last pyre that had not been lit was Prentis’s. It had been decided by Arella that Leytiri would be the one to light his pyre, as he was as much her father as her actual father was. The torch weighs heavily in Leytiri’s hand and she’s not sure she has the strength to move forward and slide it into the pyre. To watch Prentis burn was the last thing she wanted to do, but it had to be done.

And she didn’t want someone else to have to do what by rights was her responsibility.

Slowly, Leytiri eases forward until she’s as close to the pyre as she can get without actually touching the wood. She knows that beneath the shroud is her beloved Prentis wrapped in his robes that mark him as the Master of Illusion. New robes would be crafted for the new master that would take Prentis’s place. It would not be her.

This place was not for her.

Leytiri lowers the torch and slides it into the pyre. The flames mix with oil and wood and soon the entire pyre is engulfed in flames. The heat is overbearing but she doesn’t step away. She watches as her Prentis begins to burn and smoke circles into the sky. A hand around her elbow pulls her away from the flames and back towards the masters. She doesn’t look down to see which hand is around her elbow, nor does she look down as a second hand lands on her shoulder and a third and fourth hand takes each of her own.

She doesn’t look because she knows that each of those hands belongs to a different member of the Order. They were her brothers and sisters. Her fathers and mothers. Her family and her friends. They were hers and she was theirs. Always, no matter where her path would take her. They would always be part of her.

The wind blows and the hood over Leytiri’s head is forced back. Before she can lift her hand to pull it back up, one of the masters does it for her, gently pulling it back up and over her head. She closes her eyes as she breathes in the scent of wood, smoke, trees, and mountain air. This was home. Her first home.

It felt strange wearing the robes of her people though. They felt scratchy, suffocating, and not at all… her. A year ago, Leytiri was proud to wear the robes of an Initiate in the Order of the Seven. That pride has gone out of her. It didn’t bother her to wear the robes during a ceremony as important as this one, but she couldn’t imagine wearing these robes for the rest of her life. She couldn’t imagine giving up her sword, which had saved her life more times than she could count.

Arella had told her that she could keep her sword while still being a member of the Order but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to rejoin the Order. At one point in the last year, she would have killed to become a member again. Now, now it was just painful to be here. Here, she couldn’t have a little cottage and a husband and children. All she’d ever think about here is what she lost, and what had hurt her the most in the shapes of Tovarr and the Zyon.

Leytiri looks down at the hand holding her left hand and realizes it’s Arella. The hand wrapped around her left elbow is Caltar’s. It doesn’t surprise her that the old Altmer was afraid she’d get burnt by the fire. Without even looking at the hand holding her right one, she knows that it is DarJi. She could never mistake the fur and gentle claws stroking her skin. The hand on her shoulder is small and she knows, again, without looking, that it’s Miraana. Only Aerinth isn’t touching her, but he does stand close.

As the fire continues to burn, Leytiri stands surrounded by her family. Even though she’s planning on leaving, they would always be with her. She would come back. She would return to practice magic with the new initiates. She would come back for holidays and funerals and birthdays. Her children, if the gods blessed her with any, would come to sit on Arella’s lap and play with DarJi.

She would always be part of the Order of the Seven.

Just not one of them.

A hundred miles away, sitting in her study, Maven takes a drink of wine and sets it down. She looks down at the wanted paper she’d had created before it was discovered Leytiri was the Dragonborn. It had been one thinking trying to arrest some random mage girl from the south of Markarth. It was a complete other thing to try to arrest the great savior of Skyrim.

So far even Maven’s assassins had been unsuccessful. She knew it was that damn rogue Brynjolf’s fault. Her sources had even informed her that the rogue and Dragonborn had begun a sort of romance.

Maven smiles. That was the way to get to the girl. The Thieves Guild was valuable to her and Brynjolf had always stolen what she needed without calling attention to her. He might even be a better thief than Mercer Frey. Despite that, losing him wouldn’t be the greatest loss in the world. There were plenty of people in the Thieves Guild and with the proper training from Mercer, they’d be able to become thieves as good as Brynjolf.

Tovarr was not a good son. He was a bastard and she kept his identity as secret as she could. But… he was her son. Hers. He belonged to her. It was the greatest insult that her own child was killed by some brat in the Order. All because he’d slaked his lusts on her.

Leytiri would die. Tovarr would be avenged. Maven would kill Leytiri.